Never Was Home
October 31, 13,012 (Evening)
Darkness descended upon the travelers as they came upon a walled city, fading light from the sun not enough to bring life back to the abandoned gate that stood gaping. No guards. No flickering lamps.
Nothing.
Dread settled in the pit of Krista's stomach as she walked alongside the horse, the Hunter a few steps ahead of her. Someone was always manning the gates.
A small voice begged to run. Another growled to tough it out.
'You should ask him.'
It was such poor timing. She'd had all this time to ask since their short stay at the hospital, and yet… it was almost an urgent terror that had her vomiting out the question before she could think otherwise. "D, what is a Dhampir?"
He faltered midstride.
"I just… I tried to ask Hand, but…"
Onyx eyes flared an unnatural color in the dim light, swiveling to observe the fidgeting girl as she toed the ground. A part of him wondered why she would ask. She barely grasped the concept of Nobles, so how could she know what a Dhampir was? But a quick look into his memory provided him with an eerie reminder that the girl had heard it in a dream. "A Dhampir is the result of a Human and Noble procreating; a half-breed."
He watched as she pulled at her hair with one hand while she scratched at her upper arm with the other, face scrunching up in disgust as she worried her lower lip. "So… are you a Dhampir?"
His case of 'heat exhaustion' was proof enough, one would think, even if she glossed over his appearance and reputation. "I am," he answered succinctly.
Face contorting to the point of strained, she fought the urge to attack the foreboding wall. All that time spent living within its bloody embrace and not one person mentioned Nobles. Not one person breathed a word about people roaming this earth being anything other than Human.
"They were keeping us in the dark." She snapped her eyes shut. There had to be a reason. There had to be!
A quiet clacking against the cobblestone road just inside the gate drew her attention. The Hunter was leaving her behind. For the moment, she would forget her anger and confusion, looking only towards the end of this journey. Strange how she felt this would only be the beginning, but if after tonight she stayed in the town, she felt a little discussion was in order with the orphanage director. The mayor. Anyone she could get her hands on.
She sighed loudly as she caught up to D. "Well, I was hoping for the best when I came across you, but I didn't figure I'd been gone for over a month. I should have been faster."
"It isn't your fault."
Eyes wide, brows slowly climbing towards her hairline, Krista focused the near-scathing look at D. "I left here, partly out of fear, just hoping I could find someone to deal with this. I heard rumors of a mercenary for hire and ran for them. Are you well known, D? Because part of me is either stupidly lucky or painfully unlucky. I didn't even know the name of the person I was looking for! I just happened to get on someone's shit list and eventually had the type of person I was looking for come after me!"
The Hunter continued further into town as Hand quietly commented on her pity party.
"I think I can have a pity party," she grumbled back. "I can't help but feel at fault for how empty this place feels."
He had to admit, the town was exceedingly hollow-feeling. The size of Puregon would have him believe that, at one point, it was home to over eight thousand people. Now, there was no telling. It was rather outlandish to suggest that a single Noble would devour half that number alone in just over a month.
There had to be several.
Unless they were not hunting for sustenance.
"Tell me about the estate on the hill."
"Hmm? Oh." She eyed the structure for a moment before shrugging. "Not much to say, really. I already said all I knew. We could ask Miss Haldwyn. She was… much more tolerant of my existence. Really kind, too. Just all around nice."
For a moment longer, they observed the estate. Although she could not, he could see the flicker of a flame through a window. Most likely a fireplace was the source.
"Y'know, I am gonna go see if Miss Haldwyn can talk for a minute. She's about a block away."
Down the road he heard her scamper, riding boots scattering stray rocks as she went. For a moment, he simply took in the surroundings and left the horse at a nearby trough with a reassuring pat, following at a pace that bordered on leisurely. The scorching sensation of eyes, hungry and agitated, followed their short walk.
To the trained eye, there was nothing casual about his stance, shoulders tense and posture rigid. Steps calculated.
Truthfully, Krista was painfully unaware. Yes, the lack of activity in the town agitated the fine hairs on the nape of her neck and made her scalp crawl, but she could not sense the growing danger as her knuckles rapped on the weatherworn door.
The door swung inward with a loud screech at her short, yet urgent, knocking. "Well," she muttered, hand falling limply to her side. "Her door's always been loud, but never just…" The crimson haired girl trailed off, hand clamping down over her mouth and nose as the almost-rancid air assaulted her.
Thick and choking, sticky and disgusting.
If she hadn't found her feet frozen in their place, she might have scrambled back and emptied her stomach. She couldn't even find it in her to skitter to the Hunter's side at his beckoning, heart fluttering in a panicked rhythm that provided no life to her limbs.
"While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping."
Despite her terror, Krista caught the object that flew through the door with a grunt. It was heavy. As though someone had thrown a sack of flour at her. Or a large baby. 'But…'
"As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door."
Trembling digits clutched at damp hair and pliant flesh. She wouldn't look.
"If I had known I would be having company, I might've cleaned up."
She couldn't look.
"You seem to be enjoying your reunion, though."
A choked sob escaped her. Like a child seeking comfort from a stuffed toy, she cradled the object closer to her chest, praying that she'd fallen asleep on the horse and this was a bad dream.
'You need to move.'
Krista jerked at the command, lurching backwards towards the stairs.
"Don't run, girl. My companions might pounce at the very sight of you!"
She could hear it now. The distinct clang of weapons clashing. The sharp noise pierced her eardrums and disrupted the night air, chilled and heavy. Her back pressed into railing around the porch despite the warning.
"Riedikke," the voice called. In response, a chilled hand pressed into her shoulder. "Take the poor teacher and make her comfortable, would you?"
"Of course," replied Riedikke, leaning into Krista's view to snag the severed head. "Hey, Teach! You have a nice chat? Oh. She wouldn't look at you, huh?" The man dressed as a simple farmer clucked his tongue, running a pale hand through the bloodied locks of once-blonde hair.
Under different circumstances, one might call his downcast look fond. A small quirk of the lips and lidded eyes. Truly, a vision of contentedness. He strode a few paces forward, head rolling back to cast her the same gaze. "I know you don't remember your past, but you would think you'd have better manners than this. At least greet her!"
He leveled the jawless head with her gaze and reveled in her horrified screech, his pale fingers curling into the empty eye sockets. A rough shudder and delightful chill ran down his spine. Oh, how he'd missed hearing this girl shriek. Now that she was back-
"Riedikke, please."
"'Riedikke, please'," he mocked quietly, lips turning down in displeasure. With a sigh, he weakly tossed the head towards the street and twisted the girl about. "Just get over there!" He wasn't necessarily content with the situation, but he would find what pleasure he could for the moment. A rough shove towards the man in the house and he turned on his heel.
Even paler arms wrapped her in a possessive embrace, fingers splayed across her armored chest and belly. The man nuzzled her neck with a soft sniff. "The teacher tasted fairly decent, but I bet you would taste heavenly. Such a sweet scent."
Krista lurched and writhed in terror, glancing up at the sandy-haired man. "T-taste?!"
The one identified as Riedikke seemed disinterested with the current happenings aside from his quiet chuckling at her exclamation, back turned on the two as he watched the man in black cleave his way through the multitude of foes. There was a lull in activity, however, at her panicked noises.
"Release the girl," the Hunter commanded, gleaming blade finding home in the bosom of a woman long dead. Corpses littered the ground around them. None were Nobles, nor were they Humans. Empty husks guided by a puppeteer.
At the very least, there were few left.
"You heard the man! Let me go!"
The ashen man laughed loudly, squeezing Krista a bit harder. "The two of you are in no position to be demanding anything!"
A battle worthy screech erupted from the slim girl as she fisted the man's clothes and pulled with all her might. Yes, she was at a disadvantage, hands not in prime locations for this maneuver, but she hoped and prayed she could roll him off her shoulder. Or, at least, that she could drop her shoulder into him as they both fell.
No.
No, it could never be that easy.
He was lifted, yes, but he pulled his knees in towards his chest and stretched her arms up into a painfully awkward position. From there, he drove the heel of one booted foot into the space betwixt her shoulder blades.
Was there really space there? She could almost swear her scapulae clacked together with the forceful wrenching of her arms. Despite the situation, however, she couldn't help but focus on the most trivial of things.
Strange, that of all times, she would take this moment to note how unnaturally chilled this man was. Perched like a canary-fed cat upon her back. Fingers digging, bruising. But why? Why was his flesh so utterly devoid of warmth?
Unless he was…
Surely Nobles were not… dead, were they?
Even D was warm. Chilled, but still brimming with life.
'He's a half-breed, you twit. He's not gonna be like them.'
Her knees buckled with the information, never mind the creature upon her back.
Dead.
Dead.
These people were dead? But not dead. Not alive.
'Don't panic now. I wanna hear what he's sayin'.'
Her breath was coming in rapid, short gasps. When had she started that?
'Listen!' the voice screeched.
She did, struggling to calm her panting to appease the voice rattling her brain. Struggled to understand the bloody words coming out of the not-dead dead person.
"-fun with you first. Maybe tap you. After all, my only order is to catch you and keep you alive." He chuckled, eyes narrowed in glee. "Loopholes are wonderful things."
But all she could hear was 'tap'.
What does he mean by 'tap'? Would they stick a spigot in her? Is that how this works? Would they just… open it and collect her lifeblood like tree sap?
She wondered if they thought blood tasted like syrup.
Blood-soaked pancakes for dinner. Mmm…
"I think you're sending our little kitten into a panic, Lord Laun," Riedikke breathed, eyes gleaming with twisted pleasure. He sat upon the stairs, but was wholly invested in her current state.
Something about his current smile.
Krista choked back bile and groaned.
"Say, you mind sharing this time?"
The head of a man suddenly pegged Riedikke, his body snapping forward, face slapping into the boards of the porch.
Under different circumstances, Krista might have laughed herself into a fit. Never mind the bloodied-nose adding to the ferocity of his current snarl. Forgo the issue that she'd just witnessed a man be decapitated.
The mere fact that her companion had gracefully spun upon his heel and kicked a man's head off his shoulders (likely detached beforehand) to strike another foe? Priceless.
"Tch, shame about Xander." He didn't seem too upset. "However, I don't think the half-breed wants to share."
It was not a matter of sharing.
A ghastly aura cloaked the area, smothering the emanations of the Nobles and stilling the movements of an enraged Riedikke. And slowly, oh so slowly, D advanced, crimson blade glistening in the weak light of the street lamp. In his gaze, each opponent could see the promise of death.
Yet, Riedikke was not deterred long. At D's beckoning finger, he leapt off the porch, drawing a sickle from his hip. Previously dark eyes spilled blood light as he wiped his nose against the long sleeve of his dirty shirt. The sickle twirled in his grasp. "Cutting through your disgusting flesh should be easy as cutting through air." Eyes manic and a too-wide grin contorting his face, the farmeresque Noble lunged. "And I'm going to enjoy every second of it!"
The shrill ring of weapons meeting.
'This is our chance!'
Krista leaned back and shoved against the smooth porch boards (as much as one could without the use of their hands), gasping with excitement as the man named Laun tumbled off her back. Head cracking against the doorframe. With her arms free, she scurried forward like a frantic feline.
She did not get far.
"Now, don't fret, girl," Laun huffed as he tugged her back into his possessive hold. "If your fear is a lack pleasure, rest assured it will be unfounded. At least, as long as you obey."
She couldn't pinpoint what it was, but something… snapped. A hiccup in her thoughts, so to speak. But after a few harsh jerks, she stilled. An unnatural calm settled about her. Small, yet full lips curved in an almost sultry smile. Previously green eyes shined an unsettling, vibrant cornflower blue.
With a quiet sigh, she leaned into his hold and fingered the smooth baton at her side. "Is… that a promise?"
An almost silent click.
"One I am all too willing to keep," he breathed, hands trailing up her belly.
A cool blade slipped through her loose grasp until it was free of its twin, and with practiced ease not normally possessed, she shimmied the hilt into her hand. "I look forward to it!" she suddenly guffawed, arm swinging back with enough force to run him through with the blade.
"Oh, dear. You think a stab to the stomach is going to bother me?"
For a moment, she panicked. Small hand trembling, grip tightening until her knuckles turned white. But that hiccup in her mind pushed and strained, urging her blade down.
Down.
Twist.
Down again.
She could barely hear the effeminate screams of Laun.
Couldn't feel the resistance of bone or the off-colored blood splatter against her hand.
So focused on rending his flesh.
'He's trying to get away.'
A bloodthirsty grin lifted the corners of her lips. If he wanted away, then away he would go. Her teeth gleamed as she drove her heel into his knee.
The simultaneous snap of bone, crack of wood, and shuddering porch startled her from her 'mission'. She whirled about, eyeing the man currently attempting to extricate himself from the splintered wood.
Riedikke.
She heaved.
What about this man made her physically sick?
In lieu of dwelling on the matter, she scampered down the janky stairs and to the man in black. Bodies littered the ground she passed. Riddled with wooden needles. Puncture wounds. Missing limbs.
And blood.
Gods, the blood smelled rank.
Dark, thick, and coagulated; it tainted the air and choked the weak.
Krista. She was weak. A distressed moan crawled up her throat as she clutched at the man's coat and gasped for breath. Some faces she thought she could recognize. A sick curiosity egged her to have a closer look, but another quiet heave quickly quelled that thought.
"Leave."
"… What?"
For a breath, he did not answer, deftly deflecting a sword turned javelin. The look he cast over his shoulder was nothing short of stern and cold. The small woman was a danger to the both of them, huddled by his side like a frightened child. It was better for her to run. "Find a place to hide."
The air shifted.
Faster than she could follow, D speared a Noble Krista had not seen beforehand with a crude needle, the Vampire digging at his neck in a desperate attempt to remove it. But there was no need. A weight settled upon him, the terror buried in his mind clawing to the surface as he stared down at the sword pressing into the crest of his Adam's apple. Just a little more force and… oh no…
The sword was gone.
He stumbled back, hand wrapping about his throat. But what was the point in delaying the inevitable? 'We deserve this.'
K rista watched in mute horror as the Vampire forcefully detached his own head, body lurching about like a drunkard. Blood painted the heavens and street. All was still as the body collapsed in a fit.
A chilled hand fisted the material of her shirt and cloak just above her breasts as the body continued to twitch. For a moment, she hoped he was simply leading her somewhere. Anywhere. She was, quite frankly, terrified and wanted nothing more than to curl up in a warm bed and pretend this was a nightmare. But as the muscles in his arm swelled and he braced himself, she found herself attempting to escape the only person she trusted. "Wait! What are you thinking?!" she screeched.
The Hunter did not respond, hurling her small body towards the neighboring street. He pivoted before she could land. The sound of her collision was not a comforting one, nor was it worrying.
Laun and Riedikke were gone. Their auras were fading into naught towards the manor, likely finding a retreat in their favor.
Only one Noble remained in the area.
Dark eyes narrowed upon the creature as it slid down the tiled roof, body angled to jump over the Hunter and track down Krista. But it was not an option. The tip of the sword skimmed over the cobblestones, blade crossing his body.
He leapt, body soaring through the air like a majestic bird. It was far too late for the Vampire to attempt a dodge. But attempt he did, a pained scream filling the night air as the curved sword bisected him.
D landed amongst the offal, curdled blood and viscera popping and squelching underfoot.
There had to be a reason behind all this nonsense. This carnage. A reason for these cretins wanting the girl, specifically.
His job became a bit more complicated, and he doubted this night would be the end of it.
"Hey, there's the kid," Hand suddenly murmured. "And boy, does she look ticked."
The statement was a bit of an understatement.
She looked prepared to kill. Mutilate. And it was all directed at the stoic man in black.
For a singular second, this small girl looked truly fearsome, blade in her hand quivering with rage. "You just threw me to the wolves!" she shouted, closing the distance between them. "I knew I couldn't trust you. Especially now, now that I know you're a filthy half-breed!"
She attacked, blade brandished and wholly indifferent to D's ghastly aura as the winds churned around them. A growl left her as he evaded her comparatively lethargic lunge, but before she could do more, D was impaling her.
"Wasn't that just a tad extreme?" Hand enquired, watching the girl claw at the blade protruding from her chest as she gurgled and choked on blood.
But like dew under the summer sun, her body evaporated, only a crimson mist left in her wake.
"Phew!" Hand sighed. "Good thing you knew she was a fake, yeah?"
No response met the countenanced carbuncle's exclamation.
"Wait! You knew she was a fake, right?!"
Something was broken. She just knew it.
Okay, perhaps not. But Krista's body cracked and popped like a bowl of rice cereal as she scampered down the neighboring alley, head throbbing and everything from her shoulders down aching something fierce. The gravel imbedded in her chewed up flesh did not help.
"He's like a bloody bodybuilder, but without the freakish muscles!" she hissed, pausing long enough to secure her dagger with its mate. She was honestly surprised she'd managed to keep hold of it on her 'trip'. And yet, the continued journey was short-lived.
Quick as a striking snake, an arm erupted from the darkness and snagged the fabric of her cloak. It wrenched with enough force to momentarily choke Krista into submission and she had no choice but to follow the downward pull.
The culprit? A woman no more than a few years her senior with champagne hair and round eyes the color of toasted grass. Her stout form filled Krista's swimming vision before hoisting her to her feet and dragging her down another alley.
But Krista dug her heels into the ground and tugged free before too long, eyes narrowed at the woman. "What in the world are you doing?!" she snarled quietly as she loosened the cloak about her neck.
"You shouldn't be out here!" the woman exclaimed just as softly. "It's not safe!"
"And what were you doing out here?"
With a quick gesture to follow, the woman turned on her heel and started down the street. "I was attempting to gather some necessities and check on my family. I didn't make it as far as I'd hoped before that horde of dead puppets swarmed the area. I suppose I am fortunate that they were more concerned with you and the Hunter after the sun set."
It was a chilling thought that sent a spike of fear through Krista. But she followed the woman to a house, dark and unassuming, no less than a mile down the road and surrounded by equally vacant-looking houses. Inside, not far from the wood burning stove, the woman lifted a section of floor and she was ushered in.
The root cellar was understandably dark and humid, but pleasantly cool. Had D been in need, again, this would have made for a wonderful place to 'plant' him. And despite the circumstances and blood sullying her hands and clothes, Krista giggled and wheezed into her palms at the idea. Stony faced D, planted up to his waist like a wee sapling, a sprig of green sprouting from the top of his hat.
Lovingly referred to as Herbert.
Even though it would prefer to be called Bob.
She sank to her knees, gasping for air as tears trickled down her cheeks.
'Finally snap, have ya?'
Perhaps she had. But here she would remain, giggling and eyeing the produce stored in the room. Hoping D would be able to find her. Trying to pick off the flaking blood from her skin. Attempting to purge her mind of that man's smile.
That man's smile.
"You shouldn't leave here for a while," Krista suddenly murmured.
"Eh?"
"If, or when, I leave, you shouldn't leave here. Just…" Her eyes clouded over, seeing her dream from a couple nights prior. Muddled details becoming clear. "Don't leave."
The woman seemed taken aback, but nodded nonetheless. "Alright."
A leaden silence filled the cellar.
"When did things get so bad?"
"Pardon?"
Krista reiterated the query, cradling her face in her palms.
"Oh, well," the woman started. "Not until a week ago."
"Am I really the only bloody person who left for help?!"
"No… Some of us tried, but we couldn't make it past the Hongares surrounding the area. Some were not as fortunate as I in escaping those beasts."
Now she just felt like trash. "I know what you mean," she breathed, hand grasping her bandaged side. "I barely made it through the first time. I would have died if D hadn't been there this time. But, what about to the north? Or any direction other than south?"
The woman shook her head, eyes downcast. "They completely encircled the town about a month ago, and only grew more agitated. We haven't had anyone come through until now."
And here she was, cowering in a root cellar while the man in black… well, she figured he was most likely cleaving a bloody path through the town. As it was, she felt they didn't have much time left. But there she remained.
'You're a coward.'
Perhaps.
'You are.'
She was, at least for this moment.
The door to the house creaked open and shattered the silence. Krista's fingers danced along the hilt of her blades as she found herself struggling to swallow her sudden terror.
In the same moment, the woman lurched across the cellar, readying a trenching shovel with a wickedly sharp point. Perhaps Krista need not worry herself with protecting this woman. If anything, she might need the protection.
Because there she remained.
Frozen in terror as the hatch rattled.
Would she be able to kill one of those not-dead dead people? Normally debilitating wounds seemed to have no effect. Perhaps something more vital?
'Decapitation. Watch their bloody heads roll!'
Unbidden, her mind and the voice supplied a visual she'd rather forget. Eyes following the phantom head of the Noble as he purposefully lifted it from his shoulders.
She could live the rest of her days with never seeing that, again. But it did have a point. Once that Noble was down, he did not rise.
Focus returned to the hatch as it lifted. And she stifled a sob of relief when a familiar figure descended the steps. "D! Oh, thank God!" She skittered around the woman, fingers itching to worry the fabric of his coat. To reassure herself that he was indeed there. But she restrained herself. "I'm so glad you're okay!"
He did not respond, eyeing the woman with the shovel still raised. "It is safe now."
This seemed to put her at ease, head bowing with gratitude. "You have our thanks, Hunter."
Without another word, he beckoned for Krista to follow, leading her out of the house. Down the street with nary a word between them. But a few blocks down the road, Krista quietly asked, "How's Hand?"
He faltered mid-stride. "My hands are fine."
"That's not what I meant," she laughed. "How are you holdin' up, Hand?"
No answer met her query. Another stone settled in her belly as they ceased to walk.
"Did I… do something wrong?"
Her vision blurred about the edges as the man in black drew his sword, heart thundering and sputtering about in her chest. The screech the blade emitted raising the fine hairs on the nape of her neck. And a rolling growl left him, though it sounded much like a wanna-be chuckle.
The outline of his body wavered.
This man was not the man she'd acquainted herself with. Or if it was the same man, this had better be a cruel joke.
"Something wrong?" Even his voice was off. It left her feeling… well, the image that came to mind was a vat of maggots and liquefying cucumbers. That her body was submerged within. "Your existence is an affront to nature. You have no purpose. But we will grant you one, once more."
She shuddered with disgust, but could not pretend to understand what he meant. Only understood one thing. "It's hard to give purpose to something that is dead."
"Who said anything about killing you?"
The sword seemed to cry for blood, and she was hard pressed not to point out the obvious answer.
"No. No, we just want you… incapacitated for a little while."
Krista lurched back just as the blade cleaved through the space her neck occupied. Her eyes grew wide. Whether more from fear or astonishment, she couldn't say. If she'd been just a hair slower…
A hand clasped about her throat, smearing the thin line of blood there. Her chest heaved, body suddenly desperate for air.
'Oh, don't start that, again.'
She didn't, fingers slipping from her neck and tightening around one end of her club. As though it were a life line. And this man was Death incarnate, come to sever one such line as he lunged forward, sword aimed for her belly.
Did this man not understand the meaning of incapacitated? Unless her new purpose was to be fertilizer?
There wasn't much time for supposing, however, as she scrambled just out of reach. Small fingers clawing at the cobblestone road for purchase. Slung bits of stone and dirt back at the advancing man. Heard him hiss in annoyance as said road bits pelted his face. And a part of her almost found the situation humorous.
By the time she got her feet under her, however, she was anything other than amused, heart continuing to pound out a panicked rhythm he was sure to hear as she continued to dance out of reach of the sword. With each strike, he grew closer. His attacks unrelenting. She was running on borrowed time, and she knew her luck would not persist.
But she had hoped it would for just a bit longer. Blade met cloth and flesh and cleaved them cleanly open, a flash of searing pain running from her knee to her ankle. Blood flowing in pulsing waves from the wound.
'That can't be good. You should stop the bleeding.'
"No screamin' eagle shit!"
The man halted mid-lunge, taken aback by her sudden outburst, and she took the opportunity to strike. With the last bit of her energy, she surged forward, dagger unfastened and poised for the base of his throat.
Yes, surely this man was an imposter. The D she knew would have easily deflected her attack. Or dodged. Anything other than gape stupidly at her as her blade struck home. But she did not stop at that, shoving her meager weight into his body until they toppled to the ground.
The look that overcame the girl's typically innocent features could have been considered chilling had anyone been around to witness it. Eyes gleaming an electrifying blue as she grinned too widely and wrenched the dagger back, prepared to attack the dying man, once more.
That's not entirely correct.
The man had a perfect view of her murderous visage. Despite being in no immediate danger, it shook him to his core. As his form was dispelled, he could only marvel at how much she'd grown.
Krista watched perplexed as the imposter faded out of existence. If he could simply vanish, would he be able to come back? The very thought put her one edge. There was no way she could muster up the energy to fend off another one. And there was the matter of her leg.
Crimson blood continued to pulse from the wound, and her vision was dimming, world swimming as she cut strips of cloth from her cloak. And God help her, it was a pain she did not want to experience, again. Not when she was almost certainly seeing bone.
"Man," she grunted, tightening down another strip. "I really liked these breeches." Did she know any seamstresses? "Suppose I'll just buy more when this is over."
With the flow of her life slowed, she staggered to a stand, trying to ignore the spinning surroundings. And failing horrendously as she teeter-tottered about. Right into the armor-clad chest of a man she'd rather not see. She screeched, pain, anger, and terror clashing as she thrashed in the man's hold.
Maybe she should give in? But there was no telling what they would do with her. What this new purpose entailed.
With renewed vigor, she lifted both feet and kicked, flopping to the ground like a beached whale as she broke loose. Honestly, she didn't know where to go from there. The only conceivable choice (besides give up) was run. There was no chance in Hell she'd be able to dodge and fight. And with a leg that was more interested in flopping about, even running seemed improbable.
Maybe a small distraction was in order?
She was already standing by the time she decided she would follow her first plan. Who knew? Perhaps she could find another place to hide. In the meantime, her body quaked as she drew back the hand grasping her blade. She threw it directly at his face, turning to flee before she could see the outcome.
Perhaps if she'd bothered to notice that this man had yet to draw his blade? But there was no room for logic in her fear-clouded mind. One thing was certain, however. The weapon did not hit the ground.
No, there stood the Hunter, the true Hunter, with the blade pinched between his index and middle fingers no less than an inch before his brow. He'd been in the process of tracking the girl when he'd smelled her blood. While its sweet scent was a welcome surprise and enough to arouse his hunger without bedding it down, it was concerning. So strongly did it flood the air, to the point it was cloying. He had almost feared she'd met her demise.
Just looking at the street would lead him to believe she came close. Based on her reaction to him, it would also be safe for him to assume she'd run into a situation similar to his. And it hadn't gone well.
Hand seemed to come to the same conclusion. "You think she ran into a fake you? Or is she finally off her rocker?" Mostly the same conclusion.
But D need not respond as he eyed the silver-plated blade that toed the line between dagger and short sword. He strapped the weapon to his hip. Yes, this certainly was looking to be a long night.
Krista lurched to a standstill in the road, leg throbbing and tingling. Perhaps she fastened the cloth strips too tight. However, as she hunched over and gasped for air, rubbing angrily at the tears marring her face, she couldn't bring herself to care. Not until she felt it.
Yes, that little niggling nostalgia at the back of her mind. It cried for attention like a newborn babe as the seconds passed. "What is…" She whipped her head up, realizing that despite her advanced knowledge, she still ran headlong into her dream. And all her energy was expended. "Sh-shit!"
She hoped beyond hope that the woman had listened to her. Had stayed put in that bloody root cellar. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest. "Please, don't have come here." Grey eyes swiveled about to eye the street.
It was clear.
"Thank the gods."
She spoke too soon. Out came the girl, looking rather suspicious and wary as she observed the area before attempting to move on. Krista yelled for her to run, hide, her voice cracking with emotion as she started towards her. But instead of heeding her warning, the woman stood there dumbstruck.
It was too late for Krista to be of use, however. From the darkness came the figure from her dream, same malicious smile revealing canines too sharp to be normal as he loomed behind the woman. And like a child, Krista covered her eyes, unwilling to watch her dream come to fruition. Shuddering as a startled scream pierced the air.
D. She could still save D.
With a surge of determination, she twisted around and… was still taken aback by the Hunter's appearance. Her stomach twisted and churned, and she wept as the same lurid light from her dream coursed through his eyes. But despite her sudden fear, she reached for him, intending to drag him down or out of town. This would not end the same way as her dream!
It didn't.
The Hunter whirled about, coat flaring with the sharp movement as he drew his blade and deflected the weapon aimed for his heart. Impaled the heart of the man behind the attack. But as he readied himself to deal with the other Noble creeping up behind Krista, an undead puppet crawled along the ground from the adjacent alley.
It wasn't that he was unaware of the marionette, but as he drove his elbow into the handsy Noble's face and pulled Krista from his grasp, there was no defending himself from the sword that buried itself to the hilt in his back. A rough shudder passed through him, and a splash of crimson painted the girl's face. But still, he lurched forward, sword slicing through the flesh of the Noble's neck as he attempted to extricate himself of the puppet's blade and hold.
For an empty shell of a human, this thing had a death grip on him.
He sank to his knees, strength waning as the sword twisted about. Another tremor shook him. His brow furrowed. Seems that even with the knowledge of her dream, he could not avoid this. And Krista seemed even more unwilling to accept this. Slender fingers wrapped around the blade, her face twisted in anguish.
Yet, before she could push the blade out of his chest, another not-dead dead man waltzed up behind him. No, not just any Noble stood there. Riedikke, lips lifted in a cruel smile. He wrenched the sword out with an unnecessary flourish and kicked the puppet to one side. Yes, this certainly seemed to be a victory in their favor.
However, logic fled the crimson haired girl as she eyed the Hunter bleeding out at her feet. Eyes flashed wildly between the tired grey they'd become over the course of the night and electric blue. She could almost hear the voice hissing to kill him, maim him. Make him wish he was never born.
With her last dagger brandished in wounded and numbing hands, she leapt over D.
Or she would have had a pair of arms not encircled her waist and jerked her from the air. She screeched out her frustration. She thrashed. She bucked. She stabbed. Anything to break loose.
The creature at her back merely chuckled. As if each blow were a mere nuisance. "Good riddance, Dhampir. And quit your struggling, girl. It's no use." The dagger was pulled from her grasp.
It seemed that despite the characters playing different roles, some things would remain the same. Echoes of her dream. Mocking her for attempting to change the outcome. And she sobbed as she eyed the Hunter's limp form, praying to any god that would listen that he would wake up, right as rain.
"It's time to come home."
She received at least one wish.
This did not end entirely the same.
The sound of rushing wind disturbed the quiet night. The type of quiet that left one looking over their shoulder, seeing figures and demons where none resided. But this was closely followed by a loud belch. Hand quietly smacked his lips and muttered to himself as he slapped himself against D's chest, emulating a friendly pat that came off as more of a halfhearted flailing gesture. Surely everything he'd gathered would suffice. The Hunter's blood off the street. The meager flames flickering in the lamps. A good bit of road and earth beside them. It should work.
The man did not rouse.
He stretched up high enough to view the spot the wound once resided. It was, indeed, healed.
But still, he remained inert.
The hand groaned. "Okay, Sleeping Beauty! It's time to wake up!" He slapped him across one cheek. "Your princess is in another castle!"
"Princess?" the Hunter suddenly murmured, sounding nearly amused to the creature.
"Well, more like an 'it'. Not a hairy 'it', but an 'it'." A heavy silence fell about the pair as D rose to his feet and gathered his broad-brimmed hat and the blood-soaked dagger lying a few feet away. And the hand sighed. "I thought we were past this, D."
D seemed to agree.
"But then, I can't recall if we've ever dealt with a neurotoxin on top of a chewed-up heart."
To this, he also agreed. A neurotoxin strong enough to combat his healing was nothing to laugh at. And considering the girl had hold of the blade when it was removed? He sincerely hoped the majority of it resided in his flesh. "Where is the girl?"
"Where do you think?" the arm gestured in a jerky fashion towards the manor at the edge of town. "Creepy bastards told her it was 'time to come home'. And with the way they were eyeing her, I wouldn't want to waste much more time."
Too true.
He loosed a shrill whistle into the night air. Like the steadfast creature it was, the stalwart steed tore through town to the dark clothed traveler. Without pause, D mounted and they soared through the streets to the manor.
Marionettes and the stench of decay littered the path, lifeless faces (those that had faces) looking to the eastern sky. The thundering of the horse's hooves roused some from their stupor, but most could not be bothered to take notice. Could not be bothered to avoid certain death. They fell beneath his blade faster than brush to a freshly sharpened sling blade.
But beyond the shells, there were no guardians of the estate. No defense systems.
Nothing.
"Well, doesn't this just scream 'easy'?" the creature in his hand remarked.
Inclined to agree, the Hunter launched himself at the wall of the enclosure. Fingers found purchase where most would normally find none, and with an ease and grace befitting this man, he scaled the obstacle and landed with nary a sound on the opposite side.
The courtyard was… varied, to say the least. But not grandiose. It had a smattering of pretty little roses bushes that sprawled along the raised beds, desert plants and flowers that were larger than feasible, and plethora of overly large succulents. It might have been a peaceful place to rest or read under different circumstances.
The inside was another story. Wood floors gleamed with the light of a fresh waxing. Portraits and numerous great works of art lined the walls. Coffee tables and sideboards topped with a black granite polished to perfection. The manor was a true sight to behold with its tall windows and winding staircase, the trims and handrails hand-carved with intricate and swirling designs.
But, of course, D was not here for the pretty sight, even if his hand did trail along the smooth rails.
"Up two or three floors," said Hand. "Of all the places to hold 'prisoners', they chose upstairs."
The Hunter ascended the stairs, unconcerned with the possibility of running into Nobles along the way. The building was mostly quiet. Any activity was further into or beneath the estate. But three floors up and down a couple of hallways lied a stretch of unassuming doors. The cloying scent of blood saturated the air here.
His hunger rose like a blood-starved beast, and perhaps it was. It wasn't anything he couldn't quell, though, as he stood before the door where the scent was thickest. While he couldn't hear anything, he was sure this was the room she resided in. With a silence befitting the man, he turned the doorknob.
Locked.
Of course. Why would it be anything but?
Disregarding this, he continued rotating the knob until the mechanisms within were warped beyond repair. But still, the door did not open.
"Oh, just kick the damn thing down!"
The seal on the door broke loose with a loud clattering beneath the assault, and he had to wonder if the rooms were soundproofed. The ruckus that poured out afterwards was anything but freshly started.
There the girl hung, suspended a foot or so off the ground, flailing and screeching like a madwoman. One arm mostly free of her restraints, she bounced her meager weight on the remaining chain and desperately hoped it would snap like the other. But the damn thing remained firmly in place. Tried her patience and pain tolerance. Added to her anger and frustration.
Despite her wrist looking and feeling like someone made a half-assed attempt to cut off her hand, she continued to jerk about. She cursed anything and everything under the sun and spewed enough profanities to make the saltiest men blush. With her feet shackled, as well, there was no way for her to gain the leverage needed to finish the job.
"That turd! If I get my hands on him, I'm gonna rip off his head, shit on it, and throw it back at him!" Krista paused and clawed at her head. She wished she were still numb from the shoulders down so she didn't have to feel the pain even that caused. "I don't even poop, but I'm gonna do it!"
D observed her a moment longer, mildly amused by the strange threat, but also minding the blood-splattered floor and her tattered clothes. Part of him was impressed by her fire and respected her determination. But now, it was time to be done.
He reached up to still her thrashing, and her eyes opened at the touch. Where one might expect relief to overcome her, no such thing happened. Grey eyes narrowed in suspicion. Lips drew back over gleaming teeth in a ferocious snarl.
"I know D's dead, so quit the crap and go away!"
With the little leeway afforded by her restraints, she lifted her feet enough to kick him back. It was then the last chain attached to her wrist decided to snap. And for the second time that night, she flopped to the ground like a beached whale.
Moaned like one, too.
"Kid," Hand started as D inspected her shackles. "It's us. We're not dead."
She was sold. The other D didn't have Hand. If this D did, there was no other explanation. At the realization, tears fled her eyes. "Oh, thank the gods! I'm so glad! But… how?"
"We have our ways. Don't you worry about it."
The latches around her wrists and ankles fell loose as D pocketed his needle, clasping a hand about her upper arm and hefting her to her feet. She wobbled, and like any sane person, he pressed his opposite hand against her back to steady her.
It was like pouring salt on an open wound. She hissed and jerked away. Had it not been for the hand still gripping her arm, she would have toppled to the floor, once more.
The Hunter need not look to know what the problem was. Puckered and chewed up flesh, still weeping blood, had met his hand. But still, he tipped her forward to examine her back. Fingertips ghosted over the wounds. Only the skin covered by the straps of her armor was spared. "They flogged you."
"Yeah… They did something, alright. Is it bad?"
"Familiar with ground meat?"
"Ew!"
"It's not that bad."
There was a long pause before she murmured, "That doesn't really give me much confidence." She also had to admit that she would have never expected such a 'tease' from the stoic man, but it seemed fitting. But as he turned her head this way and that, exposed her wrists and removed her tattered shirt, she was bemused. "Being inspected like a piece of meat isn't helping."
D halted his investigation, but only after checking her inner eyelids and fingernails. "Did they do anything else to you?"
She released an unladylike snort. "Besides string me up and whip me? Told me I needed to behave, but that's about it. Kept staring at me like I was a piece of… y'know what? I'm tired of thinking about being meat. Did you have to start that?" A rough shudder passed through her.
It wasn't entirely off the mark, though.
'Maybe we are meat to them!'
The man in black watched her shudder, once more, and list to one side. She was anemic. However, there wasn't much he could do while they were here. At the very least, it didn't seem to be the result of a 'kiss'.
And speaking of kisses, he snapped his eyes down.
She was leaning in, lips softly puckered and eyes lidded as she braced herself against him. He stepped back. Hooking a hand about his neck and the other behind his shoulder, she followed. "Wait, don't move," she breathed and suddenly puffed her cheeks. She blew.
Without pause, she pulled back, her prize perched on her hand. A fuzzy jumping spider, no bigger than her thumb nail. "Oh, they're so cute! I'm gonna call you Fluffy!" It seemed appreciative of her comments.
D watched the girl shimmy in place and fawn over the arachnid, body tense and lips drawn tight. Jaw working in mild agitation. While she was oblivious, the creature in his hand was not. It snickered softly. "Little tense, are we? Too bad she's not a bit shapelier. Or competent."
Hand did not protest the sudden closure of his mouth as D clenched his fist. In the creature's defense, he wasn't speaking at a volume where Krista could hear him. At this point, she was too busy lamenting the loss of her fuzzy friend (that she had to leave behind) and attempting to salvage her remaining clothes.
"Man!" she whined. "I just bought this cloak and lookit!" She tossed it to one side with a huff. "I mean, I know I cut a lot from the bottom, but at least it was still wearable! Did they have to shred it when they pulled it off me?! Why do that but let me keep my money? Why take mah boots?!"
Complaints continued to pour from her pale lips as she struggled to force her feet into the aforementioned boots, but the Hunter paid it no mind. For someone so removed from the happenings of this world, he would not deny her this release of stress and anger. But he should probably put an end to it soon.
The inhuman noise she was currently emitting would surely draw in any Nobles with enough sense to investigate, despite her attempt to muffle it by stuffing her face in her hands.
"Damn these not-dead dead people!"
"A moment, Riedikke?"
The farmeresque Vampire that was draped across a lounge chair glanced up to eye the nameless man before him. Well, perhaps not nameless, but he was not invested in his life. "What?"
The fair skinned Noble pulled out a small device and depressed the nondescript button at its top with a soft pop. "Regarding your failure-"
"What failure?" he snarled, rising from his seat. He loomed over the man, teeth bared.
Any attempts to appear threatening, however, were lost on the nameless one. He started over, unperturbed, and clicked the button, again. "Regarding your failure, in both eliminating the Hunter and proving to be useful as a manipulator without losing your composure, the council has decided you are no longer an asset."
Another click.
The estate rumbled. A terrifying mix of realization and fury appeared on Riedikke's countenance. But the man continued. "As such, you have served your purpose and you are no longer required. All the captive citizens were released by the Hunter and the girl. All that remains is you."
It didn't take a genius to read between the lines. He'd been left for dead. "And what about the girl? Giving up on that?"
"In due time," he responded.
"Change in plans, you mean."
"Doesn't matter. Your end comes."
"It comes for us all, doesn't it?" the farmer replied, turning with an amicable smile. There stood the Hunter and the girl. Despite the circumstances, he was excited. "Oh, kitten, how you've grown!"
For the third time that night, that little hiccup in her thoughts occurred. Just at the sight of this man. At his voice. Gods, why did she hate him so much?! Besides the flogging and his general attitude, what reason did she have to dislike him to the point of nausea?
Why did she want to rip the life from him.
Their bodies were toppling to the floor before she realized she was moving, slender fingers digging into the flesh of his neck. Blood trickled out around her nails. Still, she continued to dig in, sitting astride his chest with his arms pinned by her legs. Forgotten was her fatigue and pain.
She would ensure his end.
D approached the pair, studying the girl with blue eyes as she growled at the Noble beneath her. The other Noble had collapsed dead the moment they entered, bubbling brain matter trickling from his ears and nose. In such a state, there was no need to be concerned. But he stooped and grasped Krista's shoulder, a silent order to cease her quest for blood.
But, Gods help her, he was still grinning like nothing is wrong!
"Kid, we get it," Hand murmured. "But he needs to answer some questions before you kill him."
The electrifying color drained partially from her eyes. Fingers loosened their hold but did not release him. "Ask."
"What was your business here?" D enquired.
Riedikke loosed a breathy chuckle, eyes narrowing in disdain. "Nothing of your business, you disgusting half-breed." The girl above him jerked. Pain, sudden and startling, blackened his vision as he gagged on the teeth peppering the back of his throat.
"Damn!" Hand gave an appreciative whistle. "That couldn't have felt good. So, let's try, again. What's hot in Puregon? Why so familiar with the girl?"
Looking Death in the eye, he still smiled, a haughty curve of the lips as he resituated himself. "She's my little kitten! We were familiar with each other, once upon a time. Perhaps she will remember, some day." He ran his tongue across bloodied gums. "Shame I didn't get more of a taste, earlier."
"Quite the freak, aren't you? Still doesn't answer our question."
"I already told you it was none of your business!"
"She's our client. It is."
Riedikke laughed long and hard. "What the hell?! It's not like I have anything to lose! Everything requires a blood sacrifice. Once we've met our quota, done our part, paid with our pound of flesh, he will put all lesser beings in their place! Head to the Southern Continent and find out first hand!"
He eyed Krista. "And you, my little kitten. You will find your purpose and your home. Until then, have fun playing whore to this creature!"
There was that word, again. Whore. And that thing in her mind practically convulsed as D lifted his hand from her shoulder. He was saying… something that would normally leave her feeling confused and, possibly, dirty. But she could only see red.
A bloodthirsty grin curved her lips. Blood gushed around her fingertips. "Good news! Your vacation request has just been expedited! We hope you enjoy the burning fires of Hell!"
Gurgling gasps filled the room as she clawed through the Noble's neck. D did not interrupt, merely observing as chunks of flesh and blood splattered against the hardwood floor.
"D, whatever you do, try not to piss her off," Hand suggested, eyeing the scene as Krista lurched to her feet.
While the Hunter would likely never view the girl as threat, the creature's words were not without reason. This stubborn mule of a girl, so very innocent. And yet, look at the blood marring her pale skin. The wicked smile twisting her full lips. Eyes a startlingly vibrant cornflower blue glimmering with glee.
Against Hand's better judgement, D chose that moment to return her blades. Despite her previously bloodthirsty mood, he highly doubted she would turn on him. In fact, the eyes that turned up to him were a pitifully dull green. The devious grin softening about the edges. Shoulders slumped with exhaustion.
"Thank you, D. I didn't think I was getting these back," she chuckled, a breathy sound that denoted just how tired she was as she ran a bloodied hand across her face. She grimaced. The blood was beginning to dry, leaving her skin with a tacky feeling. "I should probably clean up, huh? I wonder where the bathroom is here."
The Hunter watched her wobble and stumble about out the door and down the hall, no doubt in search of running water, as he pressed the tip of his sword through Riedikke's heart. Without a master to guide them, he was sure the puppets still scattered across the city would pose no threat. The Hongares were likely well on their way southward. Their business in Puregon was at its end.
All but…
"This night is probably gonna hit her soon, if it hasn't already."
The girl.
He had to agree. Far too innocent to have ever acted this way before. Following her crimson trail of bloody handprints plastered along the walls landed him in the kitchen. Perched on the counter with water running from the tap in the sink, Krista sat motionless.
No, that wasn't entirely accurate.
Her body quivered, chest almost appearing to convulse as her stuttered breaths fought to turn into ugly, wrenching sobs. Whatever she became in that room and out on the streets, that bloodthirsty thing… Whatever that was, she sincerely hoped she never became it, again. To be swallowed by such a strong rage. Afterwards, it was a terrible feeling. Terrifying. Exhilarating!
She jerked, hands clawing at her head in a bid to silence that voice. That lilted tone that came unbidden and weaved its way through her thoughts.
'You wanted him dead! And you wanted to kill that 'Laun' guy! You can't deny that! Just think of what they did to Miss Haldwyn!' the voice excitedly breathed. 'Didn't they deserve it?!'
They did deserve it!
But after what she just did, was she much better? What with that sick desire to go back in time and do it all over, again?
It groaned. 'You're bein' impossible! Get over it!'
Blood trickled down her forehead.
'Pathetic. Pathetic and useless.'
"Just go the hell away!"
"If that is what you wish."
The warmth of a hand stilling her own pulled away.
With a noise not suited for such a tiny woman and a loud clatter, Krista tumbled off the counter, arm outstretched before her. Wounds she'd momentarily forgotten burning and aching. She flailed, disoriented. At least the voice was quiet. "W-wait! I wasn't talking to you! Why would you think I was?"
His left hand gestured at the room. "There is no one else here, kid. Besides…"
"I'm a Dhampir," D finished as she stood. "We wouldn't be surprised, all things considered."
"All things considered?"
Oh, back to this, were they?
"You've had a taste of what the Nobility can accomplish. Of their true nature." He stepped into her personal space. Watched as she leaned backwards over the countertop. "Of my true nature."
Grey eyes hardened with realization. She glared up at him. "You are not like them. And if the day comes where you are even slightly like them, it's gonna be for a reason."
And there was her fire.
He stepped away. "What will you do now? Stay in the comforts of home and relative safety until they come for you, again?"
"Or head south for the winter?" A humorless laugh filled the air. "Not much of a decision. Besides, this place… it never was home. And the only person who could have made it home can't anymore. I think I will take my chances with you. Again. Some more."
A silence settled around them. A comfortable one that she was unwilling to break as he turned and beckoned for her to follow. Once in the sitting room by the doors, he triggered a mechanism she wouldn't have noticed alone. In trotted the cybernetic horse after a brief moment, snorting and stamping at the floor. From its saddlebags, he pulled the first aid kit that was seeing more use than any other kit previously in his possession.
He might need another if this trend continued.
"Sit."
He need not tell her twice.
One grunt later and she was splayed across a large hassock. Despite the burning of her back, she was perfect comfy. It would take an act of war to have her move from her position. "I assume you want my leg first?"
The sensation of her leg being lifted and settled across his thighs was answer enough. He pulled loose the makeshift bindings, all but the one just above her knee. And while she couldn't wholly feel him working, the slight tug on her leg let her know when he started stitching the wound.
Finally, he pulled the last one loose.
There was her act of war.
She hissed as life flooded her leg. Much like when your leg falls asleep, those pins and needles that start up. But worse. She snapped upwards to clutch the offended limb. "Good golly, Molly!"
"My name is not Molly."
Golden tendrils of sunlight slowly flooded the room. Laughter, hearty and wheezy, followed.
"Where's the stone-faced D I'm used to?!"