Disclaimer: Neither Vampire Hunter D nor The Little Vampire belong to me. I am making no money from this fanfiction, and all recognizable characters, events, and locations belong to their respective copyright holders. All original characters, etc. belong to ISJ, and are not to be used without my permission.
Told you there were two chapters, didn't I? I know. I'm as shocked as you.
Happy reading!
Slainte!
ISJ
Chapter 6
Dragos and Lissandra were arguing again. It was something one grew used to, after a while, D decided as he groomed his cyborg horse while distantly watching the goings-on. How the two of them had so far managed not to kill each other was nothing short of a miracle, and yet they had apparently been doing this for two decades and had still led their little band with much success.
D found out soon after casting his lot with theirs that these were a fairly quiet people, on the whole not by nature friendly but somewhat better company than an old horse and an older parasite. Led by Dragos, Lissandra, and two others, they functioned like a nomadic village and were collectively driven on by the single purpose which had brought them to D.
Like any village, they constituted quite a cast of characters. A strange conglomeration of professional hunters, refugees, thieves, and hobos, their attitudes toward the world around them ranged from hopeful to indifferent to downright bleak, though it seemed as though Dragos' idealistic mind-set had managed to permeate their collective conscious. While this gave them a cause and made them more or less a cohesive company, the inanity and futility of their chosen way of life irked D. Luckily, most of them were neither as naïve nor as sanguine as Dragos himself, and so D was spared a good deal of preaching and cheerfulness, so long as he avoided Dragos as much as possible.
The two who helped Dragos and Lissandra to govern the group were the ex-military Donder, a tough, solid man with muscles and military genius to spare, and shy, quiet Toiracsi Benedict, whose particular expertise, it appeared to D, was no more than her ability to keep the other three from each other's throats. Though that in itself was enough of a chore: Donder was painfully straightforward and tended to make decisions which involved unhealthy amounts of physical violence handled in a hack-and-slash manner; Lissandra had no patience whatsoever for working harder instead of smarter and much preferred a stealthy, well-planned approach to everything; and Dragos so favored a peaceful, diplomatic solution to all issues that he never agreed with either of the other two.
And, at the moment, their three respective conflicting personalities were sending their discussion about a route through northern Italy into a fever-pitched shouting match.
"I'm well aware of the potential dangers, Dragos," Donder interrupted him. "Do remember that I spent most of my life living just over that border." He gestured to Lissandra's roughly drawn, tattered canvas map spread before them on a boulder. "But the fact remains that this is the fastest route through the Alps and our destination lies on the other side."
Lissandra shook her head at Donder. "The Gorge is only the fastest way when it is clear of obstacles, and it has not been so for over a century. In the time it would take us to wade through the vamps and beasts infesting the Gorge, we could take the old tunnel twice over."
Dragos shook his shaggy head. "The tunnel collapsed last month," he said, sounding weary of the argument. "Though you're right about the Gorge; it's far too dangerous. We'll have to take the mountain trails."
Both Lissandra and Donder goggled at him. "You must be joking," Lissandra said incredulously. "That could take us days, weeks at this time of the year. No, if the tunnel is no longer available--why didn't you tell me about that, anyway?--we'll just have to go Donder's way. I don't like it, but we have no other options."
Donder nodded. "That was my thinking. The Gorge shouldn't be a problem for us; after all--" Here he shot a look over his shoulder at D, a look the hunter did not miss. "We are a strong group."
Dragos looked stubborn. "I refuse to do it. I won't put us in that kind of danger, and I won't endanger anyone we might meet along the way."
Lissandra glared as Donder heaved a frustrated sigh.
"Dragos," Lissandra began, speaking slowly as if her colleague were partially deaf. "I don't like this path because it is a waste of our valuable time, but you are being completely daft about this."
"I will not do it."
"Since when have rabble vamps and werewolves been problems for us?" she demanded, pounding her fist onto the rock beneath the map; D thought he heard a cracking sound at the impact and somehow doubted it was the bones of Lissandra's hand. "And as for endangering others, there aren't any humans or dhampires still living there, you know that. They're all animals and creatures. Unless you have a problem with killing vampires, now, or did you just forget that killing them is what we do for a living?"
"Are you patronizing me, woman?"
D turned his head toward the four leaders hunched around the map. The tone of Dragos' normally sage, calm voice had dropped precipitously, coming from his drawn lips in a cold murmur. The big man's slightly elongated canine teeth gleamed. D had known Dragos was getting annoyed, but the hunter had never heard the man's voice so menacing before; apparently, from Donder's and Toiracsi's reactions, it wasn't a good sign. The ex-military man rubbed distractedly at his temples, a vampiric hiss echoing in his throat—also not good: D had learned quickly that Donder's ancestral temper was remarkably short and not to be toyed with. Toiracsi, who'd not said a thing this whole time, only shifted her weight back and forth nervously, wringing her hands and casting quick, worried looks from Lissandra to Dragos.
Lissandra straightened slightly, staring at Dragos. D could almost see the air between the two charge with electricity. He could tell even from this distance that Lissandra's gaze was deadly cold. When she opened her mouth to speak, her voice was infinitely soft and unnaturally deep, and her long hair and clothes seemed to shift as with an icy breeze.
"You forget to whom you speak."
D's brows drew together in a troubled tangle. Lissandra was beginning to display a very vampiric quality—it was one thing to add dhampire-charm to one's voice, quite another to be able to layer that voice as vampires did. Her tones were approaching the dual-layered voice of command that made vampires so powerful; it was a trait that only those dhampires with exceptional parentage had ever been known to possess. D himself possessed it (though he never used it), but as he was the direct descendant of the greatest vampire who'd never lived, that was little surprise. D wondered fleetingly who Lissandra's vampire kin was or had been even as he came a few paces away from his horse and toward the leaders, tensing himself in preparation for trouble.
But the combined force of her excruciating eyes and her bone-chilling voice seemed too much for Dragos, and he paled, shrinking back and looking abashed. At the same moment, Lissandra also diminished, becoming less threatening than her voice had made her, the paranormal movement of wind around her stilling.
"Forgive me," Dragos muttered, inclining his head in a sort of bow. D saw Donder and Toiracsi visibly relax, and decided now was as good a time as any to get their conversation back on track. He knew from experience that these meetings among the four of them could digress and last for hours longer than necessary.
The hunter stepped toward them, making them all look up. "Have you decided upon our route?"
Dragos shot a look at Lissandra, who, oddly enough, tipped her head in concession, effectively leaving the decision up to him. D was very confused; why had she made such a fuss over Dragos' disapprobation of her choice just to put that choice in his hands? He resisted the urge to scowl daggers at her, instead watching Dragos' expression carefully. The man stared at the ground for a long silent moment, then raised his head and said, "We'll be traveling through the Adrietti Pass in Northern Italy. We set out in the morning."
D's eyebrow lifted half a centimeter, but even that tiny movement was enough to make the others watch him warily to see if he would reject the decision.
"How were you actually planning on handling those 'obstacles' she mentioned?" He glanced over at Lissandra, flicked his gaze back to Dragos. "I'm not quite sure I share your optimism on your ability to handle the threat. The Adrietti Pass is not called Bloodrain Gorge for nothing," he stated in calm monotone.
Dragos looked at him impassively for a second, then, exchanging a look with Donder, gave the hunter a grin (something he did with irritating frequency) and walked right past him, saying, "You're not called the greatest hunter who ever lived for nothing, either. Between you and the other hunters, we'll have no problem with the Gorge."
D was not surprised; he'd suspected as much. He also did not find the decision as amusing as Dragos did, though Donder and Toirasci seemed unaware of this and only followed after their friend, looking pleased and relieved. They were just glad the argument was over
Lissandra loitered still, rolling up her old map with deliberate care. She eyed D, who stood, arms crossed and head lowered, brooding.
"You could have told him no," she said.
"And spent another hour arguing the point? Hardly. I suppose I must earn my keep in this company somehow."
Lissandra's expression was unreadable. "You wouldn't have found it difficult to persuade Dragos."
D went slightly stiff. "I'm not interested in your methods of persuasion, Lissandra."
The corner of Lissandra's mouth quirked but she said nothing. When the silence grew tense, D drew his cloak a little closer about him.
"You're of noble blood," he said flatly. "Who was your vampire parent?"
Lissandra's visage grew very stormy. "I don't believe you have the right to ask me that."
"What bars me that right?"
"My blood is as good as yours, and my years as many. And don't even try pulling rank; I am, technically, your professional superior and no less than your societal equal."
"My father would not agree."
Lissandra opened her mouth to lash back, but D raised one lean palm to halt her. "Fortunately for you, I never did subscribe to my father's beliefs."
The woman's face eased into a frosty smile, hardly preferable to her scowl. "That would explain your distaste for the voice of command. It also explains something else."
D could not help himself--the look in Lissandra's eye spoke of dangerous mischief. "And what is that?"
"Why you're letting yourself become one of our group when Count Dracula would never have given people like us a second thought."
D dropped his eyebrows in puzzlement, and Lissandra's smile thawed slightly as she came up beside him and tugged the brim of his hat down a degree. "Oh, you may not realize yet that you are, but it's more than obvious. For three weeks, I have been nothing more or less than 'woman' to you." She barely brushed her cold fingertips over the curve of his jaw, making his skin tingle, before dropping her hand to her side and tucking the map under her arm. "But you just called me Lissandra."
