No Want, No Hunger, No Shame

"Dialogue"-speaking

Dialogue- thoughts

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Chapter 18

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"So what you're telling us is that…mark on short girl's neck is going to what? Kill her?"

Meryl hated the tone in Nick's voice.

"Well…yes, from what I know. It's a mark he uses on threats. Or, what he thinks is a threat."

Even more, she hated that oddness about Vash. She hated his sudden pallor, his cautiousness. He was acting too careful around them, and it she hated it. It made what little trust, what little respect she had had for the man completely vanish.

"Yes…but Mr. Vash…what is it? And why does Sempai, of all people, have to suffer with it?"

She detested the look on Milly's face. The way she gave her that sympathetic, forgiving look. Everyone was acting as though she was suffering terribly.

That was stupid. She didn't feel any different.

"It's a form of supernatural primordial power that's gifted to the ruler and then taken away when the next one comes along. As long as Knives is on the "throne," or as long as he wants it there, Meryl will have the mark…and eventually die from it."

Really, they were speaking about her as if she wasn't there. As if poor little Meryl wasn't in the kitchen—preferring to separate herself too brood, and that they weren't in the living room, in full view of the kitchen, not to mention full hearing range. Bastards…

No…not bastards…Milly isn't a bastard…

Milly was too nice to be a bastard.

"So, as long as Knives is…well…alive, Meryl will slowly die?"

Clutching the cup of tea she had made when Vash and herself had arrived a few hours before, Meryl snorted. I thought you would have figured that out by now, priest.

"That's what I said."

Stupid Vash, stupid priest.

Yeah, that's what he said, Nicholas!

"Oh, okay…"

There was a pause, Meryl's grip tightened on the unfortunate cup.

"So…if you don't mind me asking…how does it work?"

Damned priest! Wasn't this forbidden? At least outlawed!

"What work?"

Oblivious half-blood. He was such a sneak. Meryl could feel it, he was deceiving them all. Playing them for fools, all of them, even poor Milly.

The cup in her hand began to rattle on the surface of the wooden table as her grip tightened painfully, Ta… tap-tap

"How does it the mark work? What does it do?"

Disgusting, priest, disgusting Meryl's eyes fixed themselves on the smooth grain of the table.

Tap-tap-tap… tap tap-tap tap…

"Nicholas, I think that's enough. We don't need to know this…"

Milly's voice was unsure. She was the only person Meryl could see in the living room from the kitchen, but she refused to look. She refused to meet the woman's bright blue eyes—now clouded with sorrow and pity.

She wasn't going to die.

The petite woman's grip loosened on the cup, her muscles relaxing somewhat.

Tap…tap…tap…

"No, no. Don't you think it's a good idea to know? I mean, what if its already started and we don't even know?"

Tap-tap-tap…tap-tap tap…tap-tap-tap

That idiotic priest. Why would he want to know? Hadn't she already said she wasn't going to die? All those bloodsuckers could go straight to hell, for all she cared. A strange sort of pain tightened in Meryl's throat, and her fingers wound themselves painfully about he ceramic cup, tightening in a death-grip.

"I'm…not sure what happens…"

Liar…liar. You're a lying half-blood! Meryl's mind screamed to her, and her vision clouded somewhat. Her throat continued to tighten, and now she was breathing heavily through her nose.

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap!

Her cup was rattling uncontrollably on the wooden surface, the noise becoming increasingly louder as Wolfwood continued with his pressing. The man just didn't know when to drop it. She could feel tears gathering in the bottom of her eyes, slowly filling up her vision.

"Sure you do, you're a vampire. Knives is your ruler. You knew who he was, who his henchmen are, who that Legato man was. Why shouldn't you know how this mark thing works?"

Tap-tat-tap-tap…

Was this man purposefully trying to cause her horror?

"Really…I don't know."

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap…the tea was spilling, her tears were spilling.

"Nicholas…" Milly's reproachful voice. She could probably see Meryl, see her losing control

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap…

"Don't you think it's important? We could be saving Meryl's life here!"

I don't want to hear it, priest! Meryl mind was screaming, but all she managed was a small sniffle. Her eyes were watering, but she wouldn't call it crying.

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap…

"Don't you think we should try to help her?! What if she's dying, right now, as we speak?!" Wolfwood was yelling now

Vash was torn.

Milly was shaking her head.

Meryl was crying.

Tap-tap-tap…the spilt tea was cold on her fingers now, but her grip didn't relent. It grew stronger, as if she was trying to strangle something…Tap-tap-tap

Then there was Vash's voice, cold and cruel.

"She is."

Drawing in a strangled sob, her cheeks wet with tears, Meryl shook her head. ­Tap-tap, went the cup.

Tap-Tap-Tap Crack!

It broke, simply crumbled under the force, and the small woman's fingers were cut with the broken pieces. The table was littered with tea, and the ceramic cup clattered loudly to the floor. And Meryl wiped her eyes before she stood.

Leaving the kitchen without a word, Meryl strode boldly through the living room. She ignored the shocked stares from her friends. She ignored them. Striding into the hallway leading to the coatroom, the petite woman snatched up her cloak. Shrugging it on, she heard murmurs from the living room, but couldn't understand them. She was still crying.

Meryl flung open the front door as Vash—of all people—came running after her howling something about "Not going outside," and nonsense about "Daywalkers waiting for her."

She didn't care. They could come if they wanted. It didn't matter now.

She was dying, even as Vash tried to persuade her to come back inside, to come back inside before they all sensed her presence by the K and came rushing in! Before Legato came, before Knives came.

So what?

Pulling her cloak tighter around her, she continued to walk. No, run. She was running, that was it. She was running from them all and would go back to her house. She would lock the doors, and if they came, so what?

So what? She was dead anyhow.

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Milly and Wolfwood watched the two go, Milly an expression of shocked sorrow, while Wolfwood wore one of indifference.

Indifference. Once Milly regained her wits and saw that, a look of pure murder came over her face.

Now, towering over Wolfwood with superiority, she narrowed her blue eyes in rage.

"What, was that, Nicholas Dwight?!" she all but shouted, hands on her hips.

Slowly, the priest shrugged, patting himself down for a cigarette. He found one, and pulled a lighter from his pocket. Milly only seemed to puff up even more, bristling angrily at either being waved off an unthreatening, or frightening Meryl with his talk back there.

"And what's the shrug for, Mr. Wolfwood?" she asked angrily, referring back to a name she only used when she was terribly upset, such as now.

And she didn't miss the visible cringe from the priest.

"Now, Milly…" he began soothingly.

She flexed her fingers experimentally, as she sometimes did just before engaging in gunplay. It was a threatening gesture, one that Wolfwood took note of as something he never wanted to be the receiving end of.

"DON'T YOU 'NOW MILLY' ME, MR. WOLFWOOD!" she exploded angrily.

The priest sunk into his seat, the smoking cigarette hanging limply from his lips. This is what happened when someone (usually Meryl) dear to her was threatened. The only problem was, that Wolfwood really wouldn't call what he did threatening Meryl physically, or mentally for that matter. Maybe he frightened her a bit but—

"NOW, EITHER YOU EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT HAPPENED BACK THERE OR YOU, MR. WOLFWOOD, ARE GOING TO BE ON THE RECEIVING END OF MY STUN GUN BEFORE YOU EVEN HAVE THE TIME TO LIFT ONE HAND IN PROTEST!" Milly yelled angrily, now the picture of complete terror.

That's my Milly… Wolfwood thought weakly, not knowing if that was a good or bad thing. He decided it was bad.

"Now, honey…"

"Do not 'Honey' me, Mr. Wolfwood!" She had managed to gather her temper somewhat, but was still as angry as hell itself.

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry!" he all but shrieked, shielding himself as though she was about to lash out with her stun gun at any second.

The tall woman gave the withered priest a deathly glare. "Explain," she demanded in a deathly quite, steely voice.

Wolfwood dared expose himself, blinking slowly at the woman above him. Blinking rapidly for a moment, he tried to gather his words to form an explanation.

"Milly, honey…it was for her own good, I swear!" he started.

She glared at him, arms now crossed.

He gathered himself and tried again. "Didn't you see the way the short girl's been acting since she found out about the meaning of the mark on her neck? I did, and I'll tell you, honey, I didn't like it. Meryl never acts that way; I've never seen her so depressed. I had to snap her out of it, you know?" apparently, Milly didn't, but that didn't stop Wolfwood from trying. "Milly, honey. At least I got a reaction out of her! She has her temper back, now, don't you see?"

Pursing her lips, Milly opened her mouth to speak. "I don't understand where you were going with that, Nicholas! That was a horrible thing to do, even if you did snap sempai out of her depression! She would have come out of it eventually, anyway. She's never been the one to sit around and brood for too long."

"That's why I was worried!" Wolfwood protested his innocence, but the taller woman only gave him a glare.

"Your worrying is earning you cleaning duty, Nicholas!" Milly said sternly.

The priest's cigarette fell limply in disappointment. "What?" he demanded.

A hint of a smile flittered across Milly's face, and she shrugged before settling down into the chair opposite him. "You're going to clean up the mess Sempai caused before both of us go over to her house. Now that we know what has been going on with this Mr. Legato and Mr. Knives, I suppose we'll have to do something about it."

Wolfwood only stared in disbelief.

"Go now!" Milly ordered, her voice stern once more before she relaxed into a happy smile. "And you better hope Meryl gets home safe with all those daywalkers running about the city!"

Luckily, Meryl did get home safe. That had probably been because of all the running she had done. She hadn't even known why she was running, or maybe what she was running from, there had been no day walking bloodsuckers lurking in the shadows for her and if there had been, in her half rage half sorrowful state, they wouldn't have lasted long. So, she just ran.

Vash had followed her. Bless the strange half-blood. She hadn't stopped to allow him to catch up though, she had ignored his pitiful cries from behind her, telling her to stop for him. She felt as though she was in a hurry, but from what, she didn't know.

Later, she might have found it odd that she had reached her house without any trouble whatsoever, but she was all too relieved when she unlocked her front door to care too much about it.

Her tears had stopped, thank goodness. It was humiliating, what she had done, just walked out of the place—and after ruining one of Milly's mugs, too!

Shaking her head, Meryl shrugged off her cloak and left the front door unlocked for Vash.

She didn't know when she had lost him, but at some point, the shouts from behind her had stopped. She could only guess he still followed, and knowing him, he probably did.

Her house was quiet, it was dark. It was uninviting and cold. Everything about it gave her the creeps, her own house made her shiver with fear! How ridiculous was that?

So, the first thing she did was run to the living room and start a fire in the hearth. Not a big one, mind you, but a small blaze just the right size to warm the room. She wasn't going to sit around to tend to it anyway. She didn't want to be a perfect target for conversation when Vash arrived.

She didn't feel like talking to anyone. It made her nervous.

So, she went upstairs to her room. It was cold there, too, so she stacked a pile of wood in the fireplace across from her bed and lit them afire. Instantly, her bedroom was engulfed in a warm glow that was only penetrated by the bleak weather outside. Meryl pulled the curtains tight. Everything was making her uneasy lately. She could jump at her own shadow, for goodness sakes!

The fire danced merrily in the hearth, the light jumping about the walls. It somehow managed to penetrate Meryl's bitter and cold thoughts, and for a while, she positioned herself before it, staring into the flames while they heated her to the bone.

It wasn't long before the door downstairs could be heard slamming shut, and footsteps made their way around the coatroom. That had to be Vash. Meryl had never known a vampire to remove its boots and jacket before fully entering her house. They much preferred to barge in with fangs showing before wreaking havoc upon her household.

For a brief moment, as Meryl's stormy-violet eyes stared at the firelight and she listened to the sounds of Vash below, for a brief moment she wondered why she had chosen such a strange occupation. Why had she decided to become a vampire hunter, one who risks their life for the sake of strangers?

But then she remembered. She remembered what she had promised her father a long time ago.

She had promised him she would follow him in his search. Promised, she had, to follow his footsteps and find the mysterious energizing remedy that cured the curse that lay upon the earth. Meryl had promised her father to rid the world of the nightcrawlers known as vampires and their half-blooded brothers known as daywalkers.

For a long while, Meryl sat cross-legged on the tick carpet of the hearthrug. Just for a while, she was able to empty her mind and think of nothing but the warmth before her.

Making a promise to herself, then, she decided she would find the remedy; the one Wolfwood had managed to dig around on. However, she also decided she wouldn't be afraid. What was the use of being afraid when you were going to die eventually, whether it be tomorrow, the day after, a week after or sixty years from then?

Mortals were destined to die, Meryl realized in a moment of thoughtfulness. Why should she be afraid if her time was so much sooner than the others?

The slamming of her door downstairs brought the woman out of her musings. Either Vash had left or more had come.

The petite woman's grey-violet eyes narrowed slightly, and she decided to go see. The identity of everyone in her house needed to be known by her. Everything seemed to be finding its way to her home nowadays…

Slowly, Meryl poked at the fire before leaving it. Her body longed for the warmth, but she made her way out of the room with a stony determination.

And still, the question lay unanswered in her mind. Why should she be afraid if her time was so much sooner than the others?

It was because she still had so much left to do.

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--Cayenne Pepper Powder