Path of the Vampire forum

Posted: **06 Jun 2015, 12:49**

Peter could have argued the semantics. The fact that she shouldn’t apologise for potentially making Peter uncomfortable because it was just a potential, and there was no way that she could have avoided it even if it had made Peter uncomfortable. He could have pointed out that if he were so worried about germs he would never have taken Jacey’s hand to begin with. Which was the truth, honestly. Peter never did anything that he didn’t want to do and he was never ashamed of giving his excuses, either. He was normally pretty damned blunt with them.

Peter didn’t say any of it, however. She had asked him how long he’d been in Harper Rock and his head had bowed, everything else banished from it to focus on the numbers. His eyes screwed shut. August, twenty-thirteen is when he’d come to Harper Rock. August twentieth, twelve-fifteen in the afternoon.

”One year…nine months, ten days and eight… eight hours,” he said. He was again reminded that he didn’t have his watch with him. Otherwise he’d be able to give the exact minutes, too. It disturbed him that he couldn’t. He backtracked. One step, and then two.

”I’ll tell you exactly how long. I just need to get my watch. My watch is inside. Do you mind looking after the dogs? I’ll be back,” he said. He didn’t give any time frames. He was just about to turn around and start walking back toward the Asylum without even waiting for an answer. But he had to stop. One step mid-air, terror crawling through his skin one pin-prickle at a time. The dogs scattered, first; they could sense the change in the atmosphere. The not-rightness of it. The snarled and whimpered, their paws kicking up the dirt as the formed a wide circle around the disruption.

The disruption was a break in the realms between Peter and Jacey. At first just a shimmering shift. But then tendrils of shadows and a glimpse into a darker plane. A hefty monster slipped through the disturbance, far more graceful than it ought to have been. Peter had seen this thing once before. Just once. Its vicious claws had torn a gaping hole in his gut that hadn’t healed for days. It was one of the reasons why he chose never to leave the Asylum—assuming, stupidly, that it couldn’t get him while he was inside.

He was frozen to the spot, mouth agape. There was that one vow that kicked through his head; never go outside again, Peter. Ever.

Posted: **06 Jun 2015, 14:20**

She listened to him intently, her gaze never wavering from his face. The poor man seemed to get more agitated as he started giving her the exact amount of time that he had lived in this very city. She opened her mouth to comment on how short of a time that really was, when he asked her to watch the dogs so he could get his watch.

Ah, she thought to herself. That had to be the source of his agitation. Perhaps his compulsion was to count and recount, to keep track of numbers. But she wasn't going to say anything about it. It wasn't her business and she wouldn't make him uncomfortable by calling it out. The last time she had conversed with someone who had OCD, she had been herself - questioning and prodding where she shouldn't - and she had made the person so uncomfortable that they refused to speak with her. Instead, she nodded her head, starting to bend down to put the dogs again.

As she reached out to start running her hands over their fur once again, the dogs moved away suddenly. They had begun to snarl and whimper, startling Jacey for the second time this night. This time, she couldn't catch herself. She fell backwards, onto the dirt. It was a good thing it wasn't from a standing position. "What in the world?"

It was then something strange caught her attention. A strange shimmering phenomenon was happening in front of her eyes. Perhaps it was just the trick of the light, her brain tried to rationalize. How would that make sense? It was night time. As Jacey stared in disbelief, something came through the shimmer. Something very dark. The vibes it gave off chilled her to the bone. She tried to take in the appearance of the. . . thing. . . in front of her. But all she could see, all she could feel, was darkness. And then she noticed the claws. Something that dark should not have claws. It was already terrifying enough! Things of nightmares. Her chest constricted in fear. The dogs continued to snarl, pulling her gaze from the monstrosity in front of her.

"Peter," Jacey called, panicked. "What is that thing!?" The woman tried to think straight, but couldn't. Should she run? Should she go to Peter? Jacey's body seemed to decide for her. It pushed her off the ground, feet moving quickly. Instead of away from the scene, the terrifying thing in front of her, the feet moved her forward, trying to move quickly around the dark beast - a wide berth -, towards Peter.

Posted: **07 Jun 2015, 08:42**

If Peter were by himself he’d have made a run for it. His lips twisted, hand lifting—instinct, to whistle for the dogs and turn tail. Get the hell out of dodge. Back indoors. Slam the door behind him. Never look back. There was no way he could take on an Alpha and get away with it. There was no way he’d actually ever willingly take one on to begin with.

But Peter was a feeling man, at heart. He was the man who saw a bird with a broken wing and rather than walk right on past and let nature take its course, he’d pick it up and take it home and put it in a nice warm box to hand feed until it was able to fly again. He was the kind of guy who took in strays, left right and centre. Hell, he’d bought an entire animal rescue centre in order to serve that purpose.

He expected Jacey to run the other way. Maybe if they both ran in opposite directions, the beast would disappear again and no one would get hurt. He backed up another step, two. But the girl didn’t do what Peter expected her to. Instead, she started to run toward Peter. Why? Why the hell would she do that? Where the beast had been facing Peter, where had been heading toward the definite vampire in the vicinity, it now turned toward the other running thing within its periphery. Maybe it was confused, what with all the dogs. At least they had the sense to keep their distance. Quite a few of them had already scooted behind Peter, their tails between their legs.

”G—No!” Peter called out. He had no idea what he was about to say. He might not be a cursing man, but he could definitely blaspheme. Probably not best to insult God, though, if there was one. Not right now. So, although Peter’s body was screaming at him to run in the opposite direction, he ended up lurching forward. As if, somehow, he could shield this clumsy idiot from getting herself mauled by the Alpha Fadebeast.

Peter didn’t have that nifty power where he could run faster than the speed of light. He wasn’t going to reach her in time. No way was he going to reach her in time. He was measuring the distance with his eyes, and regardless of how long his legs might be, he wasn’t going to get there. Even though he was running toward the scene, he had that dreadful feeling like he was about to watch chaos unfold in front of his eyes. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Posted: **07 Jun 2015, 15:33**

Making smart, safe decisions had never been Jacey's forte. In first grade, Jacey was dared to jump out of the tree she had been climbing. She was a few feet off the ground. To show that she wasn't a coward, Jacey jumped out from where she was. She ended up with a broken leg. In seventh grade, Jacey - one who was against violence - got into a fist fight with a young man who had been insulting her mother. Jacey ended up suspended and a black eye. These were only but a few examples of the many, many poor decisions that Jacey has made.

She realized her mistake as soon as the beast started to turn towards her. Maybe she could get to Peter, grab his hand and run. That was the game plan at least. Get somewhere that was safe and away from Mr. Scary Claws. Vaguely, her mind registered that Peter had yelled out "no," but it was already too late for her to stop running.

She started to run faster, hoping that the beast wouldn't catch her. It was large. It couldn't be that fast. But the beast started lumbering towards her, moving quickly for the massive thing that it was. The closer it got, the more panic that Jacey felt. The more that she started to regret her decision to run at Peter. It wasn't far from her when it lashed out at her, it's long claws catching her across the stomach. Too stunned to feel pain, Jacey dropped to the ground, bleeding.

The beast must have been satisfied, because the shimmer that had let the beast come to them in the first place. The monstrosity lumbered back towards the shimmer, slowly fading into the shadow that had seeped out. Just like that, it was gone. And Jacey continued to bleed.

Posted: **09 Jun 2015, 13:29**

Peter had only been attacked once by the Alpha Fadebeast and he knew it wasn’t a pleasant experience. At least his blood had just dissipated and hadn’t stained the floor he was sprawled out on afterwards. At least he hadn’t passed out due to the sight of blood. But he had been witness to thing’s coming and going. It had done exactly what it just did. Came out of nowhere to gouge his gut only to disappear back into the same nowhere. What was it with these things and their need only to gouge stomachs?

Point was—Peter was able to heal. It took a while and he jumped at every little sound (he still does, even though he’d just got over doing just that due to past troubles within his own family) but he did heal, eventually, and didn’t even have a scar to prove it had ever happened. Jacey, though? Jacey was human. If she harboured the same kind of wound that Peter had, then there was no way she was going to survive. No way at all.

The dogs calmed down as soon as the beast disappeared. Lady was the first one at Jacey’s side, licking her cheek. The Border Collie was the most attentive; the one who seemed more in tune with the emotions of humans than the others were. She was the first one to find someone in need and try to comfort them, for whatever reason. Maybe it was a canine sixth sense. Whatever the case, her tail was still low and wagging half-heartedly. Her ears were floppy and when she heard Peter approaching, her blue eyes were wide and terrified and pleading. She was a gem of a dog and if anything ever happened to her Peter knew he would be devastated.

The scent of the blood hit him first and he had to force himself not to breathe. He stumbled as soon as he saw it, resisting the urge to put distance between himself and the blonde. He’d passed out after turning Whitaker. It couldn’t happen again.

And just like that, he knew what he was going to do. As soon as he thought of Whit, he knew he was going to bring this girl into the fold. She had a bright spark; the kind of spark that didn’t deserve to be snuffed out. And she would die if she didn’t.

A wave of nausea washed over Peter as he dropped to the ground beside Jacey. At least he wouldn’t have to drain her. The wound was bleeding out enough, the blood seeping into the cold ground. As soon as Peter was on his knees all the other dogs rushed over, though they kept their distance. They didn’t like the smell of blood, either. Lady remained close by.

He caught Jacey so that she was half laying over his lap. Without hesitation, he brought his wrist to his mouth and cut into the tender skin over the vein with his own sharp teeth. The blood that spilled free was like ink and smoke, but only as soon as it hit the air. Taken straight from the vein, he assumed it might taste like ordinary blood. Though, he wouldn’t really know. He’d never tasted his own blood. But it had worked in the past. And this was the first time he’d tried since Keara had done the ritual on him. Under his breath, he begged for it to work.

He held the wrist to Jacey’s mouth.

”Drink this or you’ll die,” he said. Blunt, even now.

Posted: **10 Jun 2015, 01:45**

Jacey's mind began to wander as she lay on the ground, blood draining rather quickly from her body. Her mind went to her mother. Her mother, who made sure that she learned to tie her shoes. Her mother, who had made sure that she would be able to speak in the hearing world, even when she could not. Her mother, who worried constantly for her only daughter. Sure, Jacey had a little brother, but Jacey was the oldest. Her mother's pride. The woman was going to panic when she didn't hear from her daughter. Jacey and her mother had weekly FaceTime meetings, at the same time on the same day. What was her mother going to do when she missed that meeting? Jocelyn Cavanaugh had even talked to her daughter about going on this trip. Why would her daughter leave her job - a job that she had worked so hard for, had graduated early for, was homeschooled in order to get into college early for - to go travel? Traveling, to Jocelyn who had never travelled before, was dangerous. She was concerned that something could happen to her, like the girls that she had seen on the television. It was too often, her mother had signed. Too often girls went missing. And now, Jacey was going to become one of those statistics. But at least she would be able to be returned to her mother. At least, she hoped.

A wet tongue caused Jacey to come back to reality. A black and white dog was at her side, doing it's best to comfort her. She didn't want the dog to lick her. Hadn't she heard somewhere that blood caused dogs to turn feral or something? Or was that something that she had made up just now? Was that even a fact? Regardless, the licking did comfort Jacey a bit. She reached up slowly to run her hand down over the dog's fur once before she dropped her arm. It had begun to feel like a lead balloon.

The movement of the man caught her attention. He had dropped to the ground. Maybe he was going to comfort her as well. She turned her attention from the dog to the man. At least she wouldn't be alone. However, he did something strange. He brought his wrist up to his mouth. What was that going to do? Why wasn't he calling 911 or whatever it was up in Canada? Why did he have his mouth to his lips? And why was he bringing his wrist to her mouth?

Drink this or you'll die. Was he serious? How was that going to help her? It wouldn't. She tried to lift her hand up to push his wrist away from her mouth, but couldn't. The lead had set into her limbs. What could it hurt to humor the man, she thought to herself, her vision starting to fade. With effort, Jacey placed her mouth around the man's wrist, feeling the coppery liquid of what she assumed was blood slide down her throat, choking her. She didn't release his wrist though, until the blackness consumed her.

Posted: **12 Jun 2015, 13:06**

”…Jacey,” Peter muttered. The name was still foreign on his tongue. A girl he didn’t know, who he had just met. No sooner had her lips closed around his wrist that her body went limp. And here he was, muttering her name. A complete stranger. How could he hope for his voice to summon her out of death’s arms, if that’s where she was going?

Peter did not have much experience in the turning of others. Most of his attempts were hashed at best and perhaps so blurred and unfocused that they had been burned from his memory. He could only very clearly remember Whitaker, who had been in so much of a hurry that he had inadvertently caused Peter to pass out. What kind of sire could he be, anyway? So often weak and cowardly, so often retreating to his room because he knew its dimensions so well. So irritating that the woman who had proclaimed that she had loved him had left him?

If this girl died, maybe death would take better care of her than Peter could. Sure, Peter could look after his dogs well enough, but they were dogs. And as much as he treated them like humans, as much as they were given all the love and respect that other people might deserve, they were still dogs. Their loyalty was unwavering because they had no judgment to give. They knew him as the man who provided for them. There was nothing else that their minds could compute. He was not cruel, and that was all they needed to give him unending love.

No breath was taken. The girl’s name was not uttered any more than just the once. The body was dead and limp in Peter’s arms but he lifted it from the ground, anyway. He could not leave it out here in the park, even though he was almost certain that he had failed. Had to have failed. On the way back to the Asylum, he stumbled several times though he at least managed to keep the body gripped in his arms. He could feel the warmth of her blood seeping into his pyjama shirt and those few times he stumbled were the few times he was close to passing out.

It was a feat unimagined that he did finally get her inside and into one of the side rooms; the one with the couches and the fireplace where Peter often sat to read. He at least managed to lay the body out on the couch; he had all good intentions of going for help, then. Of calling someone. He was ninety-eight percent certain that he had just brought a dead body into the house, the dogs trailing mud and muck behind them.

He couldn’t even manage to feel grief for this unknown woman, though. When he laid her out on the couch he made the mistake of sucking in a breath; the scent of the blood overwhelmed him instantly. The darkness rushed in. Peter, too, passed out cold, right there beside the couch, with the dogs frantically beating a path around them.

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