Night Hunt Ch. 10

Hey there, it's been a while. Way too long, I know!

This chapter has been the most challenging one, as the story is taking on more shape. I don't know what you guys are going to think of it, since it's mostly more character and plot development. It is not going to make any sense at all unless you've read the earlier chapters. Please please please give me your comments. I would love to get some feedback on this one.

Also, the next chapter is underway!

****

It was silent in the car for the second time that morning. Tyrus felt Anya shift uncomfortably beside him. They were alone once more.

Sam had driven to Anya's place, so they had the luxury of two cars for the trip. It took Sam one glance at the murderous looks on his and Conner's faces, to declare unhappily that Connor was riding with her. All agreed that they needed to get to their destination in one piece. They would regroup at a diner stop about four hours' drive away.

Tyrus knew it was his own fault that Connor was so outraged. He had ignored all of Connor's multiple text messages after leaving the club last night. He would have been the same if Connor had gone after a human girl and then gone MIA after.

Apparently, his two friends had already packed their things for the trip. According to Sam, Connor had gone over to Tyrus' place this morning in a fit, demanding to see if his friend was alright.

When Connor found out what had happened, he and Sam both decided that they would go along with him. They had sped over to Anya's place as soon as they could. Sam knew the address because Tyrus had asked her to keep an eye on Anya's place too.

It was strange seeing his two friends come together. They didn't really get along. He had introduced them a long time ago, when Sam was on her way out of his place and Connor had come over to hang out with him. They had started off on the wrong foot, and never seemed able to find any common ground.

Some of it probably had to do with the long history between their peoples. The elves had always taken pride in their high magicks and skillfully crafted weapons. They considered themselves a superior race, and had little regard for the way the werewolves relied on animal instincts and brute strength. Their prejudice ran deep, and the werewolves hated them for it.

The two races had waged wars against each other for centuries, until the Governance was formed, and forced a truce on the two sides. Now, a fragile illusion of peace existed, but the tension still remained. Tyrus didn't know what it cost his two friends to put aside their differences for him. It both surprised and humbled him.

"Your friends really care about you," Anya started, breaking the silence. Tyrus struggled to keep his face impassive. He wasn't known to be one for sentimentality. He hesitated before he gave a brief nod, acknowledging her comment.

"I've known them a long time. Connor is one of my oldest friends. I'm sorry you had to meet him this way. He's a lot friendlier when he's not so angry. Still as hot tempered as the day we met. He was just a pup then, and sometimes I think he still is one."

He caught the confusion on Anya's face.

"Uh, werewolf pup I mean. And by that I mean he was in his twenties. Age is kind of relative when you've lived for so long."

He didn't quite want to remind Anya about their age difference, so he changed the subject. "How are you holding up? It's been a lot to take in overnight."

Anya shrugged, looking out at the open sky through the windshield as though it held some puzzle to be solved.

"Better than I thought possible. I know I've left my whole life behind, but there wasn't really much going on there when you... met me. And now it looks like I've got new questions, and the answers are here, in your world."

Tyrus stretched out a hand and laid it over her small one. She tensed a little, but didn't pull away. His pulse thrummed.

She shook her head, as if trying to clear her mind. She turned to study him for a moment, and he had the feeling she was appraising him, measuring him with her gaze.

"Tell me more about it," she said thoughtfully, "This world of yours. I want to understand it better."

"What would you like to know?"

"Let's start with you. You're a vampire. You move fast, and you're incredibly strong. You can control me with your mind. Daylight doesn't seem to affect you, and you didn't need an invitation to enter my home. I don't suppose... garlic is going to ward you off?"

He caught the twitch of her lips and a glint of humor in her eyes. He realised just then how rarely he'd seen her smile in his presence. He felt his breath catch and his own lips turn upward of their own accord.

"Humans have been quite imaginative with their stories. No doubt, my kind have helped some of the myths along. Think of how easy it is to hunt your prey when they provide little resistance, feeling secure walking around when the sun is out, or sitting in their homes imagining some invisible barrier keeping us out.

"We are also not simply killed by a regular old wooden stake. It has to be sacred wood, blessed by magic. Of course, nowadays, a gun filled with charmed bullets will do the trick. And as with most other creatures, a beheading or having your heart cut out is still a permanent way to go."

She shuddered, but did not seem spooked the way she had been when she had first seen him kill. She seemed to be adapting quickly. He suspected that a part of her innocence had left her after last night, and he was sorry for it.

"What about Sam?" She asked, curiosity filling her voice, "What are elves like?"

"They are a proud people. Immortal, like vampires, although an entirely different thing from the undead. They are powerful beings with access to elemental magic. They are also highly skilled in their own form of the martial arts. Do not be fooled by Sam's appearance, she has known how to wield a sword since she was three."

"If she's so powerful, why does she work as your housekeeper?" Anya asked in surprise.

Tyrus paused, wondering how much to tell her. He knew that Sam preferred to keep the matters of her past private.

"I saved her life, once. She was only nine, when someone tried to kill her. Her father is a... highborn member of the Elven court." He wondered if he should have even said that much, but then continued.

"He has many enemies, and they know how precious she is to him. I owed her father a great favour, and in return, I made a promise to her father to keep her safe. I brought her from the Elven stronghold to the city, where few know who she really is. We could have chosen any story to cover her identity, but this was something she chose herself."

He remembered a much younger Sam, rolling her eyes and complaining about the lack of cleanliness in his bachelor pad. He had offered to pay her to clean the house, to keep her quiet and also to keep the inquisitive young version of Sam busy and out of trouble.

It turned out that she was good at it, and enjoyed it more than he had ever thought she would have. Sam was always a contradiction to the elves. She carried none of their haughtiness, despite who her father was. Even now it was evident in the way she dressed, and the warm and casual way she treated most people, with the exception of Connor.

When she turned sixteen, her parents had called her back to stay with them, but she had had a taste of independence, and insisted on remaining in the city. Her father could never say no to her, and so had bought her the apartment next to Tyrus' and made him swear that nothing would happen to his daughter if she stayed.

Tyrus had been reluctant at first, but Sam had begged, and in the end, they'd come to their current arrangement. That was ten years ago. She'd even had her trust fund released to her then, but kept her job with him out of habit. Although Sam had grown to become a woman in her own right, in his eyes, she would always be the young charge that her father had entrusted him with.

"No wonder you guys are so close. How long have you known her?"

She blinked when he told her, then laughed softly to herself. When he looked at her, she smiled and explained.

"I can't tell anyone's age around here. You and Connor look like you're about my age. When you said the elves were immortal, I thought maybe Sam only looked like she was in her twenties. I didn't expect her to be younger than me."

He chuckled with her, relishing the shared moment. The conversation went on, Anya asking more questions about the different races. He tried to keep up with her, sharing what he knew of werewolves, witches, wizards, sirens, nymphs, succubi, and anything else that came up.

In between, he snuck in questions about her and her life, taking in every detail he could about her. He wasn't surprised to find that she loved to read. He could easily picture her curled up on her sofa, with her nose buried deep in a novel.

She'd never known her family, having been abandoned as a child. Her childhood had been spent bouncing between different foster families. He knew that was why he sensed a certain toughness about her.

The only person whom she'd counted as family, her best friend, had died four years ago. It had pained him to see the grief in her expression on the topic, so he'd steered away from it.

He learnt that she'd always wanted to travel, but could never afford to, as anything she'd saved went towards paying off her student loan. She'd finally managed to pay it off a couple months ago, and had been saving up for a trip to Europe. He made a promise to himself that he would take her anywhere she desired, if she'd let him.

The time in the car flew by without them noticing as they talked. Their conversation effortlessly meandered in any direction. Each time she smiled at him, eyes bright with amusement, he felt a completely unfamiliar feeling bloom in his chest. What would it be like, to feel like this all the time?

Halfway through the drive, a seed of an idea reached Tyrus. He ignored it at first, choosing instead to carry on their current discussion on the different types of faerie that still existed in Europe. However, as the idea developed, he knew that he had to tell her. It could help her defend herself if the need arose.

"You know, I've been thinking," he started haltingly, "We could probably test what your mind can do. I could train you, and see if it would make you stronger."

The easy atmosphere in the car ceased. He immediately wished that he hadn't brought it up. He waited for her to process what he was saying. He felt her shudder, and wondered if she was reliving the events of last night, and how she had broken Maarav's invisible barrier that held her. Had it only been a few hours ago?

"Yes, I suppose we should. I'd like to be able to defend myself if the need for it comes." She said it calmly, as if she was talking about something ordinary, like picking up her dry cleaning.

Again, he found himself thinking back to how quickly she was adapting to last night's events. A part of him wondered at what her life must have been like, for her to adapt so quickly. He'd been a wreck when his life had changed, but she had a resilience that he admired, and carried it with such grace.

"We'll start tonight, when we've found a place to rest."

She nodded, her mouth forming a line. She turned to look at him, her gaze measured.

"Can you do more than other vampires, with your powers?"

The question surprised him. It was an unspoken rule that people didn't talk about their hidden talents. Any skill that was acquired was kept a secret, since it could mean the difference between life or death in a fight. Of course, she didn't know that.

Would it be wise to tell her? It wasn't that he didn't trust her, but he had accumulated many enemies over the years, and he dreaded to think what they would do to her to find out his secrets.

"I can do more than most," he replied hesitantly.

She nodded again, an odd look of contemplation crossing her features.

"I saw how quickly you overpowered that vampire who attacked me. And Sam seemed to believe that you could handle yourself against four others, if you didn't have to worry about me tagging along. How did you get so powerful? What must a vampire do to get stronger?"

He caught her eye, raising his brow. He didn't like where the conversation was going. It was the very thing he had hoped to hide from her.

"You said you'd let me get to know you better." Her tone was serious as she held his gaze.

He stifled the growl in his chest. He had said that, and she did have a right to know. If he really wanted to be with her, she had to know all of it, and if he lost her now, then he never really had her to begin with.

"You may not like what I have to say," he cautioned.

"Tell me anyway. I can handle it."

She seemed to have picked up on where her question was leading them to. He wasn't sure if she really could handle the truth, but he answered anyway.

"My skills came with experience," he began, his fingers gripping the steering wheel. "I am not old, by immortal standards. Older vampires are naturally stronger, because they've been through more. There are things in my past that have made me what I am."

He thought back to the painful memories. "I was weak, once."

His first words seemed to open up a dam inside him. He had told no one his complete story, only given bits and pieces to those who had asked. Now that she was listening, he couldn't stop what he had begun. He couldn't explain the relief he felt that she was there to listen to it all.

He told her about how Degare had nearly killed him. How Satine had saved him and kept him captive for over a decade. How he had learnt quickly under her tutelage, driven by bitterness and a thirst for violence.

And finally, how when he had left her, he had offered himself as an assassin to the Governance. For a century, he had served as their weapon, delivering any and every death sentence that they ordered. He knew that aligning with the Governance meant that he was doing important work in maintaining the balance between the human and the supernatural world. Still, it did mean that there was... A lot of blood on his hands.

The reward they gave for each death he delivered to them was handsome. It had helped him gain the wealth and strength that he had now, after coming from nothing.

It also earned him a reputation, with each kill, that many still feared.

Partway through his story, he felt her shrink back from him, making him feel like every bit the monster that he knew he was. What else could he expect? He regretted that he had shared his bed with her before showing her who he truly was.

He was a fool for entertaining the ridiculous fantasy that he could ever be with her. All he'd been thinking of was his own desire. He had given himself over to the impulses of his demon. He should have known better. A monster like him could never deserve someone like her.

He stopped talking, self-pity and derision taking over his thoughts.

"Tyrus..." She began, then paused.

He looked over and was shocked to see tears in her eyes. He couldn't tell what she was thinking. Was she ashamed of herself, for sleeping with him? She looked away first, and didn't look back after that.

He concentrated on the road in front of him. He had never cared before what anyone thought of him. But now, it hurt that she saw him this way. It hurt even more after the intimacy they had shared.

He wished that he could take it back and start over. She'd been right, they should have gotten to know each other better first before sharing so much physically.

He had to make it right again. She now bore his mark, and he would have to keep his mark on her if was going to keep her safe. It was his fault that she was in this whole mess. He swore to himself that he would not touch her again. He would resist every temptation, especially when his mark made her want him. He could at least show her some respect that way.

They continued the rest of the drive in silence.

****

Anya was relieved when they arrived at the diner. Sam and Conner were already there, sitting across from each other in awkward silence. Their faces lit up when Anya and Tyrus entered. Anya slid into the booth next to Sam, trying to avoid looking at Tyrus as he sat down opposite her.

Her mind was reeling from what Tyrus had revealed to her. She'd figured that he would have a violent past. She had sensed it in the malice she felt when she had seen him kill the vampire. He had terrified her then.

What scared her more than that, was how she didn't even judge him after all that he said he'd done. She could easily picture him as a human, young and naïve, who'd had his life cruelly ripped from him. She wondered at the trauma he must have gone through, with no normal way to deal with it, and the circumstances that led to his survival till now.

Did it pardon him from all the lives that he had taken since? She could understand why he'd done it, but that didn't mean that she was okay with it, did it? For a moment in the car, she'd felt like she could accept anything about Tyrus, and it scared the hell out of her.

It was just too confusing right now. She felt overwhelmed by the events of the past twenty-four hours. It seemed that shock after shock just kept getting added to the pile. She pushed her thoughts aside.

The diner was just like any other roadside diner Anya had ever been in. Nothing more than a midway stop between one destination and the next. Greasy smells and scratchy radio music wafted through the place. The faded vinyl seats had seen better days. The place was less than half-filled, even though it was lunchtime. A glance at the sad plates of food, and the grumpy middle-aged waitress who carried them, explained why.

She scanned down the worn menu in front of her, frowning as she tried to decide on the least evil thing from the dreary list. It was an impossible decision since they all looked equally bad. Sam sighed next to her, apparently coming to the same conclusion as she tossed her menu back on the table.

The waitress stopped at their table, peering at them over the edge of her glasses. She pushed them up the bridge of her nose impatiently as she pulled out her notepad and pencil.

Her hair, dyed black with streaks of hot pink, sat high on her head. She had on a sleeveless top and garish mini skirt that were a couple of sizes too tight. She looked like she was maybe in her late forties, trying to pass off as twenty one. Her nametag identified her as Rosie.

"So, what'll it be?" Rosie drawled in a gravelly voice. Her gaze shifted to the two men in obvious appreciation, ignoring the girls. A smile replaced the tight scowl on her face.

Anya couldn't blame her. Tyrus looked downright gorgeous with his full lips and sharp cheekbones. Whilst Tyrus had dark and mysterious written all over him, Connor was the opposite. He had a carefree, devil-may-care vibe going, which went well with his tanned skin, blond hair, and bright blue eyes.

Both men had killer bodies. Tyrus was tall and lean, the fit of his clothing hinting at the chiselled definition underneath. Connor was brawnier, his tshirt barely seeming to contain the bulging muscles of his torso and broad shoulders.

Clearing her throat to get the waitress' attention, Anya placed her order, deciding that the club sandwich would be a fairly safe bet. She tried not think of the sausages sitting in a pool of grease at the next table. It would be hours before their next meal, and she knew she had to eat. Sam grimaced before ordering the same thing.

She was surprised when Tyrus only ordered a coffee. She was starving. Then she remembered what he was. Right.

Connor looked up from his menu, oblivious to the predatory look on Rosie's face. "A bacon burger special with a side of sausages, and a waffle mountain surprise." He gave a self-satisfied grin to no one in particular.