Pale

Chapter Two: Possession

Note: Umm…"sex" scene warning. Also D being a complete jerk warning as well…he's going to do that a lot in this story. You have been warned.

"Now I dream, enwrapt in pure clouds of the sweetest oblivion where beauty streams, freed from the teeth of those beasts that had come." – Swansong for a Raven, Cradle of Filth

"And I would be the one to hold you down, kiss you so hard, I'll take your breath away." - Possession, Sarah McLachlan

For the next three months Asenath searched relentlessly for her mysterious and legendary savior. She never would have thought that she would find the Hunter actually residing in the place that her search brought her to, according to what she'd quickly learned about the Hunter he never stayed in one place for longer than a week or two, but all the signs, tracks and rumors she could salvage lead to the castle in which Asenath would not let out of her sight.

The castle had been abandoned and slowly decaying into ruin for centuries, yet now it bore subtitle signs of habitation. The architecture was much like that of any ancient Nobel structure, opulent and overwhelmingly elegant. Its masonry was laid in such complex alignment that even modern humans could only marvel at it, the mortar seemed to shimmer in the moonlight, the windows were like miniature pinpricks of starlight. But through the years cracks had crawled up the structure and disfigured the gargoyles and angels that dwelled about the wild ground.

Yet now the wild tangle of green that had invaded the ground was cleared away and once again the acres of land where immaculate and lush with exotic life. Not only had the grounds been tamed, yet where blooming with luscious flowers of varieties, smells and colors that overwhelmed her senses, yet she quickly noticed that most of the varieties were night blooming.

For days the girl merely crouched within the tall trees and gazed up at the castle before her. Only once did she see a soft glow of light flooding out from two of the windows on a central level of the castle, yet she was unsure of her findings until she witnessed her gorgeous prey moving across the draw bridge. At that time the daylight had been waning, and yet the sunlight still seemed to sparkle off the surface of his skin as though it were composed of a million faceted diamonds rather than flesh. The air seemed to freeze within Asenath's lungs as they forgot their function.

The soft sound of her gasp was more than enough to alert the Hunter of her presence, and his cool eyes penetrated the cover of shadow easily enough only to regard her with utter disinterest, as though she were no more than a common sparrow rather than an intruder on his lands. He turned his gaze to a large tangle of vivid red and black flowers that where shaped like lilies, the vines they grew from where as thick as tree branches. She could recognize this species easily, they where Hell Lilies. When consumed the flowers produced vivid and horrific hallucinations that easily drove the victim to madness. With a swift flick of his wrist he uprooted several of the rope like vines, and tossed at least three feet of the vine of his shoulder. He spoke again, his voice as detached as before, "Go home."

She watched, stricken as he disappeared within the castle. A throbbing sorrow welled within her heart. The girl had not had a true home since the age of five, by now she'd grown used to the knowledge, but the young mans acknowledgement of the fact dragged it painfully forth into her consciousness.

Yet as was natural for a girl whom had learned to fend for herself she was undeterred by the Hunter's cold words, and she did not venture anywhere but closer to the stone walls, it did not take her long for her work up enough bravery to use the thick vines that clung to the stone to scale her way upward and into the castle by way of a narrow window in which most of the glass had fractured away. She presumed that Hunter knew well that an intruder could easily find this simple entrance yet he was certainly a match for any enemy that crossed his path and therefore he did not bother to fix it. "Makes sense", Asenath murmured to herself as she crawled inside the castle, and met no other. Her eyes could see only black shadows about her. "What dhampir capable of slaying Cthulhu would feel threatened by a mere broken window?"

She first noticed that most of the immense manor was still covered in a thick coating of dust, it lay inches thick on the floor and like a white veil upon the black drapes that where pulled across the windows. The lamps still bore ancient filament bulbs; the chandeliers lay broken and forgotten on the floor. Only the fourth level of the dwelling held any evidence of life. There a trails of soft boot prints lead a lonely path from the vast laboratory that was still glowing, humming and bubbling with more experiments than Asenath could have ever hoped to fathom, to the library in which the books were falling off the shelves and stacked high in haphazard piles, from there the focused trail might lead to the gilded elevator, but more distinctly they lead to the bed chamber.

For the next two weeks she crouched again in the shadows and she only glimpsed D in the library and laboratory, for the most part he stayed within the dark bedchamber. It look Asenath a while to work up the courage to push open the door, she was certain the Hunter was aware of her intrusion and he regarded in the same careless manner, but still, crossing into his bedroom seemed a terrible violation to him. However her obsession was far too strong. She wasn't certain what she thought she might find the Hunter doing within that room in the neglected manor, but she certainly never thought she would find him asleep.

Like everything else in the castle the room was immensely sized yet it was almost completely bare. All that occupied its space where more teetering piles of books, loose leaf papers covered in the Hunter's thin script, a tall, cracked and dusty mirror and a large, canopied bed. It was large enough to dwarf even the tall occupant that lay upon it. Strangely enough it seemed that D had tossed a pile of hay down upon the mattress and he lay within this, a thin blanket covering his unmoving form.

If Asenath did not know better from the months she'd clung to R.H she would have sworn that D was dead, as there wasn't the slightest movement she could detect about him, no discernable rise and fall of his chest. Unlike true Nobles, dhampirs did have a pulse and draw in breath; they also cast reflections and shadows although all of these things tended to be faint according to the strength of the Nobel blood within the dhampir.

D did not appear the least bit human as he lay unmoving within the hay covered bed, nor did he appear at all at peace, or even at rest. His eyes might have been closed, and his body vulnerable in the loose black clothing that he wore, his face a gleaming spectacle of beauty to Asenath's eyes, yet there was no true relaxation to his features. He lay rigidly on his back, his expression appearing wise and contemplative. He was merely a slumbering beast, ever wakeful for the slightest hint of danger. His curved long sword rested against the head board, well within his grasp.

After a while she recalled that the Nobility preferred to sleep close to the ground, as it helped to draw fatigue from their bodies. This must be why D slept in a pile of hay.

Asenath still must not have been a threat, for she visited the Hunter daily afterward and always found him asleep, unmoving and utterly unchanged. Only later did she notice that the Hunter was not quite as perfect as he appeared. If she flicked on the lights she noticed that his face was slightly marred, not with scars as most Hunters, but with age. Sharp, yet faint lines traced across his forehead and around his mouth, and in the light she swore that she could see a few grey hairs although they where easily missed in the lustrous shimmer of the dhampir's locks. While at first glance D easily appeared to be in his early 20's, this closer inspection gave him the look of a man of 35 human years.

A week passed before D at last began to stir, his eyes moved fitfully back and forth beneath his closed lids in the way that was certain of dreams, and his fingers would clinch at the moldering straw beneath him. Before consciousness returned to him the Hunter would thrash about restlessly, and in an almost pitiful voice began to cry out, his face twisted in pain. She did not understand what he was calling out, the words where too disjointed to make sense, yet she thought she recognized names that he repeated in his delirium. Each of them sounded rather alike…Luna, Mina, Lina. Had these been relatives of his, or had each of these women merely suffered a similar fate that linked not only their names but their destinies together? It took everything in Asenath's power to keep from waking him; she worried that were he to be caught unawares from such nightmares that he might lash out and end up snapping her neck in his fear.

In time D woke naturally, and gazed almost sadly up at the ceiling above him as though searching the gilded tiles for some sort of sign, some answer that was desperately eluding him. His right hand moved to cover his left one, he still wore the sapphire jewel about his neck and he still wore a thin, rather plain emerald band on his left hand. He touched this jewel softly, and whispered something to himself. She could not be certain what that voice like a frozen winter draft had said, if he'd said anything at all.

He rose without sign of torpor and from there would spend a few intensive hours in the laboratory, dissecting the strange plants he'd been growing and harvesting, and melding them in complicated formulas well beyond Asenath's understanding. He'd spend a few more hours in the library reading frantically, scribbling out formulas and theories faster than her eyes could follow and then he would retrace his steps back to the laboratory. There he would retest whatever concoction he was brewing, and then pour it into a thin syringe. Horrified Asenath watched as D pushed the needle into his carotid artery and pressed the plunger down, emptying the whole of the strange fluid into his veins.

Almost instantly D's eyes took on a glazed look as he set the syringe aside. There was a noticeable languor to his movements as he moved back again into the bed chamber, and lay back down on his moldering bed. Only a moment later his eyes were closed and he moved no more for another week.

The girl was uncertain how long she remained within the castle, captivated by the mysterious, and tragic behavior that the dhampir repeated again and again, his only deviation from it being an occasional trip outside to gather more flowers, or a swift ride of his sleek cybernetic horse to the nearest village to pick up a new shipment of books, and then it was right back to his unconsciousness.

And once again Asenath began to pluck up her courage. She grew to love the week that he lay unmoving, perhaps even ignorant of her presence. It allowed her to fulfill one of her simple dreams, and to crawl into the bed next to D. She would fold her arms about him, and lay against his chest, comforted by the faint pounding of his heart. It would lull her into sleep and into dreams of the day that he would awaken, and perhaps return her embrace.

D could still recall the warmth of his mother's womb. It was not a faded and blurred memory as Mina's face had now become to him. It was vivid in its simplicity; perhaps that was the only reason that it refused to fade into the haze of time like every other memory seemed to over the millennia. Even before birth he could recall feeling a fierce affection for the life that sustained him, and feeling soothed by her voice. He was attuned to whenever she needed her rest, and would restrict his fetal movements at that time to allow his life giver her sleep. He could also recall feeling a wild loathing arise within him when he heard the cold, cruel voice that always accompanied Mina.

It was often of this simpler time that D found himself dreaming of. Again, and again he relived moments of peace and security he'd once known with his mother, dreamed of the smile she wore when he choked down his human food and resisted blood, of the secure way she'd clutched him to her the first time their village had been beset by a Greater Dragon, and of the times he'd tried to comfort her as she broke down and cried. She never told him the reason her eyes where constantly glazed with sorrow, nor why she fell into tears every so often, and D never asked. He knew well enough almost from birth that he was a major cause of that sorrow, yet he never dared to leave her side, knowing that would have crushed her completely.

D didn't always dream of Mina, however. He dreamed of others, and he dreamed meaninglessly just as often. Yet without fail he would dream of three white flowers that he'd given to three separate women, and of the final moments of those women.

He dreamed of his mothers eyes staring cold and blankly up at the stars, yet her face was calm and serene, at last liberated of her ever pressing sorrow.

He dreamed of lightly clutching a dying girl's hand, of meeting her tear filled eyes before she disintegrated into a sparkling ash. Her last words echoed in his ears, "Goodbye D….oh…the potential we had…"

And he dreamed of the face of his most beloved, horrific in its mask of blood and bruises, her once sensual gaze was forever fixed in utmost horror.

Perhaps other memories and random images would flash before his eyes, yet always these would be the images he saw without fail, before they bled together into a horrific jumble of scenery and imagery, voices and symbols that screamed out in agony at him. A million blood red eyes seemed to stare out at him against pitch blackness, each eye a memory, a world of aguish gazing out at him. He could not fight against the cacophony as it gripped him relentlessly and it was useless to try to struggle, to try to recall that it was only a dream and he must awake now. The chaos gripped his every nerve, it would not let going until it had fully run its hours long course, and then D would be free to awaken. His heart would be pounding almost painfully in his chest, and breathing shallow. He remained utterly unenlightened.

Sometimes D wondered if the terrible sting he felt in his eyes upon waking was that of tears rather than one of many side effects he'd been suffering from his concoctions. He blinked the tenderness away and rose to again and again create his drugs. For a flitting moment he thought he could see the same red eyes that plagued his dreams staring back at him from the reflections of a forgotten mirror, yet either they where merely ghosts lingering within this place, or left over visions of his dreams because they lacked substance or harm.

It was with a sad reluctance that he repeated this strange ritual again and again. The fact was that he'd backed himself into the addictive life cycle. The Nobility had almost literally died into extinction, there was no need for Vampire Hunters any longer and those that still lingered found themselves hired by the Nobility themselves to end their immortal lives that had become as hollow as D's own existence. Income did not concern D, for centuries he'd been hunting merely to have some vague, glimmering thing to exist for. It was desperate listlessness, a need simply to forget the past that had driven him into this cycle.

Not only was he at a stalemate in his line of work, yet his primary goal, the destruction of Dracula's vessels had also met a stand still as well. Over the past millennia he'd destroyed twelve of the vessels of his father's true immortality, yet he'd had help with each other them. He'd had a single, albeit vague clue spoken in dreams or even illusions from the image of once beloved wife. It might take him half a century to understand that clue and destroy the vessel, yet he always managed to in end. Yet time too had robbed his memory of her face, as well as the sound of her voice, the tenderness and the warmth of her touch. Now Luna, like his mother, like the faces of all that D had at one time loved, cared for and rescued was nothing more than a faint memory. A hazy fog that lingered before the scorching break of dawn. With the memory of her face forgotten so too faded her guiding voice. More than 50 years had past since he'd last heard her voice of direction, now all that his dreams would allow him was a fleeting glimpse of her gleaming form and a singular, senseless whisper on the wind, "Look the left…"

Languid, worn and confused D sought out the comfort of hibernation, knowing that if only he could look once more upon Luna's face again her assistance from beyond would arrive once more. Yet his mind refused to grant him that reprieve from his hardships, hibernation was denied from him.

It was for the reason that he experimented so drastically, creating drugs, hallucinogens and sedatives that would allow him to remain in a semi comatose, dreaming state. He utilized the uses of the most unusual and dangerous plant life from all over the world, yet each formula he contacted yielded him the same results. Faceless memories, senseless symbols and horrific nightmares, and no ethereal guidance.

But on this particular day D did not awaken in a fit of nightmares with his body wracked with pain, no blood red eyes where staring at him from oblivion. Rather the thick veil of rest that had dulled his senses lifted gradually, and he was not alone as it did so.

A soft, slender form was lying against his chest, listening solemnly to the drum of his heart. Perhaps her face had faded from her memory, yet the vividness of her white blonde hair would never fade from his mind. Disbelieving D pushed his hands into her hair and tiled her face up to meet his eyes, "Luna…" he whispered but the passion died on his lips.

As suddenly as he'd believed it had been her that curled with him in slumber the girl's appearance appeared to change before his eyes. Her silver hair changed into dark russet waves, and her form lost much of its sensuality and becoming merely the body of an overly thin, starved girl whose face was truly unappealing to the male eye, whose lips bore an unmistakable cleft like scar. She gazed in both rapture and terror at him with her muddy colored eyes, scarcely daring to breathe.

It was merely the girl that had been following and spying ceaselessly on him for months now. He noticed that she appeared far thinner than before as though her obsession of him had drained her of her health as well. He pushed her harshly away from his embrace, clearly he'd still been dreaming when he'd thought he'd seen another. An almost despairing sigh fell past his lips. Not even the rarest, most complex and poisonous concoctions could bring what his father, what fate and time had stolen away from him.

"I….is that her name? Luna?" The girl whimpered pathetically as she moved forward to touch the ring upon his finger.

He pulled his hand sharply back and glared at the girl, "I thought that I told you to go home."

"I don't have a home." She answered back, trying to keep the hurt from her face.

D sat up, "That's none of my concern."

With desperation she grasped his wrist, "Please….you don't even know my name. You don't know anything about me. Just…give me a chance before you throw me away. You killed the only man who didn't throw me away." The girl's scarred lips looked truly pathetic as they quivered with a repressed sob.

He scowled coldly at the girl, "I know your name. I had been following your beloved around for weeks. He was a truly valuable Nobel; therefore I expect he is not truly dead. Why not be a good little girl Asenath and go and find him?"

A startled gasp was pulled from the girl as she heard the dhampir say her own name, it seemed far to flawed of a name to be passing through his lips. "I never loved R.H. I only wanted him because he seemed to want me; he gave me a place to stay. You're the one that I love D."

'Leave me alone."

"No." the girl said firmly and again reached out for his wrist. It was a movement that appeared far too swift to fit the girl's half staved body. She moved across his chest, straddled his waist and pressed him lightly down onto the hay strewn mattress. Had D had it in his mind to use force against her he would have snapped the girl like a twig underfoot, but as usual while within her presence he felt no danger, no need for such violent force. "Just let me repay you…" she panted as her hands quickly began to undo the lacings in the front of her frayed gown.

"I do not want payment, particularly in this form." D answered lowly and took no particular interest in the girl's bared bosom. It was rather well proportioned than the rest of her, but hardly a sight worth of blinding lust. The top of each breast bore an identical tattoo of a white rose, although the ink work look rather poorly done indeed.

Panting she moved her hand across his muscled chest, caressed his neck and his face, "Please, give me a chance D."

"Stop this."

"No." she breathed and leaned in to kiss him, her lips met his eagerly but his lips where cold, and unmoving beneath her caress. He could not deny that a slight shiver coursed down through his body at the touch of her kiss, perhaps it was only natural that he would momentarily desire such affections and yet he did nothing to yield to them. She lifted her face and gazed fearlessly into D's eyes; drowning in the flood of craving those dark orbs caused her. She trailed soft kisses down his face, and to his neck, laced her hands through his hair that had all the softness of silk.

"Stop…"he pleaded again, yet he made no move to resist her. For a moment his hands desired to experience what her skin might feel like beneath his touch, a desire merely to feel, perhaps hold her to his body simply to recall what the warmth of another felt like. All desires of the flesh had died with his beloved, yet at times he did find himself lamenting his utter loss of interest in carnal enjoyment and wondered that if perhaps he could allow himself physical love if that might take his mind off the ever crushing weight about his shoulders.

"D, you need me. I know it." She moaned softly as he hands slipped into his trousers, despite her words his body showed no physical response to any such yearning. She kissed his mouth hungrily as she gripped his flaccid manhood and began to move. It did not seem to matter that he had no desire to make love to this silly, obsessive girl, his body responded to her touch all the same. It might have been millennia since he'd known the touch of any other, but it seemed the lusts of his flesh had at last overpowered his unwavering willpower. He could not help but to breathe a short moan as the blood rushed into his groin and left his sensitive flesh aching more for her touch.

"I don't want you." He growled in defiance of his body. "I'll never want you."

Asenath shook her head, "Don't say that please. Just give me a chance. I can be anything that you desire; I'll do anything you wish. Just love me."

"I don't want you." He repeated himself, "You want me, and you're blinded by the fact. That is the only reason you believe I would ever care for you."

"Don't say such things!" she answered almost fiercely, her caress within his trousers moved faster.

"Damn it." He groaned, feeling his fangs suddenly razor sharp against his lips. The evidence of his lust was undeniable now, he was painfully hard, and his teeth and eyes had taken on the livid countenance of a vampire. He cursed the girl's stupidity, as well as he cursed himself for falling victim to her idiotic seduction, just how weak was his will? "Very well. I surrender. You can do as you wish to me."

Asenath whimpered with joy and kissed his unmoving lips once again. "Oh thank you! You'll see, I promise you. No woman can ever love you like me."

"In that case, if you can satisfy me in the way that she did than I shall deny myself no longer."

"You'll see…" the girl began again followed by more pointless chatter of her silly obsession over him. He gripped the hand that she had been using to gratify him and guided it at a fiercer speed.

"You'll never get anywhere at that pace." He growled, the girl obeyed him and worked her hand faster against his manhood.

A minute later she paused to pull his trousers down and fully expose him to her affections, and just as quickly she pulled her gown up and over her head. D's glowing eyes drank in the sight of her with a look of almost disgust, her breast was all the interest her body held for him. There was a graceful swell of her hips yet the rest of her was far too narrow, bones jutted outward from her skin, and widely placed moles dotted her flesh, marring its already rough and flawed surface. Large colored tattoos adorned her skin, yet they seemed a laughable attempt to distract the eye from the sad sight of her flesh. The dark curls of hair nestled between her thighs seemed the most loathsome sight to D, indeed he had forgotten just how terribly flawed the human form could be. He almost felt humiliation for the laughable creature baring herself before him.

But at least her hands where skilled enough to bring him gently toward a soft ecstasy, it wasn't the blinding fire that he'd so craved even if he shunned the touch of women, yet it was captivating enough. His breathing grew slightly labored. The imperfect girl leaned forward to kiss him, yet he turned fully away from her kiss so that her lips found only his check. "You're going to need that mouth soon." He hinted almost vulgarly.

She took the hint and replaced her hands with her mouth, at this D's breath grew slightly fevered in its pace. How could have ever forgotten such exquisite pleasure such as this? It encompassed his senses. For a moment or two there was no pain, no anguish or despair and only this bright thread of pleasure burning through his loins, yet soon enough the intensity of the fire dimmed. The girl obviously had experience in matters such as this, yet her skill seemed somehow lacking. She did not appear fully aware of the subtle erogenous zones, her mouth moved at a slacking pace and she protested if he tried to press her closer to him or thrust deeper into her mouth.

What pleasure he took from this act was quickly escaping him, and D found himself despairing at the fact. This singular heated thread within him was far more vivid, far more brilliant than any of the senseless dreams he'd been clinging to, and he become desperate to see it to its end. He closed his eyes tightly, partially the block himself the sight of the girls unsatisfactory image and desperately sought out the memory of what it had been like to fall utterly helpless, and enslaved with passion. Only she had been capable of that, his beloved Nymph, a creature forged for the pleasures of the flesh, a creature so accepting of the inevitability of love that she had given all her heart, body and soul over to D without a second thought. Against his closed eyes he sought her out, vividly recalling their first kiss within the swirling snowstorm. He recalled the pomegranate seeds they had shared, how the luscious taste of them had inspired their passionate kiss, recalled the blood red juice of the fruit upon her lips. He could even recall the way he'd lifted his hand and smoothed back her hair, bringing her slightly flushed face fully into his view. Her eyes had been smoldering beneath her pale lashes, her full lips parted in anticipation of his. Her face! Here is it was at last, her image uncorrupted by the passage of time, an image every bit as beautiful as the last time he'd seen it.

A hot, succulent flavored liquid touched D's tongue, bringing his consciousness back to the present. The taste of the liquid caused all his nerves to flare brightly, triggering the climax he'd been seeking. He gripped the girl's hair tightly and groaned out brokenly. For only a few seconds all the tension had left his body and was replaced by a glowing euphoria…but it abated just as swiftly as it had arrived and there was nothing but the hideous naked girl crouched atop of him, spitting and protesting at the fact that he'd dared to befoul her with his seed. He recognized the thrilling taste in his mouth to be that of his own blood, and became dimly aware that he'd bit open his own lip.

The repulsive girl was demanding his attention, "Bloody hell! You could have at least warned me!"

D merely gripped the girl by her shoulders and tossed her almost violently off the bed, and across the room. He'd used more force than he has intended to, but although greatly startled the girl was unharmed. She stared sadly up at him with her wide eyes, suddenly ashamed of her nakedness. "So….your just like all the others then! You're just going to have your fun and throw me away!" she simpered softly.

"That's right." He answered slowly, pulling on his trousers. "I told you that if you could impress me then I would not resist you, but you've failed miserably. Do not follow me anymore. I have wasted enough time in this castle as it is."

Without another word D grabbed his sword from the bed side and swept out of the room.

Asenath sobbed uncontrollably as she slowly built the courage to pull herself up from the ground, and retrieved her gown. She caught a glimpse of her naked self perched on the edge of the bed through the dust coated mirror across from room, and near choked on her tears. Each of her flaws seemed heightened a hundredfold. She'd become accustomed to looking in the mirror and hating the reflection that stared back at, she'd grew used to hating it more and more with each time that she was cast aside after her lovers had grown weary of her. Yet now…now that image was far too vile, far to grotesque even for her own eyes. Yet through her wavering tears she was unable to tear her sight from its wretchedness…perhaps she clung desperately to it for an explanation as to why gorgeous, perfect D had thrown her away like all the others. She stared at it so hard that when she saw the form within the mirror distort she thought nothing of it in her numbness. Her image soon twisted and then faded away into utter blackness, she frowned and caught hold her sobs and moved curiously toward the mirror. When a myriad of red eyes opened in the blackness she screamed and leapt backward, but a voice seemed to drift from beyond the glass. It was a calm, measured and smooth voice with a strange, musical accent.

"Do not be afraid Asenath. I am here to help you."

"What…." Said the girl in terror at the disembodied eyes that were burning from the darkness of the mirror, "what….how do you know my name…"

"I have known about you for many years now Asenath."

Her frown deepened, "Then you're only going to use me. Go away!"

With this the strange voice laughed, there was slight maniacal tone to it but strange as it sounded coming from no source other than that mirror it did not frighten the girl. She had seen stranger things. "I am the King of the Nobility my dear, what use would a mere human girl such as you have to me?"

She stared hard at the blinking eyes, "Then why would you help me?"

"Call it vengeance. I know just as well as you a girl such as you would be very useful against the abomination that is my dear son. He humiliated you terribly Asenath…surely you want to retaliate?"

She trembled, D's harsh words, his possessive hands burned within her memory. "What do you want me to do?"

"Listen to me…."