Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Angel ❯ Flicker ( Chapter 3 )

There were times when Bastia wondered if it was worth it. Moving around constantly was interesting, but it had its disadvantages. In order to keep his identity hidden, he only stayed in one place long enough to tell at least half the people in the city that he was not of the female gender. By the time they finally figured this out, he would have already left to go start the cycle again.

 

It had only been a month, and he had traveled almost half of the entire world. The supernatural speed of a vampire made for fast transportation, and as soon as he heard that the first rumor with actual substance behind it about a strange new aura was circulating, he would sprint as far away as possible in ten minutes and then hang around in the new city for about a week before having to leave their instead.

 

Not much had happened so far, but he had had one interesting encounter…

 

Long, spidery white fingers curled around the steaming mug, relishing in the warmth emanating from the heated ceramic. A lazily rumbling fire in the corner added to his heat-based contentment, as well as the soft, faintly burning scent that tickled his sensitive nose. The low hum of various conversations was like soothing music to his ears, and he relished the sweet strains of true music echoing from a jukebox in the corner. The entire scene was rather homey, composed as it was of wooden furniture throughout the entire thing with matching walls, floor, and ceiling. A few soft rugs fell here and there, and not a single chair sat bereft of a luxuriously cuddly pillow. The lights were low and few, with the main source of illumination being the large flame that made its home glaringly in the middle of a wall. It might've appeared rather simple and old-fashioned, but the café was clearly well liked, as one could tell by the sheer amount of people contributing to that soft buzz of people's voices so calming to this particular listener.

 

All in all, it was a bit of a heaven-on-earth to any inhabitant of a more feline nature.

 

Cambions were no exception, especially not a certain hybrid. He was utterly content as he sat, perched upon a high stool at the serving counter. It was in the corner, closest to the warmth of the flames, as well as the conversations closest to the fire, of which there were many. Interesting little tidbits floated to his sharply tuned and ever so slightly shaped ears, and he had not been sitting there long before he had a fairly accurate general description of the town he was currently residing in.

 

The town itself was not all that big; it was, perhaps, larger than a fair number of them, but there were also far larger groups that have been called by that name. The most common claim to fame of this particular little village was not the no doubt adorable little houses and shops, but rather the enormous manors and villas that were placed in the nearby vicinity. Incidentally, these structures were also not that far from the city- in fact, there was no doubt that they had originally been put there for that proximity to a larger population- but they were still more closely attached to the little town in more ways than one.

 

It only took an hour of sitting quietly and slowly savoring the mug of hot chocolate that he had made perpetually hot to gather quite a bit of rather interesting information pertaining to the relationship between the village and those plantation size figures in the darkness of the night. For one, there seemed to have been a young man who had suddenly left to go live with the owners of one of them rather randomly. It seemed that this classically handsome and dashing fellow had just out of the blue decided to go visit one of the manors- the family found a note saying so when he did not appear for a night- and then the next night he returned to inform his family that he would be moving out. He had not been rude to them at that meeting; in fact, it had seemed that he was valiantly holding back tears and was utterly regretful of their sad parting. But part they did, and in the five days since the event he had not been seen.

 

He heard the same tale from many different mouths that evening; it had a consistent basic outline, though the details varied from teller to teller, as well as the tone of voice used in the telling. He heard it murmured in hushed whispers, as though this was a confidential mystery that remained an unknown phenomenon. And then there were those who still spoke quietly, but were nearly laughing in their mocking voices as they told the tale with an added ladle of sarcasm. The latter, which was quite a bit of a smaller group, Bastia noticed, all had the signature of an aura that could only belong to a vampire. He hoped fervently they did not notice his own strange twinge to his aura which was a combination of a human, vampire, and incubus- indeed, though there had been a single questioning gaze directed his way, most had not realized what exactly had been in the room with them, and for this Bastia was eternally grateful. He was also grateful for the fact that no one had asked him if he was a girl yet- he had tucked his ever growing braid of hair underneath his black trench coat- but that is beside the point.

 

After the rather short period in which he gleaned as much information as possible from the passing conversations, Bastia sat back to contemplate what he had heard. The stories were interesting, interesting as well as unusual. And there was a definitive trend to the auras and the stories that their owners told- clearly there was something afoot.

 

On another note, Indomien would have been pleased to hear the Bastia's eyes were changing again. It was not an immediate reversion, of course; you could not expect damage wrought over two years to be undone in a mere month. But the obviously supernatural glow had brightened, and his eyes were more bronze now rather than that dull, unhealthy (for him) brown.

 

Moving on…

 

Having reviewed the facts several times in his head, there were now certain things that Bastia had no doubt were true. If it were not so there would be no explanation for what provided so much entertainment for this quaint little town, but Bastia was content with his musings with or without the agreement of those who have no other options. His bronzed orbs were half-lidded in contemplation still though, as he debated what he should do next, when his half-awake guard senses suddenly went haywire.

 

Old habits die hard; it took conscious effort for Bastia to prevent his humanoid ears from sliding up and turning into soft, velvety fur covered triangles. When he had lived with his small family in a time that seemed like forever ago, he had never had to prevent himself from ever half shifting into his feline incubus-induced form. As he entered normal society, it was hard for him to adjust to his new limitations, but he knew it was necessary if he did not want to end up as a slave of whichever organization found him first.

 

Similarly, he had to kill the growl rising in his throat as it threatened to break into the otherwise calm atmosphere of the café. His eyes, gaining in luminosity so as to hint at one of it's original amber shades, came up only to be met with a truly startling sight.

 

Bastia had never seen a vampire up close and personal before. He had seen, in the past, figures that he could only recognize because of their auras; many vampires had perfect masks to hide their true form unless they wished a specific person to see it. His own mother was a quarter-vampire, daughter of a dhampir- he was a throwback to his grandfather, this much he knew. But the only portrait they had of the one he so took after was one of said vampire in his mortal form as well, so he still had no clear picture of a vampire in his head save for ones he gathered from information read in books.

 

The first thing that struck him was the color of the eyes. They were so dark, yet bright at the same time! Blood red in color, yet swirling from a bright vermillion to dark maroon in the time it took to blink. His demon father had red eyes, yes, but they were nothing compared to the twin mysteries dwelling in the vampire's face. He felt like he could stare into them forever and never find his way out again, so profound were their twisting depths.

 

He collected this information within the first millisecond that he saw the face of this vampire. Within the second millisecond, he had noted the extremely pale face that reminded him of his own semi-translucent skin. The third saw him observing the long mane of hair that, while long, still did not reach the size of his own ridiculously lengthy braid. Of course, the vampire did not notice because with Bastia's hair cut and the way his braid was tucked beneath his clothing, it was impossible to tell that the sizable hunk of hair even existed. He also noted the way that the ivory complexion was highlighted by the dark ebony of his hair, so similar to most of Bastia's own.

 

In the fourth millisecond he saw the clothes the other wore; the vampire was dressed so that one could not tell his true nature at all with only one glance. Slightly formal black slacks and what looked to be a silk dress shirt; there were many others in the room who were similarly garbed.

 

The fifth millisecond saw Bastia's reaction to the expression on the vampire's face, and the entire room would have been able to see it as well had they been looking. He visibly shrank backward at the twisted leer with which the other gazed down at his still seated form. That expression, that look in his eyes…it was practically screaming “I mean to do you nothing but harm”, which was frightening enough to startle even the king of ice Bastia DeNoctis.

 

He also did register the fact that this vampire happened to be the same one who had glanced at him with that seemingly innocent and curious look; apparently, that had been one seriously skewed first impression. There was nothing innocent about the man towering over him- standing at a height of six foot three- now, and Bastia was overcome with the urge to sprint away as far and fast as possible. As it was, nobody noticed what was happening in the corner of the café, no doubt because of some illusion or spell the vampire had placed on them and their immediate vicinity.

 

"Well, well…what do we have here?" he drawled in a lazy tone of voice, looking down at his prey. "You seem like an interesting little fellow, and there is no doubt that you are as intriguing as you look, no?" There was the same I-have-you-now-and-you're-not-getting-away quality to his voice as there was in his very stance and eyes. Arrogance and haughtiness rolled off him in waves, flooding the hybrids senses.

 

The entire scene started to get to Bastia; the vampire, his stance, his voice, his words themselves…they were grating on the young hybrid's nerves. This time he did not bother to hold back his growl; it came out, low and jagged with a clear warning within.

The answering laugh served to cause the volume of the sound to increase, and Bastia half rose from his stool. His muscles were pulled taut like the strings of a finely tuned instrument; he was ready fight or flee accordingly.

As the vampire moved his hand more or less in a slow, taunting manner toward the left side of his waist,, Bastia sprang. The lean, tightly coiled muscles were released as he allowed himself to conjure a dagger out of thin air (in truth it came from beneath his sleeve) and quickly slash the hand reaching undoubtedly for the pressure points in his neck.

 

Seeing as the man was a vampire, it was no surprise to him that the slender trail of red that bloomed across the back of a hand as pale as Bastia's disappeared into perfection as fast as it had sprang into existence in the first place. So quickly executed was the entire ordeal that another might find them self wondering if it had ever taken place at all. But when one was judging by the expression on the vampire's face and the small, ever so slightly gloating smile that curled the corners of Bastia's lips, it would be clear that it had happened. It would also be apparent that the vampire was none too happy about the occurrence, as the narrowing eyes and sudden set of a pale mouth warned Bastia.

 

The slight smile on said hybrid's face dropped rather quickly; there was something definitively unpleasant about that look on his face. He responded to the slow, small advancing step made by the other with a slight backward shuffle of his own, gazing into the blood red eyes as he quickly hid his emotions. It took barely a moment to bring the icy mask that was his signature expression to his face, walling off everything inside as a cold tone was brought on to his entire person.

 

The other arched the fine ebonite line that was his eyebrow at the sudden change, but continued his slow advance toward the other. Now, however, Bastia held his ground and did not draw back despite hidden discomfort. He loosely held the now bloodstained knife he had used to slash the vampire in one hand and had the pale spidery fingers on the other hand curled up and ready to reach in an instant the second knife strapped to that slim wrist. He did not want to fight, for it would be extremely difficult to do so without completely revealing his abilities as a hybrid, but he wasn't beyond making a few quick slices as a distraction while he ran away to safety. It was possible, he knew, that this vampire could beat him given time, as long as the other had more experience and age then he did; power increased with the amount of time spent on Earth. That was why he would by no means stay for an entire battle; rather, a diversion was necessary to get himself away and out of harm.

 

The next few moments happened in slow motion to Bastia as his mind quickly reverted into its feline mode; observe and ask no questions, and demand an explanation later. He watched with a kind of morbid fascination the longish but still rather short blade clasped in the other's ivory hand enter his own pale skin, the shining metal holding his attention as it disappeared into the sleek muscle made up the only padding on the bone of a dangerously slender forearm. A quick twist and flick of the wrist of his attacker and Bastia was arching backward in a primal attempt to get away from the incredible pain bursting out like a kaleidoscope from where the other seemed to be attempting to force the two bones of his arm apart using the knife blade that had been placed between them. A silent scream tore from his mouth, despite his effort to prevent any reaction from showing. Still, he might've taken pride in the fact that he did not utter a sound; it was all ringing in his head, bouncing off the walls and refusing to leave even if he wanted it to.

 

The vampire smiled with satisfaction as his opponent, despite his sudden emotional mask, fell to his knees in the agony that he had inflicted. He slowly twisted a little more before pulling out at an incredibly slow speed while allowing the now thoroughly red stained metal to grate painfully upon the white bone. Immediately after, as soon as the tip of the blade was no longer touching or on the pale skin of his prey, a second long-fingered hand grasped the bleeding cut as the now injured one curled over protectively and cradled his arm to his chest. Bastia was not a fast healer like the one he had slashed; it would take at least a three or four days for the wound to fully close up, heal the internal damage, and then finally disappear altogether from frigid ivory skin.

 

And that was a bad, bad thing for Bastia.

 

It was also one of the best things that could possibly happen for his current tormentor; in his current position, there was no way that he could fight back. It would be incredibly easy now to gather up this interesting bundle of mixed auras and drag him back to the coven to see what the leader would make of him. And no doubt, there would be a reward if this man before him was truly what the vampire thought he was.

 

The knife wound left by the other's blade burned with an incredibly intensity, and for a moment Bastia was sure that he would fall unconscious from the mere amount of pain radiating from that one spot. The surrounding joints were also sore, considering what had been done to the bones within them. All in all, the right-handed Bastia would not be able to do anything that would matter in his life for some time due to the injury inflicted by this vampire he had never seen before. Overall it was, in Bastia's opinion, a rather unhappy situation, and he meant to get out of it as soon as possible, regardless of what he had to do to make his escape.

 

The fight, however, was doing at least some good for Bastia's energy levels…distracted as he was, the radiant gold tint of long ago was returning to his now bright eyes, though, whether this was because of pain or another more complex and inexplicable reason, it could not be said. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, even though quite a good amount of it poured out the gaping hole in his right forearm; he would not go down that easily.

 

Aww, ickle little half-breed…thinks that going down like this is easy? Not a chance…most would be on the floor already. And here you stand, still not ready to give up…I have to admit, that is not a very smart move. You should have stayed on your knees.

 

Bastia hissed, both physically and mentally, acting more like his feline counterpart than he perhaps should have. Get…out…of…my…head, he grated out in his own mind. Try as he might, his own mental power was not strong enough to neither get behind the other's powerful shields, nor kick out the intruder who had snuck in behind his own. So he was forced to content himself with hissing and spitting in his mind; if he had taken on his demonic shifted form, by now those silky black hairs would be straight up in the air.

 

He was answered by a laugh that echoed in his head, to which he responded with another growl. He slowly brought up one leg until his toes were resting on the floor where they belonged instead of his knee, and for a moment, with a dark head lowered in pain, it looked almost as though he were bowing to the other. But then, with a swift push off that one foot, he brought himself up to stand, if rather shakily, and spit in the other's face.

 

“Do you ever do anything besides laugh like that?” he growled out as another bark of amusement left the vampire's mouth while he wiped the hybrid's saliva from his cheek. It was grating on his nerves again, much like everything else the other did did. Bastia's lips were still curled partially in a snarl, as they had been ever since the first attack. And now, he couldn't help but let pearly whites elongate into ivory fangs to add to the inhuman effect.

 

Swirling red eyes narrowed slightly, but for the most part the same mocking smile remained on that pale face as he shifted once more so as to attack the other once more. You couldn't really call the blade a knife or a sword; it was somewhere in between with its length and width. By now, Bastia eyed the weapon with a mixture of nervousness and dislike between the now glowing mask he had put on over his eyes.

 

And suddenly, like a striking snake, it darted outward and toward him. The path it took should have brought the blade to drive through a pale stomach in an incapacitating blow, but its target shifted and so it missed its mark. However, it did manage to slice through the shining black shirt to kiss a pale stomach in a long, maybe about half an inch gash, which was no mean accomplishment.

 

This time though, Bastia managed to keep the pained gasp to himself, the only outward reaction being a rough exhalation of breath as his luminescent gold pools narrowed into slits while he curled over slightly, holding his stomach now as well. He hissed angrily once more as he gazed with hatred at the other, before he staggered a little bit and then straightened up. His left hand, though covered in his own pure, darkening life's liquid, was still able to fight, and the now thoroughly red fingers curled upwards once more to pull a knife of his own from his sleeve.

 

He had one chance left, and he would use it.

 

Bastia's position was advantageous and a negative at the same time. Backed into a corner as he was, it would be hard to dodge anything that the other threw at him. But when one did this in the right way, he was also in the best position for an escape, which was all that he wanted right now. There was a fair distance between him and his opponent; enough so that his plan should work perfectly.

 

It was his turn to shift his stance; his turn to smile darkly in anticipation of what he was about to do. The vampire raised an eyebrow, but did not move otherwise as Bastia readied himself.

 

He could not deny the fact that he was surprised when a flash of black suddenly came streaking toward him within the time it took to blink. The man was bleeding from two possibly fatal- if you were not a vampire- wounds, one on his stomach so that it should have been just about impossible for him to do anything serious even if he was blessed with the healing properties of the undead. The vampire would have murmured “interesting” if he hadn't been preoccupied with jumping out of the way of a shining, two inch blade.

 

And just like that, he was gone. In less than a fraction of a second, the man, or boy, or whatever he was had disappeared from the shop. A smile tugged at the corners of the vampire's lips as he sprang into action as well, sprinting as fast as or faster than his prey. Yes, the little creature was interesting- he still wasn't sure what exactly his prey was in terms of species; all he knew was that he had the auras of vampire, demon, and human hanging around his gaunt form. And that itself was intriguing, as well as the maze of thoughts which he had found in the half-breed's mind…it would be fun to see what made him tick after he caught the kitty cat.

 

Bastia was a fast runner. All creatures blessed with vampiric blood were fast, yes, but Bastia was among the fleetest and strongest in that select group. Though he did not know it; all he could say was that he was a fast runner. Not very many creatures on earth could beat the hybrid.

 

However, Bastia's particular vampire hunter just happened to be one of those select few. He could not turn around to see the distance between them for fear of crashing into something while running, but he felt the presence of the other gaining on him and that served to cause him to increase his speed.

 

The two of them were well away from the town by now, already in that zone where so many large manors resided. Neither noticed though; Bastia was too preoccupied with getting away from his hunter, and said hunter was preoccupied with getting to his Bastia. So neither of them saw the figure that they passed at one of the manors begin running a hundred meters off to the side, keeping pace with them.

 

They had come a long way from the little coffee shop. Bastia was a wonderful endurance runner, yes, but the injuries inflicted by the other were starting to take their toll on him. More and more often did he stumble ever so slightly as the adrenaline started to wear off, despite the way he never actually fell down. But now he was aware of the dull, aching pains in his legs as well as the burning fires of his arm and torso.

 

No less than five times did he stumble but right himself before finally, one black-booted foot caught the ground and pitched him forward as his legs just gave out. Blood was still pouring from the untreated gaping wounds, as he flew through the air for a few brief moments before he tucked himself into a ball and rolled to absorb the impact of hitting ground. When the momentum had finally worn away- still a good distance away from the initial stumble- Bastia ended up on his feet, even if his stance was a little shaky and his legs wobbled when he turned around. He had a choice two seconds of peace before the other pulled up out of a dead run to an abrupt halt only ten yards away.

 

“You make good sport, ickle half-breed,” his tormentor purred, taking a slow, sure and steady step toward his prey. And then he took another, and then another.

 

Bastia closed his eyes, unwilling to look what would surely be the end of his freedom in the face any longer. He just simply stood and waited for the other to arrive before him, knock him out in some way or other, and drag him to one of the coven houses that they were so close to.

 

It never happened. The minute rustling of the grass and slight whoosh of air drew Bastia's attention and he opened his eyes; the other vampire was standing on the dirt road, so there was no way for the sound to have been coming from his advancing steps.

 

Bastia was just in time to see a flash of dusky, darkened red and pure black cross through his vision and slam into his vampire hunter with an incredible force and speed. Was it just him, or was there a banner of that rusted red trailing behind the black clad figure? He found himself wondering if that was hair or something else that stood out against the dark of night.

 

Both the vampire and the unexpected attacker went flying with the force of impact, ending with the former slamming into the ground hard with the latter perched upon his chest. Momentum had carried them a fair distance away from where Bastia stood, so he limped over in the direction they had flown.

 

He looked on in surprise at the scene that greeted him. The black haired vampire was still lying in the grass, his eyes closed and limbs still in such a way that it was apparent he was unconscious. In fact, one would rather think that he was dead if they did not know his true nature as a creature of the night, but it was not this that had caught Bastia by surprise. His attention was drawn more to the one who now stood off to the side, watching the unconscious vampire with a look of disgust on his also pale features.

 

It was this same unnatural paleness and the mixed aura that led Bastia to believe that this was another vampire, but there was an unfamiliar tinge to that aura, one that did not belong with any true nightwalker. For the first time, he caught a hint of what people thought when they looked at his own hybrid aura; confusion and curiosity regarding the exact nature of the being that bore said air about him. If he had to define the part that was unnatural about it, he would say that it was a little too animalistic in nature…

 

His golden eyes met with also luminescent lime green that shone like a beacon in the night. For a moment they held that mutual stare, before both broke that gaze to examine each other.

 

Bastia was struck by the unnatural beauty of this other; in fact, at a first glance at the face, one would think that it was a female they were looking at. Sharp yet soft at the same time, almond shaped eyes with their bright green pools, an angular jaw with clearly defined lines that only served to accentuate the gauntness of the figure, high cheekbones, and a pretty nose; yes, the face definitely leaned a tad more to the feminine side. But the height of the figure, rivaling Bastia's own, and the similar frame hardly looked like it could ever belong to a girl. The dark red hair, he now realized, was blended in with shadows of black and brown, giving an interesting, constantly mussed look to the shoulder length wave of color. He also noted that a portion of the hair cascaded over the right side of that feminine face, hiding the eye and all below it from view.

 

They were similarly dressed, both clad in all black from shirt to boots, though by now Bastia's garments were soaked in a fair amount of blood. It occurred to him what he must look like to the other; a gaunt and ragged figure with a long braid of gold streaked black hanging down to his knees, locks of hair in his eyes, and blood on his entire figure. No doubt he looked as ghastly as he felt.

 

Suddenly Bastia realized that here he was, standing in front of someone who surely had some idea of what he was, and he wasn't at all afraid. There was something to the look in the single green eye that reflected understanding and pain at the same time, and the slightest of smiles that curved the other's lips, that reassured Bastia he was not in danger. He had not had this feeling since he first left the only place he'd ever felt comfortable; his house in the middle of nowhere.

 

“Go.”

 

He was caught off guard by the single word leaving the other's mouth. It was curt, brief, and to the point, but somehow this other managed to make it sound caring and as though he was doing Bastia a favor by saying it.

 

A couple of seconds passed while the hybrid attempted to process the word through a haze of pain and surprise. “Er…what?” he finally asked, still unsure of the contradictions between the unkind word and the single haunted eye. He found himself wondering why he had not put up his mask, and why he was even remotely off guard in the presence of a stranger; this was entirely out of character behavior for him.

 

“You're not safe here,” came the reply. This time here was a trace of something unrecognizable- was it regret?- in the voice, as well as a slight flash for a second in the bright green orb; it reminded of something, but he couldn't place it… “We are, after all, kind of standing in the middle of Coven territory; thank you, but I don't believe a war over errant oblivious hybrids who stand on the borders and act as though nothing is wrong would be a very good thing.

 

“And there is also the fact that it won't be overly long before Nicky here wakes up…and then I'll die,” he added as a sort of afterthought, his face pensive as he gazed down at what Bastia was no longer sure was a fallen comrade.

 

“Nicky…?” he asked, an eyebrow raised and his head cocked slightly to the side. It was hard imagine the freakish vampire as “Nicky”…or actually, that might make sense, since the vampire seemed insane enough to fit in with the name…

 

The other laughed quietly. “Yes, Nicky. His real name is actually Nikolai, but I call him Nicky; he hates that name, so of course I would use it on him.” Yes, there was definitely no lost love between the two, judging by the slight disdain and scorn in the other's voice as he spoke about the vampire. “I won't ask you your name if you leave right now before someone sees you; deal?” He smiled rather brightly at Bastia, startling the hybrid, but he decided to listen anyway.

 

“Bastia…but you're right, I should be going now anyway. Bye…and…thanks,” he added hesitantly, looking at the other vampire/half-breed again. There was something about him; he reminded Bastia of someone…

 

“Go,” the other repeated, smiling softly as though Bastia had just made his day- or rather, night- even as he ordered the hybrid to leave. “Someone will see…”

 

Bastia turned around and gazed at the road before him for a moment. Should he…? No. There was no longer any point in running; he would probably just collapse again from exhaustion, especially since he had already tired his legs out. And it didn't matter any more anyway if somebody saw, so Bastia stretched his back…and snapped out a pair of enormous leathery wings. Without looking back to see the reaction of the other, he stretched them out to their full extent and leaped high into the air. The leather sails caught the slight breeze, and just like that, he was flying away on wings that could only ever belong to a vampire…there had never been any half-breeds with them…