Fires Within
July 19, 13,013
Leonel awoke just as the first clap of thunder rattled the windows. Stirring fitfully in his bed before he turned to look at the time.
It was early.
Or late.
Dependent on who you asked.
For him, it wasn't an unreasonable time to be awake. He had, however, been looking forward to a full night's sleep. And he hardly imagined that three hours counted as such.
Thunder, unless particularly loud, did not typically rouse him. Sleeping at a time he would normally be awake might.
Or, he was simply too warm.
He threw one leg out from under the thin cover. It wasn't enough, however, and he was quickly shucking the entire blanket. True, he was more than used to the warm, humid nights. But this? This was an insufferable heat. One that felt like it was beginning to burn in his chest.
With a huff, he rolled to his other side. Searching for any semblance of coolness on the bedding before giving up and simply staring at the nearby wall. Miserable.
He wasn't sure how long he stared at that wall before he slumped out of the bed. Stretching. Groaning.
Thinking of black and crimson curls and aqua colored eyes. Thinking of what all they implied by referring to themselves as 'we'. What he could do to accommodate them if they ever wanted a second chance.
Things he didn't need to be dreaming of.
His feet took him to the bathroom where he hovered over the sink to splash water in his face. Within the next day or two, he'd need to refill his water reserves (even with the rain being collected) and empty the composting tank. Check to ensure the compost was 'clean' before hauling it to the orchard.
Perhaps he would bring in his load of fruits for the coming week. Give some to the little ones working the docks in the mornings.
With his objectives in mind, he set about dressing for the day, seeing that it was only a couple hours until sunrise. He was still unbearably warm, but a nice cup of tea or coffee was only right to start the day.
It was when he was placing the percolator on the stove that lightning illuminated the streets. And in turn, revealed the cloaked figure passing through the darkness between the streetlights. So small, with their vibrant eyes shining in the low light.
They looked… bothered.
At least from what he'd been able to see.
Above all else, he did not want them to be upset.
He threw on his shoes and raincoat, running out the door without thoughts of much else. Only briefly concerned that the fire within seemed to warm beneath the chill of the rain. He wouldn't try to woo them. Not yet. But he did want to provide them with some modicum of comfort. Or companionship.
Maybe a hot drink.
That fire…
It burned so hotly as he guided them to his wicker seating. Discarding his raincoat was not enough to help. If anything, it only grew worse. But he would busy himself with the coffee. Setting it to percolate as he pulled down the mugs.
'Oh, this is just wonderful.'
Leonel's body locked up. Fear freezing him in place as the sepulchral voice resonated within his own mind. Something that was absolutely unnatural.
He wanted to cry out in terror.
It did not happen. Instead, his mouth opened and asked if they wanted cream in their coffee.
'Little spark needs a bit of dosing. Why don't we reach into the cabinet for the medicine?'
No!
The hand still grasping a mug swung out and into the small island. The mug shattering.
Perhaps it would serve as a warning for them.
It didn't. They seemed cautious, but they accepted 'his' reassurances.
Without his say, he swept the glass out of sight and moved to the cabinets. Hand immediately finding a clear vial, filled with a slightly viscous liquid.
When did that get there?
His eyes turned up.
Out the very window he'd spotted Krista Rhea, there stood a woman. Her owlish features sharp. Grin too wide. Dangerous. She used a talon-tipped finger to cheekily wave at him before her head swiveled about. Large eyes narrowing in on the coffee that still needed making.
He didn't want to. He wanted to smash this mug. Just as he had the last. Yet, he couldn't. Could only pour the coffee and cream before he uncapped the vial.
It had no smell. Not one his Human nose was able to detect.
'You like mint in your coffee, no? Why not ask the little spark if she would?'
So, he did.
He'd have loved to sit down and discover this with them. But it seemed it wasn't meant to be. These bastards were soiling something that should have been good.
The mint oil and mystery 'medicine' went in together. A quick stir and no one would ever see that something was amiss.
He prayed they would be able to smell it. Taste it. Something.
They didn't. The mint must have covered it up. And in horror, he watched them drink all he'd given them. Screaming in his prison. Begging them to vomit. Not caring that it'd have created a mess.
And from what he could see, they were trying. Long after the puppeteer said he needed to grow up.
He was sure his heart was being crushed as they lurched upwards. Unable to talk. Unable to coordinate their limbs as a voice that wasn't his own bellowed out of his mouth. Taunting them in their vulnerable state.
He hated these monsters.
Hated how he was the source of their distress.
'Don't worry. All will be right in the world once my cohort collects the little sparks. Then you may go about your life.'
He didn't want that. But he thought it so quietly, he hoped his body snatcher wouldn't hear it.
He wanted to live to tell the Hunter what happened. How their voice rasped so pitifully in their throat as they called out a single letter.
The strange woman swept through the front door under his terrified gaze. Lanky legs bent to account for her absurd height in the reasonably sized home. Silvery skin glistening and rippling as she shook off the rain.
"Moisture is terrible for my feathers, Ignis," she grumbled. Eyeing the girls as they lied prone on the floor and panted with each attempt to move. "Yet you people keep sending me to little backwater shitholes like we don't have clones to do it for us."
"True, but there were no spares, and the rains are deadly to my flames. You, however, can prune a few rusted feathers."
She waddled about their body, exaggerating the ass wiggle as she mocked him in a voice that was too high. Eventually biting out, "Piss off. That doesn't make it comfortable."
But her display did not put off Ignis. If anything, he was amused. Laughing gently as she tutted and cooed over Krista Rhea before he murmured, "You might want to feed her the second dose, Plumacera. And hurry with your gathering. I feel the Hunter's aura stirring."
"Then how about you help me?"
Together, they pried open their mouth and dumped in a second vial. Watching as they choked and sputtered. Unable to eject it, unable to properly swallow. Stuck in some horrific limbo that ended in them still ingesting quite a bit of it.
"Such a good girl," Plumacera crooned as the medicine gurgled in their throat. Curling her clawed finger beneath their slim chin. "You've had a hard life, yeah?"
The girls (for obvious reasons) could not answer. At the same time, however, the answer was there. Marked on their flesh and alight in their eyes as a low growl rumbled in their throat, sounding more sickly than threatening.
"Don't you worry. With any luck, you'll get the life you've always wanted."
That growl rose, and with considerable effort, they swung. Their padded, clawed fingers, covered in patches of fur, slashed the woman across the face. Ripping and tearing the shimmering flesh with that single slap. Effectively wrenching a shrill shriek from the woman that Leonel silently celebrated.
"Oh! You little bitch!"
"Do not."
Plumacera froze. Talons mere inches from Krista Rhea's throat.
"Bind her and leave. You are out of time."
For a moment, the owlish woman did not move. Large eyes jerking as she fought the urge to exact her revenge. Eventually, however, she huffed. Pulling a pair of wrist cufflinks out of the folds of her lilac dress.
All this happened in the span of just a few minutes.
Yet Leonel was pissed that the Hunter was not there.
The Hunter.
Some dark part of him certainly wanted to be a hunter. The worst kind of one. One that desired nothing more than to hunt down the girls and satiate his hunger.
The capsules Laun had given him would have to do.
Yet, as the liquid filled his belly, he found himself still wanting. Still desiring the taste that would no doubt satiate the beast for quite some time. One that would be a devilishly delicious combination of sweet and sour.
Something he could imagine making himself sick on.
Damn it.
As he dressed and contemplated ingesting a second capsule, a nasty chill crept up his spine. Sinking itself into every fiber of his being. Alighting each nerve until his ears were ringing and his canines were biting into his gums.
Erembour, sprawled across the bed with his snout in his paws, cautiously looked up. Violet eyes glimmering as he watched the man's aura churn and pulsate. Agitated. "… what has you riled?"
But the Hunter did not answer. The choking aura swelling until it engulfed the tavern.
There was nothing aside from a smattering of Humans scattered about the nearby rooms.
The agitation he felt to his bones surged. Pushing his aura out until it began sweeping over the town like an ominous storm cloud. Roiling in much the same fashion as he searched for his companions.
He found them.
Not far from the piers.
Yet… something was undeniably wrong.
They were moving, but not of their own volition.
In a flash, his sword was upon his back and he was shoving open the window. Leaping out into the downpour with a sense of urgency he rarely felt.
Erembour was hot on his heels. Because he knew that if there was something bad enough to have the Hunter acting this way, it had to involve the girls. And for not the first time, he wondered why he continued to travel with this group.
There was certainly no shortage of drama.
Yet, he chased after the man. Willing, for reasons he couldn't say, to follow the group into the depths of Hell to fight every opposing Demon.
Perhaps it was Krista's very first interaction with him. How willing to work with him she'd been. The camaraderie she'd immediately fostered.
The sense of belonging.
So, he would rip. And he would tear. Willing to do that and so much more for this patchwork family he'd become a part of.
In a matter of moments, they were within spitting distance of the small shack.
But the Hunter did not go for the door that stood ajar and stained with blood. He leapt onto the roof, blood light spilling from his narrowed eyes as he stared into the churning clouds.
Dare he believe he'd seen steam escape the Hunter's parted lips?
But that was just absurd.
"Erembour."
The Demon snapped to attention. Watching avidly as the Hunter drew his sword. And good God, he was a magnificent sight. A terrifying one, because in that man's gaze, there lied a promise of bloodshed. A determination that would push him beyond his normal limits.
"How high can you fly?"
"High enough." With a steadying breath, he pulled the shadows closer to his body. Twisting his form to better suit their needs until wings erupted from his body. The new form shaking free with a burst of inky feathers.
An unnatural form for him, but one that felt pleasant to undertake all the same.
Had he not been preoccupied, D might have admired the hefty wingspan. The air displaced with each gentle wave. The way the ground was gouged with a mere stretch of his toes. Yet, the man was quickly leaping into the black-as-pitch sky. The roof of the home beneath his feet crumpling and heaving as he did.
Where D was normally a silent man, he did not employ subtlety as he drove his blade into the hull with a terrible screech. Seams not meant to be found splitting open before him. And from inside came the cries of a handful of people. Creatures. Scrambling in a panic as the blade impossibly cleaved through layers of alloys meant to withstand the test of battle.
Perhaps they never imagined in their wildest dreams that a mere Dhampir (no matter his renown) would be able to leap high enough to pull off such a feat. Nor did they seem to believe he would make it in. Not until an outside panel was falling to the streets below.
Plumacera pecked at the control board before her. A snarl marring her angular but pretty face. "It's fucking raining! How the Hell is he holding on?!"
It wasn't a question necessarily meant to be answered, yet there were plenty of baffled replies. Something she found herself rolling her eyes to despite the circumstances.
Despite the fact that she was absolutely petrified. Not knowing if she'd be able to fulfill her duties. Not understanding how the damn Dhampir managed to breach the ship right where the stupid girl was being held.
Not understanding why she was still fucking lucid!
"You!" she snarled, whirling on the nearest person. A thin, willowy looking female that paled when faced with the owlish woman's talons. "Get this piece of shit going! Maybe erect the shielding while you're at it!"
"Yes, Ma'am."
The woman stood over the console. Fingers skimming over the keys before she began typing commands. Only mildly relieved when the thrum of engines echoed through the vehicle. Charging.
"Enable the outer cameras, too."
She did. Pulling the feeds into view as they waited for energy to build.
From the safety of their control room, they watched. Watched as the Dhampir ripped barehanded into the hull. Vermillion eyes burning in the dark.
"The Hell is taking so long?!"
Now, the willowy woman allowed herself a slight eyeroll. Out of sight of Plumacera, of course. But she pointed to the very old-school loading bar. It was almost filled.
But then again, the man was almost inside.
The aircraft shuddered roughly. Listing to one side with an ear-piercing series of screeches. Something that sounded very much like nails scrabbling over tin.
Very large nails.
"Do we uh… have eyes on that?" Plumacera asked.
Without a word, she pulled up the only feed available for the top of the craft.
It was black.
Unnaturally so.
Ping!
The bloody thing was finally charged.
"Alright. Light 'em up," she commanded.
There was a high-pitched whir, the ship momentarily going dark. And with a noise like cracking thunder, every camera except for the top one became blindingly bright. But through it all, she could see the Hunter.
Plumacera grinned. Sharp teeth gleaming with devilish delight as the man's body froze in place. Drawing tight and quivering. But still, he did not release his hold on his sword or the ship. And after a time, the smile fell from her face. A snarl taking its place.
"Tough bastard. Just let go so we can leave!"
He did not.
Slowly, he moved. Hand finding the pendant nestled against his chest. A brilliant light cutting through the electric glow.
To her terror, the shielding fell apart and the Hunter was free to shove his hand into the sizable opening on the inside of the ship!
For once in her life, Plumacera felt out of her element. Out of control of this relatively simple mission.
They couldn't risk flying towards the facility. If the bastard managed to cling on that long, it would end badly for her. The shielding was very obviously a failure. And whatever was on top?
She wasn't sure what the Hell it was or what it was doing. It'd been quiet since it first landed. And an unknown was a danger.
"Ma'am?" spoke the thin woman. Flinching as Plumacera rounded on her. "We could fly to the northeast to shake them. We might run a little low on fuel, but we should have plenty to make it back."
Honestly, it was a better idea than just sitting in place.
"Alright," she agreed. "Try to make it difficult for them to hang on. Maybe page a few guys to go out and deal with our other guest. I'm going to pay a visit to our girl."
Krista and Rhea stared at the wall from behind the confines of their cell. The barrier shimmering like heat waves on a desert road the only tell that it was there and active. But they were unconcerned with them. Perhaps if they were in control of all their faculties, they might have attempted to brute force their way through the thing. Burned flesh be damned.
As it was, they could barely breathe.
Instead, they focused on the in and out.
The gleaming bit of sword as it impossibly pushed through the aircraft until a set of pale fingers curled about the inner edge.
And inside their Garden, they grinned at the chaos the man and Demon caused.
Above them, footsteps thundered as men rushed towards the place Erembour resided. Where, slowly, the ceiling was turning an inky black. Phantom liquids dripping down but never reaching the floor.
They didn't know what he was doing, but it was certainly fascinating to witness.
But they wanted out. Wanted to be held. Wanted this entire aircraft to crash and burn. "D," they rasped. Voice gurgling disgustingly in the back of their throat.
The pale hand, as if spurred by the noise, wrenched backwards on the panels of metal. Effectively widening the hole as terrified screams erupted above them. A bellowing swallowing the sounds down and shaking the craft with a burst of rancid air.
But, D had not made it in yet.
Instead, the girls were visited by someone they had no desire to see. The owlish woman. Her feathers fluffed, glimmering and gleaming in the harsh lighting.
"Damn. You're still awake?" She clucked her tongue. Staring at the girls as if they were something not meant to be living. A fact that was punctuated by a sharp kick to their side. "Definitely gonna have to find a different formula for your ass."
'Better find one quick. We get up from here and your ass is grass.'
Krista wholeheartedly agreed.
They wanted this bitch to die.
The vessel suddenly listed to one side. Slinging its occupants about with little care.
Who needs care when your only objective is to dislodge unwanted passengers?
Yet, it did nothing aside from rattle those that remained inside.
Plumacera pressed her knuckle into the device at her clavicle, depressing the button there. "Do a few barrel rolls. Do it fast enough we'll stay in place."
"Yes, Ma'am."
The girls shifted. Sliding into the solid wall at their back as the first roll started. Quickly ramping up speed until their stomach felt like it was dropping out of their body.
Faster, until they felt their mind drifting as their body was compressed.
Faster.
Until a peculiar sound shook the relative quiet. Of metal tearing and engines backfiring. But no engines struggled.
Perhaps it was their heart that backfired.
The inky stain that'd been spreading across the top suddenly disappeared in conjunction with the sound of shearing metal. Leaving behind a patch of warped and cracked panels.
"Stop the barrel roll!" Plumacera screeched. "Before I puke all over this fucker!"
With a lurch, the occupants of the vessel were thrown from their positions. Slapping against floors and opposing walls like it was going out of style. And in some twisted act of kindness, the owlish woman hooked her talons into their clothes and pulled them away from the barrier they'd slid into.
It didn't hurt like they'd expected.
Maybe that was due to the lack of feeling they possessed as a general, not because it wasn't strong.
With a sharp gasp, they looked at the hole D had been creating.
His hand and his sword were nowhere to be seen.
Fuck…
Fuck!
They didn't want to go 'home'.
Didn't want to lose their family.
But if D lost his grasp on the ship…
They were royally fucked.
They just hoped the man was okay.
Silently, Plumacera stalked from the cell and out of sight. And the breaths that followed seemed just a bit easier to manage. At least until their chest seized with a repressed sob.
They couldn't do that now.
They were terrified, yes. However, they needed to be strong.
…
A loud, thrumming bang echoed from the roof.
Then another.
And another.
The spot that Erembour worked on was suddenly buckling inwards. Warping with each successive strike. Louder and louder until a figure in black came bursting through. Metal sheets giving way and clattering to the floor with no small amount of debris clouding the air.
And damn if he wasn't a beautiful fucking sight.
Just like when he'd saved them from Bella.
Damn, they needed a lot of saving.
'To be fair, Bella wasn't our fault.'
Krista couldn't disagree with that.
But it didn't matter much. Not when D was rising from the floor looking like some avenging angel. Eyes alight with a fiery rage as they fell upon them. Fangs gleaming past his parted lips as he panted.
Admittedly, he did appear very wind-whipped. Hair wild and seeming to move with a life of its own, cheeks reddened. But he was still the most glorious sight to behold.
"The Dhampir. The Hunter. We meet for the second time."
A small blade was already drawn. Shining in the light as he faced Plumacera. But in her hands, she did not wield a blade. It was a rifle, its matte black barrel pointed right at the man.
"Your first shot best kill me," he warned. Slowly strafing to one side.
"Or I could kill her."
Now, the weapon turned on them. However, the act did not perturb the girls or the man. It was an empty threat. They all knew it would end poorly for her should she pull the trigger. And seeing they were not convinced, she turned it back to him.
"It doesn't matter. Now get the fuck off our ship."
For a moment, everything seemed to slow down. The girls watched as the barrel belched fire, her arm jerking backwards with the recoil. And the Hunter was on the move. Taking one step. Two. Leaping forward.
As the bullet struck the ground where D once stood, the man was driving the blade into her chest and kicking her back. Watching as she slapped into the warped wall with an expression of shock before erupting into a thousand feathers.
Without pause, two more of her stepped out as replacements, brandishing swords.
They would attempt to impale him, but he was very aware of the fact that they would self-destruct if push came to shove. Using those strange, needle-like feathers to hinder him. So, with a huff, he dodged to the left and rushed the closest one. Nails digging into the lifelike flesh of its throat. Knife breaking through the bone of its temple before he threw it into the far wall. For the second one, he swung his foot up and out. Heel connecting with its neck with a disgustingly realistic crunch.
In less than five seconds, both were reduced to the wiry feathers.
The one thing the Hunter did not expect, however?
He did not anticipate a hundred appendages forming from the floors and walls of the ship. The metallic tentacles dragging him down into a suddenly liquefied floor. And it didn't matter how many he severed and ripped free of. More were there to take its place. Winding about his limbs and neck. Solidifying once whatever controlled them was content with his positioning.
And what a position it was.
He could practically taste the impending impalement.
Now, for once, the Hunter did roll his eyes. Eyes that were still alight with that Devilish glow as the owlish woman rounded the corner. A triumphant smile stretched across her face as she stared down at him and bounced the silver-coated stake in her hands.
"You were a bit reckless, Dhampir."
Maybe so, yet he would chalk this one up to guerrilla tactics.
Under everyone's watchful eyes (and a few gurgling snarls from the girls), she sat astride the Hunter's hips. Leaning in close enough to feel his breath ghost across her cheek.
"Such a shame you're not one of us."
He did not respond.
Couldn't with the thing around his neck pinning his jaw shut.
"Perhaps you would enjoy the company of a real woman before I stab you in the heart." By the look in his eyes, she could see that it was a hard no. Yet… "It's not like you can actually say no."
A growl, deep and vicious, rolled from his throat at the threat. Plumacera merely smiled and shifted the weapon to one hand. Using the other to knead at his chest. Down his abdomen. Talons digging into the meat of him.
"Again, you can't say no." And now, she leaned in. Sealing her lips against his with a trilling moan.
There came a groaning from the metal beneath her. Startling her away from the man with a gasp in time to note that his arm had shifted. And she huffed. Pouting before she muttered, "I guess you can say it. Too bad. Could have given the little bitch a show worth remembering."
In a split second, shards of metal went flying. Peppering Plumacera and the ground just as the woman drove that spike through the Dhampir's heart.
He did not stop moving. Not until, with a flash of silver, his blade had cut through Plumacera's neck.
Yet, she smiled. An angry, bitter thing. "Fuckin' tenacious, aren't you?" Feathers began bulging through the wound. Glittering in the bright lights as she snarled, "So glad I didn't use the real me."
Feathers filled the air. Dancing about. Piercing everything soft in their path.
Had their eyes been closed, the girls might've believed the room was filled with windchimes.
But they weren't. They were glued to the man they adored. Watching as he quickly became a living pincushion.
Watching as he attempted to remove the stake with little success.
"You can probably feel it," Plumacera suddenly spoke. Her voice reverberating about the ship. "The tiny little barbs anchoring it in place. The poison they are pumping into your veins."
He could. It felt similar to the one used in Puregon. Not wholly the same. Not wholly different. With any luck, he would bounce back from it faster than the first time.
He pulled at it a second time, and his heart seized.
No matter how high his pain tolerance, it was something that still managed to pull out a grimace upon occasion. However, he smoothed out the look into his typical mask and cast a sidelong glance at the girls.
Did they realize they wept?
Not that he could blame them. This would not be the first time he'd failed to stop their capture. And this go around, there was no telling what would be done.
Strength fled his limbs as he pulled at the weapon a third time. Barbs clinging tight and shredding muscle as they went. But damn it, the thing was out. And with a soft grunt, he threw it to one side with a loud clatter and placed his left hand over the gaping wound.
There might not be any stopping his temporary, if not untimely, demise, but while he was still here, he would make sure he could find the girls.
Without a sound, Hand regurgitated a bug.
The bug. A modified version of Gif T. Ig's chip. A mere fraction of it. The tracker minus the credentials.
It was nigh impossible to spot with the naked eye as it scurried across D's chest and to Krista Rhea. Slinking between the bars and shimmering barrier. And without fuss, the girls parted their lips and allowed the bug entrance. Grimacing as it burrowed into their hard palate.
They trusted D would come back. That D would save them once the toxin was out of his system, if they couldn't save themselves first. And there was so much they wanted to say to the man.
They wanted to tell him how much they appreciated everything he did. No matter how slight.
They wanted to show him how much they adored him.
They wanted to rip off that bitch's lips for forcing a kiss on him, and if he was willing…
They sighed. Heart flubbing.
It was highly unlikely. But they could dream.
Their eyes fluttered shut.
Erembour was exhausted. Body. Mind. His everything.
How long had it been since he'd shifted into something so large? For such an extended period of time?
Sure, his natural form was large. The smaller forms were easier to maintain. But something not-dog and even larger?
Woof.
And all that hyper-speed spinning shit? After trying to break down the section of the hull he'd landed on, his wet little birdy talons just couldn't hold on after a bit. Even despite the snacks he'd been sent. Which made him respect the Hunter all that much more.
His claws could not tear through the metal. Not the way D could.
Now, he could only follow the vessel. Not fast enough to catch up, but at just the right pace to keep his eye on it. Close enough to watch the Hunter disappear through the spot he'd weakened.
After what seemed like too long, however, he knew something had gone wrong. Watching as the Hunter was unceremoniously shit out the back end of the still moving vessel. Limp. Lifeless.
This should have been his cue to cut his losses and go back to his roaming. Alone and… admittedly depressed.
Yet, he dove for the trees. Knowing he would be of no use to Krista and Rhea as he was. And down in that mess of trees, as he shifted back to his standard wolfish form, he found the Hunter. Limbs askew (possibly broken) and neck at an awkward angle. Dozens of glittering feathers stuck in his flesh.
A hole in his chest.
Shit.
"Ah, don't worry, Demon," Hand spoke up. "He'll be up before you know it."
He believed the creature. Had seen the barely visible scar marring the otherwise flawless flesh. Had heard the whisperings that floated about the underworlds.
"But if you could straighten him out, that might speed it up a bit."
Now, Erembour snorted out a short laugh. He might feel a bit like how he smelled, but he could do this one thing.
Half an hour passed.
One long half-hour.
But by the end of that time, the Hunter was pushing himself upwards. Eyes closed as he heaved a sigh and rolled his head. Neck popping and cracking, but it held.
"… how are you?"
"Alive."
"That's fair."
And slowly, he rose. Turning southwest. Towards the town. With any luck, he would be able to find his sword along the way. As it stood, however, they needed to move. Needed to find where the girls were taken.
Needed to kill…
With a grunt, D scooped up the rapidly shrinking Demon and tucked him into his coat. Already on the move.
Running.
Sprinting.
Flying past trees, over roots and rocks. Employing a speed he'd not needed to use in many a year.
His only concern with needing to move so quickly?
He did not want to run his longest living horse to death. Of course, the horse would die at some point. Whether by his hand, an adversary, or natural causes. But he would rather not.
As he was slinging himself over a fallen log, a familiar glimmer caught his eye. High in a tree. Shining so splendidly.
Perfect. He wouldn't need to find a replacement quite yet.
Without pause, he was scaling the tree. Boots skimming over the bark as he propelled himself upwards to grasp the hilt of his sword. Easily dislodging it.
It wasn't until he was already on the move that he noted the blade was a tad damaged. Nothing a bit of maintenance couldn't handle. But there were still noticeable blemishes on the sword's typically pristine edge.
He quickly sheathed it and carried on.
Dawn was fully upon the town by the time they made it back. Struggling to do more than illuminate the clouds that continued to pump out rain. So, instead of a bright, cheery morning, the town was cast in unflattering shades of grey. Creating a town that looked less quaint and more I-just-made-a-drug-deal-in-the-alley-behind-Grandma-Karen's.
Colorless and hollow.
He wasn't in a mood to postulate the reason for the sudden change in the town impression.
In his first order of business, the Hunter gathered everything from the tavern room and nicked the pad of paper. Slinging the weighty saddlebags over his shoulder before continuing to the stable. There, he paid the keeper a hefty sum of money to keep the beast until he returned. And God help him if the horse was anything but healthy.
Finally, he turned to the piers. Staring down the damaged house surrounded by a multitude of concerned family members and coworkers. A man on a mission as he pushed through the crowd. Ignoring the agitated chatter.
Not stopping until a man wielding a pistol stepped before him. "Dhampir, did you do this to Leonel's home?"
Briefly, his eyes looked over the damage. The building appearing as if it was standing on its last legs. The roof buckling in. "I suppose I did."
"Then you'd best turn around, Dhampir. Before things get nasty."
Should he feel bad for considering killing the poor man?
Probably.
He didn't. "Step aside. I need to speak with the boy."
The man's hand twitched. Aiming the gun at D's chest. "Leave."
But now, the people around them watched as the man froze in terror. Staring at something they could not see. Whining and whimpering as his pistol dropped to the ground with a loud clatter.
"Step aside."
The man did. As did everyone else in his path. Parting with little qualm and cautious glances towards the man now openly sobbing.
With a sigh, D stepped through the still-open door. Glaring at the bloodstain marring the frame and wood beneath.
Blood that smelled sweet and sour.
Blood that smelled rank.
His nose wrinkled in disgust before he turned to eye the dark man seated in the kitchen. Mouth open as he huffed out small plumes of smoke. Amber eyes bloodshot and haunted.
Leonel chuckled. A mirthless sound as he leaned forward into the small island. Shards of glass sticking into his forearms. "If you've come to kill me, Hunter, please make it… moderately painless."
Despite his ire, D did not wish for the boy's death.
"Or leave me to burn up. I might deserve it."
"You don't."
"Oh?" Another puff of smoke fled his lips. "What makes you so sure?"
Slowly, D stepped around the island. Taking in the shattered glass kicked to one side. The spot of impact on the island. The barely-there scratches left in the wood of the drawer from talons meant for carnage. The smoke leaping from his throat.
He could reconstruct the scene. To a degree.
"It might have been your body," he said. "But it was not you."
"I'm surprised you took the time to even deduce this. Could have just killed me."
"The girls would never forgive me."
Leonel released another laugh before hacking. The cough dry and painful as he struggled for air. And after a time, D approached him. Gesturing for him to recline in the barstool before pressing his left hand to his sternum.
The touch was cool. A balm to his aflame lungs. And slowly, the heat seemed to die. Dwindling into nonexistence beneath his touch. Something he was very grateful for. Something that seemed to drag the last bit of his energy out with it.
For a moment, he drifted.
It just felt so nice to breathe cooler air.
"Why did you approach them?"
Leonel jerked at the question. Flailing. Quickly realizing he was not falling, nor was he dying. After a moment of gathering his wits, he said, "Krista Rhea? I'm not sure."
At least he was honest.
And true to form, he answered the Hunter much the same as he answered the girls. "I was drawn to them. I can't really say why."
"Would you still want them when their Human form fell away?"
"I might be surprised, but I believe their personality is more than reason enough to look past the racial divide." And for some reason, he felt compelled to continue. Stating, "I would accommodate them anyway I could. Care for them. Love them and the little one."
"Little one?"
He balked. "I assumed they were pregnant based off their touchy stomach. Are they not?"
"No."
"Oh…" He smiled. Rolling out his shoulders as he said, "No wonder they laughed when I asked."
Now, Leonel sighed. Staring down at the hand still pressed to his chest. "I don't see reason for all your asking, however. I don't even know if my attraction was me or my… invader."
"It was you," D assured without pause. "He cannot work without fuel."
"I'm not sure if that is reassuring."
"Depends on your point of view."
Silence.
Eventually, D withdrew his touch, and Leonel heaved a sigh of relief when the fire did not reignite. Praying that it would not return as he breathed his thanks.
"You should visit a spiritual counselor," the Hunter advised. "I don't believe he will return, but you would do well to seek mending."
"I will."
With a short nod, D turned. Understanding why the girls would be so confused. He was a good man. Genuinely. Sweet and considerate. As the girls stated, however, it was a shame they were not attracted to him. He would have been a wonderful match.
Yet, they still desired him. A Dhampir constantly on the move.
Perhaps if he gave them what they desired, they would see…
No.
That was simply the beast talking. Tempting him.
"You know, Hunter?"
D stopped in the doorway. Listening despite not turning to face the boy.
"I pray you save them. And kindly ask that you bring them back should you not work out."
His lips twisted. Although, he couldn't tell if it was in amusement or not.
"Don't misunderstand. I know it is unlikely, but… well…" And there came that winning grin. Crinkling his eyes and lighting up his face. Something D did not have to see to know it existed in that moment. "If you ever come through, I will try a second time."
Now, the Hunter's lips did curl upwards the slightest bit. An expression so slight, not many would be able to tell a difference.
He could appreciate the man's dedication and tenacity. His candor.
Softly, he said, "I'll keep that in mind."
And Leonel watched him leave. Not noticing the handful of large bills resting upon the wicker sofa until the man was long gone.
More than enough to build his larger family home.