Sorry about the cliffy I left you guys on last time :P Let us continue...
Oh yeah, and I still don't own A7X. Dang...
Chapter 7
I can feel the wall, hard against my back as I push myself back, trying to keep as far away from him as possible. "Stay the fuck away from me," I snarl, feeling on the nightstand in case there's a candlestick or something I can use as a weapon.
No such luck; I grind my teeth in frustration.
He takes another step forwards, smirking; I curse my heart for its weak human reaction. Hearing my elevated heartbeat he grins, revealing inhumanly sharp, white teeth. His silver eyes are thrown into sharp relief in the light of the lamps. No doubt he's assuming that I'm afraid. I've only been in this situation - unarmed and at the complete mercy of a hostile vampire - twice before, and both times I barely escaped with my life, with the scars to show for it. If I had a weapon, it would be a simple matter to stake this monster to the wall (and probably remove his head, just to be sure). As it stands...
"Aww, don't be like that, babe..." He speaks softly, but somehow it's more menacing than if he'd spoken harshly.
"Fuck you."
He chuckles, then tilts his head on one side slightly before suddenly moving so fast my eyes can't follow him. I barely have time to open my mouth before he's on me, forcing me to the floor, teeth at my throat, one hand held over my mouth to stop me screaming, the other gripping my hair to hold me down.
This is it. This is how I die. Oddly, I'm not scared. I don't try to fight (What good would it do?) and instead try to fix my thoughts on my family. If this is how I'm going out, I wanna go out thinking of them.
Simon... Mom, Dad... Luce, I'm sorry.
But the end, apparently, is not nigh.
Suddenly, he's gone, thrown away from me by some unseen force. I sit up, coughing, and put a hand to my throat. My fingers come away red.
A growl brings my attention back to the rest of the room, where it seems I've been missing most of the drama.
Vengeance is holding Gates against the wall with his forearm pressed against his throat, eyes blazing and teeth bared in a snarl. Neither of them moves; it's only when he shifts position slightly that I realise Johnny is standing in the doorway, looking shocked. Keeping my eyes on Gates and Vengeance, I realise they're having a mental argument, something Johnny can probably hear loud and clear. From the look on his face, he doesn't like what he's hearing one little bit.
Finally, they seem to snap out of it. Vengeance glances over at me, then says to Johnny without turning his head, "Go see if she's okay."
Johnny nods and, walking over, frowns with worry when he sees the blood running down my neck. "Did he bite you?" he asks quietly, crouching beside me.
My first instinct is to cringe away from the contact, but I hold myself still as he looks closely at the wound, then reaches into a pocket, pulling out a handful of bandages. "Yeah, I think so." He didn't get far, though, I add silently.
"Shouldn't have got this far in the first place," Johnny mutters, then glances over his shoulder.
Vengeance releases Gates, who stands for a second, looking at him, then flees the room without a backwards glance. "She alright?" he asks Johnny brusquely.
"Think so. You feeling okay?" They both turn to me; I nod slowly.
"Fine, I guess."
"Good." And with that, Vengeance leaves the room as quickly as he came.
For a few seconds Johnny and I sit in silence while he finishes bandaging me up. It takes me a few moments to work out what's weird about that.
"Johnny."
"What?"
"...Do you always carry bandages around with you?" I ask, amused despite myself.
He shrugs. "Only since you came. You're always hurting yourself, so..."
I open my mouth to protest, but he does have a point. If I'm not getting attacked, I'm cutting myself on things. It's only a matter of time before I fall down the stairs or something.
"Don't do that," he says seriously, but I can see he knows I'm joking.
"Wasn't planning on it." I grin, ignoring the slight twinge of pain it causes. "It's not like me to be clumsy, honest."
"Honey, no-one would believe it." He chuckles, patting me on the shoulder.
A few hours later, not sure what time (they don't have any clocks in this place) Johnny and I are still sitting on the bed, talking about nothing in particular. Neither of us wants to bring up the subject of what had happened earlier.
"Um..." I say suddenly. "Can I have a shower?"
He frowns for a second. "Course. You had to ask?"
"Well, I..." I look down, embarrassed.
He laughs. "You didn't want to draw attention, right?"
I shake my head exasperatedly. "Well, I'm not sure how long it's been, seeing as I don't know how long I've been here."
"Fair point. Yeah, sure. There's towels and shampoo and stuff in there."
"Would you mind...standing outside the room? Like, by the door?" I have a sudden unpleasant memory of Gates' silver eyes and sharp, white teeth.
He winces. "No problem," he says, getting up. "I'll get you some clean clothes too."
"Thanks." I smile as he leaves the room, closing the door in that quiet way of his.
It takes roughly thirty seconds before he comes back, carrying a bundle of clothes. He hands them to me and leaves again, saying, "I'll be right outside, kay?"
"Okay." Once he's left the room, I go into the bathroom and turn on the shower. I'm banking entirely on the assumption that Johnny's chivalry will prevent him from mentally eavesdropping while I'm in the shower.
When the water's been running for about ten minutes, I slip silently out of the bathroom and suddenly focus as hard as I can on panic, visualising myself falling in the shower; I let out a small shriek and thump the floor for good measure, before ducking out of sight behind the bed.
Right on cue, the door slams open and Johnny runs in, panic evident on his face. He dashes into the bathroom, just as I jump up and slam the door on him, jamming the handle with the chair from the dressing table.
In the few moments I've had alone in here without being chained up, I've been examining the locks and, using the skills an old friend taught me about lock-picking, carefully started taking them apart. It's taken time, but as I grasp the first lock, it comes apart in my hands. I reach for the next one, working as quickly as I can towards my escape.
The bathroom door crashes to the floor in a pile of splintered wood; a pair of arms suddenly grabs me, pinning my arms to my sides. I fight, managing to land one kick and eliciting a satisfying yelp of pain. His grip loosens slightly, but as I twist away he catches my arm and drags me over to the bed, pulling me onto it. Within seconds, I'm chained back up, and Johnny is standing by the bed, hurt and betrayal plain on his face.
"You promised," he says, so softly it's almost a whisper, before turning away and leaving me alone.
It's a couple of hours, maybe three, before anyone comes to see me.
The footsteps coming up the stairs don't sound like Johnny's; sure enough, when the door opens, it's Sullivan who enters, carrying a plate of sandwiches and a glass of water.
"What do you want?" I ask, a little disconcerted. I thought none of the others wanted anything to do with me.
"Food?" he asks in response, setting the glass on the nightstand and holding out the plate.
I rattle the chains and give him a withering look.
"Oh, yeah. Right." He sits on the edge of the bed (I scoot over to the other side as far as I can) and holds out a sandwich. When I pointedly ignore it, he sets it back down. "What? My hands are clean!"
"How come you're here? Where's Johnny?" I ask, not bothering to acknowledge what he'd said.
"He's downstairs. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about," he says, his tone and expression unsettlingly friendly.
"I'm not a fucking circus animal." The dully-spoken swearword is the only indication of my true feelings.
"No, I mean... Well, you did stab Zacky. And you tried to escape. And you kicked Johnny somewhere no man should ever be abused." He sounds amused, counting my 'offences' off on his fingers with a smile on his face. "That's more trouble than we've had to deal with in the last year put together, at least."
I chuckle despite myself at how casually he talks about my stabbing people. It makes me wonder, albeit briefly, what my parents would say if they knew what I did for a living; if my little brother would be proud of me.
"Here." He seems to sense that I'm relenting a little and holds up the sandwich again. I hesitate, then take a bite, chewing slowly to avoid having to speak. It's ham and tomato, with a hint of pepper – really good. Who made these? I ask silently.
"Johnny. He's the best cook out of all of us."
Raising an eyebrow, I take another bite, this time studying him as I chew. I've only ever seen him at a distance or in pictures before, or at least I had up until the concert (however long ago that was).
His long-ish black hair falls really strangely around his face in the kind of haircut only the inventor could pull off successfully. His face is pale, but that's normal for his kind, and made to seem paler by his sleeveless button-up black shirt. And he's really tall, one of the tallest people I've met. Gotta be at least 6'4".
"Six five," he says with a slightly self-conscious smile.
"My mistake."
He puts down the sandwich and gives me some water, then sets the empty glass back on the table. It doesn't take long for me to finish the rest of the sandwiches; when they're gone, he sets the plate on the nightstand and puts the glass on top of it, then looks at me steadily without speaking. I notice how his eyes are drawn to the white bandage on the side of my neck.
"I heard what Brian did," he says suddenly, without inflection.
"Who didn't?" I reply, glancing down self-consciously.
"Zacky was really pissed at him for hurting you."
"I don't really want to talk about it right now."
"Fair enough."
Neither of us speaks for a few minutes. Then, on a sudden impulse, I say, "So you wanted to become a vampire? What's up with that?"
Sullivan chuckles. "Zacky told you my sob story then?"
"Yeah. Said you'd had a really rough time."
He nods. "Not the best years of my life, those."
"I'll bet." At least I have a family. Even if they believe I'm dead, I know different.
"I have a family." He doesn't sound accusing or upset. It's just a statement.
Somehow that makes it worse. "I'm sorry," I say quickly. "I didn't mean-"
"Nah, s'okay." He cuts me off with a wave of his hand and a good-natured smile. "Anyway, I'd better get back down there before Johnny has a fit or something. He doesn't trust anyone else with you, you know."
And he's gone, taking the crockery with him, before I can ask what he means.
Ooooo... Hehe :P
Until next time! ^_^
xoxox