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Something has been dreadfully wrong with Erik's perception of time. For him, everything and everyone suddenly started moving extremely slowly. Charles' body was slowly crumbling to the floor, Shaw was slowly licking his lips, a single streak of dark blood was slowly running down the corner of his mouth, Raven was slowly stepping through the door, her scream reverberating inside and out, multiplying the terror. And then, all of the sudden, it washed over him — the light, radiant and fierce, and Erik has been looking with many eyes simultaneously, when the weird words have left his mouth and a flash of red light collided with the invisible barrier. The ground beneath his feet shook.
Mentally cataloguing lots of different things at the same time, for instance, the almost comical look of bewilderment on Shaw's face, as Erik was shouting orders to approaching Raven and quickly pondering over the ways to get the bastard closely acquainted with his sword, the helpful idea to feed Charles his blood, at least some, have been stored in the back of his mind, when Raven ran up to him and smashed her blade through the pattern on the floor. The pendant was vibrating with blue light, the proximity to all other relics having created the resonance and the barrier gave in.
As fast as lightning, Erik has dashed ahead, weapon aimed at Shaw, while Raven, gloriously blue again, was kneeling near Charles, gently circling arms around his upper body, turning him on his side.
For a moment all his enhanced senses have been focused solemnly on Shaw, as the vampire grabbed the thin, silvery blade from the altar and blocked the blow.
A snide leer turned into a snarl when Erik has managed to leave a bloody scratch on the monster's neck. Fuck you and your relics — he has thought at Shaw, swiftly changing the hand, gripping a blade, sling coming off, not restricting his movements anymore. You've got the relics and I've got the sacred sword. Eat this, bastard!
He performed a complicated slashing move — the kind, he's been previously unaware he could pull at all, while the red ball of fire bloomed in his right hand. It smashed the vampire in the chest, sent him reeling, and Erik changed his stance when Shaw pounced at him, mind going through numerous tactics in quick succession.
A piercing whistle came from the door. The necromancer was heavily leaning on the doorframe, leaving smudgy, bloody handprints on the dusty wood. Without thinking, Erik hurled the wooden rubbish from the corner at the materializing teleporter with a single motion of his hand, never diverting his attention from Shaw.
Cool, fucking awesome — appeared a thought, not his, and then — a warning.
Hurry!
Spin, dodge the blow, strike… The flurry of his attacking moves was finally getting through the vampire's defenses. One more, Erik gritted his teeth and took a false swing to the left, struggling to get the opening and bury the sword in Shaw's heart, when the world has tilted to the side, his vision swimming for a second, before becoming hazy around the edges. The crucial moment missed, he swore, — violent wave of dizziness hit him, and all air has been squeezed from his lungs as if by the cruel hand.
No, not now! Please!
Swaying, he managed one more unsteady step, not seeing anything anymore, sound also cut off, when his knees hit the unforgiving stone.
Someone up there has probably thought that it was not frustrating enough — Erik was almost sure that he had heard Raven, screaming, through the over-heavy fog, compelling him to stand, but how could she not understand… World, decided Erik, was indeed a spiral.
The sword made a resounding clutter falling from his limp fingers; it was of a ponderous, startling make as the gravity forced Erik fall to his side, and that impressive sense of miscomprehension didn't let go of him, the cold biting into his core, sucking out the lingering desire to do something, to move, to get up.
Is it over? Like this…
Painstakingly slowly, he has lifted his head, all body slightly trembling with the effort of making the simplest movement. He must have blacked out for a minute or so, suspected Erik, because the scenery unraveling before his tired eyes told him so. Not that it was something pleasant. Absolutely wrong.
They have almost done it. Fuck, he has almost done. And now? Where are they now?
The sound escaping his mouth was pathetically reminiscent of the sob, but, what the fuck, no one would dare blame him.
Raven was silent, the blade threatening to pierce her heart, while she was kneeling on the floor near the dead body of the necromancer, clutching the bleeding arm and glaring daggers at the red demon, who was holding one of the blades in dangerous proximity to her chest. Charles!? Erik panicked, spark of fear instantly growing into a familiar wild fire, when he didn't immediately spot the familiar figure and when he did his heart almost stopped.
"Erik," said the vampire, his mentor tone was like the last nail in the coffin, deadly and final, "this act of insolence is not something I could easily forgive."
In one hand he was holding a chain with the pendant, helmet already gone and Erik understood with perfect, scary clearness that the instant Shaw has got his claws on the last relic they have been as good as dead, and, perhaps, Sean was right and they should've fled the county, the continent, run far, far away.
"Emma has told me a funny thing before dying," he continued, circling the altar and moving closer to Charles, spread on the stone floor, eyes closed and blood pumping freely from the horrendous torn wound in his neck, spidery rivulets of the dark liquid forming a curious pattern on the ground; watching it made Erik numb, as his vision became clouded with hot, almost too hot tears.
"She said that the hunter will defeat me for sure and that she could die satisfied, because of this. I wish she lived up to this moment, she certainly deserved it, that ungrateful bitch," Shaw scoffed to himself, contemplating, "Although, I don't want to digress from the main issue any more. And now, Erik, because of your little stunt I have to hurry, otherwise the vampire who so inconveniently turned himself into a relic will turn to dust before the main event. Can't have it. After all, his blood has given only a partial control over the relic," he grabbed Charles' hand with casual brutality and dragged his limp body closer to the altar.
He won't be begging, Erik shook himself to clear his head, he won't be begging Shaw to let Charles and Raven go. Either way, he needs to find the way out of this, to save them, because, indeed, he was the one who dragged Charles and the kids into this. And Charles, his beautiful Charles, his dear, too nice for his own good Charles will have to die. The single thought was circling in his mind, apparently not functional anymore, because the idea in itself was too terrifying to comprehend and spoke volumes about his mental state, but, honestly — he just doesn't have it in himself to care, not anymore. Fuck it all. The shitty realm, the Brotherhood… Fuck the humans, demons and everyone else.
The ritual must tie the demon to the will of the one who has called it — Charles' words echoed in his head, the meaning dawning on Erik like a powerful tide, wiping the reason, voice of duty and binding promise to guard and protect. There is nothing left.
I'm sorry, Charles, thought Erik, hoping that his half-assed apology will reach the only person, who mattered. And I love you too.
"I know that you are listening," feverishly whispered he to no one in particular, "the Hell Master, the Lord of Nightmares. In thy name, I'm asking you to grant my wish," the heat, thick as a swamp, suddenly enveloping his body became greater, prickling sensation on his skin grew and Erik gritted his teeth, desperately concentrating on his desire, channeling everything into one single plea. This should be as good as any spell, he inwardly smirked, his wish, the wish of the hunter, the descendant.
…Save Charles, don't let him die, that has to be fine with you, he's a vampire, you see…
Shaw screamed, furious, but the last coherent word, before he lost himself has already left his lips.
"Come!"
Checkmate, you, son of the bitch!
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The world became enormously vast, then shrank to the size of the human body and Erik felt as if someone has taken him and molded into a tiny ball of light and stuffed somewhere in the dark corner, and someone or rather something else was standing up encompassed by the dark aura with completely unfitted sparks of gold and the realm wailed and grumbled under the enormous weight, too much magic, too much power focused in one spot. Somewhere in the town Logan has raised his head to the full moon turning red and swore, throwing the useless crossbow to the side and launching at the vampire with his claws. In the basement of the mansion, Sean was carefully settling too pale and cold Alex down on the mattress in the corner, uncontrolled ragged sobs shaking his frame when a violent shudder went through him and he clamped one hand over his mouth, eyes staring at nothing. In London, the Brotherhood quarters, in the residence of the council of seven, the mages in the secret chamber were hit by the wave of magic from beyond, some screaming, others fainting from the strain. Every single hunter in the world was awake now, at the same time when he, Erik, no, the Lord of Nightmares, opened his eyes.
The vampire, he knew inside out once looking at him — a former German landlord, philanthropist, faint rumors of cruelty and sadism shadowing his public image, turned by the female vampire whilst visiting the pleasure house. He stood before him, baring the teeth in a wide, triumphal smile, holding the helmet in the outstretched hand — the obvious reminder of that battle, the hero, gravely wounded, her clear, beautiful gaze holding his own like a lifeline. His love, his life, his only friend. The humans, weak and pathetic humans, had leaded them into the nefarious trap — beguiled his beloved into leaving his side, tricked him into unthinkingly attacking them and thus injuring the warrior.
They all are long dead.
"I pledge loyalty, my Lord," the vampire lowered his head, annoyance and disappointment circulating on the forefront of his mind, muted by fear.
"This world will kneel before Master," vampire was becoming more and more excited, "and we'll destroy it, wipe it clean so human abomination will cease to exist one and for all."
"You," the alien vocal cords were difficult to operate, "you, whose craving for annihilation is so intense will be granted it."
Surprise grew deeper on the vampire's face as the helmet was torn from his grip and his hand, previously touching her armor has been ripped apart from the body. The wild scream elicited painful misunderstanding and incredulity, before the rest of the limbs have been torn apart. He forgot how fragile physical embodiments here were, and how deadly his magic was… The demon, at the door, was desperately trying to flee, unable to teleport, he was pressing his back to the wall as if attempting to become one with it.
So be it. Humans call it sculpture if he's not mistaken. A memory resurfaced — yes, she's always told him that his sense of humor was something from beyond.
The shapeshifter was unconscious — he brushed her thoughts and, having found nothing worth his attention, let her be.
A scream of the trapped soul had him stop and listen to the one who called him, her descendant, the one he would never ignore.
Charles, the vampire on the verge of dissipating, spine twisted and broken, last drops of blood leaving his body, as he was looking down at the being in question in slight puzzlement. He was careful when he lowered himself next to the unresponsive creature and slit his wrist, sudden recollection didn't belong to him this time but to the hunter, Erik, as he called himself.
He made the blood flow freely when he pressed the wrist to the vampire's mouth, noting how quickly his body was reacting. Frowning, he retracted his hand, maybe, he's just made the mistake. Even he didn't know how his blood would affect the vampire.
Enraptured, he watched the other coming to his senses; tiny gasp escaped the vampire's mouth before his eyes cracked open, gradually slow, and the name was whispered with utmost devotion.
"Erik…" blue, and so wonderfully clear — has reflected he, when meanwhile, eyes opened wider and he was flooded by the wave of utter uncompromising realization, defeat and, upon studying the other's mind more carefully, he could admit that the mental power possessed by the vampire was unexpectedly formidable, even for him. Interestingly, in the whirlwind of the other's mind there was no fear. Only all-encompassing despair.
"Erik… No, my friend…" he could hardly speak as the words have been swallowed by unrestrained tears, but speaking was not necessary.
"Only my mind exists here," he said, "my power is my mind. My mind is my power. He, who called me, wished for you to live."
"He wished for me…" horror reflected in the expressive eyes, "For me? But, I… Wait!" he frantically looked around and he showed the vampire his memories to cut off the obligatory questions.
"I... thank you! You saved us! Thank you so much, my friend," he got to his feet, obviously pleased by the newfound ability to move, "But what will happen to Erik? If all you need is a vessel, you initially being the spiritual essence and all, which means as soon as you leave his body he'll be back?..."
Maybe, he pondered, I'll give him back this body. There's nothing left to stay for… in this realm.
"Ah," the vampire became so sad all of the sudden, reading his mind without premise, "Oh dear, I'm sorry. I never meant to! By the way, I thought that the power of the relics will evaporate since you are here, and I heard you only because we're holding hands, sorry!"
In truth, he himself has not paid attention to the fact that his hand was firmly holding the vampire's.
His descendant was a very impatient… man.
"You will live as he wished," said he, taking back his hand and stepping away.
This time he was leaving the realm of his own volition, determined to watch over her world from now on.
She would have liked it.
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