Author's Note: the story is shaping up nicely in my opinion since I see where it ends now. That makes me happy.
Disclaimer: I still don't own any of this, and I make no profit except for kind reviews. Sadly, reviews will not pay the tuition.
Delicious…
The ghetto reeks of uneasiness. The scent is old, one born of centuries of oppression and fear. If she's in this city, then she's either wandered these streets or will come to them eventually. This is the center of Prague's mystical heritage and the source of the world's best-known tales of golems.
"Tell me a story." I don't know why she came to me for stories. The only ones I know would have curled her already kinky hair. And she would have loved it. Fear itself never scared her. She'd trot after me, making a game of stepping on my shadow until I either gave in or allowed my real shadow to reach out and tweak her hair.
"Once upon a time…" A gap-toothed grin revealing pointed canines just growing in. The spires in this city are reminiscent of her young delight.
"…there was a little girl…" Why is it that every ten or fifteen years I get saddled with a new little girl? First my master and then the police-girl. Pesky little things, with their high-pitched screams and barely enough blood to count as a meal.
"…who thought she knew all about monsters…" My little girl was no exception. She knew lots of monsters. But every single one was bound in one way or another, myself more than most. After all, this one was "my" little girl. It didn't matter that I'd had nothing to do with her creation – my blood still ran through her veins.
"…until she met me."
Red-streaked brown eyes that would meet mine without hesitation. "Don't be silly. You're not a monster."
No one knew what to make of my little girl, the one whose existence was supposed to be impossible. Not even I knew what to do with her, but I knew what to name her. Of the darkness. It was my right. When I named her I didn't want anyone to ever forget what she was – an unholy blending of human and vampire and science with sparkling eyes and a tendency to kill anything left in her care. Not that she'd purposely killed anything. She told me once that sometimes when she looked at things she heard a voice asking her, "What would happen if…?" And how could she be expected to ignore such a valid question?
Her laughter, unselfconscious and slightly mad was unnerving in a child. It always lasted a second too long, stretching the humans' nerves just a bit too far. Her smile would always be a touch blood-thirsty once she calmed, her eyes a bit unfocused. In those moments it was clear to all what she had the potential to become. To me it was a beautiful vision of the future. Unfortunately other people saw the same thing but not in the same light.
After awhile she stopped laughing so freely.
I mocked her for it, baited her to break free of the expectations of her inferiors. Her lip would curl, her incisors would flash, and she'd walk away. I let her leave me behind in body, but I was always there! She had no reason to hare off on a wild goose chase based on fairy tales and fueled by pure stubbornness.
How she even remembered the existence of the golem project, I've no idea. It couldn't have been mentioned in her hearing since her infancy and all her intelligence aside, she shouldn't have been able to remember that.
She doesn't remember anything. If she had she never would have tried to create a connection between freaks and golems in the first place. We've all been watching her closely since she first became enthralled by the golem mythology. If she'd put one and one together…
I'd know.
So she was still in the dark, but there was no telling how long she'd stay that way. Her theory, so close to truths that would reshape her world…
The knowledge she seeks could tear her apart.
I won't have what's mine destroying itself out of what amounts to little more than shock. And she is mine. She'd always been mine. It didn't matter than no one had ever intended her to be my daughter. Fools. They should have known I'd sense the moment my blood came to life and that I would come to claim it.
The air is restless. Storm systems rush past overhead, drawing new strength from the clouds they drag in their wake. The threatening rain will wash her scent from the air, making her trail that much harder to find.
I don't intend to spend another fruitless night hunting for her. I grow tired of spending the daylight hours pacing the floor with pointless concern. When you've lived as many centuries as I have, you grow to learn when a moment in time will not be changed by any force. However, that's no reason not to speed things towards their conclusion.
It doesn't matter that I can't sense her. The air will carry my message to her ears just as easily as my scent. I will no longer wait for her to return of her own will. Impossible child she might be, but she's bound to me just as I am bound to her.
"I grow tired of this game, my pretty. It's long past time you return to your sire."
A/N II: I decided that Darcie's name is Alucard's attempt at humor as Darcie means "of the dark." So when he said he named her to make sure people remembered what she was, that's the reference.