Chapter III : A Short Interlude

The Nightrunner's Abode.
Time: 2:04 am

The smell of ancient herbs filtered through the dark-winter night as steam rose fitfully from a broken radiator. Moonlit pools of blood tracked along the dirt-encrusted tiles and a temperate candle fixed to the floor. A burnt creature lowered into her steel bateau, the head slumped uselessly against one side as the lycan nurse carefully sponged her emaciated arms. Strange contours of blood dribbling down her lips, now outlining the ruined flesh where her scars refused to heal. The reddish water clouding around her mangled skin…and Rena's mind drifting as she tenderly washed her broken charge.

Familiar irony that she, a retired junkie who'd not cared for a single soul since the death of her pups might start mourning for this…child…a flightless bird frightened by the sound of trains. Nightly cradling of a burnt seahawk's head, pressing blood against her lips. Wasted blood streaming slowly down her scarred cheeks. Indeed, the Nightrunner could be so forceful in her madness, and yet, so silent in her…

…slumber.

Suddenly hissing with realization, Rena drew the motionless bird forward…cradling the…child's…head in her palm as she searched for a pulse. Praying to Fate that death had not found the Nightrunner's soul. Ten seconds. Searching. Listening.

Listening…

…for what seemed an eternity before grasping the sound of a heartbeat. The glimpse of movement. Laboured breath moving in and out, in and out, as the broken seer shifted in her slumber.

Softly releasing her own breath, she laid the sleeping vampire carefully back against the bateau…again streaming cold water across the burning scalp. Sponging the sweat away…and the heat. All had abandoned this creature…but Rena stayed. So late in this war…Rena stayed for this child whose burns refused to heal.

For who else was there?

Even the alpha has abandoned his burnt one, thought Rena, inwardly snarling through her mind's eye. The moonlight shining across her face…the tawny eyes of an owlish lycan masked behind a pale stain of anger. Always sensitive to her caretaker's moods, the burnt one suddenly began to whimper fretfully in her sleep, causing the brooding lycan to look down in her bitterness…tender as she swallowed her anger, still cradling the waking woman's neck. Though the Nightrunner's voice could be cold as winter ice, she still had the temerity to sound like a wolf child mewling for milk after sunrise.

"Shhh…" Rena murmured offhandedly, kneeling by the tub and now looking the mad seer in the eyes. Handing the washcloth over to the fretful and shaking fingers…the blue irises lost and vacant as the sea. "He's gone," Rena whispered, splashing the water a little with her fingers as she kept a watchful eye on her charge. A watchful eye on the vampire's strange choice of recreation. Already, she had moved on…scrunching and stretching the cloth out with her fingers…watching in utter fascination as it dripped. Still sounding so fretful with her neverending hunger, and yet so appeased by this gift Rena had bestowed upon her.

So appeased...

Suddenly weary, the tall lycan of tawny eyes moved to the stool by the radiator…sitting down and letting her charge play feebly in the bateau…the screaming creature so calm now that her former lover had left the building. As usual, it had taken hours to quiet the poor thing. Hours to get her to sleep. Hours to clean up this mess. Even after Lucian had stalked from the room, the child had begun throwing up gore again. Always hungry…and yet, always playing in a damned pool of regurgitated blood.

Damn him for using her gift. Leaving the poor Burnt One to rot in this hell…but still forcing the blood down her throat. Forcing the words from her lips when she can't even stomach her own blood, let alone, his. Harsh as Rena was, it pained her to see this abuse…but who was she to speak? She never stood up to him. Never stopped him in his path.

…and for what?

Broken visions. The words of a crazed vampire. Caught in her madness as she lay dying, unable to keep her blood down. Unable to stomach the lycan venom she once poisoned herself for the sake of inner sight. Her visionary charge screaming unholy dread to the nighttime sky. Lost on her tracks of iron. At which point…Lucian, so-called leader of twelve packs and alpha to the horde, would habitually ignore his gifted…mate…and call for Rena…

"Rena…she's convulsing. Do something medical. Goodnight."

"Rena... your aid is much appreciated. Give my regards to your pater. Goodnight."

"Rena...the next time you want to dope up, stick to your own damned painkillers. And by the by, give my regards to your drug trafficker. Goodnight."

He might be alpha, but at times, Rena just longed to smack him one over the head. Beat him senseless and give him a night spent in the burnt one's place…just so he could see what kind of hell he'd left her in. And though Lucian may never have said it...Rena knew what her charge represented. Everyone knew at the time. The Nightrunner was Lucian's mate in all but name. And he'd abandoned her.

"Glorified mistress, my ass," Rena muttered to the steaming air, knowing her charge heard not a single word. "…and no time for bastards either." Again hearing the Nightrunner whimper as she played, the lycan nurse wearily got to her feet. While the girl was calm, she might as well feed her what little blood she could. The child would no doubt spit it back up as soon as it was down…but at the very least, she could try.

Better than watching her starve...

And with that, knowing there was nothing she could do if death came knocking at the Nightrunner's door, Rena left the room. She would return in a few minutes with blood…warm…nourishing. Perhaps even a spoon…

But immediately, as the door closed, the Nightrunner began to whisper again. Blue-eyed, violent and deadly, her voice harsh as winter as she forced herself to stand…now stepping coldly from the warm waters. Swaying unsteadily through hazy air and crouching down to the dirt-encrusted floor. Her scarred fingers shivering as she spelled a short name along the steamed metal siding of the bateau...

ÁRIS.

"Fluorescent lights flickering on, off, on, off. Blood stains," she whispered hoarsely through the dry lips…weak and clawing at the floor with her one good arm. The violent creature twisted and mad as she stared intensely at the ominous name. Her head twitching as she passed her vision through the dark-winter night. "Tracks on the ground. Empty birdcage. Straight-back chair by the window ledge. Blood on the marketplace floor…the bloodstained…city. The blood-stained north. Wake, for the wolves are coming…run to the marketplace floor. Line of ants by the hallway. The door stands open. Outside the door stands a man. Between his fingers lies a…g-gun. The trigger goes off. He hits the mirror. Shards of a broken mirror. Wake, for his name is Lucian. Run, for your name is…"

The door suddenly opened and shrieking, the Nightrunner collapsed, shivering against the tub with the one arm clasped against her ruined shoulder…her palm having wiped clean the name written along the metal siding. Her mind still trained on the smudge. Her breath shallow and hoarse.

"Áris," she whispered softly at Rena…rocking against the tub as the lycan ran forward to calm her down. Even as the lycan nurse cradled the dark seer in her arms, she continued to whisper. The name growing stronger…louder…until the Nightrunner screamed through the night. Over and over, the mantra which wrapped so simply round her warped intellect. Wrapped in her fury and yet, snickering with the answer as she spoke it. Laughing as she hissed the name of the candidate whose veins lay trapped in the blood-soaked city to the North.

A/N: Hmm. We'll see where this goes. (Yes, I'm making most of this up as I go along...there's a general plot, but portions of it are up in the air.) The main purpose of this particular interlude was simply to introduce a bit more of the Nightrunner's current situation, throw in a new character...and, of course, add a bit more info about the candidate. (Hint, hint. When do vampires write names on steamed surfaces? We'll find out in two chapters or so.) Speaking of which...next installment coming quite soon since I accidentally wrote it before Chapter III.

As a final note...all readers, please feel free to read and review.

Mimyr: A big thank you for last chapter's review! It was much appreciated. (Quite thorough, definitely constructive, and an overall pleasure to read.) Hopefully, I can keep up the mysterious undercurrent and dark chills. (If not...at least the first two chapters went well. As you probably noticed, that was my little disclaimer in case my writing style turns to complete crap.)