Burn My Sins Away (3/5)
Disclaimer in Part One
He soon found himself on the edge of another city, creeping in with dusk's shadows. It was smaller, more squalid than Kinshasa had been but perversely similar; the same dogs sniffing around in the garbage, the same ghostly stares from the children hidden walls and fences and trash bins, bright eyes peering out.
Ron traversed the streets, silently slipping past drunks and ignored by wandering gangs, too red to be a ghost, too white to be safe. The buildings towered over him menacingly, their brick and steel still burning with the sun's heat.
He stopped in an alley, claustrophobia clawing at his throat, making every breath a struggle. He fell against a slowly cooling brick wall, every rough centimeter scratching against his back as he slid to the ground. He sat there, his head supported by his arched knees as he fought for calm, the rush of his blood the only sound he could hear.
Without warning the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. His head shot up. The feeling was unmistakable, unforgettable. Something was coming. He pulled his legs in closer and let his eyes roam in a vain effort to see from where the threat might come. He heard the din of a pub door opening, the raucous noise of drunken songs and shouts cut off with the bang of metal against wood.
A drunk stumbled in smelling of tobacco smoke and cheap liquor. Ron quickly lowered his head and surreptitiously peered from beneath a fringe of hair. He watched the drunk stagger by, his unsteady steps weaving a strange dance to music that only he could hear. His only peculiarities seemed to be his tanned white skin and the eye patch that sliced across the left side of his face. He staggered to the far wall and slumped, boneless and rejected.
Ron stared, waiting.
All of his senses exploded when a figure followed the drunk in from the street, somehow darker then the surrounding shadows. It soundlessly stalked the drunk, its yellow eyes glowing in the dark, focused only on its prey
Everything slowed and Ron remembered. He could see those feverish last days play out in his mind, the days when they weren't safe by day or by night. He remembered Voldemort's new allies and the things they had done to those who were unable or unwilling to protect themselves. He remembered the desperate research and arguments and experiments that had finally led to an answer and an attack. He remembered.
Ron stood up, stepping forward just as the drunk stirred. He stood in one fluid motion and rushed the vampire, throwing himself against it as the air crackled and Ron gathered his thoughts. He whispered a single word. The alley exploded into day.
They stared at each other through the drifting ash as day rapidly sank back into night.
"That was nifty." The former drunk remarked, his words flat and alienly American. There was just enough fading light for Ron to make out the wry half smile on his face. "That's quite the voodoo that you do."
His grin faded as he took Ron in. Ron shivered and felt a tightening of fear in his chest. For having only one eye this stranger's gaze was oddly piercing, something in it making Ron want to turn and run as fast as he could. Perversely he was frozen to the ground as drops of sweat began to bead on the back of his neck.
The stranger reached into his back pocket and Ron stiffened and stepped back, his hands coming up in a defensive position. The Yank's hands flew up. "Hey, it's okay." He said soothingly, his words slow and calm, his tone reminding Ron so strongly of Hagrid that he suddenly felt close to tears.
The stranger stepped forward cautiously, his hands slowly coming up, a white business card prominent in his hand. "When you're done doing what you've gotta do, you should give ma a call." He held out the card to him and Ron took it automatically. "We can always use a helping hand." The dark-haired man nodded and stepped around him, put his hands into his pockets and was suddenly transformed from vampire hunter to carefree American in a single instant.
Ron spun around, a strange impulse driving him to not just let this other man go. He stood for a moment, his mouth working soundlessly, at a loss for what to say. "Thanks." He finally said, his voice strange in his own ears.
The other man turned and Ron could just make out a flash of white teeth as he grinned. "Not a problem." He replied and with a shrug stepped out of the alley.
TBC