Iniquity

Chapter Five: Of Ghastly Reveries and Horrendous Reports

My arm felt like it had been thrust into a pit of fire after being skewered with a hot poker. I could feel the cold grass beneath me, tickling my feverish cheek. I could not see much--my vision was so blurry it made me sick to my stomach. What was happening? I could remember something… a face, underneath a black hood… It looked so familiar, but the name would not surface from the depths of my mind. Then I remembered the flash of silver, followed by stabbing pain that sparked from my elbow and went both to my shoulder and to the tips of my fingers.

Colors swirled about me; figures moved with violent motions in the distance, and I could hear the sounds of battle coming from not too far off. Snarls, teeth and claws ripping into flesh, cries and howls and screams of rage or agony… It was disorienting, and it made my already pounding head pulse to the point of explosion.

Then, all at once, everything died out. The sounds, the moving colors and shapes, all of it was gone, as if someone had flipped a switch to turn off the chaos. I tried to look around, to see who or what was around me, but of course, I could see nothing further than ten feet in front of me. Then I heard soft footsteps, drawing nearer and nearer ever so quietly, as if they feared harming the ground if they did not tip-toe. Even after they stopped beside my head, the sound of crunching grass echoed within in my mind.

I don't feel so good . . . , I thought, my sweat clinging to my skin like a sticky film. My right arm burned something terrible. What's happening to me…?

Freezing hands grabbed my screaming arm and lifted it slightly. Shocking pain spiked from my elbow to my fingertips, and I cried out in surprise. But the agony was quickly replaced with piercing, numbing cold. I began to calm down, and I could feel my fever declining at a rapid pace.

Slowly, I opened my eyes again. My vision was still a little blurry, but I could make out the shape before me. It was human; or at least, it looked human. It wore an outfit that seemed to be cut from the night itself it was so black, and it matched its hair perfectly. There were two flecks of color set on either side of the figure's face--eyes. It said something; I didn't catch what it was that it told me, but I understood that it was a man by how deep the voice was. Elvric?-- No, those eyes didn't belong to my friend. The rich, flaming gold that belonged to Elvric's eyes was nowhere to be seen, and this face seemed to glow with icy orbs of sapphire. There was something in these eyes, too--death, hatred, pride, but above all, sorrow. They were very old, tired eyes that should not have belonged to the young man that presently knelt before me like a knight cut from darkness.

Suddenly, he bent toward my arm. I let out a shriek upon discovering that it was covered in blood, the flesh in the crook of my elbow having been savagely torn and twisted and left to the open air by some cruel, sharp weapon. The skin around it was swollen and purple as if infected with some horrific disease, and I couldn't help but feel a sharp stab of fear. The first thought that went through my head was, I'm going to lose my arm. And so I tried to pull away from him, but his grip on me was firm, however gentle. He looked up at me and spoke again, and this time I understood what he was saying, though it was as if he was shouting something at me on the opposite side of a long tunnel.

"Do not be afraid; no harm will come to you."

His voice was soft, yet his words had power behind them, and for a moment, I believed what he said. But then he bent forward over the wound again, his lips parting, and my blood ran cold. I had seen the long, glittering incisors sprout from his gums.

He moved in closer, and my heart began to pound, one word screaming in my head and deep within my very soul. Instinct told me to run, to fight for my life, to do something other than sit there, but I could not bring myself to so much as lift a finger. Whether it was fear or the fever that paralyzed me, I did not know, but even as those cold lips closed around my burning wound, I could not move a muscle.

And then I felt it--fangs piercing flesh, and blood being drained from my veins.

With a shout, I bolted upright, my left fist swinging blindly in a violent arc and connecting with something firm. There was a muffled cry of alarm, and thinking that it had come from my deceitful attacker, I pulled my good arm back again to deliver a second blow.

"OW! Ow-ow-ow! What the blazes?! Mina! Mina, stop! It's me!"

My eyes snapped open and I was surprised to find Paris on the floor beside my bed-- my bed? When did I get into a bed?--knocked on his rear and holding his now smarting jaw. Though it was clear he was in some pain, his one eye was glittering with amusement.

"My word, woman! You've quite an arm there, you have! If that's how hard you hit in your sleep, I certainly don't want to cross you during the day" With a chuckle, he stood up and shook his head, still rubbing his chin. "But it's not very nice to hit someone who's trying to help you, I'll have you know."

Startled and a little ashamed, I averted my gaze. "Sorry," I mumbled. "I, uh… Was having a nightmare."

"Yes, I figured that much out on my own. Tell me, do you often dream about vampires sucking your blood?"

The question was innocent enough, but I felt blood rising to my face as my head snapped up to glare at him. "How did you know about that?!"

His shoulders shook with his laughter. "My dear girl, you only screamed it out loud before you punched me! I'd say it was pretty much obvious."

I relaxed with a groan. "Sorry…"

"Care to talk about it?" he asked, taking what most likely had been his seat before I'd knocked him out of it beside my bed and lifting my right arm. With an astonished cry of, "Ouch!" I angled my gaze downward to look at the sore appendage and was again pierced through the heart with a cold sense of dread. My elbow was heavily bandaged, a bloody blossom in the very spot the wound in my dream had been.

"Ah!" I cried, instinctively jerking away from Paris's grasp. I instantly regretted this action, for pain shot up from my elbow, through my shoulder, and down into my chest, making me feel rather light-headed.

"Careful! Careful…," the kind blonde soothed, gently grabbing my hand and pulling my arm straight again. "You've been stabbed; you shouldn't move your arm too much." At my questioning stare, he sighed. "Ah, you don't remember, do you?"

"No…"

Frowning, he began to unwrap the bandage. I deliberately stared up at his face and not down at the wound. I didn't care to see the awful sight again; the dream version was bad enough (though by now I was questioning if it even was a dream). "So you don't remember anything? Not who stabbed you? Not the werewolves, or Elvric trying to save you?"

The horrific sounds from my "dream" came to mind, but they were quickly pushed aside when the last half of Paris's final sentence registered in my brain. "Elvric tried to save me?! From werewolves?! What is he, stupid? Where is he? I'd like to tell him a thing or two!"

An odd look came over his features, and that was when I understood.

"He didn't make it, did he?"

"Mina, I---"

"Well, did he?!"

"No! I mean… I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?!" I was nearing hysterics now. "What happened?! What in this godforsaken world is going on?!"

"Calm down, Mina! Just calm down. I'll explain everything, but you have to promise to keep your head, alright?"

I didn't like where this was going. At all. "Start from the beginning."

"Do you remember going on patrol?"

I thought about it. "Yes… A little bit…"

"After that, you and Elvric were separated somehow. I only know this because he came to me after hours of searching, asking for help in finding you." He paused. "I knew that he was really worried, because he wouldn't have come to me for help otherwise."

"I remember being lost in the woods," I told him. "I felt really stupid."

"That forest has a nasty habit of turning into a labyrinth at night. The villagers think that it's cursed, so it's no real wonder that you couldn't find your way. It happens to the best of us."

"So what happened when you helped Elvric find me?"

He smiled slightly, but it was a tired, sad smile. "We rallied some of the townspeople into a search party and headed out into the woods. We found you five minutes later in a clearing, lying in the field, surrounded by three or four werewolves. I didn't see any vampires, though."

"That's a relief," I joked, though neither of us laughed. "Then what?"

"Naturally, Elvric decided that the best way to get the werewolves away from you was to distract them, and he decided to be the bait. He successfully led them all away, but we haven't seen hide nor hair of him since. We've even sent out search parties, but they always come back empty-handed and missing a few members."

I knew this story wouldn't have a happy ending. I knew it all along, but hearing those words made some chord within me snap. "How long ago was that?"

"Two nights ago."

"Then he's in that forest. The pack wouldn't have moved yet; we still have time." I moved to stand up, but Paris gently pushed me back down.

"Time for what, Mina?" he questioned in a chastising tone that I didn't much care for. "He's either dead or one of them by now. There's no saving him!"

"You're wrong," I growled, glaring heatedly at him. "The pack moves with the coming of the full moon. If we can find him before then and get him back to the Vatican, he'll be okay! Carl is working on recreating Dracula's cure, and he's nearly there. He's come so far as to make a potion that will keep Elvric from completely transforming; it will keep it off for a few years if he drinks it every night. It can buy us some time."

"And if he's dead?"

Bile rose in my throat, and I couldn't help but feel angry that he'd even suggest the idea. "I don't want to think about that." My voice sounded pathetically small, conveying how I felt.

"You need to think about it, Mina."

I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out and I had to close it. I tried again, but I knew that what he said was true, and there was nothing that I could say in retaliation, so I remained quiet. The silence that fell between us was like a suffocatingly thick blanket, and I found that I could not bring myself to look Paris in the eye as he resumed to unwrap my bandages. I felt my face grow hot, and my eyes began to burn, but that was as far as I would allow my tears to go. I would never let them rain from my chocolate-brown eyes.

"I will search for him," Paris suddenly announced. "You are not well enough to do so yourself." Replacing the bandages with new ones, he stood and gently took hold of my chin. He turned my face upward so that my gaze would meet his grave one. "I will return him to you; do not worry."

And then he was gone, my face still tingling where his tender fingers had touched it.