One, two, three . . . four! Marco grinned as he watched the pebble sink into the dark water, probably never to be seen again. He leaned back against the ancient oak and looked up at the sky overhead. A little more practice and he'd be better at skipping stones than Sarah. He sighed resignedly. Who was he kidding? If he could skip five times, somehow, she'd find a way to do it six times. And somehow, she'd manage to do it easily as well.
Thinking of Sarah upset him a bit. He couldn't shake the last lingering remnants of his fear from the previous night; the idea that he'd never see Sarah again haunted him. It was stupid though. She was on her way to meet him right now. She'd probably be here at any moment. He impulsively glanced towards the path leading towards her home—the eleventh time in the last five minutes, although he didn't realize it—half expecting her to emerge from the forest, already spouting some excuse for her lateness.
There was one problem with Marco's theory though: Sarah was never late. It was another of her more annoying habits. No matter how hard he tried to beat her, she'd always be waiting for him at their meeting place, arms crossed and a, "Well? I'm waiting for your explanation," look on her face. Didn't she understand that you couldn't schedule an adventurous young man's time? Why, just that morning, he'd had to follow some animal tracks through the woods to see what sort of creature it was. That had made him a good fifteen—no, he thought with a grimace—better make that twenty minutes late. And she was nowhere to be found.
Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, startling the boy. He glanced up at the sky and frowned pensively at the dark clouds looming in the distance. It wasn't supposed to rain today. He'd seen Auntie Aqua that morning on the way out of the village and she hadn't complained about her joints being sore; that was usually a sure sign that the day would be sunny and pleasant.
Staring at the roiling blackness, Marco felt a chill run down his spine. His arms broke out in goose bumps despite the fact that it was almost unpleasantly warm. Somehow, he knew that what he'd felt last night was a reality: Sarah was lost. He didn't know how he knew, but he was sure of it.
He actually felt relieved as he stood and brushed the dirt off his pants. Being sure was a lot better than not knowing. Now he could actually do something about it. Without wasting another moment, Marco set off in the direction of Sarah's village, beginning a quest that would cost him his life a thousand times.
(Scene break)
The forest was a deep shade of red, as were the moon and stars overhead. Even the sky, empty save for a smattering of small clouds, was a delightful shade of maroon. Zelgadis's entire world had turned to blood. He noted this with a sort of detached interest; the world could wait as far as he was concerned. Although it was indescribably beautiful, it paled in comparison to the woman in his arms.
Unconsciously, he squeezed Amelia tighter against him, forcing out what little wind she had left. It wasn't malice that drove him to do it, but a desire to be closer to her. He wept as he fed, hating what he was, yet at the same time, savoring what he was feeling. The two of them had suddenly been joined in a way that no lovers were ever meant to be, as she shared her life with him both in the spiritual and literal sense.
As her sweet blood flowed into him, replenishing long exhausted reserves, Zelgadis saw what Amelia really was. He knew every aspect of her: emotion and memory washing over him in overwhelming waves. Kindness, compassion, love for all those around her, innocent and sweet love for him, they were all there in that one glorious instant. There was no wickedness within her and he loved her all the more for it.
So enthralled was he with what he was experiencing, Zelgadis failed to notice that Amelia was looking worse by the moment. Her already pale countenance was losing what little color it had and her flesh was growing clammy to the touch. Even when she began to violently shiver, he only held on tighter, hissing in annoyance at her fidgeting. In that moment, he was not Zelgadis Greywords; he was a vicious predator.
The one thing that he did notice was that the euphoria that he was feeling was coming in weaker and weaker waves, but that only served to spur him on as he tried to reclaim the rapture he'd felt before. He was deterred only when Grou shrieked at him, an infinitely loud sound in the confines of his mind. He jerked his head back from her neck and slammed the back of his skull against the ground. In his daze, he got a bit of his sense back. Enough to know what he'd done to Amelia.
The vampire tapped its cheek thoughtfully, or rather, tapped the spot on its face where a cheek should have been. "What a fascinating story, child. I believe I can help you with your problem."
"Y-You can?" Marco stammered in disbelief. His eyes were as wide as saucers and were glued to the misshapen vampire's visage. "You can help me find . . ."
"Hold that thought, child," the vampire interrupted, laying a bloody finger against Marco's lips to silence him. "I'll be back in a moment. There's a little thing I have to take care of." It winked at the boy mischievously with its empty eye socket, totally spoiling the friendly effect it had been going for. "Don't move."
A smug look upon its face, the vampire stood and turned to look at Zelgadis and Amelia. How sweet, it thought, noting the way that the acrobat had draped herself across his prone form. So serene, it thought. A picture of innocent devotion, really.
For just an instant, it felt a bit of self-loathing at what it had done and what it was about to do. Guilt was an alien feeling and it seized it greedily, trying to hold onto it and examine it. Ever since its birth into dark unlife, all it had known was hunger and cruel satisfaction at doing its master's will. Compassion had been lost long ago. And with it, the ability for it to even admit that what it did was wicked. Gone. The feeling was gone as quickly as it'd arrived.
Sighing tiredly, it slumped a bit as it placed its foot against Amelia's side. "Time to put an end to things, child," it whispered exhaustedly, speaking more to itself than her. As soon as it shoved the girl over, it knew something was dreadfully wrong.
Amelia was far too limp for her to just be dazed. To be quite honest, she felt dead. Had it kicked her harder than it'd first thought? When she rolled over it saw the twin puncture marks in her throat and understood what had happened.
An irritated look on its face, the vampire leapt back, barely avoiding the first furious swipe of Zelgadis's talons. It landed gracefully about ten feet back and crouched down in anticipation of his attack. There really wasn't much it could do, however. A fully fed and healed Maker outclassed it in every way, shape, and form. Its superior skill could only do so much against his speed and strength.
Something was odd. Zelgadis was standing motionless, staring at it. Not at its face, either. What then . . .? Glancing down, it chuckled and pulled the front of its tunic closed. "Whoops!" It seemed that his wild swipe hadn't totally missed after all. "Well, it doesn't take a mind reader to see what you were thinking about," it said with a saucy grin. "You men are all the same!"
Zelgadis just stared at the vampire, his mouth agape. "You're not Xellos . . ."
"I never claimed to be, now did I?" Shaking its head in mock sadness, it said, "My, my, what would poor Amelia think if she knew you were ogling another woman?"
The comment had the desired effect of drawing Zelgadis's attention to his fallen companion. He knelt down beside her and gently caressed her face, terribly guilt written on his expression. Self-pity was marvelously effective at killing one's anger.
Zelgadis and his foe both glanced up at a sound in the woods. Crashing, rustling, and the occasional bellowed obscenity; it didn't take a vampire's senses to tell that Lina was approaching.
"Well," the vampire said quietly, "seeing as you've done my work for me, I see no reason to spend any more time here. You'll excuse me." She reached down and snatched her cloak from the ground and donned it with a flourish. Turning to Marco, she asked, "Shall we?" extending a hand to the boy.
Marco stared at her outstretched hand for what seemed like an eternity before hesitantly extending his own in return. He stared at Amelia, his mouth working but no words coming out.
"Don't worry about her, child," the vampire explained. "She's just sleeping. Now, we need to find your friend so we can get you tucked away too . . ." Her voice trailed off as she led the boy into the darkness.
"Boss!"
Zelgadis cringed at the sound of that voice. He turned to see Lina, Gourry, and Jillas staring at him, their jaws all but on the ground. He hated being stared at. Nothing upset him quite so much; it made him feel like some sort of monster. Which he was, he realized. As much as he wanted to say he was human with a few flaws, it was a lie. The evidence of that lay dead before him.
Amelia gasped and her eyes flew open. She trembled for a moment before falling still again. Not quite dead, it seemed.
Feeling an almost dizzying sensation of hope, Zelgadis took Amelia in his arms and hugged her tightly, trying to put some warmth back into her clammy flesh. He didn't know how much help it was, but she seemed to be trembling slightly less. That was something, wasn't it? It had to mean that she'd get better.
If Zelgadis hadn't been so caught up in tending to Amelia, he might have noticed the expression on Lina's face. At first, she stared at him in disbelief. His shirt was positively drenched with blood and she didn't see any wounds on him. Amelia's blood, then. She knew what he was, but never in a thousand years had she considered that he would actually do what he had obviously done.
Disbelief quickly gave way to anger, both at herself and at Zel. How could he let himself do this? Why hadn't she taken his plea to protect Amelia from him more seriously? She withdrew a stake, pointed and cruel, and began to creep up behind him. Gourry laid a hand on her shoulder and tried to tell her to take it easy for a moment. She turned and snarled at him for his efforts. He got the point and quickly gave her some space.
She sighed shakily as she took aim at Zel with the stake. She'd only get one shot at this and it had to be a good one. Getting by the wings would be the first problem; they drooped around him, lying on the ground at some points. Even if she somehow managed to get around the damn things, she still had to get to his heart from behind. All in all, this was going to be some trick.
Jillas looked as if he might tackle Lina, but seeing what Zelgadis had done to Amelia, he relented, not out of approval for what she was going to do, but out of sheer confusion. His master had killed another that he had sworn to protect. What was one supposed to do in such a situation? In the end, he stood, silently watching what happened between Lina and his master.
Deciding on a course of action, Lina lunged forward, meaning to slam the stake home and get things over with as quickly as possible. Gourry could remove his head with the Sword of Light and . . .
"Get away from me!" Zelgadis snarled, whipping his head around to glare at Lina. The way he glared at her stopped the Slayer in her tracks. There was something strange about his eyes. He whipped a single leathery wing back—almost nonchalantly flicking her away like an annoying fly.
Lina suddenly found herself airborne; it was amazing how much stronger Zel had become after feeding on Amelia. She wasn't too worried though. Sure, the tree she was hurtling towards looked pretty solid—agonizingly so as a matter of fact—but Gourry was waiting there with open arms to catch her.
Gourry stared at her with his arms open; that much was true. But, his stance and expression didn't really say, "Worry not, I'll catch you, my love," so much as, "I'm sorry, but what just happened?" One second, Lina had been charging at Zelgadis, the next she was flying. Thankfully, his keen warrior's instincts kicked in at the last moment, preventing a possible disaster. Taking a single step to the right, he dodged the crimson haired human bullet with less than an inch to spare. He winced sympathetically at the sound of her face making painful contact with unyielding oak. A moment later, to add insult to injury, she slid down the trunk to come to rest in a mud puddle. That had to hurt. "Hey, Lina, are you okay?"
"Mmph!" was all Lina could manage for the moment, as she was currently occupied with yanking her head out of the muck. She scrabbled around blindly, seeking sturdy ground to get the leverage needed to free herself.
Gourry cringed and took a step back. He wasn't quite sure what she'd said, but it sounded far from happy.
One loud "plop" and a gasp for air later, Lina was glaring daggers at her so-called protector. "What in the hell do you call that?!" she demanded. "Loyal protector my ass! Well?!"
Grinning apologetically, Gourry said, "I panicked."
Muttering numerous profanities under her breath, Lina put her hand on solid ground, meaning to pull herself up. Only, it wasn't earth that she grabbed. Surprised, she glanced down to find herself holding a scabbard bearing a familiar sword. All thoughts of punishing Gourry or even helping Amelia forgotten, she drew the blade with shaky hands. Exactly as she expected, she found herself staring at her own name etched in the silver.
Lina's sword had come back to her. And she knew that her fears were all true. Woodenly, she donned the scabbard. It was a strange sight, Lina in her ruined dress and wearing a sword at her side. She looked like a housewife gone mad. At the moment though, her appearance was the furthest thing from her mind. "Zel?" she calmly called out.
Apparently, Zelgadis had more important on his mind than Lina. He quickly alternated between looking at Amelia and staring off into space; all the while, he muttered to himself thoughtfully. "The circus? We were a part of . . . no, that can't be right. We're a demon then?"
Lina's left eye twitched almost imperceptibly, eliciting a cringe from Gourry. He recognized the incredibly ominous warning sign. Zelgadis was about to be in a lot of trouble. Not happy with being ignored at the best of times and especially not under the current circumstances, she stormed back up to the half demon and seized a handful of Zelgadis's dark hair. She yanked back on it hard enough to let him know that she meant business.
Suddenly finding himself nose to nose with the furious redhead, Zelgadis realized that maybe there were more pressing things to deal with than his conference with his internal companions. "Um, can we help you, Lina?" he asked. He said "we" without a moment of hesitation, as if it was the right thing to do. Neither he nor Lina noticed.
"Where did she go?!" Lina demanded, spraying flecks of mud on Zel's pale features. Except, he wasn't nearly as pale anymore. Had it been lighter, she was sure that there might actually be some pink in his cheeks—one of the perks of being a blood drinker. She'd deal with him later though. As much as she wanted to stay and help Amelia, she had to find the sword's owner before . . . well, before anything else happened.
Zelgadis blinked at her in surprise. "How did you know that it's a she? For that matter, how did you know the vampire was here?" he inquired. Another violent tug on his hair was the only answer he received. Lina wasn't in a mood to answer questions, it seemed. He nodded in the direction that the vampire had taken Marco, or tried to at least; Lina hadn't loosened her death grip on his scalp. Thankfully, she seemed to get the hint and released him.
Lina whipped her head around and glared at Gourry. She nodded at Zelgadis and made a slashing motion across her throat. Her command was as frightening as it was terse: If Zel tried to do anything else to Amelia, kill him. Content that it'd sunk in, she turned and stormed off into the woods in pursuit of the vampire.
Gourry looked after Lina with an expression of worry written on his face. She'd told him to stay, but something in his gut was screaming at him to follow her. He scrutinized Zelgadis briefly, trying to decide if he was still a threat. What he saw was quite startling.
A wild variety of emotions crossed his face, as if Zel didn't know what he was supposed to think about what had happened, or about anything at all, for that matter. His expression shifted from remorseful to furious to happy in the space of a few seconds. As the swordsman watched, the pattern repeated itself in reverse. In the end, he cautiously concluded that Zelgadis was far too addled to pose a threat to Amelia.
"Lina?" Gourry called in a questioning tone, turning his back on Zelgadis and Amelia in favor of pursuing his charge through the woods. He briefly wondered if what had happened to Amelia was what had affected Lina so badly, but quickly dismissed the idea. Amelia was back there. Lina was somewhere ahead of him in the dark. It was as simple as that. As he moved deeper into the darkness, he tried to figure out why she'd left.
Gourry would be the first to admit that he wasn't the sharpest knife in the shed, but . . . wait a second, "Knife in the shed"? He paused for a moment, forehead scrunched up in thought. Had he mixed up his metaphors? Sighing hopelessly, he plunged onward into the woods. He supposed that one could keep knives in the shed, but . . . wouldn't they be of better use in the kitchen? What strange people chefs were.
Anyway—to get back on track—he wasn't smart, but he was observant, he thought with a small amount of pride. As a swordsman, it was vitally important that he not miss a single detail in a foe's style. His keen eye had saved his life many times. The point was: Lina loved Amelia dearly; she felt the same about Zel as well, albeit in a more cautious way. She'd tried to keep it to herself, but Gourry had caught her smiling and laughing with her friends more times than she'd be comfortable admitting.
That realization brought a sick feeling of fear with it. Lina wouldn't have abandoned Amelia, or Zel for that matter, in their time of need unless something horrible had happened. He was sure that it had something to do with her sword. She'd been upset before she saw the blade, but upset didn't even begin to cover what he'd seen afterwards; she'd been madder than he'd ever seen her in all the time they'd been together.
"Hey, Lina!" he yelled without much hope, as he forced his way through some dense foliage. He paused for a moment, head cocked as he listened for any sign of her—rustling, the random vulgarity, anything—but was sorely disappointed. He was quickly coming to the conclusion that he was quite lost. There was just no way that she'd come this way. Just the idea that she'd gotten through the area in a dress of all things, well, it boggled the mind. How had she avoided getting snagged?
(Scene break)
Lina laboriously navigated the dense undergrowth, muttering a steady stream of the vilest obscenities under her breath. Her dress was a sad ruin of blue rags by this point, as the forest itself seemed intent on impeding her progress. "Damn it!" she growled as a particularly cruel barb drew a thin line of blood across her exposed thigh. It was a superficial wound at worst, but it'd probably itch for days while it healed.
There was a quiet hiss as her sword was drawn and a moment later, the neatly severed vine lay on the forest floor, never to trouble her again. She spared it one last venomous glare before pushing on. She wasn't usually prone to getting angry at inanimate objects . . . well, not this mad, in any case. But it was far better to be furious than the alternative; somewhere ahead of her was something from her darkest nightmares.
Still, she had to know if she was right. Okay, she knew that she was right. Zel had all but confirmed it back in the clearing, but she had to see it for herself. Anything was better than hiding in a closet somewhere crying, unsure of what lurked just out of sight. That wasn't who she was. She was Lina Inverse, damn it! Slayer . . .
The silent pep talk was quickly forgotten in favor of staring at the scene before her with her mouth hanging open. The forest had opened up into a clearing with such suddenness that she'd been momentarily taken aback.
An ancient oak tree, so thick that even Gourry wouldn't have been able to put his arms around it, dominated the scene. For a moment, it looked as if there were twin trees in the clearing, but upon closer inspection, it became obvious that one was just a reflection cast in a glassy pool of water.
Unlike the surrounding woods, which were gradually giving in to the call of winter, it was summer here. Lina got the distinct impression that it was always summer here. It was a silly idea she had to admit, but still, it felt RIGHT. Fireflies flitted across the surface of the pool as if they belonged there and not a single dead leaf marred the beauty of the area.
Momentarily forgetting her pursuit, Lina made her way to the edge of the pool and looked down into the glassy water. She frowned at the haggard young woman looking back up at her. Fiery hair, once her pride and joy, was little more than a tangled mess now. Small twigs poked out of the mess at multiple points. Her face was dark, almost black even, still smeared with mud from her tumble a few minutes ago.
Sometime during her self-examination, another face had appeared in the water beside her. She turned to see a young boy standing beside her. Well, standing was too strong a word. He looked as if he might topple over at any moment. Noting that she was looking at him, he smiled at her sleepily.
They stood there for a long moment, looking each other over curiously.
It was strange. The boy was rocking back and forth slightly, as if the ground was roiling beneath him. Lina eyed the boy thoughtfully, before clearing her throat and asking, "Um, are you drunk, Marco?"
Marco shook his head slowly, shying away from Lina a bit as he did so. And why shouldn't he? Here was another total stranger who knew his name. Lina imagined that he must have been feeling like some sort of bizarre celebrity by this point.
Taking a deep breath, Lina forced herself to smile. "You ARE Marco, right? Amelia's talked about you." She guessed it was Marco, anyway. How many kids wandered around in the dead of night? "I'm Lina. Lina Inverse." She took a step forward, extending a hand in friendship. His reaction wasn't quite what she'd hoped for.
The boy's eyes bugged out in terror and he took a quick step back. Too quick, it seemed as he tripped over his feet and tumbled to the ground. He didn't say anything as he hit—just grunted a bit when he sat down. After that, he seemed content to stare at his feet, seemingly in wonderment of how he was no longer standing on them.
"Okay . . ." Lina whispered to herself. Something was seriously wrong with the boy. "Hey," she said, trying to make her smile even wider if that was possible, "I don't bite, kid." She knelt down in front of him and looked into his eyes. They looked as if they didn't even see her.
Marco blinked at her owlishly. "Um, I think she said that too . . ." he mumbled, apparently deciding that Lina might be trustworthy. Noting her questioning look, he craned his neck to the side and explained, "She lied."
Lina mentally kicked herself for her choice of words. All of a sudden, Marco's behavior didn't seem so strange. Apparently he was somewhat lightheaded from blood loss. Twin puncture wounds were painfully visible in the soft flesh of his throat; fresh blood stained the collar of his shirt. So, the vampire had come this way . . .
She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. They were horribly vulnerable out here. The clearing that had seemed so safe and inviting before had become a huge target surrounded by innumerable shadows.
"Come on, Marco." Lina took the boy's arm and helped him none too gently to his feet. She put a hand on his shoulder to steady him and hastily dragged him towards the trees.
"W-What's wrong?" Marco stammered, finding Lina's panic infectious. He dug in his heels, unwilling to go any farther until he was reassured.
Lina silently counted to five through gritted teeth before calmly explaining, "I'm getting us out of here. It's not safe." When Marco didn't answer her, she looked down at him and was quite alarmed to see how pale he was. His mouth hung open and a bit of saliva ran down his chin. "Come on, don't do this to me now," she quietly pleaded. She knelt in front of him again and slapped him, not hard enough to really hurt, but more than enough to get his attention. "Stay with me, kid" she growled, when she saw him blink at her again.
"Ahuh, wha . . . ?" he mumbled in a questioning tone. Apparently, he was trying to say something along the lines of, "Yes, can I help you?"
"Where'd she go?" Lina asked. He seemed far more interested in the trees behind her than answering her question. "MARCO!" she snarled, giving him a good shake. When she had his attention again, she asked again, "Where. Did. She. Go?" pausing between every word so that they'd sink in.
"Where did . . . ?" Marco thought for a moment before pointing at the trees behind him. "Uh . . . that way . . . ?" he answered in a none too convincing tone.
It was enough for Lina though. They were going in the opposite direction—back to Gourry and the others. Her pursuit of the vampire would have to wait for when she was better equipped and didn't have Marco to look out for. She didn't know if she was disappointed or relieved; probably a lot of both, she decided after some deliberation.
"I don't think she's back there anymore though," Marco ventured.
"Really? Why's that?" Lina asked, not really caring, but wanting to keep him talking. If he was talking, he was conscious and she wasn't sure she could carry him back through the thicker parts of the brush.
"Um, 'cause she's standing right behind you."
(Scene break)
Amelia was going to die, Zelgadis realized as he cradled her in his arms. He was having mixed reactions to that unhappy knowledge. The bad thing about it, was that he was unable to do anything to help her.
If it'd been within his power, he would have done anything to save her—even going so far as to give his own life without a second thought.
The problem was that he was having second thoughts . . . and third ones as well. It had been what felt like an eternity since his mind was his own, but at this point, it wasn't even a pair of voices in his head; there were enough people mucking around in his head to form a committee.
The first presence was, thankfully, the most familiar one. After all, it was Zelgadis Greywords himself. For his part, he wanted so much to do something for Amelia—anything besides sitting here and watching her slip away.
That desire, no matter how strong it was, was drowned out by the newest voice to take up residence within him; it was the voice of a young woman by the name of Amelia Wil Tesla Seyruun. She was pleading with him—rather loudly, now that he thought about it—to leave her behind and go to find Marco. Didn't he understand that was part of the reason that she'd made her sacrifice? To save him and Marco? Letting the poor boy be swept away by that vampire was just . . . unjust. She sent him an earnest and utterly heart-wrenching plea: Just let me go.
Zelgadis cringed, trying to get away from the guilt she was spewing in his skull. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks and his shoulders heaved as he began to loudly sob. "I . . . I don't want to!" he protested, burying his face in her shoulder to hide his grief from Jillas. It didn't help much, but it was a comfort not having to see the questions on his face anymore. "I won't leave you!"
In addition to her thoughts, Zelgadis had received something else from Amelia—something that overwhelmed him with guilt and self-loathing; he'd taken her life. Oh, he hadn't killed her, not yet in any case. As much as she begged him to leave her, she struggled to stay among the living. It was instinct.
No, what Zelgadis had taken from her—what had overwhelmed him so horribly—was everything that she was. He could vividly recall a childhood spent in a circus, growing up around all sorts of exotic animals. He tasted something sweet, almost cloyingly so. Amelia's voice cheerfully informed him that it was cotton candy. Then, the taste was gone in an instant as other thoughts were flung to the forefront of his consciousness.
He stopped weeping for a moment, unable to manage any expression besides a wide, slightly dopey grin. He felt euphoric, loving everything about himself. From his handsome features to his "really cool" wings and "neat" fangs, he saw himself in a totally new light—the way Amelia saw him. Underlying all those thoughts was an unshakeable sense of trust; she truly and honestly believed that Zelgadis would never harm her. That was what hurt the worst; that was why he wept. He'd seen Amelia's faith that, despite what he might think to the contrary, he was inherently a good and kind man. Knowing that someone could think so kindly of him, especially someone as loving as Amelia, made it that much harder to accept how he'd betrayed her. It was true that she'd made the offer, but he'd failed her by accepting.
Somehow, even as that cacophony of love, guilt, joy, and despair raged within his skull, the smallest of voices could be heard—a musical voice, not unlike the song of wind chimes. The blood demon Grou had spoken up at last.
Zelgadis had a strange mental image of a violently ill winged demon. Apparently, Grou was feeling a bit under the weather. If he had to guess, he'd think that it was a little unhappy with the torrent of love and cotton candy that had suddenly flooded its formerly dark home.
Grou wasted absolutely no time in informing Zelgadis that he was quite right about his assumption. Sharing a mind with Amelia wasn't exactly what it would call pleasant. That wasn't important though. What mattered was that it knew how to save the girl.
A look of suspicion on his face, Zelgadis wondered why exactly Grou wanted him to save a life that he personally found to be quite repugnant. Especially given the fact that it had tried to get him to feed on her not even a day ago.
Desperate times called for desperate measures, Grou calmly informed him. They had been starving for days now. Even as a passenger in his mind, Grou had felt the hunger. And it had driven him into a bit of a rage.
"A bit" Zelgadis muttered under his breath. "You would have had me kill Amelia before. Why not now?"
Grou's denial was so vehement, Zelgadis briefly wondered if his skull had cracked from the pressure. A picture formed in his mind a moment later. This time, the winged devil was patting Amelia on the head, in what looked as if it was supposed to be an affectionate manner. It would have been cute, had her chin not been bouncing off her chest every time its claws came down atop her skull. It wasn't so much patting her head as dribbling it. The point of the image was clear though: I like Amelia and want to see her live.
"All right, you've made your point!" Zelgadis yelled aloud, startling Jillas, who had been surreptitiously trying to see to Amelia without getting his master's attention.
Grou smiled and ceased its demonstration of affection for Amelia. For her part, she looked extremely grateful and quickly scampered out of the mental demon's reach. It ignored her ingratitude in favor of staring right into Zelgadis's eyes. He didn't know how it was able to stare into his eyes considering that it was little more than the dark thoughts hiding at the back of his mind, but stare it did, nonetheless.
"How can I help her?" he asked, staring right back at Grou. Back in the real world, he felt Amelia shudder in his arms; she wouldn't last much longer. Try as he might though, he couldn't see her. He felt trapped by the dark pits of Grou's eyes. "Tell me how," he repeated, refusing to flinch under its inhuman gaze.
"Give something back," it replied.
(Scene break)
Lina tried to whip around and face her attacker, even though she knew it was pointless. Just as she expected, she was stopped in mid turn by an icy hand on the back of her neck.
"Make one more move and I'll twist your pretty little head off your shoulders," the vampire said quite coolly. She gave Lina a terse shake for emphasis. "Nod if you understand."
"Yes, ma'am," Lina whispered, not daring to budge.
"Did I tell you to speak? What part of 'nod' don't you understand?" the vampire hissed. She shook Lina again, making the redhead's teeth rattle. "Are you too obstinate to follow directions or just plain stupid?"
Lina cringed at the scathing question, but could think of absolutely nothing to say in return. Here was the woman who had traded verbal barbs with the Hellmaster himself, bereft of even a shred of self-confidence and pride.
"Now, we're going to try this again. I'm going to search you now. Do you understand that I will kill you without a second thought if you try anything stupid?" Her voice taking on a tone of biting sarcasm, the vampire added, "And I know that this is a terribly difficult concept to grasp, but nod your head, please. I don't want any misunderstandings."
Chewing her lower lip in an attempt to hold back the tears stinging her eyes—she knew that if she cried the vampire would certainly kill her—Lina nodded quickly, resembling nothing so much as a child that had been scolded for some mischief.
When she was sure that Lina wasn't going to try anything stupid, the vampire pressed herself against Lina's back and methodically went about the task disarming the Slayer. The sword and scabbard were snatched and flung to the side; the small dagger hidden in an apron pocket suffered the same fate.
For just a moment, Lina felt a pang of stupid hope that the stake she'd concealed in her blouse would go unnoticed. Those hopes plummeted when she felt a cool hand slip down her chest. She flinched a bit at the sensation; even after all she'd experienced, getting felt up by something that basically amounted to a walking talking cadaver was a little unnerving. Her insolence earned her another violent shake.
"Lina, did I or did I not tell you to keep still?" the vampire sighed into the redhead's ear. "Ah, here we are!" she exclaimed triumphantly, yanking her prize from its hiding place. "Really, Lina," she chastised, "In addition to being a rather poor hiding place—forgive me for saying so, but it jutted out further than your breasts—what do you think would have happened if you'd tripped? I daresay it would have been quite a painful way to die, impaled upon your own stake, don't you think? Not to mention embarrassing." Sighing in disappointment, she flung the stake aside. "You stupid girl. I've never seen such gross ineptitude . . ."
There was more to the vampire's diatribe, but by this point Lina was aware of naught but her pulse pounding in her ears. There was stinging pain in her palms; she would realize sometime later that she'd balled her hands up so tightly that she'd drawn blood with her nails. Her vision was blurry and her legs felt as if they might betray her and give out at any moment. This was what she'd been dreading for months on end. She didn't know what she'd expected when she finally heard that cool voice again. Fear, maybe. And she had felt fear for a moment, hadn't she? But, never in her wildest dreams had she thought that she'd feel angry. Yet, before she knew what she was doing, she'd flung an elbow back into her tormentor's ribs, earning a few inches of space in which to maneuver. A moment later, she'd whirled around, an inhuman snarl upon her face. With murderous precision, she thrust her fingertips into the vampire's throat, crushing its windpipe. The strike would have left a normal man lying on the ground dying from asphyxiation. Just like Sis had taught her.
Her foe was not a normal man, however. The vampire staggered back and coughed, but nothing more. A moment later, she'd almost nonchalantly backhanded Lina across the face, sending her to the ground. "Oh, that's a fine, 'How do you do?'" she croaked indignantly, taking a step back from the fallen redhead. She coughed roughly and her voice returned to some semblance of normalcy, Lina's damage already undoing itself.
"Okay, that sucked," Lina mumbled, painstakingly propping herself up on her elbows. Her mouth was filled with a coppery taste and she grimaced; she hated the taste of her blood. It usually meant that things weren't going well. She spat in a very unladylike manner and took a moment to catch her breath. Somehow, she knew that there would be no follow up on the initial blow. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed her suspicion; the vampire stood over her, eyeing her thoughtfully.
"Wipe your face," the ivory-cloaked figure instructed after a moment of contemplation. "I'd rather not slip again like I did with the boy." She nodded in Marco's direction. "You have my apologies, Marco."
Lina automatically did as she was told, wiping the blood from her mouth. She turned and looked at Marco who was sitting a few feet away. He wore a glassy eyed expression and didn't seem to notice that his name had been mentioned.
"Having trouble controlling your impulses?" Lina mused aloud. Trying to catch a glimpse of the face under the hood, she said, "You used to preach self control to me all the time, Sis. What happened?" Her eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth when she realized what had slipped out. Whatever this thing had been before, it was no longer her sister. It was a creature of darkness and it wouldn't do to be too familiar with her . . . "It," she mentally corrected. Not her.
"Well," Luna replied in a tone dripping with arrogance, "you're hardly one to talk about self control, Lina. Tell me, did you disobey my last request immediately or did you at least wait a few days to grieve?"
Lina shook her head mutely, having no words for her sister. There was no defense for what she'd done. Luna's dying cry from five years ago echoed in her mind. "Run." Such a simple request and Lina couldn't even manage that. Even as Luna had taught Lina her skills, there'd always been the most important lesson hanging over her head. She was never supposed to follow in Luna's footsteps. In the event that she ever was in danger, she was supposed to run away if possible.
Noting that Luna was still staring at her from under her white hood, awaiting some answer, Lina shrugged helplessly and muttered, "Sorry." What else could she say?
Luna held her sister's gaze for a moment longer, seeming to search for something in her ruby eyes. "You're sorry," she repeated after a moment. Fetching a sigh of utter disappointment, she said, "Lina, I wouldn't be quite as upset if you at least did our work well. However, as it stands, you are quite possibly one of the most disappointing examples of a Slayer that I've ever had the misfortune of meeting. I'm ashamed that I even taught you and even more so that we share the same blood."
Try as she might, Lina was unable to suppress a quiet sniffle at the thought of how cruel Luna was being to her. What happened to the loving sister that had looked out for her after their parents had died? Sure, she had been stern—as an authority figure, she'd had to be sometimes—but even so, first and foremost, she'd been Lina's best friend. Her Sis. "I . . . I can't believe you just said that . . ." she whispered.
"Does it hurt?" Luna inquired in return. The expression on Lina's face was all the answer she needed. "Good." She knelt down next to Marco and, taking his hand, gently helped him to his feet. Her voice practically dripping with kindness, she asked him, "Are you alright, child? Don't worry, this will be over soon." She put an arm around his shoulders to steady him.
Her sister's choice of words sent a chill down Lina's spine. "You're not going to hurt him," she growled threateningly, as she reached for a sword that wasn't there.
"Did you hear that?" Luna asked Marco in a tone of mock hurt, "My idiot sister thinks the worst of me even when I try to do her job for her. There's gratitude for you. Am I going to hurt you, Marco?" Noting the nervous expression on the boy's face, she swatted his arm playfully. "Well, again, I mean. Am I going to hurt you again?"
Marco shook his head slowly.
"And why not?"
"B-Because you want to help me rest."
(Scene break)
"Amelia! Welcome home!" boomed a voice full of wicked joviality.
Amelia's head ached at the sound. A moment later, she felt something warm running down either side of her neck. Curious, she gingerly touched the fluid and held her hand up in front of her face. Assuming she had a hand of course. It was so dark wherever she was that she couldn't be sure. Had she been able to see, she would have been surprised at the amount of blood flowing from her ears; the sound of that voice had caused her eardrums to explode—the first of many agonies awaiting her.
"I'm so happy to see you, young lady." There was a thoughtful pause before the voice corrected itself. "Well, that's not quite true, I must admit." Two crimson eyes, as large as carriage wheels, glared at the girl in the darkness. "In a way, I'm sorry to see you so soon. I had such expectations for you."
Her head positively throbbing by that point, Amelia cringed, her hands quickly moving to conceal her nakedness; she was fully dressed and yet, felt as if those horrid eyes were looking through her clothes, even going so far as to see through flesh, blood and bone to pierce the darkest recesses of her very being.
Teeth, jagged and horrible, glinted in the darkness. "Soft meat, so sweet, praise Ceiphied, let's eat!" The demon roared with laughter at the idea of the Flare Dragon blessing so profane a meal. The ground shook as it advanced on the terrified girl.
Just before it reached her, Amelia felt liquid heat hit her tongue. It struck her with such intensity that she was momentarily knocked senseless. Falling to her knees, she felt it roll down her throat to pool in her stomach. Fire was the first thing she'd thought of to describe the sensation, but it wasn't painful. It was refreshing, making her feel more alive than she'd ever been.
"Well, it seems that I was mistaken."
Amelia looked up to see a misshapen horror standing over her, talons raised to deal a killing blow. She screamed and covered her eyes, but it was too late. The image of the demon was burned into her unconscious mind for the rest of her days, to be remembered for a moment whenever she'd awaken from a nightmare.
The demon was easily twenty feet tall with massive horns erupting from its ebony skin with no discernable pattern. It was vaguely humanoid . . . well, in the sense that it had two arms, two legs, and a head atop its shoulders. But that's where the similarities ended. Raw and bleeding flesh was layered upon more flesh, not even matching but seeming to mesh nonetheless. Its black flesh—so dark it seemed to suck what little light was around it—faded into paler skin at the juncture between its right arm and shoulder. A similar merging of the flesh took place in its left leg and the wicked looking tail swishing behind it.
Curling into a fetal position, Amelia wailed at the top of her lungs. She'd only looked for a second. Only a second, but she'd seen.
Faces. Hundreds of agonized expressions leered at her from the demon's maimed limbs. The demon had fashioned its limbs from the wicked flesh of a thousand rapists and murderers. Who knew how long it had spent in darkness, working flesh like clay, shaping it to its needs.
"Just over two months," the demon answered, ignoring the girl's whimpers. It flexed its arm experimentally, causing the human components to cry out in agony as bones snapped and organs were crushed. They weren't even dead, these sad ruins of humanity. "Much quicker than I could have ever hoped for. It's a wicked world you inhabit, Amelia, rife with chaos and corruption."
There was something horribly familiar about this creature and Amelia found herself compelled to look upon its face. She shuddered at the sight of an impossibly large rent in the demon's forehead. It looked as if its skull was all but split in two.
"A parting gift from your friend. Never have I been wounded so grievously as when I faced Lina Inverse." There was venom in the Hellmaster's tone, but Amelia could have sworn that she detected a bit of awe as well.
"Awe?" Hellmaster drew himself up to his full height and Amelia covered her eyes in the face of his fury. "I'd flay you alive for such insolence if we had but a few moments more. However, it seems that our time together is coming to an end. I will remember this insult though. Sixty, eighty, or a hundred years, it's the blink of an eye for one who is eternal. When we meet again, I'll see you and Lina both spitted." Even as he threatened, she sensed that his terrible voice was fading as if he was at a great distance. "I told you once that you had beautiful eyes. I'll enjoy sucking them from your skull one day . . ."
Hellmaster's visage evaporated like mist in the morning and Amelia promptly forgot the encounter; it had possessed the qualities of a dream and she rarely remembered such things. Most of her dreaming was done while she was awake.
Amelia felt as if she were floating and then falling. Before she even had time to worry about it, she'd slammed back into herself with a jolt. She was alive again. The first thing she noticed was that she still felt incredibly hot. Whatever had brought her back strengthened her at what was almost a terrifying rate and felt like she could take on the world in that instant. The rest of her senses came back to her one by one. First, she became aware of the taste—that wonderfully bitter essence flowing over her tongue. Next was the feeling of powerful arms gently cradling her body and the gentle touch of warm lips pressed against her own. She smiled, knowing before she even opened her eyes who was holding her.
Kissing Zelgadis was nice, far better than the silly little fantasies she'd entertained while sitting around the campfire with him in the evening. Silly little dreams that always involved sitting out under the stars—even in her dreams, Amelia was far too considerate to make poor Mister Zelgadis sit out in the sun—and invariably culminated in a situation, much like this one.
With a trembling hand, she reached up to stroke his cheek. It was like she'd imagined: flawless, like a statue of marble. There wasn't a wrinkle, scar, or blemish to be found. The only difference between fantasy and reality was that he was far warmer than she'd ever imagined; it was like being embraced by a furnace.
Zelgadis finally drew back and Amelia finally understood what he'd been doing. Blood was smeared around his mouth; he'd punctured his tongue and returned some of what he'd taken from her. She felt a momentary pang of revulsion, coupled with disappointment. So, he hadn't kissed her because he loved her then . . .
As if reading her thoughts, Zelgadis's expression changed from one of relief to disappointment. He did have feelings for her. It was just hard to admit. He didn't dare allow himself to get too close to her. Next time, he might not be able to stop himself from hurting her. Next time . . .
Amelia silenced that train of thought by running her hand over his face again. Just being able to touch him was such a relief. He'd never let her close and, truth be told, she was a little frightened as well. She'd never really loved anyone before and . . .
. . . didn't know how to deal with it. Zelgadis kissed the palm of her hand before drawing her close and hugging her tightly. He hadn't known either. He'd never had anyone care about him before and couldn't be sure if she was sincere or not. He felt as if an incredible weight had been lifted from his shoulders. She had been afraid too. Somehow, that made him feel better about his own apprehensions.
Sensing his relief, Amelia smiled and hugged him in return. She didn't know it was possible to be so happy. She briefly entertained the notion that she'd died and gone on to her eternal reward. The emotions that she was feeling were more intense than any she'd ever experienced before. And why not? She was experiencing her own love twice over—once when she felt it and redoubled when she felt Zelgadis's response.
For his part, Zelgadis was struggling to stay aware in the face of all the emotions buffeting him. He'd never been very open with his feelings, often electing to lock them away for fear that they'd be used against him, so this was even more overwhelming for him. But, as he felt the feelings wash over him, he realized something: he liked it. Not just liked it but savored it. It was liberating to know someone like this and to be known.
Encouraged by that realization, Zelgadis whispered sweet things into Amelia's ears—not words, so much as emotions given voice. The sound of his voice startled them both and they drew back momentarily and stared at one another.
Speaking of—well—speaking, until Zelgadis had voiced his love for her, it had been awfully quiet. Gazing into one another's eyes, comprehension dawned on them simultaneously: they hadn't spoken a word for the last five minutes, yet had exchanged a multitude of thoughts. They understood one another implicitly.
With that knowledge, came the realization that they both wanted the same thing in that moment. And so, they kissed again, forgetting for the moment their troubles and those of their friends.
Somewhere in the dark, Lina faced an enemy she'd never imagined and for the moment, it seemed that she must face Luna alone . . .
(End)
Next Chapter: Lina's past has come back to haunt her in the most literal way possible. Gourry rushes to her side, but will he make it in time? Even if he does, will it be enough?
Notes: First off, if you're wondering about the lovely little "Scene Breaks" thrown in there to totally pull you out of the story, the damn quickedit program eats my "". If anyone has any idea of how to get around this adorable little quirk, please e-mail me. It's driving me nuts.
In any case, I'm really really sorry about how long I'm letting this thing go between chapters. Suffice to say, I haven't been in the best mood as of late. That coupled with a downright hellish schedule (I've been getting 2-3 hours of sleep at night of late) and it makes for longer intervals between chapters.
But, enough about that! Big chapter and I loved how it came out (and it only took 3-4 rewrites. How about that?). The vampire in white's identity revealed (or is it?) and an amazingly fun to write cameo by the Hellmaster himself. All in all, I'm quite pleased with how it's come out.
If you feel the urge to review (and if not, shame on you!) kindly tell me if Luna was a surprise to you. I've been worried for months that I'd given too much away.
Until next time!
Reviewer Response:
Wow! So many reviews this time! I'm gonna try to keep this short, to avoid running up the word count too much.
What? You can't accept that Grou's a really nice guy, Kaitrin? Just look at how nice he was to Amelia in this chapter!
Okay, Ichiban, everyone knows that you knew who the vampire was! - Just for the record, everyone, she had it pegged way back in the early 20s. Smart girl, she is.
Ishy-chan, the dead blood thing is very Rice-esque, just for the record. You pegged the Marco thing that early? I've got to start making things tougher for you people!
Well, if it made you laugh, it's comedy if I meant it to be or not, right, Otaku Girl? Yep, that was the big inspiration for Gourry's parents' names. I kind of like them myself.
That's a pretty well thought out idea, Airi-chan. You'll just have to wait and see where Grou ended up. I haven't quite figured it out myself. Suffice to say, any chance to cause chaos, I'm sure he'll take.
Hello, Brenda! Thanks for the kind words on my other fics. They do tend to end on a bittersweet note, don't they? Hmm, makes me wonder how this one's going to end . . . In any case, I think I'm going to try to write "The Taming of Lina Inverse" between this one and Eternal Twilight 2.
Wesley, you'll just have to wait and see! But, I will tell you that the only dragon in the story is Ceiphied. I'm not quite ready to say what Valgaav and Filia are . . .
But, Miss Gabriev, I thought you didn't want me to kill the characters! Make up your mind already! Just kidding! Thanks for the kind words.
Rigel? Um, did you just call me "sweetie"? Thanks! I think . . .