Vampire Hunter D Fan Fiction ❯ Innocent Souls ❯ Chapter Two: Blood of the Morrigan’s Grace ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimer: Vampire Hunter D is the property of its creator, Hideuki Kikuchi. I do not own D or any of the characters related to the novel series.

Innocent Souls Chapter Two: Blood of the Morrigan's Grace By: Elf

Bronach twisted fruitlessly in her bonds. She felt cold and empty. It was as if someone kept trailing ice up and down her spine while leering at her. She was beginning to feel dizzy and weak as well. Her wrists itched madly under the iron manacles.

Mayor Richmond walked up to her. He smiled as he lifted a surprisingly long fingered hand towards her and fingered a lock of her hair. She jerked her head away in repulsion.

"Get your hands off of me, you sodding wanker," Bronach spat.

Richmond chuckled and started to pace his office. She was bound to the wall onto a steel ring. Not that it mattered anyway, with the iron she was stuck there. She looked around at the windows, the fire in the fireplace and the freshly bloomed flowers sitting in a crystal vase on his immaculate desk.

Richmond drawled in his raspy voice, "You didn't seem to mind it too much when that dhampire was on top of you."

"Well, he's a fair shade better looking than you and smells better," Bronach retorted as she tossed her hair away from her face. She snorted as she looked around the office. She taunted, "I bet you really hate it here. It's so clean and well lit. I bet your eyes are burning now. It must be really tiresome to be tied to your master, whoever he is."

Richmond smiled, revealing fangs on both the top and bottom of his mouth. He locked the door and the little man began to shed his clothing, starting with his derby. He was surprisingly well muscled for such a little man, but Bronach knew that he wasn't a man. He stood before her nude and proud before taking off the last article on his person: a delicate silver ring.

The ring dropped to the floor and the little man was gone.

Richmond was wearing his true skin now, that from one of the goblin gentry. His skin was a greenish-grey, his ears were upswept and wide like a bat's. He had tiny, shining brown horns on top of his head. His fingers ended in long claws that curved slightly. His bovine like nose had a thick gold ring through the nostrils. His lip curled up to show off his mighty teeth. His now lemon yellow eyes leered up at her as his genitalia reacted to the lust for faerie flesh.

She thought of the dhampire she fought in Blackmoure's castle. Despite the fact he had pinned her to the ground, he had been very gentlemanly about it. She should have left the castle sooner, but Blackmoure's son begged for her inspection. With a soul so powerful, how could it have been grabbed she had reasoned. Then he had shown up, perhaps one of the most beautiful men she'd ever seen.

Except he wasn't vain. He was a warrior, honest honorable and true. And the Nancy had beaten her.

"Virgin," he said appraisingly as he sniffed her. He reached up and grabbed her chin. Bronach forced herself to look bored, as if a goblin wasn't checking her out like a horse at an auction. He pulled her face down to look at him.

Her nose curled as she smelled the stench of decay and rotting meat that goblins carried as well as the hint of earth. He trailed a claw under her eyes. Her body tensed. He took that hand to twist a lock of her blonde hair between his fingers.

He grinned as he mused, "Unseelie eyes, but Seelie coloring. Ah, you're a court bastard child. What were the rumors? Yes, your father was one of the sons of the Queen of Darkness and Fire and your mother was one of the handmaidens of Princess Alena from the Seelie Court."

"I can still kick your ass even if you have me chained up," Bronach hissed.

He chuckled as he leered at her. His clawed finger tips began to slice through her shirt. He purred, "Go ahead and fight me, dear, it'll make taking you all the sweeter." He then leaned forward and licked her throat.

Bronach stiffened and shuddered in revolution as the wet muscle lathered at her throat. She drew her shackled legs to her body and kicked out. The goblin cried out as he stumbled back. Bronach grabbed the chains and yanked herself up with all of her might. She spread her legs as wide as she could, arched her back, and swung towards the goblin. He yelped as she ensnared his neck between her legs.

She drew him closer to her knees and placed her knees at opposite angles on his neck. She then squeezed her legs together. Richmond choked and flailed his arms. His eyeballs bulged in his head as she wrung him tighter and harder.

"Funny thing about goblins," Bronach grunted, "You're immortal, but rather easy to kill. See, I can snap your neck like a twig, or I can squeeze your worthless neck until your eyes bulge out of your head and your breath is wrung from your lungs."

Richmond choked and flailed wildly. He struck his claws against her legs. Bronach gritted her teeth, hissed in pain, and squeezed even tighter as his claws slashed at her thighs, knees and calves. Her blood splattered his hands and the floor, but she continued to squeeze.

All the lights in the room suddenly flickered out, bathing them in complete darkness. Bronach jerked her head up and looked around. The light even bled out from the windows and the room's temperature dropped drastically.

Distracted, her legs weren't squeezing Richmond as before. The goblin turned his head and bit her hard in the thigh. Bronach screamed instinctively, but the iron kept the magical destructive power out of her voice. Pain welled up in her thigh as Richmond tore out a huge hunk of meat. Her eyes watered, her vision blurred, and she let go of her chains and fell back to the ground.

Richmond departed from her. She felt hot blood pouring out of the bite as she listened to him chewing and swallowing. She didn't see the goblin lash out and hit her across her cheek. The blow sent her reeling.

"Richmond, what the hell is going on here?" a whispering voice asked from the darkness, as thick and soft as velvet. Bronach cringed and tried to draw herself up to her feet. Her thigh gave out on her, sending her kneeling on the ground.

Richmond answered, "My Lord, they sent this bitch after you."

Even though she couldn't see them, Bronach felt eyes flicker over her. A glowing pale hand appeared from the darkness. The light was enough for her to see Richmond and a cloaked figure. Despite being bound in iron, she instinctively recognized a high court faerie's power right in front of her.

The hand lifted up her chin and she obediently let her face to be turned so the other faerie could inspect it. He let her go and trailed his hand down her throat, into her shirt. She stiffened and hissed like an angry cat as he found the pendent she wore under neath her clothing. He slid his fingers to find the clasp for the chain and brought up the pendent for his inspection.

The silver gleamed in the pale glow of his hand. The pendent was of a crow that was studded with countless cut black tourmalines and had eyes made out of dark red garnets. The crow held a triangle cut iolite within its beak.

"Well, well, they sent the Morrigan's Grace after me. Hello, Bronach," the faerie purred to her.

Bronach drew saliva up and spat viciously at him. "Fuck off, traitor!"

"Is that an invitation, my sweet? For if it is, it would be one I would gladly accept. Not only would I ascend every faerie born with my powers, but I would be the one to take the Morrigan's Grace's virtue from her," the faerie replied, bending his shrouded head towards her. He touched the bite on her thigh and she bit her lip. He lifted his hand up to her. The blood was glowing like jewels from his hand. He bent his head and licked his hand clean.

"There's another sort of blood that I would lick from those white thighs," he whispered to her.

Bronach glared at him, but bit the harsh retort on her tongue. Instead she asked, "Why are you taking children's souls?"

"Why to ascend, my sweet. I'm going to use the power of their innocence to become something that neither Court has even dreamed of. I am going to reclaim the power of the Wild Hunt and head it as its Herne. I'm going to release the Wildness back into the world, reclaim it for the Fey as it should have been, instead of these blood sucking fiends and pathetic little humans! I will be a God, and the Fey shall rule as they rightly should," he proclaimed.

Bronach snorted, "Yes, and worship you, right?"

"Of course, my sweet, but first I need the souls of fifty children," he mused.

Bronach's eyes widened and her heart seemed to skip a beat. She gasped, "Fifty?"

"Aye. Then on the night where Ghosts run free and demons are put at bay, the children shall die and their souls given to empower the Wildness and set it loose upon the world. The faerie will regain lost powers and I will become the most powerful of them all," he chuckled.

Bronach shook her head. She was feeling weak and dizzy. The iron was keeping her from healing and she was losing blood. Not that it would kill her, but if she slipped into a coma, she couldn't save the children of this village or stop this mad Unseelie Faerie from his quest.

She spat, "You are bloody insane."

"There is one more soul to collect from this village. That puts the count at nineteen, but there is a bigger town not even a thousand kilometers from here with even more children. And on the night of question, May 1st, my disciples will kill the children's bodies to complete the ritual. That is why Richmond is here," the Unseelie Faerie continued.

Bronach drawled, "Of course, like all delusional pillocks you have to tell me of your plans. Makes it much easier for me to stop you, of course."

"My sweet, you're not in a position to threaten me. However, you can join me. I know of you, sweeting. I know of your reputation. You have killed countless more powerful than you. On the battlefield you are almost unstoppable. Join me and you can over throw your patron goddess and take her place and be worshiped. After all, a dark God like myself needs a lovely Goddess . . ." He drew off with a gargling choking sound.

The darkness was sucked from the room. Moonlight streamed in from the windows again. The temperature returned to normal for the most part. The faerie bent forward, his shroud brushing against her. Another hand came out to brace himself to keep from falling. Her pendent fell from his hand and into her lap.

She blinked up at the startlingly familiar almost delicately curved blade that stuck out of the faerie's body. She looked up to see the armored hunter she had been beaten by just a short time ago. His hat covered most of his face, but the line of that wonderfully carved mouth was grim. He then stepped back and jerked his sword out of the faerie's body.

The Hunter hissed, "The souls of the children. Where are you keeping them?"

Bronach blinked, for a mere vampire hunter he knew a lot about magic. Then again, the demon trapped in his palm was probably a large part of that knowledge. Not to mention a great asset when fighting magical beings.

The Unseelie Faerie dropped to his knees. He looked up at Bronach and Bronach blinked as she looked at his face. Yes, he was lovely, but it was in the faerie's inherit nature to be beautiful beyond comparison. He had skin like moonstone, fine boned features, a wide, sulky pouting mouth, and long black hair that did not reflect any of the light, instead it seemed to draw it in and destroy it.

He had true Unseelie eyes, three rings of color starting from the elliptical pupil and the rest of the iris. The ring around the pupil was a shimmering lavender, the second ring a bright violet, and the last ring a rich purple. Bronach watched as he laughed, his whole body shaking with mirth. Then he rose to his feet and turned around to face the Hunter.

"You filthy dirty blooded freak," the faerie spat.

The Hunter simply shook the Unseelie's blood off of his sword and gave him an impassive look. Yet, a muscle in his jaw tensed and his mouth tightened. Bronach pressed her lips together and watched helplessly.

The Hunter stated, "At least I'm not on some Fool's Errand and killing innocent children."

The Unseelie threw back his head and laughed. The Hunter drew up his sword and struck at the faerie. Bronach watched as the Unseelie faded into his own shadow, leaving nothing of him behind.

Her eyes narrowed as her mind raced. He was a Dark Faerie then, with control over shadows and darkness. He could travel anywhere by going through shadows and the dimensions they contained. She thought of all the Dark Faeries in the Unseelie Court, listing their names in her mind but they were all coming up short.

The Hunter pivoted on his foot. He looked around him quickly, searching for the faerie. Richmond snarled and launched himself at the Hunter with his claws flying and teeth flashing.

The Hunter spun to face Richmond, put his arm up, and deflected the goblin by whirling in the opposite direction. The goblin went flying. Bronach smiled with satisfaction as Richmond was thrown into his desk.

Then she noticed the faerie's head poking out of the Hunter's cloak's shadow. One pale hand reached out to grab the Hunter's ankle. Bronach cried out, "Your cloak! He's in your cloak!"

The Hunter swiftly stripped his cloak off. He threw it away from him, causing the faerie to tumble onto the ground. The faerie rolled up to his feet, but the Hunter lashed out with his sword again. The faerie hissed as the sword nicked his pale face. Ruby like droplets trickled down the clean cut.

The faerie pulled his hood over his head with a chuckle. He once again appeared the formless wraith with the glowing hands. He slid into his own shadow. Bronach saw him reappear at the desk. The Hunter spun around to attack, but the faerie grabbed Richmond and vanished into the shadows.

"What on earth?" the Hunter asked quietly. He turned to look at Bronach and she shrugged.

She answered, "That, Hunter, was an Unseelie Faerie with delusions of grandeur and an annoying little pillock."

The Hunter approached her and looked her over. He knelt in front of her and looked down at the wounds on her legs. His nostrils flared and she heard his breath catch as he looked at the bite. He reached his right hand out to lightly graze above the bite, not quite touching the bloody mess.

Bronach's breath caught at that moment, but it wasn't from pain. Her heart fluttered as he gently inspected the wound. He softly said, "We need to get this tended too. You've lost quite a bit of blood."

"Not that massive blood loss could kill me, the sodding bite hurts like hell," Bronach retorted, surprised about how breathy her voice sounded even to her. She tried again, making her voice light, "Not to mention the bloody iron that's making me itch and rendering me helpless."

He looked up at her face and she finally saw his whole face. He has lovely eyes, she thought idly as he looked at her. They were long lashed and dark blue, like the night sky. He blinked up at her and reached into his belt. He pulled out some lock picking tools and began to pick the shackles holding her wrists together.

Which, of course, put them rather close. She swallowed again as he methodically picked the lock. She looked for something to distract her from gazing at him. Despite being faerie herself, he was one of the most beautiful men she'd seen. And one of the most unusual.

So she looked at the large sapphire amulet he was wearing. Even bound by iron, she could sense that it was magical. Indeed, there was more to this hunter than met the eye.

She asked, "That's an unusual bobble around your neck. You're not a normal hunter, are you?"

"What do you mean?" he asked quietly, looking down at her.

She shrugged and he glared at her. He stated, "If you held still, I would have you out faster."

"Sorry, but you're different. Most hunters only know about what they hunt, you seem to be a wee bit more multipurpose," Bronach replied.

He was silent as he continued to work. So, Bronach continued to talk, "You're not an ordinary dhampire, if there is such a thing. And you bested me, which is a feat into itself. So, lets see if I can guess who you are. Experienced hunter, very talented to have stopped a faerie, powerful, with knowledge of the arcane. You're not D, are you?"

"I am," he replied as the lock clicked. He sprung it and opened the shackles. Bronach rubbed her red, raw, irritated wrists. He moved to her feet and started to work on them. He asked, "And you are?"

Bronach grinned and replied, "I'm Bronach, the Morrigan's Grace."

"I've heard of you, even though the Fey do not intermingle with the vampires and humans like they did once long ago. You doll out executions to rogue Fey of both courts," D said as he sprung that lock.

Bronach grabbed her pendent from her lap and put it back on. She hid it under her shirt once again and stood up. Or rather, tried to stand up.

Her thigh protested and sent a sharp, searing pain as the muscle buckled. She cried out as she fell. D reached out and caught her. He told her, "Easy, you're injured." He stood up and lifted her into his arms.

"Well, I was trying to crush his throat between my legs so he bit me," Bronach replied with a devil-may-care shrug.

D's eyes widened as he asked, "You tried to . . ."

"Choke him with my legs," Bronach filled in brightly.

D blinked as he started to carry her out of Richmond's office. He was silent for a few moments. Then he looked down at her again.

He simply said, "I see."

"The little sod was trying to molest me," Bronach replied grumpily.

That comment made D's lips twitch up in some semblance of a grin. He stated, "That I do understand all too well."

******

"Ye know I can take of this meself, donna you?"

D looked up at Bronach's face. He quickly learned the more agitated she got, the more her accent thickened into Scottish brogue. Her husky, lilting voice was made for the brogue he reasoned as he continued to sponge off the bite on her thigh.

D was use to vampire bites. Bites that were clean and small, no more than mere puncture wounds. This was something entirely else. It was as if an animal had taken a chunk out of her thigh.

He prodded the gleaming white skin around the bite and Bronach hissed with pain. The glamor broke for a moment and she glowed. He looked up and apologized, "I'm sorry."

"S'not your fault. You didn't take a giant bloody chunk from my bloody thigh," Bronach grimaced as she placed her glamor back again, becoming remarkably normal again.

D studied the wound. The tissues were slowly repairing themselves, not as fast as a vampire healing itself, but remarkable none the less. She had stopped bleeding a long time ago. Yet he could still smell the sweet, coppery tang of blood coming from her ruined slacks. He bent closer to her thigh and frowned at it. From above him, Bronach's breath caught and her heart beat sped up.

He put the sponge down and rinsed his hands off in the water basin the nurse had provided to him. He wished she could have taken care of Bronach's wounds, but she protested, saying she wasn't worthy to touch the faerie and she still had to tend to the children. Despite the fact that their souls were missing, they were still having basic bodily functions and she had to clean each one of them.

Save for Cedric. His father did that. At the moment though, Blackmoure was off protecting the last child of the village.

He dried his hands off and picked up a blue jar filled with ointment. It smelled fresh and green, with a slight hint of lavender. As he dabbed the thick paste on Bronach's thigh, he realized it harmonized with her natural lavender and ozone scent. He also realized that Bronach was reacting to his touch more than in natural pain.

He looked up to find those indigo eyes looking down at him, watching every movement. Her pale cheeks were slightly flushed and her mouth parted open. He took a deep breath, put the ointment down and grabbed the bandages.

Even though he wasn't one for small talk, the silence was too thick for him to bare. Besides, he reasoned, when was the next time he could talk to a real, living faerie? He had questions to ask; most of which would help him stop the Unseelie Faerie.

He asked, "Who are you, Bronach? Really."

"I'm the daughter of a handmaiden of one of the Ladies of the Seelie Court and Prince Edwin of the Unseelie Court. I'm an agent for the Joint Fey Council and one of Prince Kirwin of the Seelie's Royal Guards," Bronach answered with a sigh. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

As D bandaged her leg he asked, "So you're loyal to the Seelie then?"

"Och, hell no. Most of my companions and dearest friends are Unseelie. The Seelie taunt me because I have Unseelie powers and eyes, but if I try to do anything in the Unseelie I would be killed," Bronach answered matter-of-factually.

D frowned and asked, "Why?"

"Because I'm one of Edwin's illegitimate heirs, that's why. I could be a threat to the throne, not that I'd want the bloody thing," Bronach answered with a snort.

D shook his head and asked, "Why do the Seelie taunt you?"

"Because I have Unseelie Taint they say. Doesn't matter, we're all Fey in the long run. The Unseelie just don't have bugs up their arses as much as the Seelie. But the Seelie consider the Unseelie unclean and horrid, but blood runs just as well on white marble as it does black," Bronach snorted.

D frowned at her as he tied the bandage. Bronach tried to stretch her long leg. Instead she winched and grabbed her thigh. "Cach," she hissed as she grimaced in pain.

"You're still injured. Rest," he told her.

Bronach rubbed her temple and sighed. She was quiet, save for the soft sighs of her breathing. He moved back away from her, away from the enticing scent of blood coming from her. Her earlier comment puzzled him.

She looked at him with her indigo eyes, so very human looking with the glamor. Yet, her ears were still pointed. With her pale countenance and inhuman beauty, she could have been mistaken for a Noble. Any Noble would have loved to get his hands on her, he reasoned.

The Fey, the true Fey, not the ones bred by the Nobles to help mold the humans into slaves, were truly Immortal. They were also immune to a vampire's hypnotic power. A vampire could drink and drink from a faerie without worrying about killing them and turning them. Not to mention their blood was rumored to be quite intoxicating.

"The Seelie claim that the Unseelie is cruel and evil, but it's not true, D. Not any less than the Seelie. At least the Unseelie accept all that come into their court, no matter what they are. They don't hide their sins in the dark, in fact they parade them proudly, however, the Seelie only turn a shining countenance to the world," Bronach sighed, "At least the Unseelie don't mock you for having dirty blood or the like."

What about cursed blood then, Lady of Sorrow?

Bronach meant "Sorrow" in Gaelic. That much D knew. That and underneath the devil may care facade and sharp tongue, Bronach was almost as alone as he was.

D replied, "But you are still Faerie, pure blood, just from two different courts."

"Light and dark, but I think you get the diatomity," Bronach retorted.

D made sure his expression betrayed nothing. Bronach only grinned and bowed her head to him. She tapped the freshly bandaged wound with a smile. She said, "Still, thanks for helping me."

"You're welcome," he told her.

They faced each other in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable either he realized. She was leaning against the wall, resting, and he was doing the mirror of her actions.

"He needs fifty," Bronach said after a few minutes of the amiable silence.

D looked at her and frowned. "Fifty?" he asked.

She nodded and scowled. Her hands gripped her ruined slacks. "Aye. He's feeding the old magics, trying to awaken things that should stay sleeping."

"What is he planning?" D demanded.

Bronach snorted, "He wants the Wild Hunt to run wild again."

D looked at her in askance. Bronach looked down at her lap and snorted, "He wants the Faerie to reclaim their glory, before the humans, before the vampires. He wants to run with magic again. Wild and free, and to give us our old power back."

"What sort of power?" D pressed.

Bronach shrugged and answered, "It was before my time. I don't sodding know. I'm just a bean faerie. A banshee. My power is my voice."

"I've noticed," D replied dryly.

That won him a grin. "I prefer a more physical approach than the smoke and mirrors shit that wanker uses," she told him.

D stood up and said, "Any hint on how to trace him?"

"Scrying? Drowsing? Its not as if he leaves a physical trail behind. He moves through the shadows, a true Dark Faerie. Not only that he can control them, give them physical form to do things that are best not mentioned, but have heard about through different channels that are quite kinky," Bronach prattled on, her hands swaying back and forth as she became more agitated.

D sighed. This wasn't some vampire he could track down and kill. This was beyond his means. Not to mention, if he succeeded, this Dark Faerie could kill countless humans, and not just the children who's souls he had taken.

He was going to need her help.

He heard a chuckle from his left hand. He automatically closed his fingers over it. Still, its muffled snickers ran through his ears.

"Where do you think he'll strike next?" D prodded.

Bronach sighed, "The next town. Tis much larger, but he wants to get the final child here, the one that Blackmoure's off to protect. And, if I were him, I'd kill Blackmoure."

D scowled as he rose to his feet. He said, "Stay with the children."

She tried to rise as well. She cursed and ended up pushing herself up using the wall and leaning against it. "Like hell I will, D. He's not a vampire, he's a faerie. You cannot hope to fight him!"

D moved towards her and lowered his right hand to her injured thigh. He pressed into the wound. She cried out and slumped forward. She looked up at him and glared. D pushed her back down in a sitting position.

"Bugger," he heard her grunt as he started to head for the door.

The familiar sweet copper smell was all around him. He felt his fangs pulse and beat eagerly in response. He clinched down hard as he ignored the hypnotically erotic pulse that flooded his body.

And he ignored the temptation to lick the honeyed warmth from his fingertips.

To Be Continued!

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The Morrigan is the Celtic Goddess of War and Death. She was represented by three aspects: a Maiden, a Crow, and a woman with a crow's head. She has also been associated with wolves. Interesting fact is that wolves and crows are seen as teachers and warriors in several different cultures.

Both animals are scientifically known for their intelligence. Wolves have the third largest brain mass to body mass volume in the animal kingdom, right after humans and dolphins. Yes, kids, wolves are smarter than chimps. Take that monkeys. And crows are thought to be one of the smartest birds on the planet, perhaps even more so than parrots.

Crows are also death omens, and Odin has two ravens, Memory and Knowledge I believe. So crows are very important to a myriad of cultures.