Team Snek [Chapter 7]

[Jesse Fforde]

TAGGED: Clover, Charlie, Raegan

For a year, more, Jesse Fforde had been studying the rift. He’d been doing research about it, wanting to know how to make it wider, how to figure out where the veil was weak between this world and the next so that more cities could be found, much like Harper Rock. With more rifts, there would be a greater opportunity for the survival of vampire-kind should humanity get some wild notion to wipe them out.

Although he’d been made aware of the Administrator’s post he’d not had the time nor the inclination to follow up on the claims that had been made—namely, that the Sirens somehow kept the secrets to the rift and how to control it. That they would want to shut it down, to close it completely might have been a noble cause on their behalf, but Jesse Fforde was not a noble man. He would fight for his own survival, and for the survival of those he had created. And to allow some mysterious internet troll to beat him to the punch? To sweep in under his feet and steal the answers that Jesse had worked so long and so hard to find?

Na-ah. No, he wouldn’t allow that.

Although he was more than prepared to go storming into that labyrinth to look for the mysterious keys that would get them… where? Jesse assumed that the key, or keys, would get them into some ancient room within which all the answers could be found. And he wasn’t going to sit back and just let someone else do all the dirty work; he wasn’t going to trust that the right people would find the answers. He couldn’t trust what they would do with them. If he was down there, he might at least see who else had the same idea – he’d know who to harass, if things went south.

Much to Jesse’s surprise, however, the small but active family that had inadvertently gathered around him wouldn’t allow him to go alone. How had word even gotten around? Maybe it was Clover, who was coming with him because he wouldn’t have gone without telling her, and she refused to let him go without her. Maybe someone overheard their conversation as they stood in the middle of Limbo.

Whatever the case, they now stood on the grass outside the abandoned mansion, the entrance to the labyrinth somewhere behind them. They were a group of eight – too large a group, Jesse thought, to go down together. So they would split.

Although he assumed some of them may be capable of telepathic communication, Jesse had sourced some high-quality electronics to help them should things go wrong. Each group was equipped with a walkie talkie, of sorts – one that was promised would work even at great depths. If either group found a key? They’d let each other know via the walkie talkies. Jesse himself had already explored the labyrinth, and he knew the kinds of creatures that could be found. They were… well, bigger and badder than most within the city, so he advised the others to try to keep their distance from said creatures, to try to find the keys without having to fully engage in skirmish. How would they find the keys? He had no idea. He hoped that by the time they got down to a reasonable depth, there’d be clues. He hoped.

When asked if each group could have a name, Jesse rolled his eyes and muttered something about not giving a ****.

Eventually he led the way into the labyrinth, gun in hand and sword strapped to his back. Behind him he had Clover, Charlie and Raegan – the others had taken a different path. They’d split up. And hopefully, in doing so, they’d have a greater chance at finding what they needed.

[Raegan (DELETED 9663)]

“Tell me why we’re down here, again?”

It hadn’t been the first time she had asked – and in all honesty, it wouldn’t be the last. She had only just begun to learn about the history of their kind, but that hadn’t stopped her from following Jesse’s lead. The question was directed at the man himself, even as her eyes strayed to the shadows, the chaotic blue searching the darkness for the first sign of danger. She had no ******* clue what she was up against, and still, she remained at his side instead of cowering behind him. Those times were long gone. Gone was the coward, the woman who caved at the first sign of trouble. In her place stood a warrior – or, so she liked to tell herself. That wasn’t to say she wouldn’t lose her **** if she were to face one of the monsters she could hear clawing and scampering their way across the stone floors.

Tightening her hand on her blade, she gave the sword a graceful sweep through the air as she kept pace. She didn’t say anything more, the most pressing question already voiced. Instead, she dipped her hand into the pocket of her ripped jeans and pulled out her phone. A few quick presses of her thumb against the screen had her narrowing her eyes as the words ‘No Signal’ taunted her. When she had agreed to this – and coerced Ysmir to join them – she had thought she’d be able to stay in touch. A text – a call, if needed – but she had nothing other than the two-way radio that the Beast had provided. ‘In case of an emergency or if you find what we’re looking for,’ he had said, and she had obeyed. Of course she had.

It wasn’t as though she needed to talk to him. He was fine on his own, and he wasn’t exactly alone. She didn’t know the other three as well as she should have – two were new, and one wasn’t blood – but that didn’t mean that she shouldn’t, right? Still unused to all of this ****, she quickly swept her hand through her vibrant purple locks and tucked the phone back into her pocket. Whatever they were looking for, she hoped they found it, and she hoped it was going to be worth it.

[Charlie]

The weight of the assault rifle felt right in her hands.

The last time Charlie had ventured into the depths of Harper Rock’s underbelly, she’d done so without foresight and not nearly as prepared as she should’ve been. That was why she stood here today armed to the teeth. The bandoliers crisscrossed across her torso weighed down on the canvas jacket she wore beneath. Patched up with duct tape, the jacket’s pockets were loaded with ammunition, along with a hacked web-phone (that’d be of no use down here) and the handy tome Jesse’d given her after the trials and tribulations his blood had put her through.

Her favourite sword hung at her back by its scabbard. If she’d been able to, she’d have stuffed another weapon into the waistband of her trackies. Bug had warned her against it: to trade mobility in exchange of being a walking armoury would be a mistake.

Tightening her grip on the carbon fibre as the temperature shifted around them, Charlie cast a glance over her shoulder. It didn’t bother her to be a few steps behind the rest. There was no telling what awaited below the surface, deep in the dark damp enveloping them further with every step they took. There was no telling what might ambush them. It was easier to fire shots at whatever crept up behind if there weren’t family members in the way.

The same could be argued for leading at the front, but the allurist preferred to be at the back. She couldn’t lie to herself as well as she did with the others; below the prepared and collected exterior was growing discomfort. Deja-vu washed over her as the pristine memory of her flesh being torn into by a fadebeast played at the forefront of her mind. To distract herself, she offered up an answer of her own.

“…nothing worth watching on the telly.”

[Clover]

The darkness swallowed them, as if some unseen force had summoned the shadows, extinguishing the light. Clover likened the atmosphere to that of a smothered candle. The flame flickered, fighting for life, but the fire eventually dimmed and died. She felt as if they were trapped in a candle jar. Quiet. Tense. Awaiting the inevitable moment when their light eventually died, when their luck ran out. Clo followed along, her footsteps the only sounds she allowed, and she moved with a forced grace. Scanning the shadows for approaching danger, she also kept an eye out for poorly concealed traps. She remained alert for all types of enemies, from undead creatures to rival vampires. They were all very aware of their surroundings, or so she assumed -- no, she hoped.

With a variety of knives and two handguns, she went into the unknown as prepared as possible. She'd never bothered with the Labyrinth, and maybe that was her problem. Clo should have paid more attention; she should have explored every inch of the uncovered realm. She didn't. As she followed Jesse into the darkness, she began to imagine the creatures spawned there, lost amongst the shadows. She heard the sound of something grinding against a hard surface, a sound that sent shivers down the length of her spine. The creatures stalked them, always out of sight, always out of reach. Rather than hunt, she remained with her party. None of them had mastered the area. It seemed impossible to master something that extended far beyond their imaginations. But she could have been wrong. Yes, she could have been all wrong.

Why would you trust the other group to find anything?

Why would you trust the other group to hand something over, if they found what you were looking for?

Why can't we handle this alone?

Her mood had turned sour. She saw no reason for the two groups, nor for the one group. She wasn't enough. The four-person group wasn't enough. She wanted to yell at him, to curse at him, to demand that they send the others away, but they continued onward, deeper into the labyrinth. They needed one another. Simply put, they depended on one another. If Fforde stood for the body, then they were the organs, they were the parts of the whole. And so she’d relented. She’d grown to accept the terms set in place. When Raegan spoke, Clo wanted to snort. They both wanted to hear the same thing, even if Jesse repeated it several thousand times. And yet, she gave in to the heavy silence.

“What she said,” Clo said, no further thought involved. Charlie's response worked well enough.

[Jesse Fforde]

It struck Jesse as strange, that they might all follow Jesse into this dark, monster infested cage without actually knowing why. The light from the night outside dimmed behind them, the darkness like a living, breathing being hounding their every step. From the bag that Jesse had slung over his shoulder, the strap tight over his chest, he produced four torches which he proceeded to hand backwards. One to Clover, one to Raegan, one to Charlie. They might be supernatural beings with enhanced vision, but even superman couldn’t see in a place completely devoid of any light.

”To aid in the survival of our kind,” he offered by way of simple explanation. ”And because I’m curious,” he said, flicking on his torch as his feet scuffed the rock path beneath him. It was as if someone had used already existing tunnels to build themselves an underground castle; but it was a maze-like castle, with rooms that had no furniture and little to no purpose. More tunnels had been hewn into the rock. Maybe, once long ago, in ancient times, someone had lived here. Perhaps vampires – an underground network would be perfect for creatures who did not like sunlight.

For vampire-kind had to have come from somewhere. There had to have been an origin. And why were the elders all only so old? Perhaps there were others that Jesse had not heard of. But how had they not heard of an elder from ancient Egypt, from the age of the Aztecs? Had they all lacked the energy to come to life? Or had none of them been in the right place, at the right time?

”Just imagine…” Jesse started, his gruff tone fuelled by the passion he invested in this endeavour. ”Imagine the knowledge we could gain if we succeeded in opening one of these rifts somewhere else. What if we could release all of the elders from the Realm? Ancient elders, who could tell us all about the beginning? It’s far better than allowing some fucktard to shut down the rift and kill us all again, right?” he said, glancing behind him. First at Clover, then at Reagan, then…

”Charlie, duck!” he snapped. From around a corner came one of the beasts – something that looked a lot like the Ancient Zombies in the catacombs but more graceful, less zombie-like. A skeleton with death writ into the depths of its empty eyes. Jesse’s gun was raised, finger poised on the trigger ready to shoot as soon as Charlie ducked.

[Raegan (DELETED 9663)]

To aid in the survival of our kind.

The words were so simple, so eloquently spoken, and they meant nothing to her. Try as she might, she couldn’t summon the energy to care about their kind. Outside of their bloodline, no one else mattered. No one else existed. However, the words seemed to spark some kind of fire within her sire’s gut, an ember inferno that burned within his eyes, as if his conviction alone would be enough to light their path. It was something she wanted to feel for herself. She found herself drawn to him as he spoke, the other voices – though Clover earned a faint twitch of her lips – fading into nothing. It wasn’t their fault – they hadn’t done anything to warrant her dismissal, but her mind was centered around him. When he spoke, she listened. When he moved, she followed. He was the Beast.

To her, he was the thing to fear within the darkness that threatened to swallow them whole. Even with the small flame that danced along the end of the torch, the light seemed to be seeped from the stone. Though she knew they should be hearing sound; gunfire, screaming, the sound of metal against stone – she heard nothing but his voice, nothing but the steady footfalls of Clover and Charlie. It was silent. Running her tongue along a sharpened fang, she brushed a shock of purple from her gaze and frowned. His words made sense – but then, they didn’t. Knowledge was power. Of course it was, but what did he think he was to find within the dank underground? What kind of knowledge could be possessed? Was it a being – or perhaps even, he thought to get his hand on a tome, something written in an ancient language.

In all honesty, it all sounded too fanatical too her, too unreal, and yet, she was living proof that the myth could come to life.

“The rift, that’s what keeps us in here, right? I know we can leave, but if we leave, we risk… permanent death,” her words were quiet, though not because she was in awe. No, she was too worried about the sound of scrambling feet, the creak of bones and the growl that sent a chill down her spine. Before she had a chance to pull her blade, to swing it towards the skeleton, Jesse was shouting his order. She turned just in time to catch sight of Charlie. If she ducked, she didn’t see. Instead, she reached out, her fingers attempting to find the cloth of her shirt. What she thought she’d do, she didn’t know, but her mind screamed blood. She was family – she belonged to the Beast.

[Charlie]

Devil’s advocate — the role Charlie was born to play.

As Jesse spoke of the ancients returning, her mind conjured all manner of counterarguments. He’d rebuked a lot of her theories when they’d first broached the subject of vampirism, but most of her fancies had sourced from popular culture. Her perspective then had been limited by her humanity. Things had now changed. The more she learned about her vampiric contemporaries, the less unlikely it became for fiction to potentially overlap reality. After all, her sire didn’t have all the answers.

What if the ancients were unwilling to communicate their knowledge? There was no way to know how they’d react to a world much changed. The masquerade had fallen, society had changed since the 18th century. There was no reason for elders (or ancients, whichever) to willingly stray from the codes and beliefs bred into them. Their knowledge might be their only bargaining chip for them to reshape Harper Rock into a society that still had a place for them, for tradition. If anything, their awakening could rain their wrath upon the posterity of their kind.

So busy thinking about these things she was, that the bony ******** that jumped at her went unnoticed. She lacked the affinity Jesse had with all things dead; perceiving these creatures required concentration she’d lost when her mind wandered on the subject of the rift. This should teach her to keep her attention on what mattered.

Down he ordered and down she went.
Thinking was hereby suspended.
The gravel bit into her knees — hard.

“Feckin’—

Intuition — cultivated from months of practice — guided her actions as she lodged the assault rifle into her shoulder and looped her finger over the trigger. The more bullets flew at it - whatever it was - the better. It was only when nothing moved before her that she relented, lowering the weapon and shuffling back onto her feet.

—The hell was da!?”

[Clover]

Imagine.

And she did imagine.

Clo tried to take his words to heart, to fill herself with the same level of concern, the same life, that spilled forth; however, she failed. She loved him, so she stood with him. She loved him, so she supported him. Clo didn't care about the possibility of elder vampires still residing on the other side of the veil. Clo cared about widening the rift. She cared about opening rifts in other locations. They had their reasons. They had their driving force. And so, when Jesse gave his impassioned speech, she remained quiet. In the moments following, she remained quiet.

Would Raegan leave, if the opportunity presented itself? Would the woman simply walk away? Impossible. Raegan needed them. Didn't she? Raegan needed Fforde. No, Raegan simply needed guidance, guidance obtained from any willing vampire in the city. At times, locating the bond between sire and childe required a microscope. Was the woman so easily drawn away?

Duck!

The sudden exclamation startled her. She immediately drew one of her guns and focused on her surroundings. When one zombie appeared, there were likely more lurking in the shadows. Both Jesse and Charlie shot at the zombie, but Clover didn't. She waited until the creature fell to the ground. She waited until the zombie freed itself of its destroyed bottom half and dragged itself along with its arms, a torso out for vengeance. At one time, the zombie had been a human being. And with that thought in mind, Clover emptied three bullets into the zombie’s skull, shattering the bone and ceasing the torso’s advancement.

“Target practice,” Clo answered Charlie. The grumpy vampiress caught movement in her peripheral and immediately jerked around. She didn't need bright lights or flashing signs to know that the same sort of creature had approached. One. No, two. One went up behind Raegan, and Clo had to consider whether or not to do anything, to say anything. In the end, Clo did what Raegan had gone to do, she reached out and snagged Raegan's wrist and tugged the woman away

[Jesse Fforde]

What the hell was it?

Exactly, Jesse wanted to bark, triumphant as if they were in the middle of an argument and he had been handed the winning point. They weren’t in an argument, however, and their halted question and answer session could hardly even be called a discussion – though this excursion into the pits of the unknown could be considered a practical field experiment.

The death of the creature at the hand of himself, Charlie, and Clover was only proceeded by the arrival of more. The sound of the gunfire, he presumed, had lured them to their location, and so Jesse switched out gun for sword – he hoped the others would follow suit. These enemies were not the run-of-the-mill zombies, and he’d done ‘research’ in this labyrinth before, weeks ago. He knew that these skeletons weren’t even the worst of it, which is why he had advised his hoard to try keep clear. He hoped that Renard, Beckett, Ysmir and Arauchia would be okay, and that they would retreat if it got to be too much. This mission he was on wasn’t worth their lives, which was why he had planned to come alone.

One skeleton had approached Reagan, and Jesse was aware of Clover stepping in. He’d seen Clover in action – he had faith that she would be able to handle this creature. Reagan had strength and an enviable instinct for survival, and Charlie had her wits, and was cleverer than she let on. The three of them could handle one enemy, while Jesse approached the second. The sword was silent as it hacked through the creature, his shadow leaping to his aid to skewer the creature though it had no heart to skewer. Eventually it was beheaded, and it crumbled to the ground. Sword still in hand, he turned to the others – they’d keep moving with caution, they’d use their swords and knives, and they’d try to get around the enemies without engaging them, as much as they could.

[Raegan (DELETED 9663)]

Because I forgot this earlier!

What the **** does it look like, she wanted to snap. The words burned on the tip of her tongue, begged to be spoken, but she swallowed them down. Something told her that now wasn’t the time. Closing her eyes, she tried to tamper the fire that swelled within her chest and licked up her throat, but she couldn’t. It ate away at her, until she found herself clutching the hilt of her blade instead of the material of the woman’s shirt. It wasn’t like her to save someone else – to worry about anyone else. This was a lesson that Charlie had to learn on her own, and learn she did. She watched as the woman dropped to her knees, the fall one too familiar to her. It was a movement meant to save – to surrender.

It was one she had done more times than she liked to count.

With the sound of gunfire ringing in her ears, the ringing in her ears nearly deafening her, she watched the skeleton fall. She didn’t bother to help; she didn’t move to swing her arm. Her blade remained at her side, the tip pressed delicately into the ground. She knew that they could handle it – these creatures were easy. She could tell by the lurch in their walk, the sightless way they searched for prey. Rolling her shoulders, she parted her cherry painted lips to say as much, but no sound emerged. Instead of speaking, she let out a hiss of air, a growl rumbling from her chest when she felt a touch to her wrist. It carried too much flesh to be a skeleton, and it was too cold to be human. Her first instinct was to react, to toss her arm out, to slam her fist into the throat of whoever ******* dared to touch her.

She was ******* fortunate that she took the time to look.

“Clover.” The name was breathed on a quiet sigh, though the relief that appeared in her chaotic gaze was short lived. Of course there was a reason the shadow had reached for her, had dared to step into her personal space. They knew the limits – well, some did. She had always assumed that Clover was one of them, so if she was touching her, there was a reason. The reason didn’t take long to make itself known. At the same time it swung, a voice entered her mind, one that she knew too well. The deep, smoky baritone made her chest tighten, though she kept her focus. It was easy, not because her attachment to Ysmir was weak, but because her survival instincts were too strong.

Freeing her wrist from the shadows grasp, she lifted her sword and swung in a wide arc. Her aim true, she watched as the blade cracked into the creature’s skull, causing it to splinter into pieces. As it started to fall, she tilted her head, her eyes holding a dangerous chill as she swung once more, disconnecting its head from its body. “Like I was about to say, they’re easy.” The tone in her voice had changed, whatever warmth had curiosity had been there before – erased. Wiping her blade against her jeans, she cast a quick glance to Clover, the edge in her eyes dimming just enough to relay her appreciation for the shadow as her lips quirked into a brief hint of a smile. Brushing her hand through her tangled hair, she reached to her hip for her walkie-talkie, finger pressing to the button.

“You know, you almost got me killed, you ******.” It was a lie, but if the words reached him – if he could hear her, he would never know the difference. Or, maybe he would. Ysmir had this uncanny way of sneaking into her thoughts, into her mind, and picking her apart. Snapping the radio back to her jeans, she bit into her lower lip and studied the shadows around them. “Does anyone know what else this place holds? I’m pretty certain that these,” she toed the cracked skull of one of the downed skeletons, a look of disgust on her features, “are not the worse things that stumble through here.”