In the Still of the Night
by Schehrezade
The
pale moonlight illuminated the landscape. The dark heather was bathed in
splashes of silver as the clouds passed over the only source of light on the
moors. The occasional flash of purple was a study in contrast to the unrelieved
black. There was nothing to be noticed as far as the eye could see but the
undulating Yorkshire Dales. The occasional stand of trees dotted the horizon;
their height, a startling contrast to the heather clad moors.
There was a snap and a crackle as the bracken was crushed under foot, releasing
a faint aroma into the crisp night air that was unnoticed by the runner. Too
focused on the hunt.
A tall slender form ran smoothly over the rugged landscape. She raced at an
unrelenting pace, half crouched, her focus on one thing.
Revenge.
A short distance behind ranged three men, following her swiftly running figure
as best they could. Unlike the determined young woman, they were armed to the
teeth. The huntress in front of them was only marginally aware of their rather
formidable presence.
The moonlight glinted off unsheathed swords, the crossbows and the machetes that
they were all armed with. They were all dressed in similar attire, as if they
were on safari in Masi Mara; their heavily booted feet thumped heavily on the
ground.
They ran all out to keep up with the sylphlike woman as she led them on their
descent into a hellish world. None of them had ever envisaged during they
sybaritic lives at
But the three young men were of one mind - vengeance. Whatever they witnessed or
experienced since that fateful night two days ago, it was nothing compared to
the oath that they had sworn to each other.
None of the perpetrators of such evil would survive, if it took them their
entire lives then so be it. Justice would be theirs.
The pervading memory of the blood-drenched house that they had returned to in
Their senses and battle skills had been honed in the trenches at the
"Told you you should've carried on rowing with us!" the oldest brother
called softly over his shoulder as he crested the hillock, his green eyes
focused on their leader as she paused and scented the air. "No stamina at
all," he added under his breath. He tried not to show his concern by
critising his brother, all too aware as to the medical reasons for why he
couldn't run as fast or breathe as clearly. .
The gasping man glared at his eldest brother, "not all of us are the
athletic golden boys, are we? Personally, I prefer a pugilist’s ring!" He
inhaled the cool night air greedily, mentally cursing his weakened lungs.
"Stop bickering. Now is not the time. We need to catch up with
Millie," the third brother interjected tiredly. He was sick of being the
mediator; he always had been from the day his youngest sibling had been born.
From the moment that they all could sit up and fight over toys, he had been the
one in the middle calming his fiery sibling’s tempers. As his father had
always teased him, he was the calm in the eye of the storm that were his
brothers. A cheery smile and a toy proffered to whoever was closest to a
tantrum, was all it took for him to diffuse the burgeoning temper tantrum's his
brother’s were teetering on the edge of.
And here they were doing it again - in a time when they should be united against
their common foe and not fighting amongst themselves. James took a step forward
and hefted his gasping brother Kit up and steadied him.
"You okay?" Concern filled his brown eyes, all too aware that, since
their time in the trenches, Kit's lungs had been damaged by the mustard gas
fired at them by the Bosh.
Kit nodded, and smiled briefly. "Fine. Just a bit puffed, Jamie." He
downplayed his lack of physical fitness--determined to remain with them-- for if
Toby caught on to how much pain he was in, then the eldest would send him off.
Unwilling to lose another member of his depleted family.
"Kit, if you need to stop, tell us!" James admonished his younger
brother.
"Come on. She's getting too far ahead!" Toby ordered and started off
in the direction of the slender girl. He knew that the brief moment of rest had
been enough for Kit to recover himself; he had been watching his brother closely
out the corner of one eye.
Kit rolled his eyes and tossed a mock salute at Toby's back - but without a word
of complaint he chased after him with James on his heels.
*******
'They've been here.' Millie sniffed the air; she could smell the tobacco that
one of them had a penchant for. She stopped and circled the copse warily. The
moors were littered with these stands of oaks - ancient trees that were a burst
of height on the unremitting landscape.
Ordinarily she would have viewed then as something of a wonder - the old trees
that stood watch over the years, bearing witness to the changes in life. The
industrial revolution and all the empheria that followed with it, and yet they
still stood a testament to the ages. But now she saw that as a potential risk.
On the hunt, everything took a different perspective. Instead of a thing of
beauty,she viewed the small group of trees as a potential danger. Somewhere for
her adversaries to take cover and wait, ready to ambush her.
She paused and cocked her head, the leaves rustling in the faint breeze. In the
distance, she could hear the three brothers chasing after her. One of them was
faltering again, his lungs weakened by poisons, but his will indomitable.
Initially, she hadn't wanted them tagging on and slowing her down. But Millie
knew deep down it was their right; in a sense, she should be grateful to them
that she was here.
Something glinted on the ground.
Millie's dark grey eyes narrowed and she took a step forward. With a fluid
movement, she swept up the trinket. Her black hair --cut in a short bob with a
heavy fringe--swung forward and swept over her cheeks. It was cut in a style
that Louise Brooks would make famous in a few months, but for Millie it was out
of practicality that her hair was styled short so as not to interfere when she
patrolled and fought.
She looked assesingly at the diamond dress clip she had found. It was of a
geometric design and appeared to be one half of a whole; she possessed something
similar, but rarely wore it these days. It was meant to be worn, clipped on the
collar where the straps of the gown met the neckline and was, as a result,
easily lost if the wearer was not careful.
Millie tossed it in the air and caught it, slipping it into a pocket. It was
something that could be used if the hunt failed. It wouldn't be the first time
she used magic to aid her calling, and surely would not be the last. She had
been trained well by her mentor and if it helped her gain a measure of an
advantage over her enemy, then so be it. To use something he had taught her to
find them would be a fitting end to the scum that had torn apart her only
element of normality in her supernatural world.
An owl hooted, breaking into her introspection.
She scanned the copse again for any sign of an ambush before stepping forward
and disappearing into the wooded area.
********
"Where the hell did she go?" Toby hissed as the three brothers
approached the woods.
"No idea, but probably in there?" Jamie gestured to the trees.
Toby nodded in agreement and reached for the intricately carved stake he had
tucked in his waistband. It was one of his father's favourites, inscribed with
runes of protection and soaked in holy water before being polished. It's added
extra of a silver cross embedded at the end nearest his hand as a nasty surprise
for any vampire that came across it. He had a stash of them ready-- each one
with an intended victim in mind for it.
"Don't like this; it reeks of ambush," Kit muttered as he hefted the
crossbow he carried. The quiver was strapped to his broad back and bristled with
arrows.
Toby's eyes narrowed and he nodded. "I know. But we have no choice. We need
to get in there and well."
The other two nodded in harmony and stepped up beside him, the three of them
offering a united front against whatever waited for them in the darkness.
***********
Toby stumbled over a tangle of brambles and swore softly under his breath; Kit's
hand whipped out and steadied him.
Jamie stood behind them, covering their backs. They had all slipped back into
the mindset that had helped them survive many battles in the trenches and on the
front. It was ironic. The one thing that they had been united in - joining up
when the war began-- was the one thing that was helping them avenge their
family’s death. Their mother and father had both been devastated by their
young sons’ impetuous decision to fight for their country. Despite all their
attempts to dissuade the boys, Toby, Jamie and Kit had gone.
"Anything?" Toby hissed.
"No. Can't even see my hand in front of my face; we need to get out of
here," Jamie replied quietly.
"I agree," a feminine voice interrupted.
"Millie? That you?" Kit called out hopefully.
"If it isn't, you've just given our location away," Toby muttered.
There was a noise from above them and a black shape dropped from the branches of
the tree next to them.
Millie squatted in front of them with an impish grin on her face; scarlet cupid
bow lips parted to reveal her white teeth. "You sound like a herd of
elephants. Didn't the army teach you anything?"
Jamie shouldered past his brothers and with a twinkle in his eyes, he reached
down and helped his father's Slayer up. "It taught us to follow
orders!"
"Well, you did do your best to keep up with me, and for civilians, that's
not too shabby." Millie nodded her approval; a flirtatious smile touched
her lips and her eyes twinkled up at him
"Always knew he carried a torch for her." Kit nudged Toby
conspiratorially and wagged his eyebrows at the couple that were giving each
other sly looks. “Not to put a damper on the two of you, but Millie, did you
find them?" Toby asked quietly. He’d been postive?that cornering them in
the small pub in Saltburn-by-Sea was to be the end of their journey. Instead,
the four vampires had used the old smugglers tunnels in the back of the Ship Inn
and vanished, their pursuers chasing down the cramped and dank tunnels that had
been carved out of the Yorkshire stone. Eventually they had gotten lost down one
of the side tunnels and the gap between the pursued and the pursuers had
widened. Their exit from the darkened, cramped hollow had been a welcome relief,
and to the four human's surprise they were standing in the ruins of an abandoned
farmhouse in the middle of the moors. Millie had managed to pick up the trail
fairly soon, her innate Slayer ability to sense vampires helping them resume
their hunt.
She looked over at the other two and shook her head. "No, but I found her
brooch. I think we can use it to locate them." As she spoke, the sound of a
car engine roared. (bs)As one, all four of them turned and ran for the edge of
the wood and stumbled through to the road that lay behind it. Their prey were
clambering into the Morgan and laughing with relief at the close escape.
"NO!" Millie began to run as fast as she could after the car that
careened erratically off into the distance.
All four of them ran after the vanishing car; all they could hear was the engine
and the taunts of the four vampires that they had chased from London to the
desolate moors that were all around them.
**********
Millie collapsed on the single bed and groaned with relief. The last few days
she had been running on sheer adrenalin, spurred on by the images of her
surrogate family’s dead faces. Not a single one had been spared except for the
boys. They had been at their club and were late heading home; it had been pure
chance that they had survived. She had been on patrol, searching through Fulham
Palace for a nest of Dementrius demons that had taken up lodging in the Bishop's
private chapel.
She had returned to the house in the early hours of the morning.
Unsuspecting, Millie had let herself in and slipped in a pool of congealed blood
in the hallway and falling forwards onto the cold dead form of Burrell, the old
family retainer who had been in service to the Ashbury-Soames since childhood.
Millie closed her eyes at the memory of his throat torn open and his kind eyes
staring back at her. His wrinkled face frozen in a mask of pain. She knew
instinctively that it’d had been Burrell who had innocently invited in his
murders.
In all her three years of Slaying, she had never been sick at the sight of
blood. Not until that moment. Millie had lurched to her feet and stumbled to the
wall to braced herself as she had thrown up. The slaughterhouse stench had
filled her nose. In her panic, she had run screaming through the house,
searching for Linnet and the girls.
She could still see the two girls, Viola and Elspeth, curled protectively around
each other but with the grizzly addition of their throats ripped open. Blood
soaked their small bodies, still dressed in their nightclothes. Both dead before
their fourth birthday. Linnet's dead body lay on the floor, a hand outstretched
beseechingly towards her babies. The twins had been a surprise for Linnet and
Arthur, a welcome addition to the family. The girls had been idolised by their
older brothers-- spoiled rotten and loved.
Their arrival had been something Linnet had joked about often, finally having
some girls to combat the testosterone that imbued her family. Arthur had fallen
in love with his delicate daughters from the moment he had held them. From that
day forward, one or both had always been within arms reach of their besotted
father.
Millie prayed that he had not been witness to their senseless death. Guilt
filled her. She knew that the family had been torn apart because of her
association with them. Tears pooled in her eyes and poured down her cheeks, all
her fault that the family was destroyed.
From the moment she had been called she had known that there were beasts out
there, ones which would come at her through those she knew and cared for. She
had no family, and her friends had been sacrificed out of necessity for their
own protection. So the newly called Slayer had isolated herself from the world,
only venturing out to slay before retreating to her home for the day. In an
ironic way she had also become a creature of darkness, rarely going out into the
sun.
She had been alone in the world, no family of her own. A large inheritance had
funded her flapper lifestyle until one night-- as she partied-- a wave of power
had rushed through her. Everything changed that fateful night. She had gone from
being a social butterfly to the serious warrioress that she now was.
It had been hard to adjust to her new life—to abandon the social whirl of her
life. The endless parties and fun filled days where her greatest worry had been
whether or not she had been wearing the latest fashion. Occasionally on her
nightly patrols she would come across someone she had known from her previous
life, and the looks and scorn directed towards her for her mannish dress cut
deep.
It was soon after Millie had felt herself change, become stronger, that a
strange group of men had approached her.
They claimed to be Watchers and that they were there to help her become the
Slayer.
A Slayer? she had questioned.
One of the men had nodded, and handed her, a leather bound tome with the title 'Vampyre'
inscribed across it. It was hardly the magazines she was used to reading, or the
articles in Vogue. Millie remembered prodding it with one perfectly manicured
red fingernail and wrinkling her nose at it. Little did she know at the point
how much she would rely on the tome-- how it would be an invaluable tool in her
battle against the darkness and it's minions.
She remembered joking that there should be a guidebook for Slayers. A flippant
remark that Millie had forgotten within seconds of mentioning. She was oblivious
of the gleam of interest in one of the men's eyes. She had later learned he was
a book bound junior watcher who had only recently passed his training and been
inducted into the Council. One not destined for fieldwork, he had been
headhunted for his research abilities and nothing more. Luckily she had not had
anything more to do with the bookish young man; instead, she had been assigned
to her Watcher Arthur Ashbury-Soames.
Her life changed from that moment onwards. Instead of being alone in the world,
she had a new family. They had welcomed her with open hearts and arms into their
lives. Arthur had been an unconventional Watcher. Instead of isolating his
charge and training her only for the kill, he had taken her into his home. Made
her part of his family. He had theorised that if a Slayer were given roots and a
reason to fight, then she would live longer.
So he had implemented this idea and stuck to his guns, despite various members
of the council challenging him on his unorthodox methods. Millie had become a
daughter to him and his wife Linnet, and an adopted sister to the boys.
Until the moment she had found Linnet and the girl's bodies, Millie would have
agreed with Arthur. Being part of their family had helped her fight and her will
to survive had been immense. And then...then...the sight of the drained bodies
of her family had destroyed her. It had been her fault they had all died.
She was surprised that the boys hadn't blamed her. Millie remembered calling the
club and asking for them to come home. Shakily replacing the receiver, the
devastated Slayer had then called the Council and informed them in a weak voice
what had happened.
The next few hours had been a whirl of activity - the arrival of Toby, Kit and
Jamie. Watching them come undone had been the final straw that had broken her.
She had collapsed to the floor and cried her eyes out. All under the
disapproving eyes of the Council members who’d come to clean up the house and
help with the burial details of the family. Their clicking of tongues and open
dismay at her weak behaviour had not surprised her; as far as the Council were
concerned, she was a tool in their arsenal and nothing more. Not a person with
feelings.
The looks directed her way had triggered Toby's brotherly nature and he had
tossed the Watchers out of the room in a fury. Kit and Jamie had helped her up
and gently questioned her about what had happened, their usually happy faces set
in grim, devastated lines.
It had been the next morning that they had discovered what had happened. Toby
and Millie had managed to garner the information from the Head of the Council. A
nest of vampires had decided to take down the Slayer's family—attacking her
through her loved ones. Part of Millie's heart had crumpled and died with those
words.
It had been her fault. The Head of the Council had handed over the report that
her seers had put together, along with the identity of the vampires. Whispering
that Millie had the Council at her disposal-- the four vampires were to be
destroyed at any cost - the older woman had offered her condolences to Toby and
left the room.
All of which lead to her sitting in a hotel on the North Yorkshire coast. Millie
rolled onto her side and stared out of the window - she was shattered but
couldn't sleep. In the morning she needed to head out and get some supplies for
the locating spell. Until then, there was nothing to do but worry.
******
'Just knock on the door, man.' Jamie rocked on his heels and stared at the door,
his hand raised and fingers curled-- but he couldn't.
He had barely slept. Every time he had closed his eyes he saw the girls small
dead bodies, only to lurch up with a strangled scream escaping his throat and
sweat pouring off his body.
The door opened and Jamie fell backwards in surprise. Millie smiled tiredly up
at him. Taking in the dark circles around his eyes, she raised a hand and gently
stroked down his face.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her soft voice coloured with concern. She shook
her head in frustration, “sorry – rather stupid thing to ask…” Guilt
filled her and she looked away from Jamie.
“Hey, none of that.” He reached out with a surprisingly steady hand, cupped
her chin and pulled her face around.
For a moment she leant into his touch, savouring the human contact that her mind
and soul were desperate for. With a bolt of fierce awareness, she remembered
what happened if she got close to someone. They died. Millie stepped away
reluctantly, the girl within her being replaced with the Slayer.
“I need to get some ingredients.” With that she slipped past the confused
man and practically bolted down the hallway and to the stairs.
“Wait for me!” Jamie called and chased after her.
Trotting determinedly ahead of her pursuer, Millie tried to ignore Jamie’s
attempts at conversation. She had realised in the last few months that he was
attracted to her, but had not allowed herself to consider a relationship with
her watcher’s son. In her mind it had been disrespectful towards the father
/daughter relationship she’d had with Arthur. But Jamie had no compunction
about pursuing her-- much to Linnet’s happiness and Arthur’s amusement.
He had taken to coming down from Oxford almost every weekend and joining her on
patrol, coaxing her out for meals and the occasional visit to the flicks. He was
good company, and his dark good looks didn’t put her off. But Millie had never
allowed him to kiss her, and it was much to his frustration.
*************
“Are you sure this is where they are?” Kit stared up at the stone steps with
resignation. It appeared that they were going to have to climb all of them to
get to their goal.
“The spell pinpointed their location to the Abbey grounds.” Millie adjusted
the straps that crossed over her chest. The hilts of her two favourite swords
rested against her shoulder, ready for her to reach over her head and draw them.
They had been a gift from Arthur, both slender blades incised with protective
runes and sharpened ready for battle.
The wind whipped around them, carrying the scent of the sea. To their left was
the small church that clung to the side of the hill, surrounded by tombstones.
Behind them was the fishing town of Whitby. Once a sleepy fishing port but now
developing into a busy place, all because of one book written by Bram Stoker --
Dracula -- a book that Millie suspected was the reason the Clan of vampires had
headed her. To make it their home and hunting grounds, feeding off the fools who
came at night to the Abbey to play at being vampires.
The sun was gradually setting; the near dark was cloaking all four of the
hunters.
“Well, come on.” Jamie headed up the wide old stairs, his long legs taking
broad strides. In his hands he carried one of his father’s stakes and in the
other, a short blade sword.
Millie hurried after him, her mind on the coming confrontation, but also
dwelling on the kiss he had given her. A soft sweet gentle kiss he had stolen
from her lips once the spell had been cast and a bright flare of light appeared
on the map over Whitby Abbey.
It had been the coughs of Kit and Toby that had managed to bring her back form
the kiss. Blushing, she had ignored the two men’s gentle teasing, the firm
pressure of Jamie’s hand on the small of her back giving her strength.
“Hey, you’re boyfriend is getting away!” Toby nudged his way past Millie
with a laugh.
Kit smacked at the back of his head, “leave her alone!” He stopped and
turned towards Millie with a shy smile on his face. “I think it’s wonderful.
Jamie talks about you all the time…he really does care for you.”
“Oh…um…” Millie watched as the three men climbed up the infamous stairs,
her mind focused on the memory of Jamie’s lips and not on the job at hand.
She fell forward with a grunt, dropping her stake as she tried to stop her fall
and grazing her hands on the stone step as she braced herself. Twisting away,
she managed to avoid the foot that stomped down, aiming for her back. With a
flip she managed to get to her feet and staked the minion who attacked her with
her retrieved stake. Behind her she could hear the shouts of warning from the
brothers. Millie turned and ran towards them, aware that fighting on the smooth
steps was not to her advantage. They needed to get to level ground.
“Move!” she yelled as she barrelled past the three of them, latching onto
Jamie’s arm and pulling him along with her. Her thin fingers dug into his
muscles in her urgency.
“Why?” Toby called out as he and Kit followed after the two of them.
“Level ground – we need to be somewhere easier to fight them,” Millie
shouted back.
“Fight who?” Kit puffed as he kept pace with his oldest brother.
“Them,” Millie pointed to the minions that had materialised from behind the
church and the gravestones.
“Bugger.” Kit put his head down and ran as fast has he could.
*********
They ground to a halt and leapt over the flint-stone wall that surrounded the St
Hilda’s Abbey. Landing in the grass, all four of the fighter unerringly headed
for open ground.
Millie reached over her head and smoothly drew her two swords, twisting her
wrists and making them hum. To her surprise Jamie stood behind her,
back-to-back, ready to fight.
Toby and Kit too fell into a similar position, weapons drawn. Kit sighted down
his crossbow and took out a vampire. Reloading, he smoothly fired over and over
at the minions who were running towards them, depleting their numbers in quick
succession.
“Where are they?” Jamie cried out as he staked a female vampire, newly
turned, the dirt still clinging to her clothes and face. With a shriek she
crumbled to dust. Jamie flipped the stake he used and threw it deftly at another
vampire running towards them.
“I can sense them, but have no idea…” Millie deftly cut off the head of
her opponent and then turned to scan the darkened area. The moon was hidden by a
cloud, leaving the ruined gothic Abbey in shadows. There was a faint movement
near the cliffs; she pointed over toward it. “Over there…”
Toby glanced up at the sound of her voice and took a hard blow to the side of
his head. Shaking it off quickly, he pulled his machete and sliced off the
vampire’s head with an angry backhanded swing. “Too far away. Kit, can
you?”
Kit shouldered his crossbow and fired at the shadowy figures. A grin of malice
coloured his split lips, still bleeding from the hit he had taken moments
earlier. There was shout of pain and the sound of a vampire dusting. “Got one!
There was a roar of anguish and the three remaining Master Vampires stepped out
of the shadows; two males and a female remained of the attackers on the house in
Belgravia.
“One down…three to go. Well done, Kit,” Millie called back to him as she
launched herself at another minion with a flurry of blows.
Jamie grunted as he was thrown to the ground, the vampire looming over him with
fangs glinting as he bore down on his neck.
“NO! Not losing anymore of my family!” Toby span towards the prone form of
his younger brother and staked his attacker in the back.
“Thanks,” Jamie groaned as he was pulled to his feet.
“Not a problem. Now fight, man.” Toby shoved him towards another two minions
with a yell.
“We need to end this…they are biding their time until we are exhausted from
fighting their canon fodder.” Millie began to stake as many minions as she
could. Soon her slender form was enveloped in a flurry of vampire dust. All that
could be seen was her hand and the stake she used over and over on her
opponents.
Jamie watched her as he fought, amazed at her speed and dexterity. He had known,
but to see it up close was magnificent.
“She’s right,” Kit gasped, his lungs labouring to keep up with his
movements and the fight. His eyes watered as the wind changed from the sea,
glaring over at the three vampires watching from a distance. “We need to take
this fight to them.” With that he turned and charged towards them, followed
closely by Toby and several vampires.
“Wait, no!” Millie fought her way through her remaining opponents. “Not
without us! Jamie, come on.”
The four humans charged towards their enemies with a unified yell of defiance.
Toby reached for Kit and yanked him back to his side. “We do this together; no
show boating.”
“Awww, have the sons come to get revenge for their baby sisters and the Mum
and Poppy?” The Jean Harlow look-a-like sneered, her cupid’s bow lips
distorted by her fangs.
“Soyez tranquille, Kristine,” the leader growled at her.
“But Favier, where’s the fun in that?” she retorted with a smirk.
“She’s you’re Childe; I told you to drain her, not turn the bitch. And now
we’ve been stuck with her for over a century,” the other male grumbled.
“We are not discussing this again.” The older vampire made an authoritative
cutting motion with his hand.
Millie rolled her eyes and threw herself at the vampire’s, pulling the younger
male away and beating him with the hilt of her sword over and over, wanting to
repay all the pain he had visited on her friends and surrogate family.
“You look like her,” Kristine taunted. “You have you’re mother’s eyes.
Well, I have them here in my pocket, but they are definantly the same colour.
Want to see?” She slashed out with her claws and Kit reeled backwards, her
words momentarily freezing him in his tracks. Sickened to his stomach, he tried
to not glance down at the pocket she was patting but he failed, his eyes flicked
down and then back up to her taunting laughter.
“Ohh, hit a nerve, did I?” she taunted as she circled Kit, her amber eyes
greedily devouring the expression of pain on his face. “Gonna be a
cry…baby?”
Kit threw the crossbow down and pulled out a pair of stakes; he bobbed on his
feet and watched her prowl around him, his aching lungs labouring to keep up
with his movement. At the moment, Kit was running on pure adrenalin. Not
replying, he wasn’t about to give her any ammunition. Focusing instead on the
fight at hand, he would grieve over her cruel words later, when he was alone and
had a bottle of brandy at hand. To drown his sorrows.
“She cried, you know? Begged and pleaded for mercy. Offered herself up to my
fangs if I would spare her babies.” Kristine yawned dramatically. “So boring
when they whimper and cry. I prefer it when they scream. Like your sisters did;
it was such beautiful music to our ears.”
Kit’s eyes narrowed and he swung out at her, catching her in the shoulder with
one stake while the other was warded off by her hand. He was aware that, of all
of them, he was the weakest fighter-- his damaged lungs not able to sustain him
in a fight for long. He didn’t care. As long as he managed to put down the
rabid dogs that had destroyed his family, then he would die a happy man.
“Ohh, getting to you, am I? I got to your sisters; Favier and I had such fun
tearing out their entrails as they lay there screaming. Their blood was so fresh
and sweet-- tainted with terror and pain makes it a wonderful cocktail.”
“Enough!” Kit shouted and leapt on the taunting vampiress. They rolled down
the slight incline away from the others.
Jamie and Toby were unable to help him, too busy trying to find an opportunity
to stake Favier. The vampire was leading them a merry dance, dodging each
attempt at staking him with a laugh. He was confident that he would survive this
confrontation, having survived for so many centuries and several confrontations
with different Slayers. Which was why he had attacked the Watcher’s house-- he
wanted the Warrioress.
“You are boring me. Leave now. I have no patience for foolish mortals. I want
the Slayer’s blood, not yours.”
“Not going to happen,” Jamie cried out as Favier’s claws sliced open his
cheek.
“Oh, it will…I crave her blood, the richness pouring down my throat. It’s
all that I want; why I exist. To drain her kind.”
“Shut up,” Jamie growled as he punched the smirking vampire’s face.
Toby skirted around behind Favier, looking for an opportunity to stake him.
Favier stumbled. “No…Kristine…”
Kit straightened and watched as the hellbitch screamed out in anguish as she
crumpled to dust around his father’s favourite stake. “That’s for Mum and
the girls,” he panted.
“Looks like you might have bitten off more than you can chew.” Millie
stepped up beside Jamie, dust smeared across her face.
“Andre…no…” Favier glanced over to where his brother had been and saw
nothing.
“Yes, he wasn’t much of a fighter, was he?” Millie taunted.
Favier roared and leapt towards Jamie and Millie. “You will die for that,”
he screamed.
“Not tonight.” Millie flipped a stake in her hand and in unison she and
Jamie staked the enraged Master vampire.
Favier’s hand clutched at his chest, clawing at the stakes that were embedded
in his heart. “No…this is not how it’s meant to be…”
“Yes it is,” Toby answered dispassionately.
“My childe will be my ultimate tool of vengeance. I swear on this.” With his
last vestiges of strength he turned to the minions. “Avenge me…” he
groaned as he crumpled to dust.
Millie, Jamie and the two other brothers watched with satisfaction as the last
of the Master vampires of the Du Bois clan died screaming.
As one, they turned to the handful of remaining minions. But the looks of
determination on their faces frightened the minions into flight.
They stood with the rose window of the Abbey behind them, the full moon framed
in the window. The Slayer and her three companions a formidable sight of
revenge.