Title:
Power
Play
Rating:
R
Fandom:
Criminal
Minds
Universe:
Creatures
of the Night (Part 1)
Pairing:
Morgan/Prentiss;
JJ/Hotch
Genre:
Supernatural/Drama
Summary:
Tensions
are running high when a vampire joins the BAU, but all differences
must be put aside as the team investigate a series of suspicious
werewolf murders. AU.
Author's
Notes: Betaed
by Windy City Dreamer.
Chapter Twenty
Some time ago.
She sleeps.
Were she high on blood, the process would be much more difficult. Blood does strange things to the body. Heightens arousal, heightens stamina, heightens strength. The shapeshifters get their energy from the forces of nature. The sorcerers get their energy from inside themselves. The vampires steal their energy from others. The trifecta.
The inn bed is not the most comfortable one, but after days of sleeping on the rocky ground, it's one of the most wonderful things she's ever experienced. She'll stay in town for a day or two more – she thinks she deserves the rest. She's been on the run a long time. After that, she'll ride to the coast, find a boat that will take her across to France. There's the slightest chance she'll be able to track down her father's family there, but even if she does find them, she doubts they would accept her into their fold. However much she hates her mother, the same blood runs through her veins after all.
That's the problem.
Blood.
The door to her room crashes open, and she's awake and on her feet within seconds. On the offensive.
'What's going on?' she asks sharply, when it's evident that there is no immediate threat from the innkeeper who is now standing in the doorway.
'Under attack,' he says shortly. 'Vampires.'
She hisses under her breath, going straight to the chest at the end of her bed. The armor is designed to be put on quickly, and she's had enough practice at that. The sword unsheathes, glinting in the soft moonlight that shines through the window.
'How many?' she asks, her voice low. She doesn't doubt that they're here for her, and scolds herself for being so careless. She may well have doomed the entire village because of her own foolish mistake.
'Four,' he says, and she feels herself relax slightly. Four, she might be able to deal with, providing they aren't already blood-frenzied. If they are, then she might as well say goodbye to her freedom without even putting up a fight.
The villagers aren't helpless, she reminds herself. They've got countermeasures for this sort of thing. The thought doesn't comfort her. She's killed the last two pairs of enforcers her mother had sent against her. Apparently the Lady Elizabeth had wizened up. She didn't take too kindly to traitors. She's just glad it isn't ten.
Already, she can hear the noises of battle, her mind trying to box away the guilt as she hears the screams. This is why she likes to travel alone.
There are a dozen or so villagers fighting – including the constabulary – and a few already lying bleeding in the dirt. She sees Rowan fighting side by side with his father, and desperately wants to tell the boy to run as far away as possibly, but she doesn't need to be a precog to know that he would refuse. He'll do whatever it takes to defend his kin.
She pushes through to the first vamp, and he stops for a moment, looking at her in recognition. He drops the man he's holding – blood still dripping from the neck. He has a new target now. She knows this vampire – one of her mother's personal warriors. It had been his arrow that had torn through her chest as she fled from what had once been her home. Their swords meet, the sound reverberating, even amongst the din of mêlée.
'End this, Emeline,' he hisses. From the look in his eye, she can tell that he isn't quite full of blood – not yet. A couple more villagers and he'll be there. She's not going to let him.
'No.' There's no hesitation, no doubt. She isn't going back. She can't go back.
'They will all die.'
Not if I can help it, she thinks, but says nothing. She doesn't want to distract herself any more than she already has. She's already made so many mistakes. Mistakes that she never, ever wants to make again.
They fight.
She's hoping that it will draw the other three vampires towards her, and for once today, luck is going her way. Of course, that means she's now surrounded. It doesn't matter how good she is with a sword – it's been a while, and she isn't going to win this fight alone.
She feels the magic, rather than sees it. The distraction she'd provided had given Rowan's father the time to pull out a spell.
The town constable is evidently much more powerful that she'd thought – a single burst of energy takes down two of them. She gets the strangest feeling that they probably would have won without her intervention, albeit with casualties.
He decapitates them with two swift strikes, and turns his attention back to the remaining vampires. She isn't paying attention to that, though – she's more concerned with the sword that's just made a slash across her abdomen. The wound isn't particularly deep, but the suddenness of it has her gasping for breath anyway. It doesn't matter how many times you get stabbed, it's still painful.
'You can't run forever,' she's told, and she almost retorts, but he is felled before her eyes. The other quickly follows.
Her hand is at the wound, the redness soaking her hand. Deeper than she had initially thought, apparently. She tries to stand, but stops when she realizes that there is a sword at her throat.
'They were here for you.' It isn't a question, it's an outright fact. She doesn't try to deny it.
'Yes,' she breathes, a wave of pain shooting through her body. The wound will start to heal soon, and she really doesn't want to deal with the questions that will raise. Apparently, it doesn't matter. They already know.
'You're one of them.'
She says nothing, and doesn't resist when he lays a hand upon her shoulder, neutralizing the spell bands. They'll be able to see the fangs now, and if they were to leave her for the sunrise, she would burn to ash. In some ways, it would be so much easier.
She closes her eyes, and waits for something. Anything. What she doesn't expect is a kick to the ribs. It's close – far too close – to the stab wound, and she finds herself falling to the ground, gasping in pain.
'Stop!' Rowan's at his father's side, and she can barely see him through the blurry edges of unconsciousness. An empath, she remembers. The agonizing pain she feels, he feels too. Even if he doesn't know it. 'Don't kill her,' he says, and it sounds as though he's speaking from a thousand leagues away
'I'm not going to kill her,' the constable says, and it's by far the most horrifying thing she's ever heard. As much as vampires hate humans, humans hate vampires much, much more. There's fear mixed in with the hate, and sometimes fear makes people do things that they normally wouldn't do.
'Move, and you'll get a face full of holy water,' she's told, but it doesn't really matter. She couldn't move if she tried. The pain ripples at every twitch.
She isn't consciously aware of the armor being ripped from her prone form, or her body being pulled into a hog-tied position. The only indication of any of these things is the throbbing pain in her lower abdomen.
She's carried somewhere, and thrown to the ground, only it isn't dirt this time, it's something harder – stone, maybe. There's a blurry flickering of orange, and she's vaguely aware of a torch being lit.
'She didn't do anything, father. She helped us.'
'She brought them here.' And he isn't wrong. This is all her fault. Whatever punishment they bestow upon her, she will be wholly deserving of. And if the pain in her abdomen is bad, it's merely a trifle to the agony she feels when the cross is put against her shoulder.
She screams.