Huntress Ch. 03

So here is chapter 3, please lemme know how I am doing, guys. Ratings? Yes, please. Comments, absolutely. Also, if you're gonna be rude about my story then you need not read it. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. Rudeness is not.

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If all the adrenaline in Sage's body hadn't been circulating as fast as a gazelle ran from a lion, she would have felt the dull ache that was mostly in her legs. She would have felt the cramping in her shoulders and back. She probably would have also felt her sister's sharp hip stabbing into her neck, as she carried her up the path to her home, Vic's limp body, draped over one shoulder.

The vamp hadn't taken as much blood as Sage had thought, which was good. Based on Vic's silence she was most likely in shock. She had done her best to keep talking to her sister as she hustled to the house. She asked her question that were easy, 'what's two plus two', 'how many fingers do you have'. Her sister had answered sporadically, but she had answered correctly. As Sage took the final few steps to her sister's door, she realized that her hands had been clenched, her fingernails digging into the skin of her palm.

She was angry.

No, no, that was an understatement.

A severe one. Sage was fucking pissed.

Someone had attacked her sister. Tried to kill her. On orders.

Who would put orders out to kill her sister? No, she had a better question. What supernatural being put orders out to kill her?

If it had been a human that'd come after Vicki, Sage could have easily fought them off with little to no surprise. Her sister, despite her swearing to innocence, was anything but, and was constantly getting into trouble with anyone that could afford it.

But a supernatural? Sage knew for a fact that Vic knew nothing about the paranormal world. She had made sure of this. And she was one hundred percent certain that her younger sister knew nothing of what her and the girls did. As far as Vicki should have known Regan and Carmen were bartenders, Brie was basically a stay at home mom to her younger sister, and Sage worked for a software company. Explaining to Vicki why her sister, the software developer, carried around a huge gun was going to be tricky, but she had explained harder things before.

Was it possible that Vicki had gotten mixed up in something she didn't really understand? Sage scoffed. Of course it was possible. It was actually probable, knowing her sister. But not with supernaturals...

Sage shoved the thought away as she approached the front door. Fishing in her pocket for her keys, she managed an odd juggling act, tossing her keys around in one hand, finding the right one and inserting it into slot, while keeping her sister balanced on her shoulder. As the dark hallway revealed itself, illuminated by only moonlight, the smell of old food and cat pee assaulted her.

Good old Vicki. Doing her best to make a safe and healthy environment for her boys.

Reluctantly, and because her shoulder was killing her, Sage entered the dark house. Her sister's room was at the back of the house, the last room in the hallway, and Sage headed there, pushing empty food cans and pizza boxes out of her way.

Without feeling around for a light switch, Sage brought her sister to her twin bed in the corner, and laid her down gently. She settled the smaller girl in, pulling the blanket that had been shoved to a corner of the bed over her sister's body and adjusting her head on the pillow.

Out of precaution, Sage placed her fingers on the artery on her sister's neck. The pulse was slow but strong. Her sister would be fine after rest. Sage stood up, looking around the dark room. She didn't need to have lights on to know that most likely the area around the bed looked as if a hurricane had passed through right after a wild bull. Any person off the streets would be beyond shocked to know that Vicki's room was actually the dirtiest room in the house, besides the kitchen and living room. Her boy's room, unlike other boys their age, was kept immaculate. Not because Vicki enforced it, but because the boys had somehow gotten the angelic gene and were nothing like their mother.

They were all right in school, behavior wise, they cleaned up after themselves. Jordan, the oldest of the two, could cook a decent meal for his younger brother, Jacob. The boys were just about the most resourceful kids Sage had ever met. It was sad to think that they even had to be considering their mom was one room over.

It almost disgusted her. Sage hadn't raised her like that.

Her mind went back to what the vamp had said in the alley.

If I didn't have orders, I would drain her dry right here, right now. She could feel the irritation build again, followed closely by the confusion.

She exited her sister's bedroom, closing the door behind her. The same questions that were in her mind before, entered again. She didn't know any person who had the power or the status to control vampires. Vamps did what they wanted. They couldn't be manipulated. They had a king, yes, but what did he have against Vicki that would make him want to send people after her?

Sage walked down the unlit hall, trying her best not to make too much noise as she passed Jordan and Jacob's room. From the still open door, moonlight emptied its beams into the living room, lighting up the area like a bright white candle. Papers, pizza boxes, and empty beer cans littered the floor, couch and table. She bypassed the main room, doing her best to ignore the mess and headed to her left. The kitchen was in no better of a state than the other two rooms she had left. Empty cans of ravioli topped off dishes that had piled into the sink like a star on top of a Christmas tree. More beer cans, more pizza boxes. The place was a sty. Completely unsanitary, and Sage found herself reevaluating her own lifestyle.

"Auntie Sage?" A small voice cracked the silence that had become an envelope. The blonde turned to find her oldest nephew standing at the entrance of the kitchen. His footie pajamas were stretched taut over his growing body, to the point where the collar of his shirt was rubbing the skin raw. She remembered when she had bought him those pajamas, when he was 5 going on 6. It looked as if he had long since grown out of them. Sage's heart melted, as she crouched down to one knee and opened her arms.

"Hey buddy. What are you doing up?" the boy entered her embrace and allowed her to hug him tightly.

Poor kid, she told herself as she subtly rocked him back and forth.

"I heard you come in with mom. Is she okay?" He pulled out of her arms to look her in the face. The moonlight, despite being in the other room, reflected off of him perfectly. Sage saw herself at that age in his green eyes. Strong, resourceful and tired. He had been Jacob's father and friend since the boy was born. She knew that feeling. All too well.

"Your mom's fine, kiddo. She's just a bit tired."

"She's always tired. That or drunk." There was a hint of disgust in the boy's voice.

Sage could only nod. The kid was seven. He shouldn't have even known what that word 'drunk' meant.

"I know, Jordy. I know but your mom needs her rest and so do you. You have school tomorrow, am I right?" Sage stood up and began pushing her nephew out the kitchen, as he nodded solemnly. The boy's aunt followed him to his room, and stood at the door as he tucked himself in. While she couldn't see where he was, she could hear the rustle of sheets. Above him, Jacob turned over, disturbed by the sound.

"Aunt Sage?"

"Yeah?'

"The school is having open house next week." There was a pause before the words fell out of his mouth. "I don't want mom to come."

Reluctantly Sage answered, "What time does it start?"

"Six..."

Sage nodded to herself. Jordan wasn't her son, and part of her wanted to tell the younger boy 'no' so as not to estrange him from his real mother, but she didn't. She had a feeling that Jordan was already estranged from Vicki without her interference. "I'll be there."

As she turned to leave, a thought hit her. Hard. She turned around, looking into the darkness for a pale face she knew she wouldn't see.

"Hey Jor?"

Sage heard a rustling that she could only assume was her nephew sitting up in bed.

"Yeah?"

She cleared her throat. She had to choose her words carefully. The boys might not have known their fathers, but they didn't need any more added stress.

"Did your mom ever bring over any people that um, didn't seem very normal?" Through the darkness, Sage heard two scoffs. Jacob, Jordan's younger brother was obviously awake and listening.

"Yeah, all the time." Jordan's answer was matter-of-fact. Of course Vicki had brought home people with questionable looks as well as morals. It was Vicki.

"I mean...people that didn't look right. People that kinda made you uneasy. A little scared? They may not have said anything to you, but you just got bad vibes?" Sage waited, giving the boys time to think. Finally a smaller voice answered. Jacob's voice.

"Yeah," was the little boys answer. Sage softened her voice to talk to her youngest nephew. "Do you remember what he looked like?"

"Um..." She heard him sit up. "He was tall. His hair was long and white."

"So he was old?"

Sage heard more than saw the boy shake his head. "No. He didn't have any wrinkles. His eyes were really blue too."

He didn't talk to us," Jordan was speaking now. "He kinda brushed us off. He only seemed interested in what mom had to say, but when he did look at us...it felt bad. He looked at us and we both felt cold and tired, right Jacob?"

"Right."

Sage didn't know any vamps personally, all the ones she had ever met, she had killed, but she knew that look. She had received it on many occasions.

Yeah. The men that her sister had been bringing home were most definitely not men.

They had been vampire. And she had obviously done something to piss one off.

"Get to bed, guys. You have to wake up in a few hours."

The boys replied back to her with a few yawns and the ruffle of sheets. Sage closed the door behind her and made her way down the hallway back to the living room.

By the time, Sage reached the end of the hall she was livid. Her sister had no idea what she was getting into. No idea of the kind of people she had brought to the house. She had put everyone in danger by bringing a vamp to the house, and now especially since she had pissed one off, she put her boys in danger.

They knew where to find her. They knew how to find her. Somehow they had known that she would take that certain way home, and had obviously heard that she had been arrested. Someone was watching her.

Sage walked to the kitchen counter and sifted through it. There was no way the vamps had just approached Victoria at a human bar. They didn't do that. They waited for informed humans to come to them, which happened more frequently than Sage wanted to admit. Sage threw around old bills and report cards, not caring how much noise she made. In order for Vic to have gotten so caught up with a vamp she had to have gone to...

Sage stopped sifting and picked up a small business card she had uncovered. The card was entirely black save for a few words scribbled in exotic penmanship.

Lucid Nightmare

The words were thin, red and shiny, giving the card it's own mysterious air. The back of the card was also black, but there were hours of operation written in a more readable font on the corner of it.

Sage didn't need to look up the clubs location. She knew it like the back of her hand, and while she had never literally gone in, the place held a lot of memories for her and her roommates.

When they had first begun hunting, they had camped out in front of the bar, waiting for any high profile vamp to walk out. They would follow him down the street and slay him. A couple times that night they had even had the honor of catching a few Unseelie Fae.

Carmen's ability to see through Fae magic had come in handy that night, and had saved a number of humans from a fate worst than being drained dry.

Sage was about to put the card down when something glinted at the bottom of the card, causing her to pull it back up.

It wasn't there. Sage moved the card back and forth, like a hologram hoping it would show back up, but she had no luck.

With determination, she sighed and moved into the living room, hoping brighter moonlight would help her catch whatever she had seen. As soon as the card hit a beam of light, a name in the corner appeared, written in the same shiny, red calligraphy as the words in the front.

Edgar Black. Bartender

Sage tested the name out loud, seeing if it held any familiarity. She had never heard it before in her life. This was probably the man that Victoria had pissed off. The bartender of some shitty vamp bar. Sage tucked the card into the top of her strapless dress, and then reached underneath the puffy, short skirt, pulling out her gun. She released the ammo, checked it, and put it back in. Without skipping a beat, she strapped the gun back to her leg, and headed out the door, making her way back to the city.

+++

The room almost seemed to pulsate as wave after wave of bass beat against leather clad bodies dispatched all across the room. People swayed and jerked around, as if being directed by the power of the music. Woman ran their bodies against their male companions and a few men rubbed their bodies against other men in a way that would be rated X in the outside world.

In the corner, a tall dark-haired man drew blood from a redheaded girl in a schoolgirl outfit. When he pulled away, seemingly coming up for air, her white uniform shirt was stained crimson. She didn't seem to mind, and pulled the vamp back down by his hair, to her open mouth.

Rhys Stone sat back in his cushioned booth, taking in the scenes going on all across the bar. Lucid Nightmare never changed.

It was average in the way of vampire clubs. A decent mix of overly curious humans and starving vampires. Every night the humans would pile in, eager to see if the rumors were true: If the people at the Goth bar really thought they were vampires.

By the end of the night, the naysayers learned that not only did 'these people' think they were vampires, they acted, hunted, fed, drank, fucked and for the unlucky few, even killed like them. But this new knowledge was always short in its existence. It was club policy to erase or at least taint human memories before they stepped foot back into the real world. If it was discovered that this had not happened, the human, their family and all of their friends were hunted down and killed.

Rhys took a long swig of the warm Oh-negative that was in his glass. The sharp flavor seeped down his tongue, torturing him with its sluggish craw. He hated Oh- negative, but that was all the bar had at the moment. The bartender had told him that they were currently searching the crowd for willing donors. Rhys knew that that could take a while. Sure, there were more than enough willing donors in Lucid Nightmare, but to find a donors whose alcohol content didn't taint the taste of the blood, giving it that dry aftertaste? Now that would be difficult.

But Rhys could wait. With a quick jerk, he finished off the blood and slammed his glass down. He closed his eyes, trying to take himself to his happy place as the blood found its way to his stomach. It was nourishment. It didn't have to taste good. It just had to keep him alive. When he opened his eyes, the empty other half of the booth was no longer empty.

Instead, a raven-haired girl bobbed up and down, looking at him as if he were a new pony. She was far too young to be in here, Rhys could smell it.

"Hi," she leaned over the table and yelled over the music. Her shirt, which was most likely her older sisters dipped low, exposing more skin than Rhys felt comfortable looking at for someone her age. Thankfully, as she leaned further over the table, expectant of an answer her dark hair spilled onto the table, covering her shoulders and breasts. Now he could respond. "Good evening."

When she furrowed her eyebrows, Rhys knew that he had spoken too low. She had barely heard him.

"My name is Mischa."

The Asian girl's smile almost seemed to touch both of her ears.

It was obviously her first time at LN.

"What's yours?" She yelled, when he did not give her his name immediately.

Rhys sighed. He hadn't come here for a woman, let alone a girl. Rhys leaned forward over the table, and stared into Mischa's dark eyes. With little trouble, he hacked into her mind, receiving a flood of information and memories.

She was 16.

Her parents were out of town and her sister had promised to bring her to Lucid Nightmare before they came back. The girl was smart when she wanted to be.

Strict parents; homework everyday, piano and cello lessons every night. As much as her parents didn't want her to call it so, she was already engaged in an arranged marriage to a man, not a boy, that she didn't know. Her sister, who was her best friend, promised to take her all the places she wanted to go before her wedding day.

Rhys pulled out of her mind briefly, the emotions almost drowning him. The girl was still staring at him, held in a strong thrall. Her face was blank, large smile almost too much for her little eyes and nose. This time Rhys saw something different in that face.

Desperation. The desire to be free. The need to not feel. Rhys saw all of the sadness the girl carried within her large smile that her parents had taught her to always wear.

'Smile, Mischi-Mish. It is ugly to frown all the time,' They always told her.

Rhys leaned forward a little more. This time when he went back into her mind, it was as a caress. Around them, the music seemed to float away; all Rhys could hear was her heart beating, and her steady breathing. The flashing glow sticks and strobe lights dimmed and faded, leaving the two in the darkness of Mischa's thoughts.

"Why are you here, Mischa?" Rhys voice resounded through the girl's mind.

"My sister brought me here. She wanted me to have fun." The girl's answer was robotic, controlled by Rhys.

"You are too young," he replied, taking the rough edge out of it.

"I know. I have a fake I.D."

"You are too young to be married, as well," Rhys added, even softer than before. The large smile the empty eyed girl wore faltered.

"I don't want to be married." In her mind, the constant stream of faux happiness her parents had taught her to keep up shorted out for a second. "He doesn't love me."

"Do you know him?"

She shook her small head, the raven-haired strands, moving with her. Rhys nodded in understanding.

"What do you want?" He asked, but he knew already. Mischa wanted to see the world. She wanted to play the cello in France and Australia. She wanted to lay on the beaches in South America and go on a cruise. She wanted to be away from her suffocatingly rich parents and their business proposals that involved her happiness.

"Freedom," she whispered the word as if it were forbidden. Rhys could feel the yearning that she put into that word. At that moment, the sixteen year old seemed to have aged about ten years. Her dimly lit smile stayed put on her face, but now her black empty eyes were gleaming at him, threatening to flood over onto her childlike cheeks.

Rhys sighed and within that same sigh he said, "When you are 18, you will go to Main Bank downtown and tell them that you would like to see safety deposit box number eighteen." Rhys used his compulsion to make the young girl hold out her hand. When she did, a small key fell into it. "You will take everything out of that box and you will leave. Whatever is within that box is now yours. Do you understand?" Rhys closed her fingers around the key, with his hand. He watched as the girl nodded and put the key in her bra.