The reviews, as always were awesome, and I enjoyed reading each and every one of them. There should be two more chapters after this one. My original goal was to be done before Moonlight returns, so I'll have the freedom to explore new opportunities. It looks like I'll more than meet it.
Near Lance's Fortress
Mick St. John executed a roundhouse kick square into the testicles of the little weasel Lance had hired as his Captain of the Guard. The steel heel of his boot had the little slime wheezing. As a fellow male, Mick might have felt some inherent sympathy, but was too busy keeping the blood stained fangs of another goon off his jugular. The ten seconds to settle the 'dispute' dragged, and which was brought to a close when Mick gained enough room to dig his claws into his assailant's own jugular.
Mick's two opponents came charging at him simultaneously. Almost feels like cheating, he mused internally as he maneuvered into a summersault, the two bodies, blurred with speed, crashed into each other, their momentum temporarily stunning them. Not in the mood be a good sport, Mick took the chance to rid them both of their heads. There wasn't much time to celebrate, since he just barely avoided his own decapitation by yet another of Lance's followers. "Don't you guys ever quit?" he groused as he ducked down into a crouch, sweeping his leg out behind him. The guy leapt over the obstacle, and the fight was on.
Since the two vampires were pretty evenly matched, the fight fell into a simple, relentless rhythm, reminding Mick of vigorous dancing. The recent hours Coraline spent training him kicked in. His fighting had been proficient originally, but lacked the viciousness that comes in handy when fighting on a vampire's level. A rush of adrenaline kicked in, and Mick's fighting kicked up another level, his enemy slowly losing ground, enough for Mick to be able to afford a swift glance at Coraline, fighting a female minion not too far away.
He'd put her through hell tonight, he reflected. It had been necessary, crucial even. Lance knew his sister too well for her to able to bullshit him, for manufactured emotions to cut it. Mick had crafted his role since the day he learned about Lance. To Mick, it seemed to go against his nature to plot behind Coraline's back, but the pay off had been too big to ignore. They needed to penetrate Lance's fortress with their necks in tact, needed to give Josef and his crew enough time to set up the trap outside. Coraline's pain had been an integral part of all that.
Part of the illusion had involved Mick shooting off his mouth about his memory making a big re-entrance in Lance's presence. Actually, Mick's memory was just as blank as the day he'd woke up in the freezer, and saw a goddess staring at him, her expression mystery personified. He'd felt an instant bond, which had only strengthened as the nights went by. That bond had evolved into an emotion that had to be love, or such a damn good imitation that it should be.
Now really wasn't the time to delve into the mysteries of the heart, Mick reflected wryly as he fought to maintain his advantage in the struggle. Talk about a face only a mother could love, he thought with a grimace. "I'm guessing we didn't interrupt your involvement with Mr. America, eh, buddy?" he goaded innocently. Obviously, Mr. America didn't appreciate the jab, because he made a diligent effort to rip Mick's arm off. Mick heard the approach of yet another adversary, and decided he needed to cut to the chase. With an animalistic roar, he sank his claws into a solid wall masquerading as a chest, and ripped the guy's heart out. "Regenerate that," he muttered, flinging the dying vampire at the growling mass rushing his way.
The next guy had some serious years on him, and it was a challenge for Mick just to stay alive, never mind actually get anywhere. Just when he thought it was all over, Coraline embedded her fangs into the back of the guy's neck, tugging him off Mick, sending him flying. She took the time to quickly survey him for damage, then jumped back into the fray. For the first time in several minutes, Mick had a minute to catch his breath, figuratively speaking, anyway. He took stock of the situation, thinking the scenario over.
Lance had 50 guards on display when they'd initially set foot in the old warehouse, the rest presumably at his strong-hold. Ten had been dismissed back into their regular routine, dragging Lance's rebel brothers along with them, leaving Cynthia and Coraline behind. Since Mick saw Coraline's brothers kicking serious ass, Josef and his team had successfully surprised the small group, letting Alexander and Duncan live to fight another day.
At that exact second, Lance took Alexander's head off with a flourish, and Mick quirked an eyebrow. Okay, correction, Duncan would live to fight another day. It really was too bad, since for a second or two, it looked like Lance had met his match in his younger brother. Josef, who had been tearing through enemies like a madman, leapt forward to take Alexander's spot.
Since twenty or so of the guards had rushed outside, only to be showered in silver nitrate. As it was, the odds were pretty near even.
As Mick launched into another fight of his own, he took a second to acknowledge a huge debt of gratitude towards Josef. Without him, none of this would have been possible, in more ways than one. He'd called Josef when he'd made the decision to fake his own memory, apparently before Josef's mysterious depression. The elder vampire wouldn't win any Miss Manners contests, but he'd been a wealth of information, told him every detail of Mick's mercurial relationship with Coraline, giving him the necessary insight to pull off his performance tonight.
Josef's roar echoed along the factory, the fury in the sound a living organism. Mick didn't have the luxury of satisfying his curiosity, as he had his hands full.
He wasn't the only one who needed concentration. Despite superior age and strength, Lance found himself needing to pull out all the stops, just to stay alive. Josef was wielding a silver bladed sword with an expert's ease, and Lance was using a metal bar to fend off the deadly swipes. Part of Josef's advantage lay in the fact he'd caught Lance off guard. Until recently, they'd been battling at opposite ends of the room. The sudden, vicious nature of Josef's attack had blind-sighted him.
Hadn't he heard Josef Kostan went soft? He wondered, exhausted. His brother, Alexander had managed to get in some good licks, left some rather painful wounds that weren't getting the chance to heal. Now, he was dealing with Attila the Hun! He ducked, feeling the breeze of Josef's blade on his neck. "Where the fuck is she?" he heard his enemy snarl.
Lance panted, trying to smash the bar against Josef's shin, who nimbly hopped over the rod. Lance did manage to bring it down on his shoulder, but the 400-year old shook it off. "Mind narrowing it down?"
"Beth Turner, you asshole," Josef hissed, grazing Lance's arm. Under normal circumstances, it would have been insignificant, but as the weapon was silver, a small amount of poision was seeping into his blood stream, weakening him ever so slightly. "Delectable, blonde, a real smart ass, any of this ringing a bell?"
"I don't see…" Lance started to protest. This was over her? Josef didn't strike him as the possessive sort.
"Let me illuminate it," Josef snarled, whacking Lance's face with the smooth blade, searing the skin with chemical-like burns. "I can smell her, her blood!" His onslaught against Lance grew more erratic, more deadly. "What'd you do to her? Huh? Huh?" He'd dropped the sword, and was pummeling Lance with an abandon, with an animalistic violence he hadn't succumbed to since being young and stupid. Lance had no choice but to surrender dignity, and sink down to Josef's level.
Rolling around like two Irishman in a drunken brawl on the floor, they clawed, bit, and punched wherever the opportunity allowed. No one on either side could have helped, they were a blur. Neither could really get the upper hand, now that adrenaline had kicked in on Lance's part, and Josef's weapon had been discarded. In actuality, Josef came there to die, was just waiting for the bastard to get the stones to get a clean shot. And until he did, Josef wanted to introduce him to new levels of pain.
Kicking Josef free, Lance waited until Josef came charging down on him again, thrusting a hidden stake, previously concealed in the sleeve of his jacket, into Josef's heart. Josef crashed back onto the floor, paralyzed. Lance picked up the deserted sword, prepared to chop Josef's head off in one clean stroke.
A kick to his face dislodged his oily smirk, the well aimed blow sending him tumbling back onto his ass, the sword clattering on the stone floor beside him. Lifting it with her foot, Coraline neatly caught it, severing her brother's leg with cold efficiency while his guard was down. He howled, trying to curl in on himself. Not in the mood to mess around, Coraline's brought the sword down again, this time easily decapitating him.
Standing over her oldest brother, Coraline frowned. The whole thing was seriously anti-climatic. Well, well, well, Mr. Big Shot hadn't been invincible after all. After all the hell he'd raised, all the power he gorged himself on, he was just another vampire, killed by a pretty ordinary death. She shrugged, and turned to inspect the battle, which was winding down.
Her four other brothers had stood on the side-lines, watching the battle, waiting to see which way the tide would turn, not about to pick a losing side. When it looked like Coraline's faction was going to win the day, they jumped onboard like the rats they were. At that point, several of Lance's guards fled, or quickly switched sides. She held up Lance's head, making sure each other every one of her surviving brothers could see it. Four out of seven left standing, she mused to herself. Besides Alexander and Lance, their brother Francis had bit the big one. She didn't feel too bad about it, since any of them would have stabbed her in the back at first opportunity, and visa versa. A loving family they weren't.
Her three brothers bowed their heads in acknowledgement of her victory, and she knew Dominic would be impressed. She'd have to sweet talk him, but she figured she could handle the ancient, especially since she'd proven her worth by defeating the second most powerful vampire in the clan. Mick would testify that Lance was planning on weaseling around the orders, and Dominic would be satisfied order had been kept.
A soft gurgling drew her focus, Josef lying paralyzed near her feet. She unceremoniously tossed Lance's head aside. "Here you go," she said with some affection, pulling the stake free. Josef inhaled sharply, but didn't get to his feet. The eyes he turned to look at Coraline were haunted.
"Kill me," he whispered.
"You want to quit, do it on your own time," she countered. She knelt down beside him, helping him up. "You want me to do it because you can't kill yourself. You love yourself too much."
"I've got nothing left, Coraline," he insisted dully.
"If that was true, you'd be dead already." She gave him a penetrating look, one that reminded him she knew him too well, that he couldn't get one up on her. "You came for Beth." What was it about that girl that made vampires trip over their own feet to rescue her? Had Josef come to bail out his two old friends? Nope, it was all about the blonde. Coraline brushed her irritation aside, reminding herself not to look a gift horse in the mouth. All she cared about was results, not motivation.
Coraline gestured for her brother Gerald to bring one of Lance's wounded guards over to them. "Where's Beth Turner?" she demanded, picking up the sword she'd used to send the black-eyed bastard to hell.
"Who?" he gasped, reeling from the pain of missing one of his arms.
Coraline grasped Lance's hair, bringing the head near the wounded vampire's nose. "The owner of this scent all over his mouth," she explained impatiently.
"I…I don't know…" he whimpered.
Snorting, Coraline handed the sword to Josef, once again tossing her brother's head. "Here, a good torture session oughta cheer you up." Her eyes locked on Mick, who was across the room, his expression mysterious. Never one to dance around an issue, Coraline strode over to him, leaving Josef to do his own interrogating.
"Hey," he greeted softly, eyes examining her for wounds.
"Hey." She did her own check, inhaling for the scent of his blood, finding small traces, but nothing to get freaked out about. "You handled yourself well tonight."
"Gee, thanks, coach." She snickered, shaking her head. "I couldn't help but notice Lance is no longer with us. Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy."
"No kidding." Her eyes scanned his face, searching for clues, trying to sort reality from illusion. She knew better than most that sometimes the lines got blurred. "Well, you were right. I shouldn't have over-estimated him. With a good plan, his house of cards came crashing down."
"I guess it would be a little juvenile to say 'I told you so'," he mused with mock solemnity.
"Only a lot." She rolled her eyes with an ease she really didn't feel. "You're dying to."
"Sure, but I'll give you a pass. Coraline-"
"So, your memory's back," she interrupted, wanting to cut to the chase. "That's news to me."
"Actually, no, it's not." Mick shrugged at her raised eyebrow. "Just part of the role I was playing. I thought it'd make it more convincing. I called Josef a while back, grilled him pretty good. He gave me a hard time, but he gave me what I needed."
"So, you know everything," she assessed flatly.
"Probably not everything, but the major stuff, yeah," he confirmed, glancing around them. He brought his hand up to touch her hair, leaning his forehead against hers. She felt a sob creep up her throat, hitching her unneeded breath. "Coraline-"
"Ahem," Josef's voice butted into the moment. "As much as I hate to interrupt this installment of The Dead and the Restless, you two can wax sentimental some other time. Beth's somewhere in Lance's fortress and I need back-up. Hey, I scratched your back, scratch mine."
"Sounds fair," Mick agreed. "A deal's a deal."
"What exactly was the deal?" Coraline was still a little fuzzy on the details, and she hated to be kept out of the loop.
"Lover boy can explain later," Josef snapped. "Right now, I just want to keep Goldilocks out, so I can dump her off on you two."
Mick glanced at Coraline, wry puzzlement all over his face. "Okay, I'm lost. He actually likes this woman or was he just really bored?"
"Oh, that's just the Josef Kostan brand of charm," Coraline informed him dismissively. She turned to Josef. "And you can't dump her on us, by the way, whether we owe you or not. I suspect Lance turned her, and she's going to need a sire. Mick is still dealing with his own issues, and Beth would probably rather take a sunbath than accept my help."
"And this is my problem how? Help me out here."
"You came out of your funk just to save the fair Miss Turner," Coraline pointed out, secretly relieved. Keeping busy would keep him away from suicidal pastimes. "You care, Josef, whether you like it or not."
"What's to like?" he snarked.
"We're wasting time," Coraline reminded him calmly.
With a moody Josef, Cynthia, what remained of Josef's crew, and Coraline's surviving brothers, they made their way towards Lance's fortress. Cynthia kept shooting daggers at Mick with her eyes, who just smiled casually in return. Between Josef and Cynthia, Coraline was beginning to understand what frustrated mothers with difficult children might feel like.
As it turned out, the security at Lance's fortress was lax, as the majority of Lance's team was out or had been at the factory. The egomaniac hadn't been expecting any problems, so had given a lot of his soldiers the night off. It didn't take long to find Beth; all they needed to do was follow their noses. The smell of a sleeping fledgling was distinct, and Beth's scent was familiar to Josef and Coraline at least. She was in the East Wing, locked up in what amounted to a gilded cage.
She lay on the four-poster bed, serene in the death sleep. Lance, ever the dramatist, had posed her with her hands folded over her chest, her long legs stretched out, blonde hair fanning out over the pillow. She looked like something out of a tasteful porno with that get-up, and the heavy make-up Lance must have applied himself, fangs peeking out from beneath her ruby lips.
Josef's howl of outrage filled the room.