Song for a Sleepwalker [Hannah]

[Lancaster]

Where two weeks ago the towering musician had been dressed neatly – not pristine, but neat enough in his jeans and scuffed leather shoes, his plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows. His hair had been neat, combed back. There was no point dressing up when one was basically burying oneself underground for God knows how long.

Guilt, of course, was a constant. There were those he was leaving behind; Bjorn, and Charlotte. Shadis, if she was still around. But these were people who’d claimed their own independence. They knew how to take care of themselves. Charlotte had returned and turned down the offer of her job back, which had Lancaster assuming that she must have set herself up elsewhere. Lancaster had been in Australia for months and had heard nothing; it was a test. His presence had not been missed, nor required. Business could resume as usual without his help.

Things had not quite gone to plan, however. The shoes were gone and now Lancaster’s feet were covered in filth. The soles got scratched and gouged but they were barely wounds to hinder the vampire. They were gone within minutes. Buttons were missing from the shirt which no longer looked plaid it was so covered in dirt and dried blood – and it wasn’t Lancaster’s blood, either. There were gashes in his jeans and he fought only with his hands.

He should have looked like a monster. He should have looked like the other wild and masterless creatures that roamed these sewers but the Allurist still had a strange kind of appeal. Due to the nature of his vampirism, nothing had changed since he was turned. His hair never grew, his facial hair stayed the same. His eyes were just as bright and, for all intents and purposes, he still looked human, regardless of the filth. But he did not act like one.

Around the next corner he stalked, a wild vampire trudging through the scum ahead. Lancaster did not slow down; Lancaster took the thing by the neck and slammed it against a wall. He did not recognise it as a he or a she. It was merely a thing. Fingers closed into a fist, he slammed his knuckles over and over and over into the creature’s skull. At first it tried to fight back, teeth bared and limbs scrabbling. But soon its brain was mush and its consciousness was gone. Lancaster’s teeth – now constantly sharp – tore into the limp creature’s neck, a growl rumbling in his throat as the thick, cool blood coated his throat and filled his system.

This, now, was the only thing he lived for.

[Hannah Lynn (DELETED 8242)]

The brunette closed her locker door shut and snapped the lock into place, before giving it a quick spin. Hannah pulled down on the circular shaped lock to make sure it was locked, before grabbing her dark purple backpack and hoisting it over her left shoulder. She took a few steps, then let her right arm sink its way into the other strap of the backpack and finished securing both arms around her shoulders before leaving the female locker room.

Seeing Adam at the nurses station with a chart in his hand, Hannah made her way over to him, giving him a tap on his shoulder. “Don’t be late.” She said, pulling a set of four tickets from her back pocket and giving him two of them. “Women don’t like that. Even married ones.” Hannah teased, stuffing the remainder of the two tickets back into the pockets of her dark denim jeans. ”I’m ditching in ten. You know how to get to the comedy club?” He asked, as Hannah started walking away from Adam and the conversation; backwards fashion. “I know the area by now.” And she did. While Hannah still fell into the foreigner category, she had been in Harper Rock for about ten months now. The thought reminded her of how she had been told she was only going to be here a year; but when Hannah signed up for team Gino, it appeared she signed up for a longer ‘contract’ more or less. “Besides, I’m taking a cab. I’m a lightweight.” The brunette confessed before spinning around to head out for the parking lot and to her car.

With a single handed toss, the backpack plopped in the backseat of the car and then bounced to the floor. There wasn’t anything expensive in the lanky brunette’s pack, just the scrubs she had been wearing, and the white clogs Hannah wore most days in the hospital. Her lunch bag, a notebook, and a couple pens. If the woman dug deep enough, maybe a protein bar of some description that was probably expired or close to. Hannah shut the back door to her silver and black Ford Flex, then moved around to the driver’s side and found the driver’s seat. The engine flicked to life with a insert and turn of the key, but she remained in the parked spot until Hannah found the CD of her choice; No Doubt’s ‘Return of Saturn.’ She skipped to the sixth song and when it came on, Hannah backed up and headed to her apartment.

After a shower and change Hannah slipped on the set of heels she had by the door from the last time she went out, grabbed her purse and met the cab that was waiting for her. As usual, traffic was congested being it was a Friday night. And while Hannah left earlier than she needed to, it still wasn’t early enough. “Just stop here. I’ll walk the rest of the way.” Hannah said as she opened up her purse and tossed some colorful cash over the front seat at the driver. ”But it’s five blocks away.” Hannah opened the backdoor and let her left foot hit the concrete. “I know, but walking has never killed anyone before.” She said while sliding out the backseat. “Thank you!” The door was closed and she was walking in the direction of the comedy club before he pulled off the curb.

Digging deep in her purse, Hannah pulled out her cellphone and shot Adam a text message. ‘Running late. Meet you and Kelly in ten or so!’ After the message was sent, Hannah dropped the large phone back inside her purse. As Hannah shifted the bag from one hand to the other, the metal bangle on her right wrist slipped off and bounced on the concrete, bounced to road and rolled along the curb to the gutter. “Shoot!” Hannah hissed as her eyes watched the glint of faux gold spin, and spin until it came to a clanging stop. Hannah rushed after it, jumped off the edge of the curb, then skidded after it. The brunette inched up the skirt to just above her knees, then crouched down to collect it.

That was when she smelled it. Blood. Not just any blood, but vampire blood. It was ‘easy,’ for Hannah to tell the difference when her ‘fangs,’ cropped out. The bangle no longer mattered. Hannah pushed it aside, hearing it clang away and roll into the dark oblivion around her. Fingers locked around the grate and gave it an unsuccessful pull. And another. A car honked a horn, and while Hannah heard it, the honk didn’t phase her, or stop her. With another yank, the grate was moved, and slid to the side, before her feet were shed from the confines of her shoes. Hannah swung her legs to the ledge, then dropped down into the dark depths of the sewer abyss. The hunt was on.

[Lancaster]

If Lancaster’s loss of sense could be attributed to a kind-of second personality, these two conflicting personalities could be akin to Frankenstein and his monster. In this story, however, Lancaster -- as Frankenstein -- is a little more caring, a little more empathetic. The monster, then -- in a world where monsters are only created and not born -- wasn’t entirely a monster. If treated with the tenderness that a parent ought always to treat its child, Frankenstein’s monster might have been less monstrous, less angry, less demanding. Lancaster’s monster had been nestled within the big friendly giant. It knew tenderness and gentility, and generosity toward those that needed it. But it also was subject to a thirst so long denied, so long loathed. It was the epitome of Lancaster’s flaws, the ones he’d never let see the light of day. It was the threaded canvas of all he would not allow himself to be.

Violence came easy to the pacifist, and it always caused him anxiety and stress. He preached rhetoric over physical conflict and yet, when physical conflict came to fruition, he could kill better than the majority. When equipped with weaponry, said weapons became extra limbs that he may as well have been born with.

In the sewers, now, he had no weapons beyond his own hands, which were lifted to his chin to wipe away the blood that had dribbled from his lips. At his feet were ashes; he could even taste the ash on his tongue, the vampire having been killed by smashed skull and complete loss of blood. It happened far too often, the ash sullying the taste of the blood. If the bodies remained, maybe it could have triggered some kind of greater empathy in the man-come-lost-cause. But as soon as the body dispersed into ash it was forgotten; if the soul was strong enough, perhaps it would be reborn in a new body and given a second chance.

But Lancaster’s mind was too lost to even think of the pros, and the cons were not strong enough to weigh him down. All guilt had been temporarily lifted from his shoulders and there was a freedom in it.

Turning from the pile of ash, the mindless musician turned to the left. There was nothing in his mind but the longing for his next meal, or a dark niche within which he could curl up and sleep, like a stray dog. Around the next corner he met neither meal nor haven -- his steps halted as he came face to face with the first civilized person that he had seen in weeks. There wafted from her the smell of perfume, of soap. Of cleanliness. Lancaster’s lips curled back, canines prominent in the dim light; he sucked in a short breath, nostrils flaring. His long fingers curled into claws, ready to attack. And yet… the scent was wrong. It was not vampire. It was human. It was as if this human were a flower and Lancaster a carnivore. Carnivores were not interested in salad. So he tried to side-step, tried to bypass the stranger, though his bright eyes remained steadfast. Just because she was not a meal did not mean she was not a danger.

[Hannah Lynn (DELETED 8242)]

She hadn’t known how close she would be to the source of blood when Hannah had jumped down into the dark depths below the bustling city streets. With each step her bare feet took, the scent of blood grew stronger and stronger, engulfing the brunette in its tantalizing euphoria. A corner was turned; the aroma almost strong enough to know Hannah flat on her back right there in the sewers--when in truth it wasn’t the fragrant scent of delicious, and powerful vampire blood, but the surprise sight of a figure in front of her as Hannah rounded the corner.

He looked at her, and even went so far as to move around the petite woman. Only, when he moved, Hannah moved too--only not in the opposite direction as most would expect. Instead, she followed his lead and took to the same direction, as if they were part of some silent dance. While the man might not be the source of blood that Hannah had been looking for--he was just what the woman was looking for. Covered in soot, lack of breath; unlike her; who as Hannah exhaled, had a light vapor that escaped from her lips due to the moisture in the air of the rounded sewer passages. The fangs were also a dead give away; but what sealed the deal was the ‘throbbing’ (be it psychological, or in fact physical) sensation of her gums where her blood thief fangs were at. Almost acting like a ‘beacon,’ or an indicator telling her that she wasn’t just standing in front of any man. But she was standing in front of a vampire man.

That realization was all she needed to act. The brunette woman reached out for him, half expecting the male to be half the battle some of the other vampires like him, were. When her hand touched his shoulder, Hannah leaned forward, and almost attached herself to the side of his body. Overestimating the reach of her bite, Hannah face planted no where near his throat, and into the rough curve of the wall beside him, while sliding down the vampire’s arm.

Hannah LynnAnother PCModeratePhysically demandingLancaster dArtoisBite into his neck!Failed

[Lancaster]

If there was one thing far too many people did with Elliot Lancaster, it was underestimate him. First, they had to deal with his six foot six height, and he wasn’t even one of those Killers who grew over time. But he was lanky, and he exuded a gentility that plenty of vampires lacked. Most mistook his gentle nature for weakness. A violence loathing hippie, they said, couldn’t hurt a fly. How wrong they were when -- if ever -- faced with his wrath.

Violence wasn’t necessarily on his mind when the human girl launched herself at him. The move was unexpected. Lancaster had done his own underestimation and had concluded that the girl posed no threat. Instead, she launched herself at his neck as if he were her prey, her snack, and the vampire’s instinctive reaction was to throw her off. She hit the wall with a thud and, though the vampire could have shaken her off and kept walking, he stopped.

No one could say what was going through his mind as he stood there, arms relaxed and fingers no longer curled into claws. Although the musician was disguised as one of the many miscreants that inhabited the sewers, he was different. He was a stray who’d once known love; a dog who still, deep down, harboured only goodwill and loyalty. He was a stray dog who had not been kicked or tortured but one who’d been torn by circumstance from a life he’d thought he’d have forever. The confidence had not been stripped from him. It did not matter that Lancaster had lost his senses, he was still intelligent. It still registered, what this girl was trying to achieve.

Instead of walking away or exacting revenge for something the true Lancaster would never have thought wrong to begin with, the behemoth of a man dropped to one knee. He didn’t say a word -- his voice had run away with his senses -- as his head bowed and rolled to the left, revealing the line of his neck. It was a vulnerable position, but even so -- the vampire had confidence that this girl could do him no lasting harm, even if she wanted to.

[Hannah Lynn (DELETED 8242)]

To an extent, the brunette had learned to expect the unexpected; given the people she ‘worked’ for. Had Hannah been surprised to ‘fail’ in her attempt at feeding? Maybe a little, but there had to be four or five inches in height difference between the two of them. Still, Hannah had expected it to go better than winding up face first into the wall behind the guy.

On her downward descent to the murky water where he stood, Hannah’s chin scraped the concrete wall, peeling off the first layer of skin and leaving a smarting sensation. Her pastel colored fingertips dug into the wall, trying to soften the blow of her fall, but the reaction was hardly successful. Both knees took the brunt end of her decline, the sewer water sloshing in unison as they disappeared into the water. Open hands followed, not so much in the same uniformed fall, each one slapping into the water at their own interval. Hannah lifted her right hand to rub at the stinging at her chin, while her left slapped the water in mild frustration and annoyance at herself.

The sudden burst of frustration that seeped from Hannah didn’t last long, after all there could only be one or two outcomes from this scenario. The two she had encountered the most in the sewers, or even in the shadier parts of town. The vampire might flee--though it was unlikely as Hannah hadn’t heard the pounding of feed in the shallow water that surrounded them. Which meant the second, and least experienced outcome. If the ‘flight’ response hadn’t been triggered, that meant that the ‘fight’ one had. Hannah craned her neck as she stood, half expecting the guy to be lunging at her while she was at the disadvantage. Instead, Hannah was faced with the unexpected. Again.

What Hannah found was the vampire in a stance that seemed to display himself as an ‘offering’ of sorts. Every fiber of her being told her it was a trap of some description, so as the brunette stood there, her head turned to the left and the right, listening for other noises. Listening for someone--or something else. Ignoring the vibrations in her mouth where her blood thief fangs resided. But...there wasn’t anything else. A soft, but incredulous breath passed through Hannah’s slightly parted lips while her line of vision returned back to the guy-the vampire guy on a knee with his neck still open for the taking. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, Hannah blinked, shrugged and then took a step forward, as if testing the waters between the two of them. Eyes followed her, but he remained steadfast in his position while Hannah progressed in his direction. The ‘test’ didn’t last too long; a second at most, before more steps followed.

The steps didn’t slow down, or stop until Hannah was standing side by side with the vampire on one knee. Standing at the side opposite to the exposed neck, a hand came out to brush against the dirty and tattered material that hugged the back of his shoulder. With no negative response to the added stimuli of her hand on him, from the vampire on a single knee, her shoulders lifted into a shrug for a second time. The brunette made her move then, almost curling around the upper half of the vampire’s body’ one hand on and around his shoulder, the other on his arm above the elbow before she pricked into the offering to dull her pulsating gums in the only thing that could satisfy them.

[Lancaster]

The vampire’s bright eyes watched the human’s every movement, but there was no challenge in them. There was no threat. There was only a gentle curiosity, waiting to see what she would do, whether she would accept. It did not matter Lancaster’s state of mind -- the empathy remained the same. It reached out, its tendrils exploring the emotional aura of those around him. In this state of mind it was not a power that Lancaster was conscious of -- it was just a state of being. It just was, this thing that he could do that affected his reasons and his actions.

From this girl he felt a hunger, but he felt no maliciousness. He did nothing when her hand touched his shoulder, and still nothing as her fingers flexed around his arm. A human with fangs, he understood what she was and what she needed without the thoughts ever reaching the surface. The intricacies did not matter. Her blood was warm, and thus it was not blood that he craved. That was all that mattered.

And when those fangs pierced his skin his eyes rolled back. It wasn’t out of some misguided pleasure. It wasn’t pleasurable, feeling one’s blood being taken away. Lancaster knew that he could get it back, one way or another -- it wasn’t the loss of it that bothered him. It was something else, something that he, in his dazed state of mind, could not name or put his finger on. It was a memory -- a touch memory, something that tugged at his broken mind and his wayward heart inspiring the guilt that had, until now, hid beneath the back seat. The only time anyone had ever taken blood from Elliot Lancaster was when they’d needed it to survive -- normally because he himself had slipped up and somehow caused their death, whether it be through some second-hand accident or his own inability to control his violence. Even when the blood was taken willingly, even when the turn was requested or desired, the guilt was a constant. Did they know what they were getting into? When they discovered that they hated their immortality, it would be Lancaster’s fault for agreeing to it.

One hand lifted, long dirty fingers curling around the girl’s upper arm as it in turn curled around behind Lancaster’s shoulder. His grip was firm but not tight, an anchor to the here and now. The creature that he had become focused on reality -- the way his knee ached as it pressed against the brick of the sewer floor, the cold water soaking into the denim of the jeans. He focused on the scent of the girl’s hair, which was clean. He focused on the warmth of her skin beneath his touch, and the way the skin of his neck stretched as the blood was forcefully taken from it. His muscles had inadvertently tensed, and he forced them to relax.

The memories that had flared beneath her touch were banished. They were not hidden or tucked into a box. They were flayed and dispersed, eaten up and destroyed.

Slowly but surely, somewhere deep inside, there was a piece of Lancaster that was consciously, willingly destroying his past. For better or for worse, the charismatic backpacker would never be the same.

[Hannah Lynn (DELETED 8242)]

It was a welcomed taste that coated the back of Hannah’s throat as it trickled downwards. To think that once upon a time, Hannah had been so against the thought of drinking blood after Gino had signed the woman up for his ‘Blood thief Bootcamp,’ for lack of better phrasing after Hannah decided to switch from team Yakuza to team Italian Mafia. Neither situation was ideal, but one was slightly better than the other.

How all that had changed once Hannah had her first taste of the super enhanced supernatural blood. The brunette didn’t need blood daily-but it wasn’t as if she would--or could turn down the opportunity if it presented itself. And though she enjoyed the taste and its affects, Hannah had come to learn that she didn’t need much to feel the influence of vampire blood. However, it was always a ‘surprise’ to come across a new power during the most random times while her human state was modified, throughout the course of a day.

Most vampires in the sewers tended to be weaker, and have less variety when it came to their capabilities. Not that the brunette was out searching for vampire powers, so much as Hannah was just looking for the blood itself. Powers that came with ingesting the supernatural vitae was just an added ‘perk,’ in Hannah’s mind. One that might help her solve her Gino problem.

Everything seemed almost...easy. Unnatural, but wasn’t that her life, anyways? Nothing about her life screamed ‘natural.’ Not even Hannah’s job anymore. When she had missed more than a half a week, all signs pointed to the fact that Gino had more power than Hannah had originally thought. A surprise, it shouldn’t have been being he confronted her in her workplace and no one seemed to question the guy or his two muscle men outside the waiting room where they encountered the other for the first time.

He touched her, and Hannah stilled. She waited for that something ‘bad’ or not good to show its ugly head, but nothing happened. The hand just stayed around her, much like her own hands on his body, almost offering a support structure of some description. Or maybe it was placed for reassurance purposes. Whatever it was, Hannah swallowed down what she managed to take from him, as her fangs inched their way out of his neck. The hand on his shoulder was removed, while the other on his upper arm remained, as the last of his vampire blood coaxed its way down.

It never took long; a couple seconds at best, before Hannah absorbed whatever powers and abilities the vampire had. This time was no different. While Hannah wasn't familiar with a lot of vampire powers; skimming only about a tenth of the possibilities out there, she was familiar with the very few she knew and had tried out. Healing her own wounds was one of those abilities; another was replenishing blood loss; be it her own, or someone else's. There were others that Hannah had become familiar with, but not used as often as the few Hannah needed to use. So, Hannah focused on what she knew. The petite brunette wasn't an ungrateful blood thief, even if she was driven by blood thirst. She might not always say 'thank you' either, but Hannah tried to express that thanks with a return gesture of some form. This one would come in the form of restoring what it was she took from him. “Thank you?” There was the sharp undertone of confusion with the words that came out of her mouth, as Hannah wiped at her chin with her right thumb, inspecting the scrape from the wall. “Hope that helps.” She said, finally stepping away from him, both her hands at each side now. “You know...” Hannah started as she bent her right arm at her elbow and draped her hand over her shoulder. “Since you're not trying to kill me—and I hope I'm not pushing my luck...why do you—vampires hang around down here? I've sort of always wondered that...I mean, I can't imagine the first thing anyone would want to do is live down here after they've been gifted immortality and some nifty powers.” She shrugged and dropped the hand again. “Never mind. Too many questions that aren't my business. So, thank you. Again.” Though her final thoughts seemed to imply she was going to leave, Hannah just stood there, looking at the curious set of eyes that looked back at her.

[Lancaster]

Lancaster had never experienced giving his blood away to a blood thief. He had been vaguely aware of their existence and that by taking vampire blood they took powers with it. He did not know what they would get from him, or what affect his blood would have. He did not know what it felt like for them -- whether the high was different, depending on how old or powerful the vampire in question was.

Somewhere in the pit of his subconsciousness, perhaps Elliot Lancaster hoped that by taking his blood, the thief would take the power away from him. It wouldn’t be an act of sharing, it would be an act of giving. If she and all her friends were to drain him dry, could they cure him? Could they take everything that he was so that he could go back to the way he’d been? It was a pipe dream, barely acknowledged.

The vampire did not have to push the human away. She took no more than what was required, and there was a twinge of disappointment. Even if she had continued to drink without cease, there was no guarantee the vampire would have stopped her. Though, he would reason, death would have been avoided at all costs. She pulled away and the vampire released her, still on one knee as he watched her. Before she let go of him completely, power surged through her fingers, through her skin, and whatever hunger might have been inspired by the loss of blood was banished. Lancaster had been healed, and his eyes only subtly widened as he acknowledged it.

Words were spoken and questions were asked but they may as well have been in a different language. If they were understood they were answered only with a troubled frown; there was more going on behind the vampire’s eyes than what one could see on the surface, even though the surface was as rough as an ocean in a storm. The question stirred more memories. Any answer that the vampire could give was ripped away from him as those memories were rendered and ripped, destroyed like those that had come before. It was as if a computer virus had infected the vampire’s brain and, as soon as any memory was summoned it was destructed. Why? It wasn’t a question to answer anymore. There was no why. There was no reason. This just was, it was meant to be. It was not a choice, but a circumstance. It was where he belonged.

If he was in his right mind, the vampire might have quaked. There was no gift in what he had become. There was no gift in the things he’d been forced to sacrifice. The words would have been spoken in a ravenous diatribe. Instead, the vampire merely grunted as he stood, movements smooth as he shook his head. A glance was tossed over his shoulder, and then to the right, and then upwards, sweeping back toward the human. He pointed back in the direction from which she had come -- that, he knew, was the way out. There was an exit there, a manhole he’d witnessed from afar. It was where fresh air sometimes came from. It was where the chaos and frivolity of humanity and life resided. It was where he did not belong, and he paid it no further mind. But this girl, it was where she belonged. And the sewers were not safe. Again, he brushed past her, leading her toward the exit -- escorting her, as it were, so that she would get out safe.

[Hannah Lynn (DELETED 8242)]

There was a repetitive buzzing from Hannah’s clutch as her eyes remained on the male vampire on one knee. The sound disappeared when he grunted and then stood with a shake of his head. Had he answered her question, or was he not sure what she said? Hannah didn’t speak a lick of French, and she doubted he spoke any Japanese. He looked around, and suddenly she was on edge. Her stance stiffened, expecting the worst...but nothing happened other than him pointing where she had come from. Almost telling her to ‘go,’ in his own way. “Okay.” Hannah raised both her hands and nodded, getting the picture pretty quickly. Hannah took a step as another buzz was heard from her purse, the brunette groaning as she realized who it probably was. Adam. Or Kelly. Ten minutes had been at least ten minutes ago, Hannah figured and they were probably looking for her.

The vampire approached, and then moved past her, in the way she came. She hadn’t noticed it before, but as he passed her, and with the urge to ‘wet’ her fangs, so to speak, gone, Hannah noticed it now. The smell of...dirt. More than just dirt. Grime. Odors. She took a step back from him, and turned to take a whiff of air that smelled, but was nowhere near how he smelled. How long had he been down here, Hannah wondered. How could she not? She had come across a few vampires down here, but none stuck around long enough for the brunette to get so close to, after she tasted their delicious blood. With his back to her, Hannah waved a hand around her face, trying to dissolve the smell of him; or the sewer and him with that quick gesture.

Was Hannah supposed to follow him? What did she have to fear by following him? She now had whatever powers he had within her own grasp...still the entire thing seemed surreal. Hannah had bit him and nothing happened. And now he was expecting her to follow him...out? Was he leaving too? “Sure. Okay. Why not?” Hannah was as much cautious, as she was adventurous. It circled back and forth; for weeks Hannah would require the ‘thrill’ of something invigorating--a climb, a hike, a long bicycle ride-something that pushed her physical capacities, and fed Hannah endorphins. Then, weeks afterwards, Hannah could curl up with a novel on her couch, or watch a series on her TiVo, ignoring the world and all the nefarious things; people, in it.

Ignoring her phone for now, Hannah followed after the vampire, not one hundred percent sure where he was leading her, but staying far enough behind to be able to run, or do something, should Hannah need to.