Hey all!
I know. This once a month updating thing is driving me crazy but I've been working on a couple original ideas and trying to clean up old ones. I'm opting for a shorter update rather than a really late longer one and decided to send it off before I'm estranged from my computer for the next few days (visiting my cousin in Ohio). I'm hoping to get another one up here while I'm on break.
Still sort of shaky on this chapter but I hope it came out well.
A thousand thank you's to reviewers! You inspire me!
Much love, everyone. Hope all's well on your side of the internet and enjoy!
Erik ran his fingers down his disfigured face, feeling all the strange grooves that he had long since memorized. He had always assumed the marring of his flesh had just been a cruel joke from God but who would suspect that it was just gene permeation? He replaced the cool mask across his face again, eager to avoid screams, stares, or at worst impertinent questions. Though the realization had not hit him until later, it was an astounding discovery. And though he could still do nothing about it, there was relief in putting a name to it.
And of course, it would figure that the most important information from the meeting went unsaid. The cliché was that he would find out when he needed to anyway, wasn't it? Hopefully hindsight wouldn't be much of an issue in his case.
The day had proved to be rather interesting. Philippe had been the only one to question him about his reading and he reported little, not having much to tell and wishing to share less. While the vampires had waited patiently in the cellar of a lavish house for the scorching rays of the sun to pass, Erik was able to learn a few things about the elders of the Circle. Actually, most seemed eager to relate what lead them to the Circle and whatever tragedies had polluted their life, though mostly related in a more condescending tone than Erik would have liked. Margaret had nearly been staked by her family when then discovered her transformation, some fifty years ago. She still visited her husband's grave on occasion; he had tragically died in the crossfire, entirely at a loss on who to side with. Dane would relate facts about himself without any real emotion and Erik could only assume he had been like that for most of his life, though the corners of his mouth quirked slightly when he spoke of his brother (who had unfortunately been staked a few years back). Annabelle had been the mistress of a rather wealthy gentlemen (that she didn't feel confident to disclose the name of) until he tossed her aside and she found other outlets for her charms as a vampire. Irving had been on top of the world and apparently just happened to grow bored with it, ready to move on to something new. Ethan had been a goldsmith and turned to the vampires for help (having heard of them from all the local lore on the subject) for some ailment he didn't expand on that would have killed him otherwise. Aleta didn't care to divulge her prior profession or much about her life, merely smiling and passing her turn on to another. Erik followed suit, not wishing to relive moments much too fresh that could lead to questions much too awkward and much too painful.
Sebastian and Donald had not been present during the whole discussion, having left before the others had awakened. The two of them had kept watch along the ground floor, managing to steer away any disturbances without being seen by the help or whoever else might have wandered too close to their temporary haven.
Philippe had told him that they were also attempting to intercept the owner of the household, should he return early, a preemptive measure should any issues arise. "It's the house of some Baron or another. Cazello-Barback or something like that," he had said. "Apparently, he's helped us out in the past before. We rescued him from a werewolf several years back, yes there are the occasional rogues that break the treaty but anyway the Baron gives us shelter every now and again. A fair deal all in all. That and we promised not to touch him in return for his generosity. But really when you think about it, if we just sucked him dry one night, we could claim this manor as our own. Judging just by the cellar here, you can tell that it's a nice place." It was true enough. The wine cellar was not only large and shut off from the light but very spacious and strangely clean, in spite of the dirt from whence it was carved. A few items had been placed down there, most likely for storage, such as an elegant full length mirror that sat in a corner, betraying no one's presence despite its breadth.
Donald had led the group away from the manor early in the evening, explaining briefly (in a tone that booked no room of argument) that their presence hadn't exactly been welcomed by the Baron but as long as everyone kept their distance from the Baron's guests, all would be well. He then suggested that they leave in search of a meal before continuing on what needed to be covered.
A small, nameless village within sight (thought still quite far) of the wonders of Rome suited their purposes, some even ventured into the catacombs under the surface, discovering stragglers, mourners, or some who couldn't turn down a bet exploring the vast underground tunnels on the outskirts of the marvelous city. Those who had already finished in revitalizing themselves (or those who didn't sport with their prey for too long after targeting it) waited on a grassy knoll for the others to return. Erik sat faced away from the group again lost in his own contemplation. Before they all left the Baron's house (which was lovely, by Erik's architectural tastes), he saw a woman's silhouette in one of the second floor balcony windows, and try as he might he couldn't shake the sensation that perhaps it was Christine, as far fetched as that may seem. But then again, he had been seeing her everywhere, if only brought on by his imagination.
Erik was jerked back from his thoughts as Sebastian dashed toward them, flailing his arms in a most undignified manner. His tan hair, normally pulled back, was loose and falling in his face, giving him a feral appearance as he stumbled over himself trying to explain whatever had gotten him so excited.
Donald strode over and shook the man. "Calm down. What's the matter?" He stopped for a moment and glanced at his hand that had moments before gripped Sebastian's arm, a bit of confusion emerging from the calm: "You're bleeding."
Sure enough, Sebastian's vest was open with a few buttons missing and his shirt was torn, spattered with flecks of blood from a few nasty gashes. He seemed to regain himself and finally formed a few coherent words, broken with gasps from his sprint: "Emma…Emma saw something." Erik had to think for a moment before remembering that Emma was the name of Sebastian's sparrow. "She…she saw strange shapes lurking…in the bushes near a cottage. Come! We have to help them!"
"Help who?" Aleta spoke up from Erik's left.
"It's after them!"
"For God's sake, man, what is it?" Annabelle questioned impatiently.
"What else would make a cut that couldn't heal?" Donald uttered rhetorically in a stoic tone. "Where are they, Sebastian?" He was already halfway transformed into a bat before Sebastian finished describing, following the wild gestures instead. "Everyone, now," he commanded laconically.
A cluster of bats rose in the starless sky and descended upon the sleeping town. In their hasty flight, they met a couple of returning members along the way, including a rather confused Philippe ("Where's the fire? Sun coming up early? A hundred madmen with stakes? What's going on?") and Dane who only gestured sharply before leading the group closer to a cluster of trees near the town's boundaries.
Exposed in the moonlight, Ethan stood, his hands forcing away the dripping jaws of an enormous monster. The beast had dark fur matted and clumped together in some parts, especially in spikes that ran down the back, and sported vicious claws. Rising on its hind legs, it was now taller than all of them and lashed against Ethan who, to his credit, did not cry out when his forearm was struck. Prostrate on the ground was Irving, also injured by the look of it and slowly coming back to consciousness. Aleta flew down and landed elegantly as a human next to his side, dragging him away from danger. Dane, Donald, and Margaret reverted back to their normal forms as well, jumping in quickly to drive back the beast. Philippe was fumbling with something in his jacket but made no other move to help.
Ripping his lasso out and ready, Erik jumped nimbly over the beast with a confidence only his years of training and the added grace of a vampire could accomplish and neatly noosed the creature. It made several futile attempts to rip at the rope but the beast's claws could not squeeze under the taut rope and his jagged teeth could find nothing to gnaw, though it snapped and twisted valiantly in the effort. "Let go!" it growled dangerously, words barely coherent through the combination of its deep animalistic tones and the pressure on its throat.
"What is it you want?" Erik shot back, refusing to slacken either his guard or the rope.
"What I want doesn't matter. I want nothing. I kill," it managed to gasp out, still with a menacing growl. With that, he managed to slash at the rope, cutting itself in the process but freeing it all the same. It gave an echoing howl and threw off not only Erik but Dane, Ethan, Donald, and Margaret. Rounding to face his oppressors, the werewolf stared with pupil-less yellow eyes with a cruel resemblance of a smirk. Gnashing its teeth with an obvious intent to display as many vicious fangs as possible, it took a few steps forward on hind paws toward the group.
A gunshot rang out and reverberated off the surrounding hills. Erik turned back to Philippe who still held the small pistol, a twist of smoke emitting from the glinting metal. The creature yelped in a most undignified manner before crumpling to the ground, eyes devoid of any feeling. It slowly melted away into the form of the man as the bullet wound steadily exsanguinated.
"And my uncle said this would be a waste of money," Philippe smiled grimly as he hid the pistol again within his jacket.
"I don't understand, Donald," Annabelle whispered after a moment. "How can he have transformed? The full moon was yesterday. Why would he attack us?"
"I have yet to understand the motivation of a werewolf," Donald replied icily. "As to your other question, I don't know how his transformation was possible. But if the werewolves are to restart a war, the Hunt will have to begin again and in earnest if the moon's cycle is no longer a factor." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Was anyone bitten?" Ethan was the only confirmed bite and he was to be closely observed to decide if he was infected and from there what course of action to take; others were left with scarring marks from the razor claws. The wounded were seen to as best as they could in the circumstances but Donald soon realized the need to regroup, recuperate, and rethink though the night was far from over. Soon the group was limping back to the Baron's estate.
Love it or hate it, please let me know! (any ideas? Everyone understand who the Baron was talking to last chapter? bets on what will happen to Ethan?)