Chapter Text
October 2037 ~ Garden Home, Suginami Ward, Tokyo
Voices were calling his name, shouting commands and pleading for assistance. None of it made sense nor could touch him. Yellow eyes studied the still frail body on the floor, no longer was it being shaken or it's wounds being tended to. It was so quiet. Just as it had been when alive only an hour earlier, yet more so. It simply lay still. Death was a stillness like no other. This was truth. So true, was how fast change could come crashing in. Only a short hour to have one's world cease to make any logical sense. One moment there is hope and love and purpose. Then stillness. Emptiness. That happened often in a lifetime, and his was a very long lifetime. So many moments like this had come and passed, but this one... This one he could feel whiting out all the others. This one was going to be his last.
Autonomous and beyond his ability to rationalize, his feet turned him away from the sight. Carried him back into the familiarity of his office, hands searching for and finding what his alien body had sought beyond conscious choice. The grisly scene taking place in his washroom was returned to, ornate wooden box in hand, no larger than a hardcover encylopedia. The warm living bodies in his way were easily pushed aside as he knelt before the still one. This was the it. The last one he would suffer watching grow still forever, leaving him to carry all his burdens alone. Often, things just happened, but occasionally, fate must play it's hand, right? Perhaps fate brought them here so they could leave together. It was fine if true. It was fine if not. Nothing was going to matter one way or the other in just a few minutes.
His hand reached out to caress the still face, the other reaching back to slide the ornate box closer. The latch was easy to find, he'd opened this box countless times through the centuries in moments of weakness similar to where he found himself now. However, this time was the only moment in a sea of them where he'd open it with clear intent. His hand found one of two oaken stakes that lay inside, capped with silver in an intricate archaic design. Glyphs and angelic scribe coiling around the spike, ensuring a holy end to the demon heart it would sunder. Small hands were pulling on his arm but those too were easy to shrug away. The time was now. That perfect still visage. What better a view could his eyes rest on? What other final vision could there be for Adrian Fahrenheit Țepeș?
Stronger hands were grabbing at him, trying to pull him away, along with those smaller ones returning to tug on the oaken stake. The Dhampyre didn't want any more violence at his chosen end. He wanted peace. He wanted to let go... Why couldn't the ties holding him to this realm simply allow him to slip free? This wasn't how he imagined it at all. Why did they insist on bringing him to anger? This was his choice. He was not going to live another day passed Trevor Belmont. The pleading hands would not let him go, no matter how much he broke their grip or twisted away. It was no desire to have his final act be one of violence, but with little choice, that too was a choice he made. He'd only hope they'd forgive him for it one day.
Ready to do violence, he stilled to gather the energy.
...Then stillness broke.
The quiet body before them sputtered, hacking spittle, lungs drawing in ragged struggling breaths. The dead body, no longer could be described as such... Breath after painful forceful breath was pulled out of the frail being, eyes blown wide with confusion, disbelief, and despair. Just as had happened back in a cave in the Sea of Trees, the dead returned to the living. The pair of concerned hands were no longer on the Dhampyre but on the living breathing body fighting for survival, clawing it's way tooth and nail back from the brink. The noise and flurry around him was deafening. Humans calling the name of another, pressure reapplied to a once again bleeding grievous wound.
There was recognition in those grey-blue eyes. The body looked at each face around it, and settled on his. The despair in those eyes. The shame. The utter guilt.
The spell was broken.
Alucard cast away his serene acceptance of fate and stepped into righteous white hot fury. Teeth bared, claws found cotton, wrenching the teeshirt in his fists until he'd enough purchase to lift and slam the Hunter into the wall. The snarl was animalistic. His eyes were crimson. He felt the heat of their glow on his own eyelids with each blink. Not from hunger. From pure unadulterated rage. “You liar.” A seething voice he hardly recognized as his own was hissing. “You lied to me.” Hands slammed the body into the wall again to punctuate. “You haven't taken your advise at all. Our loved ones wouldn't want us to mourn them ceaselessly? Just remember them how they were in good health and good times and move on for their memory's sake?” Blood splattered up the wall with his next violent punctuated slam. “Everything will be all right? And even if it is not, we will make it if all right, then at least bearable? So long as we are together?” The lithe body was twisting in his grip, pushing against him to escape, but he was not finished with it. The struggle brought them back to the floor but his strength for once in their scuffles miraculously won out. He pinned the body and sneered down at it. “You liar. You were leaving me to all of this. Well for once in your fucking life, Trevor Belmont, you are not going to get your way with me. You want out of this? Fine!” Voice near roaring, his hands found the oaken stake, the box, the whole kit. He forced one of the stakes into Trevor's hands and pulled the man up. In his other hand he held his own. It didn't take much, his hand over Trevor's around the stake to get it in place for the final plunge. “It's fine!” He repeated. “But you will do me the courtesy of taking me with you this time. I'll make sure you follow before I am dead.” His own oaken stake was held firmly against Trevor's heart. The Hunter's head was shaking, the hand under his own around the stake trying to break free. Alucard would not allow it. “Don't be afraid. I'm not afraid to die by your hand. I'll help you, Trevor. I'll always be here to help you, right up to the end. Which is now.” Sharp tug pierced his flesh, breaching the skin and puncturing into muscle. The strength of the Hunter resisting him stopped his final act.
Trevor Belmont and his inhuman blasted strength, was holding him back from staking his own heart. The Hunter's cowed bewilderment broke, and now he wanted to fight back. Fear and panic overwhelming his scent, how he managed, minutes from returning from death's grasp, the Dhampyre would never know. The stakes were knocked aside, arms and legs wrestling for control, for the upper ground, for dear life it seemed. Fists and claws got into the mix, slashes and bruising blows flying from both combatants. The sink was smashed, enamel and tempered glass shattering in the now spurting water. The Dhampyre's rage consumed all thought. This impertinent boy. This coward. Refusing to follow through? Refusing to take responsibility of his actions? For his false hopes and bitter lies? For stringing Alucard along so painfully when he knew this was the finishing line? Refusing the one he loved the dignity of a shared death? Having the utter gall to try and force him into submission! How dare he? How fucking dare he!?
Aggravatingly, his wrist was caught and twisted, his other as well as he tried to force his way out of the hold. Trevor, waifish, frail, minutes from returning from death's embrace, leaped over him. His arms were pulled in a crisscross embrace around his own torso, held in place by Trevor whose iron grip must have looked not unlike a lovers embrace if seen in any other context. The current context left him furious. The snarl that came out sounded like his Father's voice, but his tantrum did nothing to dissuade the Hunter's sudden resolve for life. Then, with a final, brutal kick to the back of his knee, bringing him to heel and cutting up his kneecaps on the shattered glass, the Hunter stood over him, breathing hard, hugging him and his hands protectively tight against their bodies. As if to protect the Dhampyre from himself. The Suicidal Hunter? Thought to protect the Dhampyre!?
Impossibly strong, the brunette leaned over his kneeling form, lips by his ears and gave a single command. A hiss made of air, yet louder than any scream or yell.
“Stop.”
The lost voice returned for that single word. Tears were falling before he could register the bittersweet relief. Just one word... that had been all he'd begged and prayed for. To hear just one more word out of Trevor's mouth. The fight... the anger... Gone. The sorrow, the hurt and the betrayal... He shook his head futilely. Nothing would stop his tears. Trevor had lied to him... And now what? Would nothing ever be all right? Were there ever going to be cozy mornings with tea and a good book, curled together in a chair by the window? Were there ever going to be quiet moments, Trevor wearing Alucard's shirts and socks, giving him small smiles, happy in domesticity? Were there never to be a hand-fasting ceremony and subsequent marital games, the Hunter allowing him to play dress up with his life-sized pretty porcelain doll? Was there never going to be a pleasure journey hand-in-hand around the world or a house to go home to in the mountains? Was this trauma loop all there would be waiting for them? Just one damaged man hurting the other, trading places on who got to be the victim that week? They couldn't even die together, as simple a solution as it could be. What kind of life was the alternative?
Trevor's iron hold eased off, and then the frail pale thing behind him was turning him around, reaching for one of the many discarded towels to staunch the bleeding of the puncture in his chest. Grey-blue eyes fixed him in place. The guilt was heavy in them, as was the sorrow. A pale hand was trying to smooth his tangled hair, stroke his face. The hand that hurt him, now trying to comfort. He didn't want it or deserve it, and Trevor had no right to offer to begin with. The Dhampyre withdrew, leaving the Hunter on the floor, surrounded in shattered enamel and blood smears. He pushed passed Yoko and Julius but could hardly make it passed the bedroom, collapsing instead against the partition wall near the chabudai. Blood soaked his shirt, his kneecaps, and his vision. Trevor's overgrown nails... claws, to be honest... having slashed open his temple. Knees drawn to his chest, and arms wrapped around them, there he wept silently until nothing else would fall. His eyes burned, but remained dry. Chest hurt, but hitched no more. Alucard was empty. Still.
Yoko must have called for aid as Hammer rushed by him at some point. He shut the noise of their commotion out. Or tried to. Not long after the vet's arrival, Julius was getting down on the ground with him. The elder hunter said nothing, but proceeded to cut open his bloodied pant legs and pull glass and enamel shards from his flesh with a pair of tweezers. Shards from his hands, his shoulders and his hair all followed. Gentle precision from faintly wrinkled hands, his wounds were cleaned and bandaged, and with a final once-over looking for any missed nicks and cuts, Julius nodded satisfactorily. Not finished with his sympathy, the older brunette crawled over to his side and placed his arms gently around, pulling the Dhampyre down to lay against his chest and rocked him slowly.
With a small soft whisper, Julius made him a promise, and a plea. “This too shall pass. So please stay with us.”
Alucard didn't know what to believe, so he just closed his eyes.
He chased blackness, and caught it.
*****
Yoko truly believed she was doing her absolute best to not freak out. Her voice and hands were steady as she handed Hammer what he asked for, and let a slew of assurances and promises fall from her lips in an effort to sooth her weakened, shaken, Great-Grandpa. Her tapered fingers held a gaping wound's ends in place as Hammer applied Steri-Strips with a breezy ease, as if she did that kind of thing everyday. No big deal. She cleaned glass out of matted bloody hair so that her army man could clean and bandage in her wake. She fetched an ice pack for a nastily bruised cheekbone. She fetched a broom, a mop, and a toolkit for Hammer to turn off the water leaking from the busted sink and clear away the shattered remnants. She half carried, half walked an unsteady man out of harms way and wrapped him tightly in the duvet she'd tore off the bed. Needing Julius' guidance and soothing presence, she lead the blanket burrito out into the living room and lowered them both near the elder Belmont.
Julius was gently rocking their friend in his arms. An act of tenderness of a kind she wasn't used to seeing out of the gruff serious hunter. Then again, it wasn't every day your longtime friend and ally tried to enter a suicide pact with his anachronistic lover. That was for special occasions only, right? So she followed in kind, pulling Trevor to her breast to rock in a similar fashion. Like the Dhampyre, her tragic ancestor eventually closed his eyes without making a single sound. She kept rocking... Finding it was a self-soothing motion as well. Duty fulfilled as a temp caregiver, she could use a helluva lot of soothing. The two sat in silence until eventually Hammer joined them, slipping between each Julius and Yoko, and their subsequent charges.
Hammer lifted Trevor's bundled legs over his own to better fit against her. His warm solid presence a balm for her frazzled nerves. She leaned into his embrace gratefully. And like a true bro, with one look at Julius and his broken bundle of Moroi, pulled that lot over to lean against his other side, arm curled in support around the elder man. For a long while, they all just sat there, group-hugging it out because really, what the hell else could they do?
It was Yoko, to thy own self be true, who was the first to break the moratorium on sound. “Jules, I'm not sure how much more of the drama llama I can take with these two. They legitimately almost killed each other tonight.”
“Yours killed himself.” Julius corrected in a tired voice. “Mine just tried to go along for the ride.”
“Julius...” The sorceress swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. Afraid to let her mentor down, but unable to keep it to herself any longer. “I want to go home. Fuck this whole thing. Iron Liza is going to call us back any day now, expecting a summary of the Castle and the Eclipse. When she does, I think we should just pack up and go. I think we should try to convince Alucard to as well for his clear and very needed benefit and mental health. 'Dhampyre this' or 'Dhampyre that' me all you want, he's still half human, and this is obviously too much for him to handle. He's fucking lost the plot, and he needs help. We should take the kid back to Wallachia and leave him at the Church. It's probably the best place for him and his issues as well. Impartial space and people to work through what he needs to work through.”
“That's my Grandfather you're talking about dropping off like an unwanted puppy at the pound.” The older man huffed a with a tired laugh. After a moment's consideration he added. “You should go home, Yoko. I think you've more than earned it.” There was no argument given, Julius simply accepted her wishes. “I'll schedule a long overdue vacation and stay on for as long as I can get away with. I don't really want to leave... and permit me to quote another Belmont... My one and only Dhampyre in this state. I'm not sure he will agree to just drop this, and I am with you on your assessment of his mental state. This is too much for him momentarily, and he needs a good friend to weather through it with him. I think I may be able to convince him it's best for Trevor to be somewhere impartial and away from any triggers... But to be honest, Yoko, I think you are wrong about Gramps over there. If he could talk, I think Trevor would tell you he's ready to live.”
“About that... So, uhh... Just to get this straight.” Hammer piped up from between them, clear he'd been trying to ask for some clarity but unsure when was appropriate to butt in. “You're pretty sure Napoleon was dead. And this is the second time he's come back from the seeming dead? Just like when he was found in the Murder-Suicide forest cave?” Yoko nodded and Hammer made a contemplative noise. Brown eyes studied the brown head poking out of the blanket burrito sombrely. “Poor kid... Well, Grandpa, I guess. Hmm... I think I missed a cut...” Large hand twisted the sleeping head to examine, but all it lead to was another thoughtful noise. “No... I think that's a tattoo.”
“Tattoo?” Yoko raised an eyebrow. “What kind of fifteenth century Frenchman would have some ink?”
Hammer shrugged as best he could, one arm still around Julius. “This guy, I guess. It's a little red box.”
“Yoko.” Julius started, leaning over Hammer to get a good look, but the sorceress was already on it.
She pulled at the blanket burrito until she could get a good look for herself, and held her breath when she pulled enough chestnut strands of hair to the side to make out that semi-organic boxy pattern. The sight left her utterly gobsmacked. Perhaps even a little pissed off. Hiding in plain sight, it was the same semi-organic boxy one that had been carved into the stones, the alter, and the flesh of the dead hunters the High Priestess had staged for her blood ritual. Yoko's magick probed the area, and a strange resonance fed back into her aura. The mark was not made for her kind of magick, it seemed. It actively rejected her. “This... I think it's a lock. A seal. I also don't believe I have the key.”
“Any ideas on why Trevor Belmont has a lock or seal on him?”
“Just a theory...” She frowned, scrutinizing the brand a mass murdering woman would put on her own goddamn Grandpa. “It's not exactly my forte, but you can prime spells and seal them. Usually this is done in clay discs. Create a bunch ahead of time and seal them and BAM. No energy? No problem. Just break the disc. Insta-Spell!”
Julius' bloodshot cobalt eyes grew dark.“Well I can sense auras but we all know I am no Arcane master, so this is just a theory of my own. But, based on what you are proposing... Not enough energy for your blood ritual... break the Belmont?”
Yoko felt her own features darkening. The possibilities were wide when her gift would not allow her any insight to the spell's components. “I said it's a theory. Not my area of expertise in the slightest. I have never heard of priming a spell in a living body. And no, Jules, I can see the cogs turning in your head. I have no practical or theoretical hypotheses on how priming a spell could seemingly re-animate the dead. That being said, I am not not saying this seal isn't the reason Grandpa is six hundred years old. Maybe this brand is the reason he's still alive, or hard to kill, or perfect for endless blood-letting and rituals? But I really have no idea. We really have no idea who this woman is and what she is capable of.” The sorceress threw up her hands and made a disgruntled and all together unladylike sound.
“That wasn't my train of thought exactly... But it is sure something to consider. Actually, I was just wondering why he's still here. If she gave him her brand, why hasn't she come for him? He seems pretty irreplaceable after all for her blood ritual.” Julius made a pensive noise and thinned his eyes. “More so if you're correct and he's uhh... Primed.”
“It's a theory, Jules... As for why she hasn't come yet, well, her brand is rebuffing my magick, but the symbol is not giving off any energy on it's own. She likely can't use it to track him. It's likely a contained spell on it's own, if it's a spell, because that is just my theory. I would love to run this by my mother. Another point for returning to Wallachia; Mama is hardcore. She'd probably recognize whatever this is.”
Hammer butt in again when he next had an opportunity, with a litany of open ended questions. “Theories aside, what about focusing on the facts? Wasn't there some kind of monster in the woods the last night we camped there? The one that Vampyre kept at bay and then took off before explaining what it was. Would it be a stretch to speculate that the shadow monster was there for Napoleon, maybe? You think the monster from that night is also the familiar you saw in the woods, the scaredy-cat?” Hammer shrugged. “Maybe the Witch doesn't need a spell or a brand to track Napoleon, she's got the familiar to do it for her? It came for him that night but was too spooked by Vampyre. He spooks me, after all.”
“The shadow monster... Lilû. I'm not sure.” Julius hedged, neither running with the idea or shelving it. “Alucard seems to think it was Joachim who was spooked that night.” Julius hummed. “What we saw never attacked, even when Alucard got aggressive on it. What was in the woods a few weeks ago was something seemingly powerful enough it scared a two thousand year old Vampyre. Why would Joachim fear a creature that does not fight back?”
“Have you considered when you three saw it the first time, Trevor Belmont wasn't with you?” Hammer countered with a fair logical point, to which Julius could only concede. “If the Lilû is a smart demon whose lived thousands of years or more, maybe it's very selective in when it attacks. You win all the battles you never fight, right?”
“He is so much trouble.” Julius huffed. “Horribly jinxed. A complete disaster magnet.” Taking a moment to rearrange Alucard in his arms, the elder hunter huffed again. “But I think we need his help in order to get to the bottom of this and test all these theories. Is he essential to her ritual or just was just wrong place wrong time? Is he here because of her, or the Castle, or some other means? Does Shadow Monster have some teeth after all or is it all bark? Would Lilû attack if it was to get Trevor back? I think we need some live bait. Some live Trevor Belmont bait, if we're going to find out what Lilû and it's master have in mind.”
“Need I remind you, that's your Great-Grandpa you're talking about, Jules? Plus I hardly think he's in the position to be of any assistance after what just happened. I know for a fact Al over there isn't in any position to help out, and this whole thing was his pet project to start with! Another point for returning to Wallachia. Can't finish her ritual if we have the branded Belmont keystone sequestered away in a whole ass other country..”
“ Need I remind you, Al over here told us that Gramps is fine with being bait if we thought it would help, for one thing. For another, Alucard will be all right in due time. This is an understandable, but momentary weakness. Trauma conga line was a little too long, that's all. You've not known him long enough to see the true depths of his resilience. He is human, Yoko, like you said. Our spirit and hearts are fire. His burns brighter than any.”
“What if Trevor tries to un-alive himself again?” Yoko muttered the question. “Trevor Belmont seems to have total control over Al. All he's got to do is snap his fingers and who comes running? Alucard! Right to his goddamn grave, if need be.” She gave the blanket burrito an angry shake, and was only a little bit ashamed to have jostled an injured man. Why and how was such an intelligent experienced demi-demon man so okay with being in such a lopsided relationship where one party held all the power? “You think Alucard is going to withstand another suicide attempt from the Tiny Tyrant? I'm not going to watch Trevor twenty-four seven to prevent it. Neither are you. Alucard... I guess could. He doesn't need to sleep. But what kind of life is that? Being another's keeper. Ultimately, it's no different than Trevor being locked up in a dark cave with that Witch cutting him nightly for blood. Comfier accommodations and better food. But still a prisoner. And Alucard a prisoner with him.”
“Trevor won't try again.” Julius stated firmly.
Yoko was just dying to know what made her grumpy old new cousin so smug. “What makes you so sure?”
In a patient tone, Julius rationalized his firm belief and the thought process that lead him to it. “The fact that Trevor could have let Alucard end them both, but he didn't. He fought an armed Dhampyre with his bare fists, while barely clinging onto life, so that he could save both of their lives. And he won. Quitters don't fight, Yoko. You go ahead and ask your Great-Grandpa when he wakes up if he regrets doing what he did. I will bet money he tells you he does. I will double that bet and say not only will he tell you he regrets doing it, but that he wanted to change his mind and take it back after the cut was made. He was just too weak from the blood loss to do anything about it. He's lucky he's spell-sealed or cursed or whatever.”
“All righty then...” Her lips pursed as she studied the young man in her arms, who was the whole reason she and Julius were alive today. She didn't dislike him, this Trevor Belmont. He was funny and sweet and literally the only person she had ever seen give Joachim some grief. He was a hero, straight out of history. There was that adage about never meeting your heroes though, with good reason. Even being fair and acknowledging that they were meeting during what was without a doubt the worst collection of moments in Trevor's life, and she was seeing the worse parts of him amplified by his immense tragedy atop tragedy... The web this completely average man had spun to ensnare her fantastical god-tier powered partner and friend irked Yoko. Was Trevor even aware how much he'd enslaved the Dhampyre? Would it be worse if he was? Alucard talked often about keeping the scales balanced between humans and demons, as if it was his raison d'être. How then could the Dhampyre not see Trevor stacking more weight on his side of the scales in their relationship every time the Moroi's head turned? Or is that a fair assumption? She had to wonder. Maybe she had it all backwards and it was Alucard doing the stacking after all? Alucard giving Trevor all this power over him and pinning all his... everything on a seemingly young man who didn't ask for it? In that line of thinking it was Alucard who'd spun the web that ensnared them both. I wonder Trevor Belmont... If you made that choice thinking you were setting him free? She stared at the smooth features, bruised and cut from a lovers all-out brawl. They didn't betray a thing.
“So what do you want to do about all this tonight, Babe?” Hammer nudged her a little to break her serious and super grim focus. “I'm not opposed to sitting here all night cuddling my besties, but you think Alucard would mind if we took the bed with Napoleon over here?”
“No... I think he owes me a nap in the big bed. Jules, you're on your own.” Yoko announced, shoving her dark thoughts and bad mood temporarily to the side. It was naptime. Yoko had loved naptime ever since she was a kid. It was wasted on children who did not appreciate it. “We can deal with all this stuff tomorrow.”
Julius scoffed and rolled to his feet, the heavy Dhampyre smoothly hauled up into his arms like just another toy baby doll. As if there was no weight to him at all. “I don't need either of you or your big bed. My real bestie and I are going to cuddle real close on the pull-out. You enjoy your spacious accommodations.”
“He's just jelly, babe.” Hammer joked for some levity, and took Trevor off her hands to go tuck the kid in, talking from behind the partition wall. “He knows I'm the cuddliest.”
“That's why I'm with you, Hambone.” Yoko agreed with a laugh. She did throw Julius a bone by pulling out the couch-bed in the office and fetching him a spare blanket and pillow. “Try to have a good night, Jules. We'll sort all this crap out tomorrow.”
“You too, Yoko. Remember you're human too. Heart of fire, yeah?”
“You know it.”
*****
October 2037 ~ Garden Home, Suginami Ward, Tokyo - The Morning After
Mind and body a void, the Dhampyre rose from the blackness into pre-dawn light. The rosy hues burgeoning into the gold of the coming sunrise. In silence, save the steady snore of the man at his side, he took stock of numerous stinging cuts, abrasions and bruises. Each seemed foreign and distance, as if the pain committed to another body in another time and place far from where he inhabited. While he felt nothing keenly, muscle memory made him stand and take in his surroundings. His office. Quiet, save Julius. Automatically, at the recognition, he bent down to pull the blanket back up around the still sleeping man. It was starting to get damp in the early hours now, and older bones always seemed more sensitive to the damp chill of autumn. Blood was calling him.
He stepped out of the still space into an even darker room. The pillows around the chabudai were scattered and partially missing. The scent of blood was stronger out in this room, but did not emanate from it. There were many pairs of shoes and boots by his entrance-way, so he found his bare feet carrying him to the bedroom. What he found explained it all. Yoko divested of most her clothes save a tanktop and her undergarments curled up against Hammer who was equally stripped to base layers, sharing a throw blanket and stolen living room pillows between them. At their side, rolled in the duvet...
Alucard turned away. From the sight. The scent of blood. He couldn't bear to look at that right now. So he stepped into his washroom to get a better look at the damage. Both to the facility and to his face. The sink was a complete write-off, and after inspection, so was the toilet's reservoir lid. Both smashed to pieces... that were no longer littering the tile. Someone had tidied up. The mirror, while cracked, was serviceable for now. He wasn't a superstitious demon, after all. His reflection... less salvageable. Flesh no longer alabaster but a sickly grey and green, and curls matted and messy, he leaned in to see dark circles under his yellow eyes. He wasn't even aware he could get dark circles. The image displeased him so he did an about-face sharply from it, only to next have his eyes settle on the shower stall.
Breath hitched, his feet found their way against his will to peer into the glass stall. That was where it had happened. Where everything fell apart. Where he learned he'd been lied to. Like a train-wreck, he both did not want to look, but could not stop himself from peering around the frosted glass, surprisingly spared in the all out beat-down that had taken place hours earlier. Inside was the remnants of Trevor's cowardice. His abandonment of Alucard, the person he said he loved. The dry trickled blood circling the drain had no affect on his hunger. That lay dormant. It just made him angry all over again, to know Trevor would rather circle a drain than stand with him in this torrent. The Hunter didn't even need to stand, just cling to him. He'd accept it. He had been ready to hold it all together for both of them in the storm, for as long as he needed to do it.
The rage dissipated once his eyes caught what was around the drain. Around the frosted glass and tile inside. Images from the sketchbooks of the man's family and friends, children he would never know lined the glass. The new journal Alucard had purchased for him opened to the picture of the jewel beetle had been placed as well. One of those woven bookmarks Julius would make in his spare time was placed as well, a gift evidently from the elder hunter unbeknownst to the Dhampyre. The token Sypha had sewn into the man's coat centuries ago was also laid out. The packaged sweet Yoko had handed him... and even all the gear Alucard had made for him from the hydra pelt. Alucard stared at all the little tokens and charms gathered since the man had come to stay with him, all surrounding this one place... the tiny space Trevor had chosen to end it all.
He thought of the trickle from the tap he'd heard for over an hour. How it sounded like the babbling of a summer brook. A calming sound. A peaceful sound. His legs gave out, but he barely felt the sting of the cuts on his knees when he landed hard on them, so lost in guilt was he. Replenished tears welled up and fell as they pleased, as the Dhampyre sat in shameful silence. It wasn't cowardice... He was cruel and heartless to think of Trevor's act of desperation as such. So quick to pass judgment on a wounded suffering soul. He reached out to touch the gorgeous gradient of blues and green that was the hydra whip, uncaring how it seared his gloveless flesh. The resting coil of it, he traced the unbroken line mindlessly, was heart-shaped. A farewell. An apology. A declaration of love. Burning fingers traced the heart, Dhampyre ears hearing the echoes of tricking water... How peaceful. How calming. To surround yourself with tokens of love and comfort from past and present and try to ease your pain the only way a broken mind could think of how.
He was a monster to have said and done what he did. To have put his hands on the one he loved and spewed such vitriol and accusations. Trevor wasn't a coward for trying to stop the hurt. He was helpless and suffering. The Hunter just didn't want to hurt anymore and he couldn't ask for help... He had no voice to ask Alucard for help.
That's right. Alucard's tears dried quickly in the burning glow of his red eyes. Fury returning with a vengeance with a singular focus to aim it towards. You've been robbed, Trevor. That woman's ministrations and torture have stolen your voice. I am so sorry I haven't finished with this sooner...What I should have done from the very start. Virtues and high-ground be damned. I would commit any sin to spare you, Trevor.
Once he picked himself off the cool tile, he noticed the very object of his adoration standing in the door frame. So sickly looking and gaunt, borrowed shirt bloodied beyond salvation, the furrowed brow and cobalt eyes watching him widened in what appeared to be fear when Alucard returned the gaze. My poor darling Hunter, to be so weak and wounded. There is no reason to be nervous of me. The Hunter took a step back as he approached, mouth opening as if to cry out... to which no sound would come. Yet the wary action, the retreat... That fragile fearful creature so in need of his protection and strength. Something animalistic in Alucard responded to it. A demonic impulse, guided by his fury and flames fanned by his unadulterated worship. A switch inside flipped. The Dhampyre seized the frail body and pulled him into his embrace before the Hunter could move beyond his reach. Alucard nearly quivered with rage, mind flung out to the woods where his prey lay. This could not drag any longer. Trevor could not suffer any more heartache and survive it.
“I am not angry with you, Trevor, my sweet. Hush now. Please don't be afraid of me.” The Dhampyre carded through blood crusted chestnut locks in a soothing fashion, holding firmly, but lightly so as not to further frighten the poor thing. “You're not a liar either. Look... We are both still here... Together, right?” The smaller brunette shook his head, but it was unclear how exactly he meant the action to be taken. Alucard took it positively, Trevor's confusion and instability to blame, no doubt for any mixed messages. “It's all right now... Hush. You are so loved, Trevor. I've loved you across time and space. You deserve to be pampered and doted upon. You deserve some peace. You deserve more than I can give, but you can have everything I am able to, you know that?” Again the brunette shook his head, pushing against his chest with captured hands, his cobalt eyes still wide. “Shh... please don't look at me like that. I could not stand it if you are afraid of me too after all these years. My fury is not for you, my love. It's for the Witch who stole your voice.” He explained fanatically. The Hunter was trying to step back to better look at him but he couldn't bear to let him go just yet. His grip tightened and Trevor finally stilled, obediently. It was the first time the Hunter had surrendered to Alucard so easily. “There we are... You're all right. We are both all right, Trevor.”
His own ego assured of the fact, he walked the Hunter out of the washroom, padding silently to the dresser to pull some clothes for them both. In a whisper, it was easy to command the boy to dress, held so close as he was. Just a craning of his neck and shoulders to overshadow. Alucard pulled the stained teehsirt over his head and tossed it into the living room with plans for it later. Right now, he wanted to make sure his pampered little pet was seen to. It was just as easy to compliment the outfit from his towering stance, fixing chestnut tresses how he liked them as he did so. Satisfied, he dressed in the black base of his hunting garb, never allowing the Hunter to stray too far away while he discarded torn bloodied clothes of his own in the nearby waste-bin. Trevor was weak and fragile. Better not to let him out of sight until his basic needs were met. Finished dressing, he coaxed his needlessly apprehensive lover towards the kitchen, ordering him to sit.
Yoko's ready-made food was an easy pick, ramen noodles needing only a kettle and a pot to hard-boil two eggs. All together a simple meal, but quick and easy to digest. He slid the finished product across the table, even having peeled the eggs and stood with hands on edge, leaning over. “Eat. You are starved.” He insisted, and Trevor demurely obeyed. It pleased him to have no argument for a change when logic was clear and sound. The Hunter needed to eat. “Thank you.” He whispered, watching the brunette methodically polish off what he'd been given. Taking a seat to observe compliance, he confessed. “It makes me happy to see you taken care of.”
Cobalt eyes were watching him warily, and Alucard did not care for that. He tried to reach out and run his hands down the Hunter's arms to sooth him, but the action seemed to have the opposite effect. It was perplexing, for this creature that so loved him were confessions to be believed, to be so unnerved in his presence. “Please don't look at me like that, Trevor. I don't like it.” He stated firmly, and the Hunter lowered his gaze. “Don't sulk either. There is nothing you need to worry about when it comes to me.” When the sulking was maintained, he found himself brusquely reaching to pull Trevor out of his chair and back into his embrace. In his lap it was much easier to stroke and coddle his pretty plaything. “I understand why you did what you did. It's all right, I've said. You are too perfect a pet to suffer so. I do not blame you for being overwhelmed when you cannot even voice your pain. It's the Witch's fault you were left with only that choice.” The Hunter opened his mouth, stress and struggle apparent, but of course nothing could be formed. With endless affection, he continued to caress his lover, hoping the next touch would be the one that finally calmed his nerves. “Hush, my sweet. Its all right, I've said. I understand. I forgive you, so I hope you can forgive me? I've been cruel to you.”
A flash of... something... crossed Trevor's eyes, but it could not be discerned and was gone before long. The Hunter almost seemed frustrated. Perhaps he may have been, had those damnable nerves not had such a hold of him. Seeming unsure what to do with his emotions, the brunette leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. The act elated Alucard. Pleased beyond words, he leaned into it and before long had the bony little plaything pressed against the table, devouring that mouth. Caressing touches now roving and deliberate. The body beneath him was pliant and non-resistant. Staying where he placed it, and allowing what was done to it. But those cobalt eyes were staring mournfully at him when he next lifted his head.
“Stop looking at me like that.” He warned. “I told you I don't like it.” To his pleasure, the Hunter responded next by throwing his arms around him, pulling himself up in order to hug his body. With a hand his head was tipped forward until they rested against each other. Trevor took his hand and placed it on his heart, and placed his own on Alucard's. Holding them there, he stilled, just breathing slowly. The Hunter was trying to tell him something with this calming meditative act, he knew... He knew the poor thing was desperate to communicate a message Alucard clearly was not getting. But it just further fuelled his rage that Trevor could not get his point across. It was the Witch. She had done this to them. To Trevor. “How you suffer because of her... I will not let this stand.” He seethed.
This startled his beautiful Hunter. Trevor tried to pull away.
“Don't.” Alucard insisted, holding him in place. “Please don't run from me. Stay here.” Pressing his forehead back against the brunettes, he tried to explain in a softer voice. “It's not you, my love, I've told you. My fury is only for her. You are victim of her ambition.” Trevor was shaking his head, simultaneously tapping at his chest and trying to get Alucard to place his hand back there. “I don't understand you. I love you so much, and I can't read what's on your mind. She's robbed you of your voice. But she's robbed me of it as well. If you could have only told me how to help you...” His clawed hands grazed the gauzed over wound self-inflicted by a troubled desperate soul. “You would not need to suffer so. She must pay for that. So I want you to do something for me while I am away.”
He pulled Trevor up after him, settling the frail Hunter on his feet and pulled him alongside as he ducked into his office to gather his coat, cloak, and sword. His voice was a mere murmur, cautious of waking Julius. “You are going to eat, and sleep, and care for your wounds. You will do this for me.” Although whispered, his command was ironclad. “I am yours. All I have, all I will ever acquire, all I will ever do is yours or in service of you. But remember that you are mine, Trevor. I beg you always remember that you are mine and mine alone.” Why ever did his lovely pet look so sad? The grip on his shoulders tightened as he placed a chaste kiss on the Hunter's brow. “I am going to find your voice, my sweet. I won't come back until it's found. So you will do as I ask so that you are healthy and strong when I return?”
Shaking his head again, Trevor reached for Alucard's desk. Curious, the Dhampyre allowed him to stray just far enough to grab a pen and paper, hastily scrawling in German, likely because it was his second language, and Alucard could not understand his first. The note when held up, brought a wicked smile to the Dhampyre's visage. A wondrous callback to an earlier time when the poor thing thought such imperfect thoughts.
I am not your wife, your pet or your plaything. You are not my husband, my protector or my property.
More hasty pen stabs.
There is something wrong with you. You are not acting normal. It is my fault, I think. I'm sorry I did what I did. What I tried to do is no one's fault but my own. Please stay here and talk to me. We will figure it out.
“What a pretty little wife you'd make though, Trevor. I'd be so happy to be your husband.” He sighed, but the Hunter was not receptive to his wistful wishes. His plaintive features and searching eyes an open window into his growing distress. The poor confused thing, believing he had any ownership in this tragedy. “There is nothing wrong with me, my love, please don't worry about your Dhampyre. And I know, my sweet, that you did not mean to end your life... You felt trapped in misery. You believed you had no other way to ease this suffering then an escape. It's not your fault in the slightest, it's hers. That is why I am going to get your voice back. It must be restored so you can be whole... I won't have that woman take from me what's mine.”
Another wary yet still plaintive look, and the pen touched paper deftly, even though the body wielding it was unsteady on it's feet.
If I say I would rather have you than my voice, will you stay here with me until you calm down? You are not of sound mind. It's my fault, let me make it right. Please?
“You have me, my love. All of me. But I don't have all of you.” He insisted. “Please understand, I am doing this for us both. That you insist you have any fault in what that woman made you do is proof enough she needs to pay. I just need you to stay safe and regain your health. You don't need to worry, I am Adrian Fahrenheit Țepeș, Scion of Dracula. I will not suffer this insult to my beloved or myself.”
I don't have you. This isn't you. What I did was my own mistake, and my actions clearly robbed something from you. Stay here and let's find what I stole from you first. Once we find what's unhinged in you, then we can talk about the Witch. Once you are okay. Rational. Please stay.
Playful smile pulling at his lips, the Dhampyre fell in and kissed the Hunter once more. It did nothing to ease Trevor's naked concern and trepidation, but it did wonders for Alucard's conviction. “You can't steal anything from me Trevor. I give it all willingly. That you love me enough to try and keep me safely here with you means more than you'll know. You do not need to fear... Really.”
I do fear. You are both treating me and talking about me like I am a possession to be mended. It is not like you, and it is frightening me.
“Don't write that. And don't look at me like you are afraid of me, either. I can't bear to have you look that way.” Alucard's mood soured considerably. Taking the Hunter by hand he pulled him through the living room, stopping only briefly to gather the bloodied shirt, and stepped outside. In the sunrise light, the pale creature's features were golden. The alluring vision eased his agitation some. Seizing Trevor's wrists, he held them up, a spark of Hellfire burning up the page with his scrawled penmanship, and melting away the pen for good measure. “You are not a mere busted up or dented possession, but a treasure I mean to restore to it's former glory. Stay here, Trevor. Julius and Yoko will take care of you in my stead. If you stay with them you will be safe until I return. And I will return.”
The Hunter pulled at his arm trying to draw him back towards the garden home, but the Dhampyre preoccupied himself by tearing the teeshirt in half, keeping the bloodied raiment scrap to slide into his pocket, and discarding the other in the firepit. The next best thing to live bait now stashed on his person, he pulled that fretful wounded little thing back in for one last soft kiss. No more then a light press of lips. “You behave, all right? Don't make any rash decisions until I come back for you.” About to shift form and fly away, a passing thought halted his step. He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out the small ornate Echo Mirror. This item he pressed into Trevor's hand with a small smile. “Just in case of emergency. Yoko will be able to work it if you show her you have it. But keep it safe for me, as it's a gift.”
And then he was off on the hunt. Bat eyes peering back down into his garden as he swirled into the air to bolster his resolve. He would find that sweet Hunter's voice and make him whole.
Then they would talk, in the very literal sense of the word.
*****
October 2037 ~ Sea of Trees, forests surrounding Mt. Fuji
Hinoki cypress and Japanese hemlock. Latin Chamaecyparis obtusa and Tsuga diversifolia. The names for tall obscuring canopy trees, roots spread shallow and broadly against the hard volcanic rock beneath the soil as to create visible forest veins, seemingly with the snow-capped mountain the vector. The heart. The demon stepped easily through this maze of bark and moss, the nature of his being frightening away the black bears, boars and various small prey animals. The Dhampyre moved boldly, claws scratching away at every handhold, boots digging and scuffing every root. His marks were deliberate. A challenge to the monster in the shadows that had stalked him or his love the night previously. Caution be damned now. In truth, violence for violence's sake was never the answer. Truer still, violence as an answer to violence was a simplistic barbarism entrapment that too often and too easily was fallen into, but never could it be said to have been the recourse of a truly enlightened society. Mayhaps it was the the morals of his demon heritage taking reigns, but sometimes... Sometimes when facing an immoral situation, the only choice left to a man was an immoral reaction. Ancient progenitor demon god or rare endangered species, whichever mattered not one whit now. The Scion of Dracula was no Saint, just as easily dragged into sin and emotional manipulation as any man walking the Earth. Perhaps even more so by nature of his lineage. Simply put, Alucard wanted blood for blood. It was just the kind of demon he was.
Scent of Belmont blood wafting from out his pocket fuelled both his focus and his wrath, and he could only pray it burned brighter than any beacon fire he could light, but if need be, he would burn this entire sea of trees to ash. If that's what it took to flush out the wicked witches and their shadowy pet, so be it. It would not have been the first, tenth, or even hundredth time Alucard had razed a landscape in the name of revenge. Force of Will fully engaged, he caught the minds and subjugated various Yōsei he came across, commanding them to scatter out, broadening his search. The effort of controlling so many unique and complex creatures was significantly taxing, but a necessary sacrifice that paid off. His connection pulled him to follow after his converging followers. His army of Japanese fairies having gathered enough sensations from their numerous and variant talents and strengths, all shared and networked by his control, to have picked up an interloper in the woods.
Energy expenditure nearing his limit, he released his slaves gradually, keeping the ones closer to the trail engaged until he could close the gap. Why hadn't he thought to do this in the first place, distantly his mind wondered. The answer, of course, was because it was wrong. His place as peacekeeper and leader meant he'd always be held to the highest standards. Morals and standards he was trading in, in the name of Trevor Belmont. It was wrong to march another being possibly towards harm or death against their will. It was a cruel and immoral act, what he was doing, no matter the reason. The closer the Dhampyre stalked, the more evident his perversion and sin became. Connections were lost left and right. Not by his hand, nor his wavering strength. They were there, a part of the whole, and then simply gone. His hunt brought him to pass by some of his fallen Yōsei. They appeared motionless, and no aura could he sense from their still bodies, but he did not stop to check them for life. He was too close now.
The sea of trees grew darker and denser, so little space now left to slip through the foliage. The Yōsei were all but lost to him now, but the faint scent of earth and sky was all he needed. He spared the tenuous hold on the stragglers and released them from their damned death march. He would finish this alone. He could see the trees rattle counterpoint to the wind above the leaves ahead, and followed the shadow monster deeper still. Once the creature began to circle, Alucard's bloodlust skyrocketed. He had it. It was no longer running, and he certainly was not going to run or hide either. Red eyes watched the light refracting and camouflaged creature tighten it's circles from where he stood stock-still and waiting. Baiting.
Without Joachim, Trevor, Julius, Yoko or Hammer at his side, this time the tree monster came to Alucard. Nigh-invisible shape landed against the tallest, broadest tree in direct eyesight to the Dhampyre, and stood. As if on a casual stroll along the promenade, it walked down the trunk effortlessly straight, parallel to the soil, and the strength in the body that could make such a feat look so easy closing in was not lost on Alucard. One slow step later, the creature stood on the same forested floor as he, and in the quiet moment held, he could study it's outline clearly for the first time.
It was not large by any means. An inch or two taller than Yoko at most, and seemed to be both male and of a similar shape to how Trevor, pound for pound in healthier days, used to look. As the refraction melted away into liquid ink, Alucard could see the long whip-like tail lashing about behind, broad smoke-like wings wavering in the air, even particles separating briefly to float on the air before rejoining the mass. Impossibly light-absorbing, the inky membrane fit it's athletic body like a bodysuit, separating only from the tips of it's fingers and toes to allow deadly crescents of talons free to tear into bark or possibly even flesh. Alucard would find out soon enough, he suspected.
The Dhampyre found himself smiling mirthlessly, fangs bared. This monster... This prized pet. Surely if he could capture it the Witch would come running. It's elemental scent was growing in strength the longer they faced off. A cloying, distracting... heavily arousing component flooding his senses the longer they stared each other down. Ahh, I see how you work now, shadow. Alucard mused, mind already addled by the pheromones exuded. Still, he had the scent of what he truly desired on him, right in his pocket to remind him to stay the course. He would not be tempted to stray by this seductor with Trevor at his side. Not to say the creature's efforts were without effect. He knew he had to get it, but could not recall how he'd planned so perfectly to, now that it and it's pheromones were within leaping distance. Instinct it was, he surrendered. Higher thought was lost to him under the weight of it's powers.
Because the Witches in the Coven had spoken in English, it was what he tried first to engage with the shadow. “What are you, shadow creature? I have heard several tall tales about what sort of demon you are. Which is truth, I wonder?” Alluring aroma intensifying further, the tail of the creature seemed to vanish into the inky casing, while the wings grew larger. Those wings had been what caught him the first encounter, and his base protective instinct begged he step away from them, not closer. He stepped closer again anyway, just beyond their reach, waiting for the creature before him to make it's next move. “Well? Are you really such an ancient demon as this Lilû I keep hearing of, or a mimicking species?”
Several moments passed, and the Dhampyre could painfully count each one, as the creature's head tilted slightly in apparent consideration of his questions. It was not unlike a Belmont Pause, and the grim humour in that passing recognition was not lost on Alucard. Head tilting back in place from it's contemplation, the black membrane at last begun to peel away from it's face. Splitting in half, and falling away like a cascade of water, until the whole of it's visage and much of it's chest down to where it's navel should have been on a normal man, was bared. Warm auburn hair, chestnut in colour one could argue, spilled out in a glossy pin-straight fan, framing a well sculpted, blemish free, pale face set with familiar grey-blue eyes, the colour of winter snow in the shade of a tree, or the cooled steel of a freshly forged blade. So perfectly flawless in design, it had to be a trick.
“Are you a homunculus, I wonder? Made from mine, whose features you share?” The accusation was made with a touch of a growl. It was too glaringly perfect a match. As if Trevor's essence had been distilled and every beautiful flaw and freckle in his flesh smoothed out into this inhuman copy. The tapering cinch of it's waist, begging his fingers to curl around, was even the same. It's beauty so flawless and otherworldly, he found himself less enchanted by it's form than with his brunette's tarnished and scarred pelt. Trevor's flesh told his history of victories and losses, and his pulse hummed under Alucard's hands. Trevor lived and suffered, just as Alucard did. Nothing seemed capable of touching nor leaving a mark on what stood before him.
“Not wise, Pretty One.” At last, the shadow monster spared him a reply. It's voice even was like earth and sky. Touching both devilish pitch and angelic choir simultaneously. Masculine and feminine, either or both, in constant flux. “Fear is wisdom. The other night-flyer was wise.”
“So you can speak.” Alucard half-growled, half-laughed. “Answer me, then. What are you?”
Wings growing more expansive by the minute the more the inky membrane peeled back from it's flesh, the perfected mirror image of Trevor Belmont returned his fanged smile with one of it's own. A flash of white human-like teeth. There were no fangs to speak of in it's mouth. “Hungry.” It replied, sweetly and threateningly in two voices spoken at once.
This time, instinct won out and Alucard stepped back, beyond the scope and reach of those black voluminous wings. His hand dug into his pocket and pulled the bloodied scrap of cloth free. “Is this what you are hungry for?” The shredded garment was tossed in the space between, and the monster moved to inspect it more closely, causing Alucard to retreat again to stay beyond it's reach. Familiar blue eyes studied the scrap, head tilting one way and than back before tilting the other. When it spoke next in those twinned voices it sounded more male than female, but it was what came out of it's pouty rouged lips that sent ice through Alucard's veins.
“Sonia.” It's eyes looked up at him, questioningly, as if expecting the Dhampyre to produce the long dead Vampyre Hunter from out his pocket as well. Who else could it mean? And what did it mean that this monster was asking for her by name?
“Sonia Belmont.” Alucard repeated, and those blue eyes kept blinking slowly in his direction, waiting. Alucard took a gamble. “I know where that scent came from. Would you like me to show you?”
The uncanny demon smiled again. “Scent of Sonia. Easy to find. Just like Pretty One.” Twinned tones battled one another for dominance as it laughed musically. “Esteffi needs, but too much danger. Pretty One came all alone now. This is helpful. The Prettiest Pretty One was wise. Still danger. Sonia easy now that Pretty One comes willingly.”
“I am not going anywhere with you, demon.” Alucard stated flatly, parsing through it's broken language for a clearer understanding. “It's not even you I've an appetite for. I want your mistress, the Witch. I want this... Esteffi.”
To this declaration the shadow monster drew still, watching him with slightly widened eyes. Another Belmont-like pause ensued before it rose to it's full height and faced him head-on. Eyes narrowing, it's bruise of a mouth curled at one corner. A smirk, there was no other word for it.
“What a coincidence.” A haughty woman's accented voice joined in from behind. All around Alucard could sense Arcane users seemingly rising from the very earth itself. A clever spell he'd never encountered before. The speaker came around into his line of sight, a statuesque woman with Norwegian or similar Nordic features. “It turns out Estefania was looking for a safe way to get a hold of you, Dhampyre. How kind of you to offer yourself so easily.”
“I offer nothing.” He warned only once, and struck out as soon as the words left his lips.
Silver bladed sword carving out a wide circle of safety his Hellfire could fill, he leaped through his wall of flames at the nearest foolish girl who thought some parlour tricks were enough to withstand the might of a Moroi predator. Her tricks were more than show, singeing his cloak with her counterattack, but the girl fell lifelessly aside making way for him to come after the next in line. Gale winds, arctic whirls of jagged sharp ice, and burning witchfire assaulted from all around. His feet and body followed instinct, evading by sense rather than the strategy, due to a mind wholly clouded by the scent of the Shadow in the midst of the battle. These witches were not like the last batch. Their talents were not ritual-based, but battle-oriented, and evidently well practised. Each that fell to his blade or spells took effort. Effort and energy he'd so easily wasted away on subjugation in his haste to be where he was, he had not stopped to reason the wisdom of arriving in such a state.
They were wearing him down, slowly but surely, and he'd still have the shadow monster to contend with when victorious. It had yet to make a move, but it watched every move with wide-eyed focus. His attackers closed in, women from too many ethnicities with battle cries in too many languages to be by chance. A purpose drew them all together and their conviction in it held them strong. Too strong, Alucard feared, for what he had in him left to give after wasting so much energy. It was time to take another risk. To chance another cut at the head of this beast. If this Esteffi was not here, the shadow monster would make a suitable substitute.
Demonic energy reserves near empty, he pushed his form into a toxic vaporous cloud, the most taxing of his shape-shifting abilities. Grimly delighting in the choking fits and struggling breaths of the woman he passed over and through, his path was quick and direct towards the demon. His prey. The shadow was as wise as it had claimed to be, inky membrane pulling up to cover it's nose and mouth and it's stance lowered, legs spreading, ready for the incoming attack. Unlike before, the shadow did not flee, but held it's ground. The Dhampyre's distant higher level brain functions wondered if that was because the creature had the upper hand with sufficient numbers, or because it believed it was more than enough for a Dhampyre.
His form restoring behind the inky creature, he thrust the silver blade through it's shoulder blades. Or rather, he tried to. The membrane, he discovered far too late, served also as quite an impenetrable form of armour. With such high-risk at close proximity and no time or mental capacity even if there was the time to think of anything else, he cast the sword aside in favour of grabbing hold of the inky monster. The split in it's armour still showing, his fangs aimed for the exposed flesh of it's neck.
The ambrosial flavour hitting his tongue whited-out all his senses, but not before he could hear twinned tones lamenting how 'Not wise' Alucard's choice had been.
Trapped.
His body was being jostled, but he was trapped somewhere inside, clawing at his limbs and tongue, urging them to function in any capacity. He watched listlessly out of yellow eyes the shadow monster lowering him to the forest bed and being joined by the tall Norwegian witch. She was removing his cloak and coat, speaking about lightening the load whilst doing it. The shadow smiled down at him, tilting it's head each way and back again. It's inky membrane had a shimmer, and even on the cusp of passing out, the Dhampyre dimly recognized his own essence in the twinkling lights. He'd been consumed. The shadow had used his breaching fangs against him. What should have devoured was instead eaten in return. Arms were curling under his uselessly limp ones now. He was being dragged, the dead-weight of his body a struggle for the ones seeking to carry him off. At least, distantly he mused with remorse, his size was making it difficult for them.
He could not even muster the strength to move his eyes, nor blink. Vision seeing only what was before his freely lolling head, and then only clearly until dried eyes started to water and burn. The women dragged him, shadowy creature hopping along amongst the trees for some time, before he could hear a river and panic set in. The holy symbol was in his coat pocket, and without it the free flowing natural spring water was no different than acid to his Vampyric side's flesh. While they didn't toss him in and call it a day as he feared, they did continue to drag him until they all disappeared into a cave system adjacent. The air was damp and cool through long winding and low clearance paths, but as they entered the inner sanctums, the air was dry and warm. Habitable.
There were several women who spooked at the entourage's arrival. Some girls braved a closer look at him, but most were too afraid to step closer. These ones were not soldiers. These ones were followers. They were not afraid of the shadow monster, however. They called out and cooed at it like greeting a favourite pet, and the shadow dropped it's wings, tail and most of it's armour to allow their affectionate touches in response. They called it 'Arden'. The shadow had a name, at least amongst this coven. Alucard's limp body was pulled further passed this gathering chamber and deeper into another, the shadow following after them. The captivating scent intensified in this next more intimately sized space, and the bronze skinned murderess' presence explained why. Coupled with this Arden's pheromones, the High Priestess' addition would have driven his body to respond with arousal had he'd the energy for it under their combined allure.
“I am glad you are safe, Sisters.” The High Priestess' voice sounded honest to his ears. Her jewel coloured green eyes passed over the lot of them, and Arden too. With a unconscious brush at her raven-hair she gave the shadow monster a gentle scolding in a warm honeyed tone. “You, I am the most surprised by, my dear heart. I know you know better than to put yourself in such a dangerous position.”
“Lethal, is more accurate, Sister.” The Statue spat and gave his side a brutally hard kick. “Angelina, Octavia, Blaire, Jennifer, Lise, Rena, Ebtisam, and Zainab.” Names were listed off with heat and finality, and another kick delivered with just as much anger. “All dead by this Dhampyre's hands.”
The anguish on the raven-haired woman's face was palpable. Her teeth grit as her gaze cast to the side, only returning to meet the Statue's when she had composed herself. “We... will not waste their gift, Sister. They had a hand in delivering us exactly what we need to succeed. Even better than what we had before.”
“Pray tell, Sister. I am... So very angry. My heart lay with my fallen Sisters. Pray, give me the reason this time will be different. We still don't have the sacrifice back.”
“This one guarded our sacrifice, Sister. We have the guard.” Her hand raised to still the tongue of the Statue as the woman started to demand how good was a guard over their needed ritual component. “Your anger is pure and just, Sister. And shared, I assure you. Please let me explain.” The High Priestess beseech her furious collection of battle mages. Once they settled to listen she pointed down towards the helpless Moroi in their midst. “Take a closer look, Sisters. This is no mere Dhampyre. This is the World Summit one. The one who advocates for the rights of demons and devils.” She paused to let them murmur amongst themselves, and some even went so far as to fish out phones to verify her claim. “You see?” The High Priestess' voice continued in a more encouraging tone. “This is the one in the Church records. This is the son of the Castle's former Master Vlad Dracula Țepeș.”
“Sister...” The Statue trailed off as she realized some implication Alucard could only fear.
“Yes... The Stones. When the Castle was banished in the Demon Wars, Dracula's spirit was separated from the Stones at last. There are no records of what happened to the Castle's Anchor, but this Dhampyre stood with the hunter who vanquished his Father for the final time. I recognized him in our last encounter. I thought perhaps he could be an ally if we could only speak, but his actions back then cautioned me against it. He seems to protect with one hand whilst punishing with his other. These conflicting motives are a puzzle I hope to solve... But what I mostly seek to gain from our captive, my Sisters, is the location of the Anchor. He must know. If the Church or the Hunter had taken posession when it was severed from Dracula, they'd have it as a trophy they parade around, you know it. Their bloated pride could not resist. That they have not means they do not have it. So who else was in that chamber that day back in ninety-nine who would?”
“Pretty One is not wise.” The shadow monster who had been climbing the walls and ceiling, Arden, cut in. “Very strong. But not wise. Tasty. But Esteffi wants him. Esteffi is of this one, and no longer small. Still. This one catches for Esteffi.” With a soundless bound, it landed back down on the cave floor by Alucard's side and peered down at him. “Little ones killed. Scary scary. This one wanted to catch. Pretty One wanted to kill. Small ones protect this one. This one does not like that. The killing.”
From the corner of Alucard's blurry vision he thought he saw the Statue's feature soften. “You are welcome, Arden. We will protect everyone like us soon enough with this Dhampyre's help, whether he gives it freely or not. So what do we do with this?” Another kick to his side in the same spot punctuated her question. She had very good aim, and a very pointed boot. “How do you intend to keep it contained when it's the eight hundred year old world's most famous Dhampyre?”
The raven-haired woman laughed in a mournful way before she answered. “It shames me to say, but I had a feeling it may come to this. I have prepared some... accommodations for our guest. I am certain he will not enjoy them one bit, and I do hope he understands that I derive no pleasure from keeping him locked away in the prison I have prepared. Nor will I enjoy the methods I will no doubt need to implement in order to loosen his tongue on the location of the Crimson Stone. The Anchor in hand and our sacrifice returned, we will not just have a tendril to the Castle, we will have the whole Chaos entity at our beck and call. Then, Sisters, it will be our kind that will be compromised to. We'll decide what is fair and just for our Sisters and kin.” Bidding Arden to rise she took the demon's hand to help it up. “Arden, could you please carry him for me? He looks heavy.”
The demon acquiesced, inky wings spreading out to scoop him up and follow after her. The Statue scoffed at the sight. “We dragged him over an hour back here and not once did Arden offer to help.”
“Arden is a very ancient demon, Sister. He does not reason in the same fashion as you or I.” The High Priestess explained casually. “His actions are entirely comprised of impulse and whims. He does not plan beyond his next step, and he does not offer aid when he sees you are doing something with any degree of success. That you could carry the Dhampyre, regardless of difficulty, was as far as a creature like he is capable of processing. He will help you if you ask for it. He enjoys being helpful.”
His body was being carried on what felt akin to a slick oil, moving towards the scent of running water, lower into the cave system. Arden carried him far ahead of the High Priestess and her right-hand statuesque Witch co-conspirator, much to Alucard's dismay. It seemed they spoke freely around his limp body, unaware he still had a semblance of consciousness left. Their plan, he'd already learned in just this short time, was clear... and even deadlier than he imagined. No one knew what happened to the Stones after the Demon Wars.
No one but Alucard and his Vampyre confidant.
That she recognized him and correctly assumed he'd know of the Crimson Stone in particular, the Anchor's, location... It was dire. His demon bloodlust, prideful ego and hubris had him now a captive. The last bastion of the Crimson Stone was a captive. If she discovered his trick... If she managed to pull from him the secret of the stones... Alucard could only curse his own failings as he was dropped onto a table down below a low grumbling subterranean lake. Joachim had been right again. He never listened and he never learned. The Vampyre had told him if he chased this particular shadow he may never come back. Now he was on a cold wooden table, immobilized by the complete and utter draining effects of whatever creature Trevor's too-perfect twin was, and being stripped of all his remaining clothing by a beautiful High Priestess and her angry statue of a companion. With another final punch to that same side, ribs absolutely bruised for sure, the Statue left the woman and her demon to finish up.
Arden's ink all but left his body, coating Alucard and the High Priestess instead, with a vestige still connected to the small of it's back. Alucard's blurred vision could make out that the flesh of the rest of it's body was just as flawless as it's face. No marks or blemishes in sight. Then he was moving. Arden had taken a dive into the lake and carried them both along after it as it's nimble body swam down into the darkness. They were pulled along until a bizarre space came into view. A bubble or void. The closer they got, the clearer Alucard could make out that it was a void in the water, with two columns reaching up into the water as far as his eyes could make out... It seemed to be similar to air intake valves, and Alucard's stomach turned in knots when he started to imagine what a bubble in the bottom of such a deep lake would need fresh air for.
Breaching the void, Arden pulled the High Priestess in gently, and to his surprise, Alucard inside just as gingerly. He was laid down on the bedrock, cool against his naked flesh, now that the inky membrane was returning to it's owner. From where he was sprawled he could see why they were here. A silver cage, large enough to crouch in, maybe at most, was awaiting it's prisoner. There would be no space to sit or lay comfortably, not that he would want to have his flesh seared on the bars to even attempt. The High Priestess conjured up a glowing ball of light to give him a better view of his small and inescapable prison. The ball floated up high and then stayed in place. The Witch bade Arden to put him inside the cage, so as helpful as she claimed it liked to be, the demon obliged. Alucard could feel the burn on his shoulders, flank and feet as he was placed inside.
The pain had only one boon though, and that was in breaking through the paralysis. Weak and clumsy, he began to move, to press against the cage to test it's strength against his. It was no mere silver. Enchanted and enhanced. A clear suppressant to his own Arcane essence. He tried to keep his face expressionless and his voice contained, though the agony was quickly ramping up. The Shadow circled the cage staring at him curiously, which only served to agitate Alucard further and deepen the shame his mind was already plagued with. Noticing his faculties returning, the High Priestess as well stepped closer, but not enough to reach through the bars if he'd even had the strength to try.
“You are suffering. I apologize, but your suffering is for the moment, necessary. You will not die in this space for the time being, though I fear even a demon of your calibre will perish if forced to stay here too long.” As if to empathize her prediction, the spell she'd cast to create this watery prison wavered, and the rush of water hit his prison like a freight train. The anchoring of the cage held, but the Dhampyre was scalded by the free-flowing water as he was turned about and crashed into the bars, choking on acid that threatened to suffocate him. Once the spells equilibrium was restored and the water levelled off, he could only sputter and hack, the agony of the burns felt inside and out. The Witch, in Arden's arms, was safely lowered back to the bedrock. The demon chose to keep to the air, no longer trusting the ground. “I apologize, I had to learn how to perform such a spell just for this occasion. I only had time to make the one attempt. The light I will charge each time I visit so you are not left here alone in the dark. That seems crueller to me, though I supposed it makes no difference in your current condition ultimately. You have killed many of my friends, Dhampyre they call Alucard. I do not know why or how you can stand to slay the people you claim to stand up for. We will have time to discuss and understand one another in due time. Right now, gather what strength you can to speak for my return.”
Alucard hissed, pulling his hands back from the burning silver bars, allowing his knees and shins to take the brunt of his weight against the fire. “I can talk now.” His acid scarred vocal chords rasped.
“I cannot.” The High Priestess replied sadly. “I must go burn the sisters you murdered today. When I have properly seen to them and their memories, I will have time for you, Alucard. The Scion of Dracula surely has patience enough to wait for a funeral.” With a small wave to Arden to catch it's attention, she asked politely. “Would you be able to take me back up now, Arden?”
The demon was happy to oblige her again, and then it was just Alucard. Alone at the base of a lake, in an unstable magickal field, searing on all sides from acid spring water and the silver cage that held him, at a loss for how he was going to get out of this one.
Think. He commanded his weakened body. No matter what, I am going to need my feet and my hands. I need to protect them. With that is mind, he shifted as best he could in the too-small space until he was properly crouched, feet resting between the bars on the bedrock. He could not help that the sides of them were pressed against the burning bars, but at least the soles of his feet were safe. His hands he folded up in crossed arms, keeping the space he needed as compact as possible. The only contact was now the sides of his feet. It was uncomfortable and in a few hours time, bound to become torturous. But it was necessary to protect as much of his flesh as he could until he had a chance to escape.
Whenever that next would be.
He refused to even passingly wonder what would happen if there wouldn't be one.