Alliances, Vampires and Bait

Laurel sighed, staring pensively into the mirror. Absentmindedly she toyed with the cross hanging around her neck, thinking once again as night fell she was eager to look for Vrolok, but reluctant to hurt him. Sooner or later, this must end, she thought, and if I don’t kill him, then he will kill me- or my friends. I must be the one to do it, but why does the task seem so hard?
She stood up and walked to the dresser, fingering her stakes and knives, then decisively armed herself. I can at least bring them with me, she thought wryly.
Once more she looked into the mirror, at the pale, oval face framed with long, black hair and brown eyes. The lines of her jaw and the coldness in those eyes indicated the seasoned warrior she was, and must be. She opened the door leading out of her room and into the corridor and slipped out. Quietly she moved down the guest corridor, remembering who slept where. Sheela, Fia & Dalani, Avalon, Linae…the men were in the adjacent corridor. As she swept off to the lower parts of the castle, even her trained senses didn’t notice the large moth that landed on her hood.

Deep within the castle, a shadow stirred.
Silently, barely disturbing a mote of dust, it began to drift like smoke down through the dark and musty halls. Only half-aware of the world around it, the creature glided, ghost-like, towerd its master’s calling, following the mental pull. The creature was only aware that it had reached its destination when the pull stopped abruptly before two great, wooden doors. Taking no more notice than this, it glided through the doors in a corporeal state, and with a hiss of pleasure, found its master waiting on the other side.
“Maaasssterr,” it murmured, and shivered with anticipation. If master had called it, then there was blood to spill.
Beneath the deep black of his hood, Niam smiled menacingly.
“Come, my pet, there is work to be done.”
The shade drifted to the feet of its master, bowing low, but shaking all over, overcome with eagerness.
“Pet, you have a task. Complete this task for me, and rewarded greatly, you shall be.”
The shade peered up nervously, yellow eyes glowing fiercely with hope.
“Join maasssterr?”
“Yes, pet, joined with me, shall you be.”
The shade hissed with excitement. “I sspill blood for you, massterr! I shall, I shall!”
“No.”
The shade was silent abruptly. No blood? But that voice…that was not master…
Niam’s voice was tainted with sarcasm. “Aah, Umbrael, so you did decide to show up.”
A tall shadow in the corner of the room shifted, and a small chink of moonlight revealed the white gleam of a fang.
“I want the girl alive.” His deep voice glimmered hostility.
Niam chuckled; a sound from the crypt. “And what will you do with her, make her your Queen?”
“No, use her as bait.”
Now the Dark Lord was curious, and his eyes glowed reflectively beneath his hood.
“For what, Umbrael? The Shadowstone?”
“Precisely.”
“But why her?”
Niam caught the glint of fang as the vampire grinned.
“Because, I believe that my dear brother knows where it is, having been Entall’s right hand man, and it seems he has taken a sudden interest in that girl, as of late. He has passed up the chance to bite her on more than one occasion; for some reason, he won’t kill her. It may be just the lever we need, Niam.”
The other nodded. “I see. Then I shall have it done. You must bait her; my pet will do the rest.”
There was only a shriek in response, and the leathery sound of bat wings followed the vampires exit out the window.
Niam turned to the shade. “Alright, my pet, this is what you must do…”

Laurel froze, senses kicked abruptly into an extreme overdrive. Where was that coming from? At a run now, she followed the sound, ignoring her surroundings, senses acute to the screaming. Close! Lungs heaving, she began to sprint. She stopped abruptly as the screaming ceased. "Shikes, no..." She felt something move on her hood, and froze. A single, extremely large moth fluttered from her hood, toward a large oak door. It landed on the door handle, then flew back to Laurel's hand, and back to the door. "What in Fathron..." The moth fluttered off suddenly, back the way she had come. Laurel sighed. "I'm taking directions from a bug...great. My lifelong goal..." But it's my only lead...here goes nothing!
Laurel reached for the door handle.
Something grabbed her shoulder; a hand came over her mouth, and the grip on her shoulder changed to an arm that wrapped firmly around her, pinning her own arms to her sides. "So, the huntress..." a voice breathed in her ear. Her heart was pounding. Who was this? As if the stranger had read her mind, he turned her head enough to see his face. Laurel felt her heart skip, or maybe stop altogether...she couldn't know which, her mind was numb. It was Vrolok, so close she could feel his breath on her face. "It seems your mine now, lovely." The huntress felt a shiver run down her spine. His voice, it wasn't right...cold realization seeped in. This wasn't Vrolok. Laurel became aware of yelling in the other room. Vrolok's voice. But who... Before the thought could finish itself, the not-Vrolok was dragging her back down the hall.
*****
Vrolok pressed the seer harder against the wall. "I asked you a question! Who are you, and what is your purpose here?" Aries only sneered at him, seemingly unaffected by the hand clasped about her throat, pinning her to the wall. She wasn't even struggling anymore. Something wasn't right. Vrolok leaned in close, fangs bared menacingly. "Don't think I won't kill you, woman." There was a fierce light in the seer's milky eyes, and Vrolok felt as though it were burning into him. She only smiled wickedly. "Kill me?" she hissed. "Kill me like you did the huntress?" Vrolok went cold. How... "I am a seer, you imbecile, and I know you left the huntress alive! Kill me, you say? You've gone soft!" "Silence!" he spat. "Why should the huntress concern you?" Now her eyes were deep with anticipation. "I think," she whispered, "the question is not why she concerns me, vampire, but why she concerns you." Rage swelled in the vampire, and his eyes began to glow a soft red. "That is none of your business," he uttered softly, dangerously. Aries' face had grown soft and emotionless again, and she stared passively at him. "Oh, but it is," she whispered. "And if you hurry, you might be able to save her." His eyes grew wide. "What have you done?" Aries winced as his grip tightened considerably. "I have done nothing, but I cannot say the same for a friend of yours." Vrolok dropped her abruptly, and strode from the room without a word.
*****
Aries leaned back against the wall, rubbing her throat with some irritation, but nonetheless feeling achieved. Her eyes were blank, but in her mind's eye, she watched Laurel be carried off, captive and captor unaware of the extensive planning that had finally been played out, watched Vrolok follow what trail he could find, watched the other guests remaining squabble about in confusion. Momentarily she let her visions wander back to Vrolok and Umbrael. Fools, she thought. Neither of them knew. And would never know. Suddenly her visions found a new track, and she shifted her focus to watch. It was Concord again, headed for the burnt out shell of the castle. Probably another message for Umbrael. That fool Niam...he would suffer for trying to break his alliegiance. Try to work under a seer's nose? Very well, Niam, very well...

Umbrael held Laurel in an iron grip, so tight it was almost painful. He was carrying her now, with one hand tightly clamped over her mouth so she couldn’t yell. Her head was close enough to his chest for her to notice the strange silence where his heartbeat should’ve been. Her mind raced quickly, but she forced the rising panic down, forced herself to remain clearheaded. This creature who carried her was not Vrolok, but looked like him. He, too, was a vampire, though she wondered if he would drink her blood...his attitude toward her somehow didn’t point in that direction. Why wouldn’t he have just turned into a dark corridor and have been done with it? But vampires, she knew from experience, were unpredictable...And this one seemed to be a powerful vampire, because for all the garlic she was either wearing or smelled of, he didn’t seem too bothered. Laurel twitched her arm slightly, seeing if she could somehow escape his grasp. No luck there, she was held fast. The vampire chuckled softly when he felt her arm move, her actions not going unnoticed.
“Don’t worry, Laurel, you won’t find me as weak as Vrolok. Or as reluctant to kill,” he added, sounding amused.
“Are you working together, you and Vrolok?” Laurel asked demandingly. For some reason, the vampire thought this was amusing and chuckled again.
“He is working for me whether he knows it or not,” the vampire answered, unperturbed by Laurel’s cold tone. Umbrael then turned abruptly to the left and went down a small flight of stairs, practically hidden in the shadows, bringing them closer to the cellars of the castle. He walked down a narrow corridor and came to a door at the end of it, the only place the corridor led. It was wooden and sturdy, with thick metal hinges. He knocked four times and then pushed open the door. The room inside seemed pretty nondescript, though it was cold. The stone walls were unadorned and Laurel couldn’t see any windows, though the room turned a corner, it seemed, and she couldn’t see what was over there. Umbrael carried her over to a metal table with straps bolted to it. Fearing what was about to happen next, as soon as Umbrael relaxed his hold to lay her on the table, she tore herself out of his arms and rolled over the other side of the table, dropping to her feet, tensed, like a cat. She quickly pulled a stake and a knife out of her belt, but as she did so Umbrael seemed to disappear, his body slowly breaking up as if it was just pieces of dust. Which, Laurel reminded herself, it almost was. She had seen this vampire trick before, though, and was on guard, looking all around her. She turned slowly around in a circle, moving to the other side of the table, still tense, looking for the telltale swirling dust that would tell her the vampire’s whereabouts. The hair on her neck rose, and she stood still, readying her throwing knife. Then suddenly, she whirled about and threw it, fast and hard, without even taking time to aim. True to her instincts, Umbrael stood behind her, still not quite complete, but whole enough that the knife struck him. Laurel would’ve followed it through with her stake, but she knew that the vampire was barely wounded by the knife, though it struck him in the shoulder. To attempt to kill him then was suicide. She backed away from him quickly and put the metal table between them, wanting more space. Umbrael looked in surprise at the knife protruding from his shoulder, but then pulled it out. Smoke slowly rose from his wound, and though it tried to heal, it couldn’t close completely. Laurel gave him a small grin, seeing his surprise.
“You must have never been hunted, at least by a true hunter,” she said, grabbing another knife from her belt.
“These were made especially to harm and kill your kind,” she whispered venomously, indicating her knives and stakes. Outwardly, Umbrael showed no emotion to her comment, but inwardly he seethed. True, he had never been found by any hunters, and therefore had only heard of their stinging blades. Laurel threw a knife at him again, fast enough so that even a vampire would have trouble dodging, but Umbrael was ready this time and threw himself to the side. The knife clanged harmlessly against the wall. Then he quickly rolled underneath the table, the legendary vampire speed and agility showing in his movements. He flung himself against Laurel’s legs, but as she was being knocked down she kept a hold on the stake and tried to impale Umbrael through the back, hoping to hit his heart. However, it only brushed his side and made a small wound as Umbrael twisted to avoid it, sensing her movements. Then Laurel was pinned to the ground, her arms securely held by the vampire, his weight keeping her legs from thrashing out and kicking him. His face only inches from hers, he smiled, affording her a clear view of his elongated canines. A shiver crept down Laurel’s back, but she kept her face cold and full of hatred.
“ I will admit, you have some skill,” he whispered. His black eyes looked into hers, and he grinned again. “But not enough.” He easily lifted her to her feet, prying the stake out of her hand and throwing it to the side, keeping a firm grip on her. He dragged her over to the table, since Laurel refused to walk. He set her on the table and held her arms down. Carefully, he buckled the strap that went around her chest and pinned her arms tightly against her side. Laurel, still wanting to fight, spat at him. Umbrael brushed the spit off of his face without emotion, though he was surprised at the nerve of this woman. He buckled the strap that went about her legs. Then he paused, and looked at her. She returned his look fiercely, though he could feel her fear.
“Tell me,” Umbrael began, walking back over to stand by her head, “ why is it that my brother is so captivated by you? What is it about you that has stopped him from drinking your blood on more than one occasion?” He noticed Laurel’s eyes widen, and realized why.
“Forgive me for not introducing myself. My name is Umbrael,” he said with dignity, bowing low. “And, yes, Vrolok is my brother. My twin brother, actually.” Laurel stayed silent, digesting all of this information. Was Vrolok aware that his twin was in the castle? He had to be! And if that was the case, he had to be in league with him, even if this Umbrael denied Vrolok’s involvement with him. Umbrael turned his back on her and carefully picked up one of the knives she had thrown at him, the one that had not hit him.
“I wonder,” he said, staring at the knife. “What would a hunter’s blade do to its master? After all, to some extent, the hunter must become like a vampire, aware of his motives and familiar with his strengths and weaknesses. But would it harm him-or her-at all?” He walked over to Laurel, knife in hand. She tensed, and tried to reach for another knife or stake at her belt without him noticing. He gently but firmly turned her head to the side, exposing her neck. Laurel tried to thrash and wriggle, and worked harder to reach the knives at her belt, but he was firm. She closed her eyes, determined not to give him the pleasure of seeing her fear. She felt the knife-her knife-draw a short line across her throat, but it was not over her jugular and barely broke the skin. Umbrael took the knife away from her throat and made the same kind of cut on both of her arms. None of the cuts were deep or life-threatening in any way, though she could tell that they would bleed a little. Umbrael turned away from her then, and walked to the corner of the room Laurel had not been able to see earlier. She turned her head, but all she could see was Umbrael’s back. He was no longer holding her knife, and seemed to be conversing with someone. She could distinguish Umbrael’s low voice, and wondered who he was talking to. Then she heard another voice, a voice that sent shivers all over her body, much worse than the normal effect vampires had on people. She tried harder to see who she was talking to, but she saw only shadows, made even darker since there was only a few torches lit in the room. She realized now that Umbrael did not intend her to be his prey, though she was still highly suspicious of him. No; it seemed to her now that she was some kind of bait, or she was for someone else...and that notion was far from friendly. Laurel silently worked to reach one of the knives at her belt, hoping she would be able to defend herself from whatever was to come.