dialogue – thoughts
"dialogue" – speaking
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Chapter 8
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She had debated briefly with herself on whether or not to inform Milly or Wolfwood of what she was going to do and came to the simple conclusion that she shouldn't waste her breath. After all, this was her problem, and there was no sense in Milly or a priest to be mixed up in it. It wasn't fair to them. It wasn't fair to her. She had to deal with her problems alone, by herself and on her own. She always had.
Only a flutter of unease across her mind alerted her to her own stupidity before it was swept aside with pure determination.
She had a promise to keep, after all, and maybe she was getting closer to fulfilling her father's wishes.
Meryl adjusted her heavy cloak one last time before plucking her handkerchief from her kitchen table. She sniffled slightly and jammed in into her pocket for safekeeping. She wasn't one to take her health lightly, but when it came in the way of a job well done, she could only take precautions.
Besides, a small cold was nothing to worry about, and it had gotten much better since the day before.
The petite woman checked over her derringers, making sure all fifty were tucked securely until they came to use. She had taken her stakes, too. She had found they could be just as effective against unwanted guests as silver bullets. There were ten of them, all strapped neatly in a row along her belt.
Everything was set, then.
Today was the day she would find the true underlying cause of the strange occurrences that had been revolving around her ever since her first encounter with the mysterious half-blood—Vash.
It had all started with him, and she would end it with him.
Meryl was sure Vash held all of her answers.
Vash sighed heavily and leaned back onto his bed until he was sprawled out fully.
It was heavy on his mind, and knew he could do nothing to clear it.
He had face the reality of his situation, and try to make the best of it…
How could he?
His brother had left Purebrood to track him down, and Vash knew that couldn't be a good thing.
His own brother wanted nothing more than to wipe out all the humans in his path, he wouldn't even bother to turn them. He wanted nothing more than to kill the people Vash was attempting to save.
And apparently, he hadn't done a good enough job of it. Now that short woman was involved, her collaborate too, and he wasn't sure if he could help them. His brother was too powerful, he could do almost anything he wished…
But there was no doubt about it, and the thought was a heavy weight of guilt on his mind, pulling him down.
Knives was after the two women, and he wasn't sure if he could stop him…
--
Mr. Priest had insisted on accompanying her to Meryl's. It was only because of her cold, she was sure, but couldn't shake the slight feeling of restlessness that was ticking in the back of her head. It was only just barely there…
But she didn't see it as that big of a deal. She wasn't worried about her apprehension, and a cold was a cold. She had had much worse—like that one year she had contracted the flu from the dirty water of London, or when she had fallen in with that unnamed virus that had managed to wipe out half of England two years ago. So, really, this was nothing. Nothing but a spring cold had by too much fresh air and maybe a little too much rain.
But she could still sense something else, too. Barely. Faintly. The ticking in her head an itch waiting to be scratched.
Mr. Priest kept his true thoughts hidden quite efficiently, but Milly had Meryl to deal with, and being with Meryl had made her and expert. And, of course, she wasn't as dumb as she may have looked. She caught onto more than what the world let out.
And she had found that Nicholas was nervous, apprehensive, worried, all three mixed together in one big heap to make a wave of unease spread out from his body. Of course, she wasn't as good as Meryl when in came to sensing people's emotions. The short woman claimed it came from her father—her amazing in depth perception of people and what they felt.
She had said it came in handy every once in a while.
So, naturally—and Milly couldn't see how any other normal person could miss it—that Mr. Priest was, indeed having mixed thoughts about something or other.
And she wished she knew what was bothering him, as she wished she knew what was bothering herself.
Sighing slightly, and aware that Wolfwood had stopped just at the bottom of the steps while Milly ascended them, she took hold of knocker and rapped it sharply three times. She waited patiently for a response, a muffled apology and the sound of the lock clicking open and the knob turning.
And when none came, she turned to face the priest with a slightly worried tinge to her eyes.
"Mr. Priest." She said simply, and the shaggy man nodded before backing off slightly to sneak a peak into one of Meryl's windows.
Wolfwood observed the house neutrally, although, on the inside his stomach was twisting and turning, jumping nervously and flip-flopping in circles. He had known something was wrong.
How did I know the short girl would do something stupid like this? the priest asked himself woefully when he discovered that the house was a good as empty. No lights were on and there was no sign of life within the walls.
He grimaced slightly and patted himself down form a cigarette before shaking is head solemnly at Milly. Trust Meryl to go off by herself, trying to prove to everyone that she could do it be herself. Trust her not to involve others in her problems.
"The shorty isn't here, big girl."
The 'big girl's' hand immediately went to her mouth, and she paled slightly before whispering lightly.
"Oh, dear."
--
Meryl had retraced her steps from the day before, wandering around aimlessly for over an hour before finding a familiar landmark and sighing in relief. From here—and she hadn't taken the time yesterday to enjoy it—on the slight rise in the streets, you could see a good portion of London. Grey smoke drifting up aimlessly, the smoggy sky contributing to its dirtiness.
The petite woman frowned slightly.
She could see Big Ben, the huge clock tower looming around the buildings neighbouring it. The city was grey, the perfect shade to match its overall mood. Dying, hateful, ominous, no place for women to be. And here she was, standing out in the open and welcoming all of the daywalkers who could bear the light to come at her. What a fool.
Meryl's smoky eyes rested on the city once more before she turned from the view and headed off down the street again, passing by houses that blocked the ugly picture. That was why she was here, to help London—to help England. Her job was to rid this place of the scum that was killing it.
She passed only two people, both suspicious and dark. She hadn't looked at them, but had continued staring ahead.
Unwelcome attention spelled unwelcome guests.
And she only had one goal, to find that no good half-blood who called himself Vash.
--
The vampire in question was quite near his hunter, in fact, but he was doing anything but trying to find her.
It was more like avoidance.
She knew what he was, he bet, and he didn't feel like having a mob of angry Londoners with guns and stakes on his heels. So the best thing to do was stay in the shadows and avoid anyone he may see. He almost wished he were back inside his hotel room with nothing to worry about.
And that brought him to the question of why he was out in the first place if he didn't want to be discovered by that woman and her friend—or anyone else for that matter.
Vash was grim. His brother obviously thought something of that woman, and most likely wanted her dead. Actually, he was sure he wanted her dead. Why else would he have gathered over twenty vampires in the middle of day during a huge rainstorm just to ambush two "harmless women?"
Quite harmless indeed…
The blonde figured they were both hunters, intent on exterminating all of his kind. Why else would that short one have a cloak full of derringers and that taller one—Milly, she said her name was—have a huge stun gun ready and waiting. Plus, who knows how many other weapons they kept hidden in their clothes.
And why did Knives want them dead?
He had been known to go after several hunters and kill them himself, but that had only been if they were a real threat to vampires.
Surely two mere women—and one a tall a child—couldn't seriously intimidate Knives? Could they?
He needed answers.
And to get answers, he had to find Knives.
--
Meryl—despite her years of experience—hadn't even heard until too late. She hadn't even seen. There had been no warning whatsoever, no indication of attack. She was just suddenly…aware someone--something was behind her, staring at her. And she hadn't even sensed him.
Briefly, Meryl had berated herself and thought quite humourlessly that this was exactly the reason you always had a partner in this business, and when she was suddenly suspended in the air with an arm around her neck with no view of the vampire behind her, she suddenly wished she had asked Milly to come along. Maybe, then, her current uncomfortable position may have been avoided.
Although she doubted it slightly. She didn't know how many more were out there, just watching.
But her thoughts were cut off abruptly when the arm hooked around her neck tightened considerably and the strain of being suspended with no support finally got to her.
Her hands shot up to grasp the clothed arm, and she struggled almost feebly, lights bursting behind her eyes as she tried fervently to pull herself free.
A low voice said in her ear, "My master will be pleased once you are dead."
Meryl didn't recognize his voice, but the thought of who could possibly be strangling her was the last thing on her mind. Right now, her first priority was to get away with her life. The petite woman kicked her feet feebly, only to find that it placed more strain on her neck. She settled for using one of her much needed hands to find one of her derringers.
The cold metal of a gun brushed past her fingers, and Meryl's hand encircled it.
Then, bringing the gun back up, she aimed it over her shoulder and promptly fired.
It was a misfire - a total miscalculation.
The petite woman suddenly found herself on her back with no air left in her lungs.
Apparently, he had been quicker than she had originally thought. Vampires tended to do that, though. Doing unexpected things at unexpected times. She hated it.
One golden glared at her, dark blue hair hiding the other from view, "Maybe," he mused as the gun cocked, "I should kill you quickly. You don't seem to want to die."
Still struggling with her vision, Meryl managed to focus on the gun in her face before it was too late. In a move that was instinctive and desperate, she sent her foot upwards toward the gun and could only hope her foot could reach it.
The weapon was sent sailing.
The tall vampire looked slightly shocked—but only for a moment—and Meryl scooted backwards, trying desperately to distance herself from the man.
It didn't take long until he found out what she was doing, though, and he turned quickly before approaching her.
"Some humans are so reckless." He stated, almost to himself, and turned cold eyes onto Meryl.
The petite woman's body suddenly froze up, and she sat staring at the vampire before her. Face passive, one golden eye inexpressive, he approached her with his white clock flapping in an unseen and nonexistent breeze.
"Yet even when they know they are going to lose, they still fight." He crouched down by her side and stared at her for a moment.
He looked to be pondering, "Too bad my master doesn't think you would be an adequate vampire." He took her chin in one gloved hand as if he was inspecting her, "You would have done well as one of us, human."
--
Vash had passed the place where the two women had encountered Knives' vampires for the first time about five minutes ago, and not, to tell the truth, he had no idea where he was.
Somewhere between a street and an alley, he presumed.
The half-blood sighed slightly and continued down his path, turning around and listening, using all of his mind and body to find a hint of his brother somewhere in London. He hadn't even ran into any other vampires, which was very strange considering the amount of people in the city.
Suddenly, Vash stopped, halting his progress and tuning in his senses.
Being a half-blood had its advantages, and Vash was entirely grateful when he picked up in on another vampire near by. Over to his left, maybe a hundred yards.
Smiling slightly, Vash headed off quickly, intent on finding the vampire and getting information.
--
Wasn't this just what she needed? Exercise?
The petite woman doubted it.
Meryl arms shook with the strain of holding off the vampire's boot—which was currently trying to grind her head into the ground—and she wished once more and not for the last time that Milly was with her. That stun gun sure would come in useful right about now.
The man chuckled, a low sound in his throat, "See, human, you should have let me shoot you, it would have ended this quicker and caused you less effort."
Meryl growled slightly, her teeth grinding in tension, "Why don't you just go get it, then? It'll save you the trouble of getting blood on your boots!"
The blue haired vampire made a show of thinking, all the while leaning more weight on the foot the petite woman was supporting. He suddenly eased up, "Your cooperation is appreciated. My master will be pleased."
The strain on Meryl's arms was suddenly let up as the vampire turned away, headed toward the discarded weapon. Her arms felt nothing short of jelly, but right then she didn't care. Immediately, she whipped out a derringer and set it on his tall form, her hands shaking but her aim good. A grim smile spread across her face as her finger tightened on the trigger…
And her arm seized up, frozen in place as her gun clattered uselessly onto the cobblestones, the sound hollow to her ears.
Not again! Meryl thought angrily as the rest of her body froze up. She was forced to watch as the vampire retrieved his gun and turned back to her.
"He would not be pleased if I came back dead with my mission unsuccessful." The man once again approached her, but stopped a few metres away.
Meryl couldn't speak.
"Get up." He commanded, his gun in hand and face void of any emotion.
The petite woman stared dumbly at the vampire, unresponsive for a moment before her traitorous body lifted itself from the ground and stood facing the golden-eyed man. Meryl watched the bloodsucker warily, her mind racing wildly but her body frozen stiffly, desperately wanting to be as free as her thoughts.
Mind control was new to her in vampires. She had never encountered one with such abilities before, and to put it simply, she was more nervous than when she had encountered the icy eyed man himself. Not even when she had a pack of ravenous bloodsuckers on her heels had she been so incapable.
He raised his gun easily and aimed straight at her chest; "Humans have no place in this world, side by side with vampires. It's easy to remember."
Meryl couldn't even gulp nervously, and her breath was severely restrained. All see could do was stare straight ahead, right at the gun and wait until it all ended.
A ghost of a smile flickered across the vampire's face, and his finger slowly tightened on the trigger.
Meryl watched…
"Stop!"
A lone voice hollered from somewhere behind the vampire, and disappointment slid briefly over his face before he turned—gun raised—to the newcomer who had interrupted his fun.
Meryl would have gasped if she could, so instead she settled fro staring blankly, frozen uncomfortably and awaiting her fate.
The blue haired vampire managed an almost indifferent smirk before a mask of indifference conquered his face.
"How considerate of you to drop by, Vash Saverem…"
The blonde vampire stood his ground and narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Legato…"
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A/N: Heh heh heh. How's that for a cliffy, eh? Sorry for all the skipping around! Hope you like it!
Thanks for reading!
--Cayenne Pepper Powder