To Spite Another God Pt. 05

"It...what's natural about this?" Jonathan asked.

Simmons stood, then started to pace, nodding as he spoke. "It's not like the old world. We don't have time for charity and the dole and bread lines. We have to be stronger than the Martians -- they know more than we do, that's fine, that's fine. There's a natural philosopher in our little crew, and he says the nebular hypothesis has to be true. Mars is older than our world. They've had more time to learn. No shame in that. There's only shame if we lay down and die, like the darkies and red skins..." He nodded. "Like the darkies, and the red skins...you see what I mean? We've been colonized -- the Martians got their imperial hooks in us. But we have to learn and do what the darkies never did. We have to learn to use their technology. And we can do it, we're smarter than they think!" He taps his forehead.

Jonathan glanced at Dr. Van Helsing. He had never paid much mind to the Empire, beyond learning what was needed to practice law. His heart, his hearth, his home, it was entirely focused upon London and Mina. But something about the way that Simmons spoke rung in him as...foolish.

"We shall begin to assist you, yes," Dr. Van Helsing said. "But we must not set our sights upon the invisible beam of death."

"...the...the heat ray, you mean?" Simmons asked.

Dr. Van Helsing nodded. "Precisely. Such a device in our hands is of limited value, yes. What we need is not a means of combating, but a means of flight, my good artillery soldier!"

Simmon's face darkened into a frown. "I'm not running from my home."

"A single heat ray is not the thing, not the thing at all," Dr. Van Helsing said. "What, instead, must be bringed, is a source of men and weaponry, one that can sustain a continual war, a battle! Logistics. This is not a war that will be won with a single battle! The Martians will not simply go because we wish them to be -- it will be won with many. For that, you need more than an underground!" He gestured to himself, sweeping his arms around.

"What is the big bowl?" Jonathan asked, distractedly.

"...we don't know..." Simmons said. "They've been pulling up metal by the tons to build it -- they feed them into this little maker machines of theirs and turn the metal into their kind of metal to build and build and build."

"We must acquire for us a means of escape, for all these people." Dr. Van Helsing said.

"Shut up," Simmons said, flatly.

"What?" Dr. Van Helsing said -- but then, quite suddenly, he was laying upon the ground, his lip split. Simmons, his fist raised above his head, stepped over and kicked the doctor in the belly. Then, glaring down at him, he thrust his finger at him.

"Listen here, Dutchie," Simmons growled. "I'm in charge. I'm the one who made this place. And if you don't work, you don't eat, and if you don't follow orders, you don't breathe. Got it?"

"Yes...yes..." Dr. Van Helsing wheezed. "You are...being very clear."

Simmons thrust his finger at Jonathan. "You, Harker," he said. "You're going to be on the next salvage gang, you know where to find guns, food, or medicine in this city?"

"I-I know a few stores," Jonathan said, hurriedly, nodding. Simmons nodded again, then started to stalk off, his hands tightened. As he left, Jonathan knelt beside Van Helsing, who whispered to him.

"This man is mad," he whispered. "But you are understanding what I mean, yes?"

"Yes," Jonathan said, quietly. "But...where...how..."

He paused.

"The flying machine," he whispered. "The flying machine that took us to the prison -- if we can get one of those, we can go anywhere."

Dr. Van Helsing nodded, slowly. "Yes...yes, we can..." He rubbed his finger along his chin, considering. "But we shall require a distraction."

Jonathan blinked. He didn't know how wars and fighting and sneaking about worked. He might not have known when to listen to warnings. He might have made mistake after mistake after mistake. But he did have a memory for numbers -- and he could recollect the tonnages of metal that the papers had bragged about in the construction of this underground area. His brow furrowed, and he whispered. "I...have an idea...b-but it is remarkably cold blooded..." he said, very quietly. Dr. Van Helsing nodded.

"Yes, obviously, the Martians will find these poor devils and descend upon them in force...but we must take advantage of the time we have," Dr. Van Helsing said, dragging him to his feet. Simmons and the others weren't watching them...and as they started to move backwards, towards the entrance they had used, Jonathan saw that there was a guard there, with one of their rifles.

"Simmons says no one goes yet," the man whispered.

"Oh, but I'm on the new salvage team," Jonathan said, nodding.

"Where's the rest of you?" the man asked.

"It'll be the two of us, since we're new, and we're checking a dangerous part of the city -- if we get lost, no big...loss!" Jonathan said, trying to think of this as a legal debate, something that people would find convincing in court. The man shrugged, nodding, then let them by...and like that, Jonathan and Dr. Van Helsing had left yet another group of humans behind to a diresome fate. Jonathan wasn't sure if he should feel guilty or not...should he have done more?

He didn't know, even as they crept out and Dr. Van Helsing whispered to him. "Do you know a place to go to overview that bowl, Mr. Harker?"

Jonathan thought.

And he realized...if the bowl was being constructed near the heart of London, he might actually know precisely where to view it from. He nodded, slowly, and thanked the Lord for his exceptional memory.

"Excellently done! Lead on, Mr. Harker!"

* * * * *

"Just try!"

The giggles and gasps of shock echoed up from the training room, reaching Mina's sensitive ears as she sat upon the roof of the castle. She had become a bat, flown here, and was now sitting and watching the distant horizons of the world -- and thinking. She had fucked Dracula. She had fucked Dracula. She had...fucked Dracula. She thought it three times, and each time, she expected to feel guilty or ashamed at herself.

Instead, she was just counting the seconds before she could do it again.

She felt her own heart, and tried to feel the love for Jonathan that had brought her across Europe, and only felt her own pleasure in her new position. She looked at her hand, then flexed it, turning her fingeritps to claws, then back again.

The soft clank of iron hitting steel rang out -- and she could hear the sound of Claire Wells laughing in delight. "This is amazing!" she said.

"It is, isn't it?" Lucy asked.

She was helping to lead the new converts -- each of them having awoken to their new vampiric status with a different reaction. George, the doctor and amateur boxer, was, like his sister in law Claire, eager and happy to show off his prowess. Mrs. Elphinstone was tremulous. Dr. Elphinstone was curious. And Irene? Irene was...stoic. But no matter how they felt, they were being taught how to use their powers...and soon, they would learn how to fight.

"Mina?"

The voice she had expected to hear was Dracula. Or Aleera. Or Verona, who had returned with Marishka. It hadn't been Antoni. She looked over and saw that the young artillerist was clambering on the roof, his hands held out to keep his balance. Mina sprang upwards, then rushed to his side, holding him. "What are you doing up here, you could fall and break your neck and I'll need to be the one to fix it, you absolute-" she said, her voice cross, and to her shock, he laughed and grinned at her, rather than looking chagrined or as if she had slapped him.

"I have climbed trees!" he said. "And on roofs! More than once, even, Miss Murry."

Mina cocked her head. "The bloodbond is gone, isn't it?" she asked.

"It's been a month and a day," he said, nodding. "It feels as if time has flown...you training and...feeding and..." He trailed off. "And you speak Polish now without a single hint of an accent."

She smiled, shyly. "I...also have Latin and Russian and am working on French and German with Dracula." She shook her head. "What are you doing up here?"

"I noticed you up here, away from the others," he said, nodding. "Looking thoughtful."

"I've been thinking about my fiancee," Mina said. "I...and...about things I have done and..."

Antoni nodded. "W-Well...in the army, the officers didn't think of their wives often..." He smiled, sheepishly. "So, I suppose, it is just a thing that happens, right?"

"Because other people do things that are wrong doesn't make me doing it okay," Mina said, sighing. She stepped away, her light shift blowing around her body. She reflected, momentarily, on how Antoni was dressed in a thick jacket and coat, while she was wearing something she'd have once thought was under-dressed for bed, brazenly, in the open, with a chill wind cutting across the roof. And it felt nothing but gloriously comfortable. She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed, softly.

"Well..." Antoni paused. "Apologize?"

"I...will..." She paused. "And yet, I...I feel as if it's...right and natural. Is that just...vampire egotism?" She shook her head. "Or...did I never love Jonathan as much as I just...thought I needed to..." She stopped, her ears perking up.

"Well, that...it is better to learn that before you mary-"

"Get inside," she said.

"What?" Antoni blinked.

"Get inside!" Mina snapped, then leaped outwards, her arms spreading. She became a bat with a sweep of flowing flesh, her wings beating hard as she shot towards the sound that had carried across the forest and the mountains. Within moments, her eagle sharp eyes had spotted it: A flying machine...limping through the air. Smoke boiled from one of its wings, streaking through the air. It flew like a bumble bee, shuddering, stopping, reversing, going in a loop, juddering and sweeping with incredible speed towards the ground -- and behind it, there were two tripods, keeping pace with it by sprinting full out, both holding their heat rays. As she watched, one of them tried to draw a bead. Three trees burst into flames with a bright woosh that made her eyes flash.

She didn't know why the Martians were trying to kill their own...

And for the moment?

It didn't matter.

Mina flapped once, settled herself above the Martian tripod that was in the lead, and felt nothing but utter determination and cold fury. She focused.

Shifted.

And dropped.

Her heel slammed first into the metallic hood of the tripod with a resounding clunk, but then skidded away. Her body, slight as it was, didn't have the kinetic energy to do enough damage to even scuff the metal hood. Her belly and chest flopped against the hood and she grew claws, puncturing the metal and clinging there, her teeth clenching. The Tripod stopped, then started to twirl its head like a top, spinning hard enough that her feet were picked up and off the side of the hood and dragged outwards, as if she was a string in a child's twirling hand. She clenched her hand, and the metal squealed, her claws digging furrows. The top-spinning stopped with a jarring, sudden termination and she was dropped back against the side. Before Mina could react, one of the operating tentacles swept up, grabbed her, and flung her towards the ground.

Their mistake.

Mina plunged into the native earth of her adoptive Transylvania. She kicked as if she was under water and emerged, palms first, underneath one of the Tripod's feet. She gritted her teeth, and felt blood roaring through her body as she pushed up...and up...and up. Her arms trembled, her slight body seeming completely unsuited to the task...and yet...it was the ground that caved unerneath her, cratering beneath her feet as she got her hands fully above her head -- the Tripod's left lifting upwards. She clenched her hands and roared with primal fury and flung the Tripod.

It traveled a mere three, four feet -- more stumbling than tossed -- even its impressive locomotion couldn't keep it upright. The whole construction crashed into the trees. Splinters hazed through the air, whistling upwards and Mina felt them zip through her body as if she wasn't even there. She laughed, then laughed even louder, a cackle that rose through the woods.

The other Tripod was standing stock still, watching her, clearly trying to comprehend what was happening.

Mina leaped upwards and landed on the prone Tripod. She balled her hand into a fist, then brought it whistling down, smashing it into the Martian machine. Metal crumpled, then crumpled again, then burst open as she punched and punched and punched, driving her body's strength to near the breaking point. Even her incredibly tough skin was split and black blood dripped between her knuckles as she grabbed into the rent, then ripped to the sides. Within, the Martian...was hideous.

It was...like a massive head, with huge eyes, and a single beak like mouth, opened, revealing that it had no tongue, no soft pallet, nothing but a hole, a hole leading to a kind of tough diaphragm, which was vibrating visibly, producing a high pitched, squealing hooting. Its spherical body was ringed by a set of writhing tentacles, each of them reaching and grasping for the devilishly complex controls that lined the interior of the Tripod.

And yet, despite the alien appearance, Mina felt her vampiric perceptions granting her a kind of intense, focused empathy. She could read this creature as if...they...was a member of her own species. And she could see that it was furious. Offended. Aghast. Not afraid, not asking for mercy, but simply filled with rage that an ant had dared to squash them.

"Welcome to Transylvania," Mina snarled.

She drove her fist into the creature and ripped out a lump of gore. It didn't beat, and the blood smelled terrible, so she supposed it was neither a heart nor anything she particularly wanted to drink. And so, as a final insult, she tossed it aside -- moments before the other Tripod stepped up and blasted her full force with the heat ray.

The searing, blistering, invisible energy turned the dead Martian into a shriveled twisted parody of itself. It melted the metal of the Tripod, caused the soft components of the control systems to burst into flames. It set the underbrush around the Tripod on fire and filled the air with acrid smoke. And then, as it shut down, the Tripod stepped backwards, then to the side.

Mina Murry stepped from the smoke.

A single burning ember dropped to her shoulder from the conflagration behind her and she brushed it from her shoulder.

The Tripod stepped backwards.

It swung up a tube.

It fired.

The canister slammed into the ground beside Mina and the horrid, killing Black Smoke rushed outwards, sweeping around Mina like a pal of pure death. The fire went out instantly, and the trees surrounding the clearing began to shrivel and die, the leaves visibly curling, then falling away. The smoke roiled outwards, flowing more like a liquid than a gas, and small game went fleeing in every direction -- those that hadn't already started to flee. The Tripod, holding up the heat ray, aimed it down at the cloud.

The cloud swirled.

Exploded apart.

And Mina shot from it, her fist drawn backwards.

At the height of her leap, right when she intersected the Tripod's front, she swept her arm back, throwing her entire strength into it. She felt the impact transmit through her body, felt bones crack, felt pain explode through her, felt the rage that had been driving her reach a crescendo. She screamed in fury, venting every single iota of anger she had been building this entire horrible year in a single moment.

The Tripod's head exploded as if an artillery shell had struck it.

Metal flew.

Blood soaked the air.

And Mina dropped as the Tripod smashed through the trees it had killed, splintering them. She panted, heavily, then stepped beside it, feeling utterly drained of blood and energy, her arm hanging limply beside her. The Martian had survived...barely. Metal fragments peppered their face and forehead and tentacles, several of them having been severed neatly. Blood pooled around it -- acrid and foul smelling. The Martian writhed...

And then...spoke.

It spoke, in a grotesque parody of Lucy's contact with her, directly into

What...are...you?

She grinned.

And the Martian died before she could give him the answer.

The loud crash behind her caused her to spin -- and she saw that the Flying Machine had come down, splintering more trees, and came to a rest in a furrow of its own making. She rushed towards it as fast as she could -- but with her blood reserves so low, she couldn't manage much more than human speeds. Her hand held her arm to her side and she hissed against the pain -- pain was something she had definitely not missed as she had gotten used to her vampiric condition. The interior of the Flying Machine was banging and clanging -- the Martian within was clearly trying to get out.

Bats flew down from the sky -- then shifted, at once, to Lucy, Mari, Verona, Aleera and Dracula. "Mina!" Lucy cried out, running to her side, grabbing her. "We have to get you to Antoni!"

'That...was...the most FOOLISH thing I've ever seen!" Dracula said, rushing to her side, the wives fanning out to examine the dead Martians, clearly not trusting them to be actually fully slain. Dracula gripped Mina's jaw, lifting her head upwards. "You took on two war machines! Two! Machines that have shattered every army that humanity has thrown at them without much of an effort, and you did so as a raw neonate!" He panted, softly. Then he kissed her. Hard. Mina's head spun and she kissed him back, biting his lower lip, hard, to make sure he knew that she didn't like being lectured.

She did like being kissed, though.

Dracula drew backwards, while the clanging sound grew rhythmic from within the flying machine. Mari leaped onto the top of it, kneeling down and sniffing at the air. "Someone's trying to get out..." they said, licking their lips with a long, long tongue.

Mina turned to face the Flying Machine.

Bang...BANG...CLUNG!

The hatch that was on the side of the machine, so smoothly combined with the rest of the metal that she had almost missed it, even with her eyesight, opened.

Smoke roiled outwards.

And then, crawling from it...came...

Jonathan Harker.

He coughed.

Stood.

Then, seeing Mari peering down at him, stammered. "I...I am...looking for my fiancee..." He said.

Mina blinked. She walked towards him. "Jonathan?"

Jonathan turned to her, and in the darkness, he saw only Mina.

"Mina!" His arms wrapped around hers. He kissed her. And...

He smelled...

So...

Mina felt her hunger roiling through her. She had burned so much blood. Her arm ached, and she couldn't heal it, couldn't stop the pain until...and his heart thundered and as he drew back, confusion clear, his brow furrowing. "Mina, what ha-"

Mina's fangs ached.

She growled.

And she bit.

Her fangs sank into Jonathan's throat and she drank -- and drank...and drank...

And drank...