Bitter Defeat [Open]

[Ephraim Steele]

Things were beginning to spin out of control.

The vampire problem was something on a scope that he hadn’t even begun to understand. He hadn’t even imagined the depth that this darkness had dug its claws into their reality, the breach that had been created in the world around them to the broken world of the damned. That they weren’t the only things pouring through these holes in the universe was hardly a surprise to the paladin. The things he learned just listening on the streets at night, it made his blood run cold. Heather and her ilk were the smallest part of the real problem, her little offshoot of vampires bent to her personal vendetta were, if anything, less a threat to the world than the entire rest of the situation. They were focused, driven at one thing; destroying him. That made Ephraim’s drive to live all the stronger. The more focus that could be driven to taking him out, the less focus there was on… well, anything else at all.

Whatever these monsters set their minds to, they were bound to accomplish eventually. He’d heard tale of vampires that had survived entire centuries, that had crossed the sands of time to land somewhere here in their millennium. He had seen little to none in the way of evidence of these ancient creatures, but even without them, the younger few that were so easily found about anywhere in this city were more than enough to cause a grave concern for the state of the world around them. With more of them created every day, it was only time before these monsters outnumbered the regular people left here in the city. Only time until they were all that was left of this city, and what then?

What then, indeed.

Food sources would be depleted, obliterated by the surge in population of the predator, and the virtual eradication of the immediate supply of prey. All that would remain to them would be to branch out, to begin reaching into other towns, cities, to cross the border back into the States. This was a slow, crawling epidemic, but it was a cancer that wasn’t going to let go of the toehold it had found here in Harper Rock. The only way that the problem could be eradicated is if this darkness was purged from the earth, that every vampire was slaughtered, butchered if need be, and sent back to their broken hell, whatever means of transversal they had contrived had to be eradicated.

Whatever the course, the vein of the solution was all the same. They had to be stopped, if mankind intended to survive. If God’s creation meant to continue, then they must be erased. These creatures, these unholy monsters, they were not a part of His design. They were abominations, contrived of the darkness of man’s heart, the sins that twisted their forms into these beasts were lost to time, but the results survived, spreading like a plague amongst the healthy, the god-fearing of the world. They were damning souls to hell that, by all intents and purposes, had paved their way to the holy city long before they ever had an encounter with the undead.

The first that came to his mind; Heather.

She should have passed on, to be at peace. Instead, she prowled the streets by night, under the cover of darkness, reproducing, generating more of her kind, and spurring those beasts to create more like them. They were becoming impossible to handle, his small band of fighters barely holding together. Jana was nearly dead, and he wasn’t sure how long she would survive her wounds, or, as of this evening, that she was even alive. He hadn’t had word from Osmond, so he would assume that, for the time being, that she was still breathing.

He pushed his palm against his cheek and swept it up and across his brow, wiping away the sweat that dripped into his eyes to sting and blur his vision. He rolled his tongue over his lip, tasting the salty sweat that lingered there as his steely blue eyes narrowed on the darkness of the street in front of him. He lifted his radio to his lips and tapped the key to speak. “You’re certain you saw them come this way, Antoine? You’re sure that they were moving toward Cherrydale?” He let his eyes cut across the rooftops, watching for bodies launching themselves across the streets above their heads, avoiding their detection. He knew, though, that Jenna was sitting on the rooftop across the street, her high powered rifle trained on the roofs all around her, the night vision scope mounted on her rifle offering her all the visual assistance she would require.

Up high, she wouldn’t use the radio herself until she had visual confirmation, but would double-tap the talk button, causing a burst of static, silent on her end, and not giving away her position, her radio plugged into a headset that covered her left ear. Tiberius was in the alley across from Ephraim, his nickel plated nine millimeter pulled tight to his chest as he waited, eyes lifted to the night sky as he said a silent prayer and pulled the rosary around his knuckles to his lips. The radio at Ephraim’s hip crackled, Antoine’s voice whispering over the set. “Yeah, I ain’t some kind of stupid, Eph. I saw ‘em, but that don’t mean they didn’t change direction somewhere down the street.”

He sighed, and shook his head as he pulled his radio to his lips again. “You’re right. Lashanda, do you have a visual?”

Shaking her thick, ebony ringlets, the tall, slender, willowy woman placed her hand to her face, rubbing at her cheek with a subtle brush of her dark cocoa lips against the clasp of her bracelet. “Yeah, I’ve got n-“ Her transmission cut out, setting everyone on edge, everyone primed, or already bolting in the direction of her location. Ephraim was lifting his radio as Tiberius was already shouting into his own set. “Lashanda, girl, you best be finishing that sentence right the **** now, I ain’t even playin’ witchu.” He pulled the slide on his pistol, chambering a round as he rushed out into the street, already sprinting down the wide boulevard toward the corner where his sister was supposed to be waiting for the hunting party of vampires.

At once, the woman’s voice burst over the comms. “I’m fine, I’m fine, I dropped the bracelet. They’re coming, they’re coming.” Tiberius didn’t have a chance. The first of them descended on him with a blow to his jaw that knocked two of his gold teeth into the street. Blood sprayed through the air as the vampire snatched out a hand, gripping his shirt as she held the tall, lanky man upright by the grip in the fabric. Her lips twisted in a dangerous smirk as she lifted the man up off his feet. “Come out, little rats. Come out, or you’ll get a little taste of what we’ve got in store for the whole lot of you, if you don’t give him up.”

Ephraim was out of the shadows in a flash, his blade flicked from its sheath as she threw Tiberius’s form at him, hoping to slow him down. He ducked beneath the flying man, knowing that the impact wouldn’t kill him as he hit the asphalt with a grunt, only proving him right. “Got you, asshole.” The tall, pale skinned woman sneered as she flicked her knife just in time to catch the blade in a parry, driving his strike away and countering with a backslash that caught him in the arm, his blood splashing across the street as he danced away from another jab, the point of her blade whistling past his ear, the steel biting just a small chunk of the flesh as he backed off, putting distance between them. He grimaced at the burn that the blade’s bites had left behind, stinging up the length of his forearm and a gentle kiss to his ear. It was just a small reminder of the blows, with no lasting damage but a very real warning. This woman wasn’t to be taken lightly.

He flipped his blade in his hand as a pair of women appeared at her flanks, one standing to either side of her as they moved into a formation. It was the three of them against him and what was left of his hunting party. Tiberius wasn’t likely to be standing again for a minute and, in truth, should probably be moved from the immediate engagement area, lest he became a liability. For the moment, Ephraim stood his ground, his weapon raised at the ready as the attacker gave a low, amused chuckle as she flipped her knife through the air, pommel over tip, catching it by the barest touch of her fingertips against the pommel and tossing it back into the air again and again as she watched the man with an amused smile on her lips.

She cocked her head to one side, the wave of rich, dark chocolate curls fell down her body like a wave of liquid chocolate, the tips of her strands hanging about at her hip as she pushed a hand through the hair, pushing it from her face. “So you are the mighty Ephraim Steele? What a joke.” She snorted a laugh and jerked her head to the left. The woman on the corresponding side advanced, her auburn hair tied back in a knot, her thick, black rimmed glasses hanging low on the bridge of her nose as she lifted a small knife. “Heather says hi.” The first woman said as the smaller woman took another tentative step forward. “Oh, for the love of… don’t be a pussy.” She stepped forward and jammed her knife in the woman’s back, the blade slipping through her ribs and impaling her heart.

The young woman went rigid, her eyes wide with pain as she stared at Ephraim in fear, before her body burst into ash, floating to the street in a slowly drifting cloud, until nothing was left of her but a fine layer of dust and a pile of empty clothes. “******* useless, most of this crowd. Heather sure can pick ‘em, don’t you think?” She shook her head and clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Sandra.” She needn’t say more. The tiny Latina at her right rushed forward, a short blade held in both of her hands as she advanced quickly, thrust out before her in an all out charge. Ephraim remained in place, unmoving as the woman advanced in silence. She twitched her hands at the last moment and her blade dipped beneath his defense, slicing at his leg. He dropped his pommel in a crushing blow, snapping her wrist at the joint. Her hand fell open, hanging limp at the end of her wrist and leaving her one good hand to grip her weapon. She grit her teeth in pain and hissed. She snarled a string of Portuguese at him, words that he didn’t understand as she spat them, moving to circle around him. Only then did his feet begin to move.

He was smarter than allowing the two of them to take him from either side, and he knew better than to turn his back on the first woman. She was, obviously, the more senior of the party, the others following her orders without question. He lifted his blade, then, and pointed it to the young woman named Sandra, as he learned. As she lowered her body and prepared for another drive, a sound erupted from the sky like thunder, a bullet slamming into the Latina’s skull and splashing her brains across the street through the new hole in her jaw. Still, the woman didn’t go down, one eye crossed to look as far to the center of her face as it could, the other still coldly drawn on Ephraim. She stumbled forward with a groan as another clap of thunder filled the air, this time punching through her chest. The Latina fell into the street and didn’t move again.

Ephraim moved himself to chance a glance at Tiberius out of his peripheral, and saw that Antoine had moved him back into the alley, back to safety. He lifted two fingers and tapped the guard of his blade, Jenna’s signal to check the wounded. Ephraim stared the remaining vampire down, his gaze a hard glint of steel in a mask of cold stone as the woman simply laughed, never lifting a finger to help the younger vampires. She shook her head and drew her fingertip across her blade, drawing a drop of her own blood. As she passed her hand in front of her, inky, smoky splotches clung to the air in front of her and she let her tongue move slowly over her lips before she traced it along her fingertip, tasting her own blood. She gave a small shiver of her shoulders before she popped the finger from her lips and grinned. “Don’t get too full of yourself yet, honey. You’re only getting started.”

The inky spots burst, a thick cloud of shadows surrounding the woman until she vanished in the darkness of the shadowy street. Knitting his brows, he kept his weapon at the ready, taking a step back as he lifted his radio. “Jenna. Is everyone else okay?” There was a pause as the tall sorceress pulled Tiberius’s radio free, holding it up to her mouth as she looked the man over. “He’s unconscious, but I think he’s going to be alright. Probably going to be pretty pissed about those teeth, but if you ask me, he got out lucky.” Ephraim exhaled, and took another step back. He knew better than to trust these monsters, that lying and deceit were all a part of the package when it came to dealing with demons, what he didn’t know, what he couldn’t know, was where the woman was going to strike next. The only real, concrete piece of evidence he had was the intense, oppressive aura that weighed on him like a ton of bricks, the unease in the air making the hairs on the base of his neck stand at attention.

She was near. She was stalking her prey.

When she burst from the darkness, the weapon in her hands was unlike anything that Ephraim had ever seen. The knife seemed to have all but vanished, the blade in her grip was like she was grasping a shadow, like she was about to cut into him with the very essence of darkness. He recoiled from the strike, but not before she left a deep gash across his shoulder, the blade slicing through him like he was little more than a man made of butter. Pain shot through him and he gave a grunt of agony as he controlled his mind, shutting out the nature of the man, setting aside the intense desire to turn and run in the face of an overwhelming enemy. He grit his teeth, the pain a focal point for his concentration as the woman came at him again, the shadowy blade in her grasp growing smaller with each instant, the shadows less substantial with each slash she sent in his direction.

The final blow he caught with the hard steel of his blade, shoving back her downward slash and throwing a fist into her ribs, cracking bone. She gave a grunt, and stepped away, disengaging as she lifted a hand to the broken bone. She grimaced, and tried to touch the wounded spot, earning a blossom of pain that radiated through her entire side. “******* asshole. Why don’t you just lie down and die? Wouldn’t that be easier than all of this?”

The tall man let his lips twitch in a smirk, the golden curls of his beard twisting with his smile as he shook his head, the tight tail of his sandy blonde locks neatly kempt at the back of his skull. “One might ask the same of you, miss. Why don’t you put down your sword, and allow me to send you into the arms of your maker?” She laughed, and slashed at him again, a lazy, slow strike, simply filling the space between them with more than empty words. “Go to hell.” She spat, and he shook his head again, his blade pointed into her chest. She ran forward, slashing her blade as he flicked the weapon up, the tip of the blade catching her chin and leaving a long cut in the left side of her face.

She howled in pain, her hand clutching the gash in her cheek as she gave another aimless, wild swing. “****, that hurts… ******* burns man, my ******* face. What’s your problem?” She backed away and lifted her weapon again. He hated this. He hated that Heather knew how to manipulate him, to make this so much harder than it really needed to be. The street, deserted in the middle of the night, would have been a warzone if even one person happened by. A tall, muscle bound man like himself, assaulting such a pretty, innocent looking thing. It was a prime case of appearances speaking louder than the truth. The whole world would turn on him in an instant, before he had so much as a chance to utter a word in his defense. Thankfully, there hadn’t been a soul on the deserted street tonight, none outside of his party, and this scouting group.

The woman took another step back and pulled her hand away from her face, watching the splashes of smoky blood drip across the surface of reality, clinging to the air itself, like it was splashed across some invisible stone, some unseen obstacle that kept it from falling to the earth. Her dark, red-brown eyes watched him in fury as she held her hand to her side again. “So I guess she was right, that we shouldn’t try and take you on alone.” She laughed, the sound low and cruel as she brushed her lips against her wrist, wiping away the blood as she pulled her phone to her face. He advanced to stop her, and she lifted her blade again, giving him just enough pause to rethink the situation. She was calling in backup. She was going to bring more of them here, and, possibly, Heather herself. He could end it all right here, if he could just hold out long enough to see this through to the end.

He took several paces back, putting distance between them as he began to mentally take an inventory of his wounds. He wasn’t doing so well, a slash across his forearm, while initially inconsequential, compounded the nerve activity in the arm as he flexed his fingers, sending a white flame of pain spreading through his veins. He grimaced, and lifted the arm, finding it stiff and painful to even look at, much less to apply any kind of weight to it. He shook his head and took a deep breath. He wasn’t in the best of shape, but it was what he had. He was going to have to fight for this finish, and if it wasn’t going to be Heather herself, then he would take out as much of her little swarm as he could manage.

But what is the point, Ephraim?

With a start, he darted back another pace, nearly backing himself into a wall. He began to move to the side, sweeping himself across the street as the woman advanced with every step he took. He frowned, and shook his head again, trying to clear his thoughts. If he was beginning to hallucinate now, then it wasn’t going to be good when the real meat of the problem came down on him with a vengeance like God himself. He flexed the fingers of his wounded arm and clenched his eyes tight against the pain, opening them quickly to catch his opponent trying to slip further into his reach, to close the gap between them and catch him off guard. Nothing was sacred to these monsters.

He grit his teeth, and pushed his hand through his beard, wiping away the blood that splashed across his mouth. It was all in his head. For certain.

But what if it isn’t, Ephraim? What if I told you that it didn’t have to be that way?

He lifted both hands to his temples, still clutching his blade as he held his head, moving several paces back as he shook his head wildly. “Get out. Get out, stop messing with my head. He’s dead. I know he’s dead, and you should leave him where he lies. Is nothing too much for you monsters? Is there nothing that you won’t do?” His eyes misted with pain, physical and emotional, as the voice of his childhood friend filled his mind. He’d watched Tré turn back, he’d heard his scream… nothing living screamed like that, that much he had known… but he had never gone back.

He had never gone back to look for him, to find his body and give him a proper burial. Instead, he had taken Heather, and they had run for their lives, right into her death as well. He was all that was left of them, and that was how it was supposed to have ended. Instead, Heather had been risen a vampire, the very beast she had come to destroy, and Tré was lodged somewhere inside of Ephraim’s brain, trying to talk some kind of sense into him, and instead he was driving him mad, taking his consciousness to the brink of insanity. How could it really be him? How could he be hearing the voice of a dead man inside of his own mind?

It was then that he saw him.

He nearly collapsed into the street, his knees catching him against the asphalt as he dropped to them, his sword still in his hand, but his arm falling to his side. The woman that had been dancing around him made to advance, and Tré’s hand reached out and grasped her shoulder, halting her advance. He half expected him to brutally execute her, the same as she had her subordinates. Instead, he lifted his hand to her hair, cradled her skull in his touch, and smiled. “You did well, Vera. I will see to it personally that you are rewarded for your loyalty and hard work.”

The Latina smiled, her lips curled into an insane grin as she bowed her head in a giddy act of submission. “Yes, sir.” She said quickly, sliding from his path and allowing him to pass. She backed away from him then, her stance more relaxed with the presence of the male. She drifted slowly, moving to place herself between the group of Ephraim’s soldiers and the two men in the street. Tré looked down on Ephraim, shaking his head as he squatted in front of him, bringing himself down to his level. His hard, green eyes narrowed on him, looking over Ephraim’s face as he worked his lips before he tugged at his wild, bristly beard, the dark curls tangled and unruly, unlike the well kempt mane of his counterpart. “So I’ve finally found you.” He murmured, and lifted a hand to place it on his shoulder. “Ephraim, I found you… you have no idea how good it is to see you.”

The paladin stared, stunned and broken, at the man, the brother that he had truly believed dead and gone. He couldn’t process that the man was there in front of him, there just wasn’t any way.

There was one way.

Ice water poured through his veins, sending a chill down his spine. His friend, his brother, his companion since the earliest memories he could remember… he was gone. He was farther gone than the grave could ever have taken him. The corruption that clung to him now… there was no coming back from that.

“What…. What have you become, Tré? What have you done to yourself?”

The man’s lips twisted in a wry smirk as he stood, and drew his blade, the twin to the one hanging loosely from Ephraim’s fingertips, the tip dipped into the wet asphalt at the other man’s feet. “I’ve become what you can never be, Ephraim. I don’t serve some fool god on a hopeless crusade against some unholy darkness. I am a god, Ephraim. I am everything, and I came here first, before Heather and her pack of lunatics could get here, to offer you the same thing. To make you one of us.”

The man on his knees looked up, into the eyes of a stranger. What he saw, when he looked into the face he had known his whole life, was an emptiness that would never be filled again. He shook his head and spat into the street.

“I would rather die.”

Tré frowned, and lifted the finely crafted blade to rest it on Ephraim’s shoulder. “So be it, then.”

[Sawyer (DELETED 7853)]

Cupping her palm around the tip of her cigarette, she gave her lighter a few clicks to light the flame as her eyes quietly scanned the abandoned liquor store for signs of life. The toxins burned her throat as she breathed in, allowing the smoke to build in her lungs before she released it on a quiet sigh. She was ******* freezing her *** off, and it was proving to be for nothing. “The **** are you?” It was Friday night, and this was the only building in twenty blocks that her crew hadn’t hit up yet for their ‘special occasions.’ She expected it to be filled with drugs, booze and sluts by now, but it was dark. The dust around the entrance hadn’t been disturbed, and from her vantage point on the dumpster across the street, the windows were undisturbed. No one had scoped the place, and a feeling of unease crept along her spine.

It wasn’t like Brad to miss an opportunity as grand as this one.

“****, I am so dead.” Ashing the cigarette with a flick of her thumbnail, she rested her head against the brick building and sighed. It had been weeks since she had seen him, and thought she couldn’t bring his face completely to her mind, she knew it wasn’t good. Did she love him? **** if she knew. How could she love someone that she didn’t even remember? The one thing she knew was the only thing that mattered - he provided, and she needed him. Flicking her cigarette across the street, she curled her fingers along the grime covered garbage lid and kicked her feet against the metal. The street was deserted, and she didn’t really give a **** if she created noise or not. She was cold, starving, and in need of a fix to take the edge off. It was too easy to slip back into her old ways, to feel the desperation that gripped her chest. It had been days since she had been back to the apartment, and the stench of the city clung to her.

She was back where she belonged, in the underworld.

His kind wouldn’t dare traverse this far into her world. They would be caught up miles from here, dealing with the monsters that filled their nightmares. There was no time for someone like her, someone that was fighting an entirely different battle. Sighing in agitation, she jumped off the edge of the dumpster and dusted off her jeans, her hands trembling as she fought for control. He was supposed to ******* be here, he was was supposed to be dependable. Wasn’t he? **** if she knew, **** if she knew ******* anything. She was slipping. She knew she was slipping - and she did what she did best. She ran. She took a few bucks from the Old Man’s wallet and she slipped out in the middle of the night when Thor and his attack dogs were on patrol. She doubted they even missed her. “Goddamnit, where the **** are you, you asshole?”

Curling her fingers into her hair, she gripped the violet strands and dug her nails into her skull. She could feel the dirt beneath her palm, but even in the state she was in, she was far better than she had been months ago. She smelled like dirt and sweat, but there was still the lingering scent of vanilla and cherries on her skin and embedded in her clothing. Her face was clean - it was the only thing that was, really. Her hair only held a slight feeling of oil, but she still looked… presentable. Well, as presentable as a drug addict needing her next hit could, she supposed. At least I don’t smell like I rolled in the sweat that dripped from a fat fucks asscrack, she thought bitterly and spun, her foot connecting with the side of the dumpster in a childish fit of rage.

She needed that ******* ********.

Her hands continued to shake as she pulled them from her hair and shoved them into the pocket of her jeans, fingers curling around the cash that was wadded carelessly within. He wasn’t here and she knew he wasn’t going to show. He was probably caught up in some charity event where he paraded around as the golden child. No one knew the things he did - or if they did, they looked the other way. She might not be able to remember his face, but she remembered what he did to her. Painful, wretched, wicked things - and she took it in stride. She would do ******* anything, just to get what he had to offer her. You are pathetic. Useless. You were right to leave. Snapping her teeth together, she turned to head out of the alley, her steps sluggish. Everything was painful, every breath she took rattling in her chest. She’d have to find someone else - anyone else - to satisfy the craving that was burning through her veins like poison.

Searching through the darkness for a light, her attention was caught by a lone figure lingering on the corner. His head was ducked and his shoulders were hunched up, his jacket wrapped tight around his bulky frame. He looked far too menacing for someone to approach, but she wasn’t just someone. She was desperate. Pulling her hair into a ponytail, she increased the speed of her steps as she made her way across the sheet, her scuffed boots thudding lightly against the grime covered pavement. “Whatever you have, I’ll take.” She didn’t bother to discern if he was a dealer or just a random pervert that liked to hang on the outskirts of town. They were all the same and they all provided what she needed. The man turned to face her, his fine blonde brow arching as he narrowed his eyes for a moment. Something about her sent her senses on alert, but in her desperation, she thought nothing of it. “Come on, man, I can pay,” she huffed, her breath causing a white cloud to appear between them.

Without missing a beat, she pulled her hands free of her pockets, the cash wadded into pathetic looking balls in her palms. “Six hundred.” His voice was quiet, and the sophisticated British accent took her by surprise. Not many people of money lingered on the street corners like common thugs - unless they were one of Brad’s - but he was far too old. Squinting in the darkness to search his shadowed face, she held her hand out. “****, business must be bad, man. You increased your prices. What are you dealing, anyways? I mean, I don’t care, I can do anything at this point - I just need…” Her words trailed off as she heard herself, and disappointment slammed into her. If Ephraim could see her now…

Forcing his name from her mind, she focused her blurred attention back on the man in front of her, and gave a slow sigh of relief as he began to uncrumple the bills and count them. “Are you sure I am who you are looking for, dove? I provide a specific service, and I am not sure that I am the drug you are seeking.” Even as he spoke, he began to shrug out of his jacket, his muscles rippling with each movement. She could sense the power in him, then, and everything began to click into place. Even in her fogged mind, she knew a threat when she saw it - but he made no move for her. Instead, he pocketed the cash and held his hands out, palms facing her in a show of submission. He wasn’t going to hurt her. He was going to help her. He was going to give her exactly what she needed - or she thought she needed. She knew she wasn’t supposed to try it without Ephraim to guard her, but she had no intention of seeing him again - not after the things she had done. Swallowing thickly, she palmed her switchblade as he rolled up the sleeve of his shirt and removed his rolex. “One pint for six hundred. One drop over, I charge another six.” His tone left no room for argument, and as he held out his arm, she dug the blade over the skin. She couldn’t remember how she knew to do this. It seemed almost as if she were acting on pure instinct.

As the blood welled to the surface, she dipped her head and pressed her lips to the wound, her tongue licking along the skin as she drank hungrily. She could feel the power flood through her system, and at once, she felt… complete. There was no other word for it. When he pulled his hand away, she straightened up and ran her tongue over her plump lower lip, her blue eyes alight with the power that coursed through her. “Thank y---” The words died on her tongue as he vanished into thin air, leaving her standing alone in the center of the street. “Well, **** you, too.” Shaking her head, she scrubbed the heel of her palm against her cheek. She couldn’t explain the awesome feeling that took control.

She was whole again.

Shaking her head, she shoved her hands pack into the pockets of her jeans and headed down the street, her movements more sure and healthy. With a quiet hum, she kicked a few bottles out of her way as she tipped her head back, her gaze admiring the darkened sky above her. She knew it was dangerous to be out so late, but she no longer cared. She felt… invincible. The street signs for Cherrydale caught her attention, and she slid her hand down to her thigh, where her weapons were holstered to her thighs. She had almost forgot about them, and now, she felt the need to use them. She had heard rumblings of vampires lurking in the sewage system, but hadn’t said a damned thing to Ephraim or Jenna about it. Maybe I should check it out and send word by the holy light of God, she thought with a grin as she ducked beneath the sign.

No sooner had her feet touched the street that would lead her to the sewers entrance than the sound of a steel caught her attention. Spinning on her heel she pulled her gun from its holster and thumbed the safety off, her eyes scanning the shadows around her. Ephraim. She couldn’t explain how she knew - but she did. It wasn’t some divine intervention, some whisper from the heavens - just a knowledge that wherever there was a fight, he wouldn’t be far behind. It didn’t take her long to spot him, his head bent and his knees pressed to the ground. Something inside of her snapped at the sight of him defeated, and her teeth ground together. Something whispered to her from her side, a familiar voice - but she paid it no heed as she took off in a run, boots thudding against the ground as she advanced. The man had no time to react as she curled her hand around his neck and lifted him from the ground, her movements too sudden for him.

“Get the **** up,” she snapped as she threw her arm out and released her fingers, sending the man flying through the air. He slammed into the building opposite of them, and as he staggered unsteadily back to his feet, she stood in front of her fallen protector, her gun held steadily as she aimed it between his eyes. “I don’t know who the **** you are, but I’ve had a real bad night. Take your band of whores and get lost.” Her bravado was short lived as a musical laugh sounded near her left, and she was hit with sudden, blinding pain as a throwing star embedded itself in her bicep. “The least you could have done was hit my gun arm, idiot. Who the **** trained you, Helen Keller?” She grit out, though her eyes darkened with pain as her narrowed gaze danced between the male and his companion. Come on, big guy, get the **** up already.

[Ephraim Steele]

Hearing her voice brought him back from the brink. He had given up. Seeing his friend, his comrade, his brother as one of them… it had done more damage to him than any number of blades ever could. It was the entire fight that he had in him, knocked out of him at once, leaving him an empty shell. When she threw herself into harm’s way to buy him that split second, he didn’t give any of them a chance to throw that sacrifice away. He planted the tip of his blade into the asphalt and pushed his weight into the strong steel, lifting himself to his feet. He stood strongly, his legs unshaken as he gave his blade a quick swing. Another shuriken hissed through the air and a flick of his blade sliced it from the sky, sending the metal disc falling to the earth in two halves, the metal tinkling against the asphalt as they tumbled harmlessly away.

Across the street, Tré had unburied himself from the rubble of the brick wall she’d thrown him through, his hands brushing the brick dust from his flesh as he shook his head, a cloud of reddish clay filling the air as his hair aired out. He laughed, and twisted his neck until it cracked with a tremendous crunching sound. The man’s dark eyes levelled on the pair, then, and he smirked. “I see you’ve already replaced her. Good. I won’t feel so bad about the past few months, then.” He flicked the blade through the air, a fine mist of dust rising from the weapon as he moved to circle around his prey. He sneered, his teeth white against the dark mat of his beard. He advanced a step, and the woman with him began to move in a slower, wider circle in the opposite direction, trying to trap them between them.

Ephraim moved with a predator’s grace, his blade clutched tightly in his hand as he moved to keep himself out of the center of their movements. As the woman moved farther out, Tré kept moving until he was against the wall. He was out of room. That was when Ephraim made his strike. He lashed out, his blade flicking through the air like steel lightning. The first slash contacted the bricks, sending sparks raining down over the man’s head as he made his own swing, deflected easily by Ephraim’s blade. Another swing came in low, and caught the man across the torso, the razor sharp edge slicing through his flesh like a hot knife through butter. Tré groaned in agony, his hand moving to his torn stomach as the woman moved to position herself in front of him. “Are you alright?” she asked over her shoulder, her weapon ready to flash out at the man in front of her at his command. She moved with a serpentine grace, her body never stopping its subtle back and forth dance, the gentle sway of her weight back and forth on the balls of her feet as she anticipated her need for lightning movements. As Ephraim lashed out, she jerked back with a speed so quick, he believed she’d never stood there at all. The blade bit into nothing, her body flashing this way and that, dancing around each of his blows as he jabbed at her, the man holding his abdomen together with his good arm as he retreated, drawing back from the street.

“I gave you your chance, Ephraim. Remember what you did with it.” Tré growled from the mouth of an alley before he vanished.

Ephraim spat into the asphalt as the woman with the small blade charged at him again. She grit her teeth and flashed her blade high, ready to swing down and cleave him in two. He went low, the longer blade finding its mark before she even began her downward strike. The tip struck just beneath her breast, the long curve of the hardened steel biting into her torso and puncturing her like a balloon. She gasped, the sound a raw, guttural croak as blood erupted from her mouth. Wide, brown eyes stared in disbelief as she dropped her knife, both hands moving to clutch the sword as she squeezed the steel in her soft hands. “Guh…” she managed, another mouthful of blood gushing from her lips as her legs twitched, rising to try and kick herself free before she went limp, her dead weight sliding down the length of his sword until her head rested on his shoulder.

He took a handful of her thick, dark curls and pulled her head back, holding her in place as he removed the length of his blade from her chest, the weapon sliding from her breast with a sickening, squelching sound. With the blade free, he tossed the corpse to the ground where she bounced once and fell flat on her face, unmoving. Making his way to his feet, he grimaced in pain from the gashes in his flesh, his hard, sharp eyes finding the woman that had come between him and the one thing that was likely to be his end. He gave her a light, half smile as he moved to where she stood, reaching down to pick up his radio. “Lashanda. Are we all clear?” The radio was silent as he moved closer to Sawyer, his grip tightening on his blade. “Lashanda?” Another long moment of silence before he could hear the faintest whisper through the static.

“No…”

The tall, muscle bound paladin moved to step as close to the blood thief as he could manage, his hard eyes set on the corner of the street. At once, two bodies made the corner, one tall and slender, her honey blonde hair bouncing in full, vibrant curls. The other, smaller and curvier, had straight, light brown hair that fell to her shoulders. Behind them were four more, the two on the left identical to one another, the two on the right, the same. Behind them all, at the center of the little cluster, was Heather herself. Short, soft, and wider than the rest, with meticulously kempt golden strands reaching down to her chest, she watched with a sure smirk as she allowed the rest of her escort to advance several steps ahead of her, before they all fell into a halt. She tipped her head to one side with a curious expression on her face before realization seemed to dawn on her. “Ephraim! Oh, you silly, ridiculous man. Are you still at this?” She lifted a hand and waved it nonchalantly to where the woman’s corpse lay at his feet.

She laughed, and tipped her head left and right, both sets of the twins slipping around their smaller guides. “When Vera told me there was trouble near the Cherrydale trains, I would never have suspected that it was you this far north. And with friends? How cute is this?” she turned her startlingly blue eyes to Sawyer, her soft lips tucked between her teeth as she chewed on the ring that pierced her flesh there. She released the metal and smiled. “Pleasure to meet you, I suppose. It’s too bad it’s only so shortly before I have to execute you.” She shrugged her shoulder as the twins on the left moved closer to Sawyer, the two on the right moving on Ephraim, each of them moving as if they were stalking prey, their footsteps slow and deliberate, their eyes locked on their target. “So I guess you finally found out about Tré. Bother. I was hoping to keep that card in my hand a while longer. But no matter.” She flicked her fingers to the left before snapping them, the larger of the twins moved to snatch Ephraim, one of them grasping onto each of his wrists, threatening to tear his arms from their sockets.

He grimaced against the pain, and said nothing as the woman continued in some sort of monologue, not the least bit put off that he gave her little to no reaction. She ran her hands together as she stepped closer, her eyes moving to the second set of twins, then to Sawyer herself. They hadn’t advanced on her yet, but were poised, ready to take her the moment she presented herself as a threat. She placed a cheery smile on her lips and clapped her hands. “Well! It’s so nice that we all could get together like this again, but I have places that I need to be, soooo….” She lifted a shoulder in a shrug and wheeled about on her heel, clicking her tongue. The two that had remained at her sides followed on her heels. She paused, and turned back to the four that remained. “When you’re finished, do something with Vera. I’ll need to find a new second.”

[Sawyer (DELETED 7853)]

Don’t back down.

Running her tongue along her teeth, she kept her gun trained on the vampire, even as she heard the rustle of clothing behind her as he lifted himself to his feet. “How sweet of you to join me,” she quipped, though her attention never wavered from Tré. It was this focused attention that would have cost her, had Ephraim chose to remain a broken man. She paid no attention to the shift in the air, and had it not been for the sound of steel clashing, she never would have known that the woman had primed another star. Gritting her teeth, she lifted her wounded around and cupped her hand around the butt of her gun and chuckled.

“Still a no go, girl. A for effort, though.”

At the angry hiss that slipped between clenched teeth, Sawyer tipped her head back and laughed. Oh, this **** was ******* priceless. They were supposed to fear these walking corpses? Maybe it was the power rippling through her veins, or maybe she was just that ******* insane, but she found no reason to worry. Tightening her hold on her gun, she narrowed her eyes as the bearded man straightened up, his smile far too sinister. “Because you looked really concerned before,” she snapped, though her attention wavered momentarily. Replaced her? Replaced who? The question gave her pause, and that was all they needed to begin to circle, their eyes darting like wild rabbits back and forth between the pair. Spinning in a slow circle, she kept the man in her sights, though she could sense the shift in the female. Her gaze was locked on her arm, her eyes hungry as the followed the trail of blood that pooled beneath her. ****, she thought as she moved her gun to her unused hand.

Reaching up, she pinched the shuriken delicately between her fingers and gasped at the pain the simple touch brought her. Don’t show weakness! At the encouraging words in her mind, she kept her eyes locked on the woman as she used her strength to pull the weapon from her skin, her breath easing out in a slow hiss between her teeth as her vision darkened. Clutching it in her hand, she felt her blood warm her palm as she forced a smile to her pale lips. With a flourish, she gave the shuriken a twist, the weapon embedding itself into the center of Tré’s chest, scant inches from where Ephraim’s blade had sliced through his stomach. When the female diverted her attention, Sawyer allowed herself a moment of weakness, her gun trembling in her hand. Her blood drenched her shirt, the white off-shoulder tunic stained crimson. She could already hear Jenna in her head, but she had warned her that anything she loaned would be destroyed.

With the vampires distracted, she lowered her weapon and pulled her shirt over her head before balling it up and tossing it away from them, leaving her in her work-out bra and jeans. It wasn’t exactly ideal, but when you’re surrounded by vampires and bleeding, you do what the **** you can. Sinking her teeth into her lower lip, she watched as the woman collapsed to the ground, her eyes open and focused blankly on the pavement below them. It had happened far too quickly for her to keep up with, and she could only stare at her when Ephraim turned his gaze her way. “Replace who?” She heard the question, and she knew that it was the most ridiculous thing she could have said in that moment, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to be involved in some twisted love affair - not that she was anything of his. No, she’d pretty much turned that down and burned it up the second she vanished into the night without warning.

****, though, she wanted to know.

When he stepped into her at the stunned response from his teammate, she gripped her gun tighter, the metal feeling heavy in her hand. Her arm had gone from searing pain to numb in a matter of minutes, and she realized belatedly that she couldn’t move her fingers. That can’t be good, she thought as her gaze was drawn to the corner, where seven figures emerged. For a moment, she wondered if she was going insane from blood loss as she saw double as four moved in perfect harmony. What in the **** was going on? The question died on her tongue, and she remained as quiet as he did when the thick blonde began to speak. It was unusual for her, but it was if her tongue refused to move. The words were bouncing around in her mind like a wrecking ball, but no matter how hard she worked her throat, they remained unheard.

Tearing her gaze from the dramatic *****, she focused on the pair that circled her. Their eyes were dull, their skin pale. They appeared every bit as dead as they wore, their skin sunken. “****, you two took the Addam’s Family to heart, didn’t you?” The snide comment brought her no reaction, and she gave a slow laugh. “I mean, you look more like something that crawled out my drain once,” she continued, and saw the subtle crack in their armor as the left sneered. Behind her, she could still hear the blonde talk, and she forced herself not look her way. Replaced her. She didn’t need to hear him speak the answer to know the truth. He had been with her - prior to death? Did it ******* matter? He had kept important information from her, and she wanted to smash his face in.

He never cared about you, you know.
He hasn’t gotten over her.
You should just give up.
She won’t hurt him if you just put your gun down.

The words breathed through her mind, and she felt her hand shake as she gasped. “He still wants her,” she whispered, repeating the words in her mind, and the twins gave her a slow, pleased smile. He belongs with her. This crusade has been to find her, so he can follow her into the darkness. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the gun tighter, the metal digging into her skin before she suddenly reacted. “Get the **** out of my head!” Her scream echoed off the walls, and her boots dug into the pavement as she lunged, her hands curling into the closest twins. She knew too late it was what they wanted - they needed her to move. She didn’t pause as she spun and tossed the scrawny creature down the street, her back sliding across the road as she connected.

Before she had a chance to move for the second, searing pain brought her to her knees and her gun clattered to the pavement as she reached for her back. Her skin was smooth beneath her touch, but the fire burned through her nervous system as her mind filled with thoughts. Their voices were driving her insane, pushing her closer to the edge, and she curled her fingers into her hair to clutch her skull as she gave a hoarse cry. “Get the **** out!” The closest twin approached her, then, her fingers twisting into purple locks as she yanked her head back, baring her throat to her fangs. “I wonder if he should watch me drain you dry,” she purred as her fingers gripped her jaw, keeping her facing the blonde as she gave a slow laugh. Tears filled her eyes when she shoved her fangs deep into her artery, causing her blood to spray across her pale face as she fed. With the last bit of fight left in her, she curled her bloodied fingers around her blade and pulled it free before jamming it up and back, the tip protruding from the back of the vampire’s neck.

[Ephraim Steele]

Either wrist was tugged roughly, nearly tearing him in two, now that the woman, their leader, their sire, was making her exit. The twins pulled at him, his shoulders screaming in agony, the ligaments groaning beneath the skin as he grit his teeth in intense, excrutiating pain. He shook his head, closing his eyes against the pain and grinding his teeth until he could almost feel them cracking beneath the strain. He clenched his fists, keeping them at bay as the two of them laughed at his struggle, the pain that ripped through his body amused them. Somewhere far away, as the blood rushed in his ears, he could hear the pain filled screams of Saywer, the woman he had sworn he would protect. His nails bit into the flesh of his palms as his entire form trembled with exertion, the veins along his arms protruding from his flesh as he pulled, with all of his might.

The women began to lose their footing, shoes grinding against the asphalt as they began to slip, until at once, they were yanked off their feet, careening into one another with a loud crack like thunder. Two blonde-laiden skulls collided, the women slumping together in agony as they held their broken heads. He wrenched himself free fo their grasp, moving to his feet as he moved his shoulder, flexing the strained joint as he pushed his right arm back into socket. He worked it lightly, feeling its range of motion as the woman in front of him groaned, beginning to stir. He bent down, taking up his blade before he placed a boot square into the back of the first, her tight blonde ringlets caught beneath the hard rubber of his boot. She winced in pain, her lips parted in a whimper as she shook her head, looking up at him through the tears in her eyes, the deep blues wavering in a pained, pitiful manner as her nails raked against the flesh of her sister’s back, the pain in her scalp an agony she couldn’t bear.

“Please… please, just let me go. Don’t do this, you don’t have to do this. I’ll help you. I can help…” her pleas were cut short, his blade ramming through her throat, the hard, folded steel jutting from the base of her skull and piercing the hollow of her throat. She gagged, blood splashing from her mouth as she fought to try and speak, her words lost on the gurgle of blood as it filled her mouth, splashing over her tongue and filling her lungs. She thrashed, her nails biting madly into her sister’s back as he fought for her life. Her eyes, wide with terror, stared up at him, her head shaking as he twisted the blade. The spinal column severed, the light in her eyes vanished from existence, the bright, watery blues going a dull shade of gray. He tossed her to the ground and pulled the second up by a fistful of her golden hair. She managed a groan before his blade bit into her neck. A moment later, and he tossed away the head, sending it rolling across the asphalt as the blood gushed from the stump of her neck.

He caught handfuls of the blood flowing from the vampire’s wound, cupping his hands beneath the dead woman’s severed neck. He watched, waiting impatiently as the severed artery pumped blood into the cupped hands, filling them like a basin, until he was satisfied, until he was sure that it would be enough. It had to be enough. It went against everything that he believed in, everything that he had fought for, but if it saved Sawyer, then it was worth damning his soul forever. He clenched the hands together tightly, and kept even a single drop from flowing between his fingers.


<Sawyer> She couldn’t breathe.

The pain was too much. How had things gone so bad, so quickly? She should have been able to control the situation. She should have been more trained, more sure! Shaking her head, she slid her fingers across her throat, the blood staining her skin as the world in front of her grew hazy. She couldn’t keep up with what was happening. Is this how I die? The thought danced in her mind as she fell forward, one hand pressing to the pavement as she gave a quiet groan. He wasn’t going to be able to make it to her in time. She was going to die and he wasn’t going to make it to her. How could she tell him she was so ******* sorry? She choked on his name as her vision began to ebb. There was so much left unsaid, so much she could have done.

She needed to correct her life, and yet, she wasn’t going to have that chance. She was going to pay for her sins. Was the some kind of redemption? Vindication? ****, what was the word she was trying to say? Falling further forward, she pressed her hand to her throat and looked to her left, where the twin who had ripped out her throat was clawing angrily at the blade. Karma, *****, she thought groggily as she sunk to her knees beside her. Her eyes were filled with pain, anger and… humor. Before she knew what had happened, her own agony intensified, and her throat felt as it was closed up. She thought she couldn’t breathe before, now she knew she couldn’t. Her scream was a choked gasp as she collapsed onto the ground, her blood pooling around her like a halo. Behind her, she heard footsteps and shouts - but none of it mattered.

She was too far gone.

As her eyes fell closed, she felt hands on her skin, through her hair and she heard someone whisper her name, but she couldn’t figure it out. She was dying, couldn’t they see that? “Ephraim! What do I do? God, what do I do?” When she parted her lashes, she saw that her helpers hands were red, and she was staring at her with a look of horror. Suddenly, a dark shadow moved above her, and she felt warm hands against her lips, and the blood was touching her tongue. What in the hell? That wasn’t going to help her! She needed a doctor, a medic, a ******* witch! Pushing against his hand, she tried to dislodge him - but she realized she had moved at all.

The blood, though working, wasn’t helping her mentally. She was still on fire, still screaming in her thoughts - but no one seemed to care. ****, why weren’t they stopping the pain? What was wrong with them? They need to kill us. Good luck with that, darling. The thought twisted like venom into her mind, and suddenly her hand shot out, curling around his ankle.

“Kill… them….”

The words were choked, but they were audible. “I need ******* a suture kit! Something!” Someone shouted above her head, but before she heard anything else, her world went black.

[Enver Marshall II]

It was another night, like the night before last, and the night before last...just constantly the same. Only sometimes, the Allurist would shake it up and go start from one business to another, just to 'feel' alive again. These nights he was far from feeling like that, but he had to do something while the cat was away. The male just couldn't sit inside and wallow in self-pity, which was what he was doing for the last couple of months. Hiding from the world.

Tonight he started out in the Swansdale area, and ended up smack dab in his theatre in the cherrydale district. After going over some proposals on pop and candy sales, he signed off his okay, grabbed his favorite pop and headed out for the night. He was not driving like he normally did, instead, he was walking and taking the transit. On his way to the transit, Enver dropped his pop, because he wasn't fully sober either. One too many drinks and Hokey had made him a bit uncaring, wobbly and a right idiot. So he stood there, in the street cursing at his new loafers and the name brand designer pants that were now splattered with Mr. Pibb at the bottoms of them. Most of what Enver was saying didn't even make a lick of sense and was slurred together so everything said was one long word instead of one complete sentence.

The male went to scoop it up, but his hand crushed it a little too hard and the rest of the soda spilled all over his hand and down his suit. "Sonofamotherfuckingbitch!" He growled out as he crumpled up the cup, tossed it to the ground and stomped on it repeatedly right by a slew of people who were waiting for the very train he needed to get on.