Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Shukumei ❯ Prey ( Chapter 1 )

Chapter One

 

Prey

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"Duck."

Stiffened with fear, she slowly opened her eyes and blinked at him dumbly, seeing as he stared at the wall directly over her head with a tight lipped expression. She tried to inhale, but suddenly she heard a deep rumbling, and she felt the ground around her shake, heard the items in the house trembling with its force.

In a matter of seconds, three things seemed to happen simultaneously. She saw his eyes snap to her face, saw something flicker in them, moments before his hand clapped onto her shoulder. She screamed, feeling if her arm was being bended and as if nails were being driven into her back. In the next second, her eyes seemed to blur before her, and with a hard smack she hit the wall across the room, crying out and sliding to a heap on the wall pathetically.

The room was spinning, where his nails had dug into her back was burning, and she closed her eyes again the pain induced nausea when suddenly a vicious snarl erupted into the room, and she was immediately on her feet, prepared to run.

What she saw stopped her short.

Something was wrestling with Stacey, with deformed, engrossed figures of what once was human. Possibly almost eight feet tall, the skin seemed to have been burned off, which left nothing but blood and muscle, and a stomach heaving odor to overcome the entire room. Its eased were bulged and black, it's horribly sharp and yellow teeth snapping at Stacey as it tried to overpower him. She reached behind her and gripped her shoulder, adding pressure to it and feeling warmth seep onto her fingers, and she grimaced.

Suddenly, the creatures head snapped towards her, and his deformed nose seemed to sniff in her direction. In a blur of movement it shoved Stacey to the side and charged for her, letting lose a spine chilling howl as it crossed the room in mere seconds, bringing its clawed hands up over its head, prepared to strike her down should she flee. She screamed as a forced slammed into it from behind it, sending it flying over her head and through the wall, landing and destroying the kitchen table.

Stacey's eyes flicked towards her and he tossed his hair out of his eyes, staring down at her with something akin to disgust as she struggled to breathe. She used the wall to bring herself to her feet and stepped away from him, the familiar panic she had been experiencing coming back to her at full force. "Don't!" He barked out before she could take another step.

She flinched but stops moving, hearing the monster growl from deep in its throat as it slowly returned to consciousness, stirring in the next room. Stacey continued to stare at her, and she involuntarily took another step away from him. "Are you injured?"

She opened her mouth to tell him about the burning on her back, how it began to throb and her head ached with it, but she clamped it shut and shook her head numbly. He nodded and tossed something at her, and she barely caught it. Her pocketbook lay in her hands, filthy with debris, but otherwise unharmed.

"Strap it on you," He commanded, and she quickly did what she was told, placing it over one of her shoulders and with extra measures clutching it to her chest. A snarl broke out in the kitchen, and her head whipped towards it, her knees trembling. She opened her mouth to scream, but suddenly he was beside her, pressing his fingers to the wound in his back, causing blood to seep onto his hands. She whimpered and pulled away, and he looked at her with a smug grin before smudging the blood on his hands. With a quick look towards her, he brought his stained fingers to his mouth, licking her blood from them.

His eyes flashed, black, unnatural, and then settled back to their natural color.

'Something's different,' She thought numbly, noticing the wild and excited look in them as he turned back towards the kitchen, the hand he soaked with her blood facing palm up, blood slowly running down his arm and dripping onto the floor. The monster watched the trail entranced, his eyes following as it ran down his skin, widening as it splattered onto the floor. His body began to quiver, his lips watering, his eyes growing darker as they finally rose to meet his.

The monster charged at Stacey who stood immobile, watching him with a bored look on his face. He shifted his stance so that she was directly behind him, and suddenly with a laugh of triumph, he charged forward, intent to meet with the monster head on.She screamed when their two bodies collided, the force of them bringing a harsh wind flowing throughout the destroyed house, making her struggle to keep her balance. The newspapers, clothes, dust; everything was swirling in the air, making it hard for her to see the outcome of the battle. She covered her eyes and made sure she still had her pocketbook. "S-Stacey!" She screamed.

It seemed like forever to her, but finally the chaos died down, and she saw Stacey standing over the body of the monster, a magnificent sword in his hand, which he now held in the air, staring at it, transfixed. A long silver blade began at a black hilt, with a red container in the middle, a deep red liquid lightly staining the bottom of it. "Where . . . where did you get that?"

He finally looked at her, his eyes still dazed and wild, and she bit back her desire to flee. Even though she had never met him before, she realized she trusted that he wouldn't kill her. The thought baffled her.

"You gave it to me," He said simply, teasingly. "With your blood."

"My . . . blood?"

He nodded once and looked over the blade one more time, whipping it through the air. It made a sharp noise as he brought it to the ground and back into the air, slicing it back down a couple more times before smiling triumphantly. He looked at her and she noticed that although his eyes were brightened, they didn't have that wild look about them, and she found herself slowly relaxing. She glanced at the corpse on the ground and felt bile rising in her throat.

Instead she looked away, staring around the destroyed house, glancing at her clothes now covered in filth, at his disheveled hair, his shirt torn and bloody . . .

"You're hurt!" She gasped, rushing forward. She reached out to pull the shirt away from his scratched hand and he slapped her hands away from him. With a sharp intake of breath she stumbled back, grasping her hand and looking at him through wide eyes.

His eyes were stunned, and briefly apologetic, before they grew curiously dull and he turned away from her. "Just a scratch," He mumbled, gripping the sword tightly. She didn't say anything and he turned back around, looking at her curiously. Seconds ticked by, and he didn't know whether she was forgiving him, or whether it was relief that made her sigh and give him a shy smile, but she did, her dull eyes brightening, her face lifting and she finally looked him fully in the face, allowing him to see her profile.

Long curly hair, impossibly black, fell over her shoulder in cascades of swirls, framing her slightly round face. She was barely 5'3, and was lean and fit. He had discerned that when he had threw her out of the way seconds before the monster came barreling through the wall. Green eyes that seemed dulled, almost as if in a trance stared at him curiously, which was above a small nose and full, round lips. Creamy, olive skin showed from her short sleeve t-shirt now covered in dirt, her ragged jeans tattered and dragging the floor at the bottom, her heavy duty leather duster forgotten and in a tatters on the floor across the room.

'Still just a kid,' He growled to himself angrily as he crossed the room to her, spinning her abruptly and eyeing the bleeding scratches in her shoulder. He winced; he hadn't meant to be that rough with her. But for some strange reason, she hadn't sensed the monster coming, and in an attempt to get her out of the way before the monster pulverized her, he had grabbed her, digging his nails into her shoulder and flinging her across the room. He had heard her hit the wall, but he hadn't had time to apologize. He was too busy making sure they both left alive . . . He let go of the sword, allowing it to drop to the floor with a loud clatter and shrugged out of his jacket and t-shirt. He used his claws to rip it and made quick work of ripping her shirt off of her.

"Hey!" She protested, clapping her arms around the front of herself even though he could only see her back.

He chuckled and shook his head. "I'm no pervert," He told her. "Now hold your arms out so I can bandage you."

She didn't comply at first, but slowly her arms rose out to her sides, and he wrapped the clothe around her shoulder and mid section tightly, and she winced. Making a knot and making sure it was tight, he handed her his jacket, stepping in to help her get her bandaged arm in, and turning on his heel, stomping up the steps.

He heard light footsteps behind him and whirled around, intent on telling her off. She looked up at him with a frightened expression, wringing her hands together in the jacket too big for her. "Stay here," He told her.

She looked back at the corpse, and her skin paled before she looked at him frantically. "What if . . . what if another one comes?"

"They won't, trust me. They think we're dead." He glanced at the monster in question. 'Don't know how long we have until they figure it out though . . .'

"I can't remember anything," She suddenly blurted out, looking at the floor and allowing her head to fall dejectedly. "I can't remember why I woke up in this city, or why I have that pocketbook. I don't remember why I can feel and do the things I do, and why . . ." She looked up at him. "Why people have been trying to kill me."

He looked at her, feeling pity in his chest, something he hadn't felt in a while. This was a child they brought into this, and little girl who never knew any better, never had any chance at a regular life, and that was unforgivable. "How long have you been here?"

She sighed. "Three weeks. I . . . I wasn't really coming from work."

He turned back on his heel again, shooting her a look from over his shoulder. "I know."

He began walking again, not commenting when she lightly trailed from behind. He could feel her anxiety, her fear, and it was grating on his instincts. He rubbed a tired hand over his face and used the palm of his hand to shove one of the doors open. Striding to one of the dressers, he reached in and snatched out a shirt, shrugging it on before he took out another and tossed it to her. She caught it clumsily and muttered a terse thank you before turned around, quickly taking off the jacket and pulling the shirt over her head.

He leaned back on the dresser and watched as she frowned down at the shirt, how it hung over her knees and tugged. "What's your name?"

She started slightly at his voice, and glanced around nervously. He didn't make the mistake of moving, of even breathing too long, knowing it would only set off her nerves once again and make it harder for him. Instead he watched as she reached into the back and pulled out a small card, and she slowly, carefully walked over to him and dropped it into her outstretched hand.

His jaw clenched as he stared at the picture of the girl standing in front of him, her eyes closed, her skin ashen and gray. Her lips were blue, her hair matted and disheveled, her face badly beaten and bruised. He recognized the card before she had even gave it to him, the familiar black and red symbol of a cross on the back making something dark and bitter and entirely evil almost overcome him, and he handed the card back without a word.

"I don't know if this is me," She said quietly, looking at it. "But the picture . . . that girl . . .” She slipped it into her pocket after a moment, looking back at him. Those lifeless green eyes stared at him, dull and unemotional. "I just know."

He didn't say anything, turning instead to look out the window at the rising sun and watching it with a thoughtful eye, thoughts running through his mind at a lightening pace.

Her name was Lily, and she was supposed to be dead.

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