Scene 5

She enchanted him.

In the deepest, darkest recess of his oft-forgotten heart, Doris had found a key, locked it up and opened it at her whim. D just did his best to keep her unaware of the power she held over him. After all, while the greatest vampire hunter on the planet could face elder vampires, cybergenetic monsters and even a small nuclear explosion he couldn't stand to face Doris.

From the shadow of his fedora the dhampire could glimpse the werewolf huntress astride her horse. The long dark hair streamed behind her, sunlight bouncing off the locks and her skin-tight outfit. Oh, she was beautiful, and not just beautiful in the way that many girls are beautiful, but so delightful to the eyes as to be painful to breathe. But that was only part of why she enchanted him so.

His eyes like the deepness of a river slipped over her whip. Made of the hardest leather as to strip flesh from bones, he'd seen her use it expertly against the werewolf. Yes, Doris could be a waif of a girl at times, but that only seemed when he was at her command. When the dhampire was away she did not balk or beg, but set her whip to stinging, not stopping until she'd slain the beast.

"I bet seeing her hack up that creature got your blood going faster than seeing her in the nude..." came the muttering of his left hand. "And you call me twisted!"

Glancing at Doris again, the hunter realized she had not heard the symbiont...yet. "Be quiet."

"If you finally gave into her wishes, and your own don't you deny, which craving would you satisfy first, I wonder? Stick your fangs into her neck or stick..."

The rest of Leftie's comment was cut short by D who'd squeezed his fingers together so hard one who'd seen might have wondered how he'd not broken them. "You're out of line." As always his voice carried scant higher than a whisper, but carried the weight of a sword at a throat.

To this did Doris turn her head. "D?"

The vampire hunter kept his expression cool, favoring her with the same wintry eyes as he'd had all day long. "We are..." His eyes returned to the plains ahead of them. "...probably an hour away from the port of Nubarol." Then, as if to hurry ahead of the counteanced carbuncle's accusations, he squeezed his horse's flanks lightly with his silver spurs to stir it into a gallop.

Letting out a slight cry of annoyance, Doris followed.

D didn't halt his horse's extreme speed until they could see the light of the port-city of Nubarol. A number of white-sailed ships hovered at the wharf, delightful swans next to the ugly ducklings of a few dories with coats of pant that hadn't seen touch-ups in years. From the bird's view of an overlooking hill, they could see the markets, the library and the government buildings and all other buildings kept in excellent shape. Outside of that circled a long sad line of houses that one could barely call habitatable.

D and Doris rode in silence into the city. It was much too late to catch a ferry out to the mainland so the dhampire lead them to an inn, Diamond in the Rough. It seemed an appropriate enough name-while not a diamond itself per say, admist the human wreckage around it was a relief. Small but not overly so, the dhampire seated them at a table and waved over a waitress.

Young and pretty, the blonde waitress took their order-or, rather, Doris's since D barely had one aside from a glass of their darkest wine. As she scribbled their orders down the waitress's eyes remained trained on D, mesmerized as all women became when first encountering the vampire hunter. Accustomed to it D didn't acknowledge it at all, though he noted that Doris appeared in a bad humor over it.

"Who is the leader of this vampire cult?" D asked after Doris's meal was laid in front of her, and his own drink in front of him. A blood capsule dropped in so quickly that few would ever say that saw it, though it didn't escape the huntress's notice.

"We don't know. She doesn't make herself well known." Doris's plate of food seemed to become ash before her as her face clouded over. "I don't know what's become of Dan or the others."

D tipped his head down, thinking about the young boy of eight. Ten, now, he supposed. Nearing manhood. Bright, cheerful, courageous Dan. The boy that had idolized him for the short time he'd been at their farm. D had once called himself the boy's 'big brother' and had, for a time, felt like one. The boy was easily, instanteously likeable and it grieved him to think of the boy as...changed.

A shadow passed over D's own expression. Changed. Had the boy been changed? And if he had, could he be saved in time? Why had he not considered this before...

Staring at the glassiness of Doris's eyes, he realized they both had-and both had told themselves it could not be true. But if it were...

...if it were, would D be forced to slay him?

As if having been privy to the dark thoughts floating in the dhampire's head, Doris burst, mumbling, "What if something's happened to him?"

"He's fine." Even to D, he realized that sounded flat. What else could he say?

"But what if he isn't?"

"Then I'll kill the one who changed him and he'll be alright."

"But...what if you can't? What if none of them can be saved?" At this point the huntress didn't even look at her plate, her large luminous eyes on D, pleading. In them was the fear of the thing that D himself didn't relish contemplating. The hunter committed many a gruesome act as one who's very existence denoted the frail thread between life and death.

If Dan and the others couldn't be saved he'd have to kill them all.

In his mind's eyes the vampire hunter found himself surrounded by the ten kids all faceless save Dan. Fangs. Crimson eyes. Blood dripping from their lips. Approaching at a slow, agonizing march and with a single swipe of his crescent-shaped sword D cut them all down. Like little broken dolls they lay at his feet, little demons with angels' wings.

"No! D, you can't!" Doris cried, aghast. "I love Dan. And those parents love their kids. Even if they're bitten and they can't be saved somehow, you simply can't..."

She was on her feet now, beautiful again, but lovely in a vulnerable state. Quite the opposite of the fierce sexual creature she was last night, now Doris shook, overcome, a reflection of the woman who was the waif to be rescued. D had often seen this in women and automatically rose to stretch out his arms inviting her into his embrace. It was a reflex, centuries old, to satisfy them briefly with that token of comfort.

But Doris didn't sink into his embrace this time. Her eyes ablaze, she said simply, "If you plan on killing them should they be beyond saving then you'll have to kill me too. I will stand between you and them, I swear it D!" Then the young woman turned around and headed upstairs to the rooms, side-stepping the waitress as she came around to clean their table.

D just quietly slipped back into his chair. The chatter of the waitress flew over his head as his mind wandered back to Doris and her steadfast declaration and rejection of his embrace. Many women had acted tough around the vampire hunter but none had actually turned aside his offer of comfort no matter how upset they were.

Exiting the common room, the dhampire climbed the stairs with his soft stride. His fist remained squeezed shut, keeping his troublesome symbiont from commenting.