Ignoble Ways [Closed]

[Lucyfer]

Life for a dhampir was never easy. Feared by humans and reviled (or made into experiments) by vampires, they walked a thin line and always risked crossing over it onto the wrong side. This, the dhampir Silvio Aisling knew too well, for he had been living the life of a dhampir for the past 300 years. Born of a corrupt vampire and his victim, Silvio should have been killed by his mother—but she took the incident with stride and raised him with love, rather than hate.


“You are my silver lining.” She used to say, to explain his name.


Silvio wasn’t a fan of it, considering his hair was the same silver as his father. Many of his traits were his fathers, the pale skin, the crimson eyes. Those who looked upon often knew his heritage. Mayerling—but a black sheep among them, one who was not noble, but preyed upon humans like his mother.


He’d met his father only once, and then it wasn’t really a meeting so much as a witnessing his murder. Silvio had gone to do the same thing, of course, but he’d been beaten to it by another, the vampire hunter who now rode alongside him.


He took a glance to her from beneath his wide-brimmed hat as the town of Celestine drew closer. She had a choice; she was human. However, she’d gone into this line of business anyway. She had not the psychic talents of the Marcus Brothers, nor was she a mutant by any stretch of the imagination.


What he’d found was that this human, Oriana Godfried, was that she was clever. She had used his father’s weaknesses, and poisoned him with her own blood before finishing the job. They’d spoken, then, as she considered killing him as well. Instead, they’d found kinship with each other.


No one really wants to be alone in this world, and in this line of duty, everyone wants to know they’ll be buried or at least have someone there to hold their hand as they die. They helped each other; Oriana allowed him to feed and watched out for him when sunsickness happened, and he made sure that no man—human, vampire, or mutant—so much as laid a finger on her. That was often the fate of women alone on the frontier. It had been his mother’s, and he’d not see it happen to another.


“I’ll find us lodgings,” he spoke as they neared the entrance, keeping his head low. “You can go see the Mayor.”


Her reaction was ever the same. A huff. “They know what you are, Silvio,” they knew what they were hiring when they called for them.


Silvio’s red eyes glinted with a hint of mischief, “It is usually best not to advertise that. Remember Grantsville?”


How could she forget Grantsville? The two had been chased out at the end of the mission, the reason being that Silvio had been too friendly with some of the local women. It had been infuriating, really. “I’ll be there when you have the briefing.”


“You’re not leaving me alone to this.” She brought her cybernetic horse to a stop. He did not. “I mean it, Silver!” She snapped, and his horse stopped then. He hated that nickname, and glared back at her. “I thought you wanted to protect little ol’ me from the evils of mankind? You’re gonna send me alone to a council with six of’em?”


He grit his teeth. He was certain nothing would happen to the red-headed woman, but…well, she had a point. He turned his horse back around, and set it alongside hers once again. His silence was acceptance, and he followed after her as they sought out the Mayor’s residence, looking at the signs and the people they passed.


“There’s town hall,” Silvio spoke under his breath now.


Oriana nodded, and turned her steed towards the pole, and quickly dismounted to tie it up. Silvio followed suit, but didn’t bother with tying his horse up. He waited patiently for her to finish, and then walked in a step after her, black coat billowing behind him, sword easily seen at his hip.


The woman was a bit more subtle about what she was. Locating her weapons often meant removing clothing, since Oriana still preferred stealth and trickery. She did have a stake in one of her boots, and Silvio was certain there were a few throwing knives hidden beneath the sleeves of her shirt, poisoned.


They stepped into the building and looked to the receptionist. Silvio did not speak, even with a side-eyed look from Oriana, so the pale woman let out a sigh and approached the receptionist. She leveled her blue eyes calmly on the woman to ask, “Excuse me, we’re the hunters Oriana and Silvio. Is Mayor Cavendish in?”

 

[InnocentThorns]

The city hall of Celestine was a proud building near the center of the city. The floors were polished hardwood, kept pristine by workhouse inmates loaned to the government, the walls ensconced with brass and glass gaslight lamps. The walls hung with artwork, mostly of the founding of the small city, and depictions of the death of the Nobles that had once been in the area, chased away by the hunters who had settled the area. It gave one a feeling of possibly being left inside a very large mausoleum dedicated to the strange and deplorable.


Responding to the hunter's request, the somewhat harried receptionist stood in her modest calico dress and came out from behind her desk, "Mayor Cavendish is waiting to see you with the rest of the city council. This way please."


She saw the security guard, a man armed with a sword who stood by the front doors, watching the two of them, and hurried down the long main hallway to the very end, where a pair of double doors made of dark wood stood partially ajar. Taking hold of the heavy brass handles, she eased one of the doors open and ushered Oriana inside, not even waiting to introduce her or announce her. The receptionist just wanted to get back to her desk, taking the workhouse inmates to heart every time she saw them.


Inside the council chamber was a semicircle of tall backed chairs. All seven of them were occupied, and in the very center was Harlan Cavendish, looking as puffed and important as he obviously felt he was. Five of the other chairs were taken up by well dressed men of varying ages, but the chair on the far left was occupied, oddly enough, by a young woman.


Ianthe Reinhart was a beautiful woman, with long dark hair bound away from her face in a long braid that was wrapped around itself in an ebony bun. Clear, cool gray eyes surrounded by long lashes looked as if they could have danced merrily, though currently she was just sizing up the hunter. Unlike the men to the left of her, she seemed to be assessing the hunter's worth, not just her physical appearance.


Like the other council members, she was well dressed, looking the part appropriately. But it would never do to truly represent the impoverished in the city. They were not what made the wheels of progress turn. No, she was a lady, wearing a long burgundy skirt that rose up beneath a form-fitting, sleeveless basque of the same material. Beneath the basque was a soft, smoke hued blouse with lace trim along the cuffs, the basque itself buttoning up her front with black pearl buttons. Around her neck was another spray of the delicate lace, and most importantly, sitting upon her chest, was a cross of silver on a slender chain.


Before Ianthe could say anything, Cavendish opened his mouth and proceeded to grandstand as he was wont to do.


"I don't know what game you hope to play, little lady, but we're waiting on the real hunters. Two of them."


"They are not attached at the hip," Ianthe said, her disdain for the mayor withering. "It stands to reason one of them may be finding lodging, or simply waiting outside."


Cavendish obviously did not like being chastised in the midst of the others, but it was rare when Ianthe actually spoke over the bluster of the blowhard. Mostly because she only kept her place on the council because her only friend delighted in the idea of a lady on the city council. A position rewarded out of respect, she would have declined if it had not been for Helena's meddling.


She turned her attention to Oriana, and a slight smile played at her lips, not amused, just friendly, as friendly as Ianthe could be. It was difficult, to sit there and watch hunters come to their city, to see them fail or give up. It had happened before. But to see a woman hunting was a pleasant surprise, and she knew that before Oriana would have any chance of speaking and having the council listen, someone would have to be behind her. Ianthe had no problem with that currently.


"Please, introduce yourself. We will then discuss the particulars of the job with you, and you can decide whether you and your partner are willing to take it on."

 

[Lucyfer]

When he wanted to, Silvio could walk silently. Oriana did not notice when he ceased following her, because she was used to not hearing him. She thought the silver-haired dhampir right behind her up until the point she entered the room with the six men and the single woman. All of them were pompously dressed, appropriate for their positions, but the red-headed woman always found it gave her a queer sense of superiority.


These people didn’t know what they were dealing with. ‘Well….’ One was wearing a cross. One might know what she was dealing with.


Oriana straightened herself up under the gaze of them, ignoring the indignity that wanted to paint her cheeks the same color as her hair. She expected this from the men, but she always detested it. She also expected the doubt, and she crossed her arms over her chest. She looked nothing like these people, but she held herself with a similar air of authority.


No, Oriana was dressed not in a skirt, but in leather pants and a black corset; no sleeves attached and no collar. She did not bear the mark of fangs despite the numerous times she’d felt them. Her neck was left open on purpose. She did wear sleeves, but they began at the top of her arm and were not attached to her shirt. They flowed over her hands, red in hue, and covered the daggers she had fastened there. Her boots, as Silvio knew, had a stake in them.


Her duster was dirty from the travel with dust. ‘With experience.’ She thought when hers was called out. “You should research the ones you hire as well as I’ve researched the Noble Nicolai Lafayette,” she stated bluntly.


She didn’t have time for the higher politics of frontier cities. The woman asked her to introduce herself, and she gave a nod, “I will. One moment.” She lifted a single finger and then turned around towards the door she entered in, opened it, and reached out to grab the dhampir to pull him in.


He came in, chuckling under his breath. He did delight in these little things, in seeing how others reacted to Oriana as the lone hunter. He understood it had always been that way, even before they were partners. No one ever believed Oriana was a hunter, even though her body was clearly built for it.


His was built for it as well, and just as seductive in the way a predator always was. Sleek, tall—a good foot taller than Oriana—and dressed just as darkly as his partner, he had a way of confusing men and making women desire him without so much as lifting a finger. He reached up and took his hat off to be polite. He was indoors now, though the sun still burned through the windows. His face would be seen more easily without the shadow. The rest of his form was somewhat masked by the long coat he wore, fabric much thicker than Oriana’s, and the black pants and long-sleeved shirt he wore. The collar of it covered his neck. “Good day,” he greeted in a low voice, the amusement still tainting his tone. “I am Silvio Aisling.”


“And I’m Oriana Godfried.”


Silvio kept that ever-elusive smile on his lips as he looked over those there. A few, he decided, he did not like. The woman with the cross intrigued him. How she knew to wear that cross was curious. So many humans forgot vampire weaknesses. Not always, and not all. He knew the Marcus Brothers had used the cross effectively. It was difficult to keep up with what weaknesses humans forgot. He was starting to think the cross was not one of them.


His crimson eyes, however, settled on the mayor. It was obvious which one he was. “Please,” he spoke only just above a whisper. His voice had a way of carrying, “Tell us the details of this hunt, and of the pay.”

 

[InnocentThorns]

Harlan Cavendish was a man of about fifty, with hair that was nearly stone gray, and figure that he had at least kept from going soft with easy living. He was not particularly tall, but he felt he cut an imposing figure with fine clothing and his hard jawline that looked like it could cut bread if angled correctly. He was the one that called the shots, though it was impossible to contradict Widow Reinhart. He had done so only once before and had been met with a chorus of disapproving male gazes. The council could vote him out and then where would he be?


He settled in his seat, looking as if that was what he had wanted to do all along, smirking ever so slightly at Oriana. But the dhampir, he was unsettling. He glanced over, ever so briefly at Ianthe, to see if she were being taken in by him. She was still quite young, beautiful, men like that tended to draw women to them. He would have to make certain to get them out of town as soon as possible.


"Of course, of course. The target is a Noble that has been attacking the city. He has been taking people, him and his followers plucking them off the streets. Celestine was once a safe place, a haven in the midst of the wilderness. Now it is becoming dangerous to walk our lit streets at night. We believe he has human or non vampire followers that are in the city during the day, watching for him, looking for what he wants. The question being what he wants."


Cavendish pressed his hands together, his elbows resting on the arms of his chair, "We want the Noble killed. His nest wiped out. The city is willing to pay a hundred thousand for the Noble's head, another fifty for proof that the nest is gone."


Ianthe had been listening, wishing they had more to go on aside from second hand accounts from frightened citizens who swore that they had seen the Noble. But she was hoping it would be enough to go on. She had glanced at Silvio only once, possibly because she found herself inexplicably attracted to him. Considering she had only been a widow for a little over a year, having just returned to wearing colors other than black, it seemed inappropriate if nothing else. So she had focused on Oriana instead.


"We are also offering room and board," Ianthe said, when it seemed Cavendish was waiting for them to awe in greed-stricken lust over the offer. "You may stay at my home, it is certainly big enough for two more."


That offer, not originally discussed, got eyes to turn in her direction. She rested in her chair for a moment, knowing it was the right decision. If nothing else, she could arm them, though she did not doubt that they were well armed. But she had a few things that could be passed along. And even more that she would want back if they decided to use them in their battle. Cavendish stared at her hard.


"Do you think that wise, Widow Reinhart?"


"They are hunters," she replied firmly. "They require room and board. And I have no issue with offering hospitality to the two who wish to help our city. That is, if they accept."


Her eyes glanced past Silvio again, and back to Oriana. Much safer to look at her instead of at him. Obviously not pleased, but unable to say so, Cavendish just nodded.


"And room and board at Widow Reinhart's manor house."

 

[Lucyfer]

Destroy the Noble. Destroy the Noble’s nest. ‘Interesting.’ Oriana only heard one name cropping up in this area, not a family or a brood. It did not change the situation. That humans were helping made little difference. ‘So what does he target?’ Oriana’s gaze shifted to Silvio, but he was waiting for the rest.


The expenses.


At least this city was not ignorant of how much vampire hunters were worth. Oriana arched an eyebrow, actually impressed they wouldn’t need to do any haggling. Usually, the offer started out so low that it was laughable. This was respectable. Room and board, too.


Silvio shot the woman a sharp look, following the eyes of others and understanding this hadn’t been agreed upon. That was confirmed with a comment, and then Silvio dropped his eyes to the ground. He felt the mocking gaze of Oriana. ‘Aww, you have another admirer.’ Really, she shouldn’t tease him. She knew how frustrating it was to be desired, the actions others could take in the heat of the moment.


It usually got them in more trouble when it was women and men falling at Silvio’s feet, though. His utter disdain for it always made it amusing to Oriana, since it was clear he was never trying to seduce them. Not that townsfolk listened, oh no. God forbid they listen. “Thank you, Reinhart,” Oriana didn’t use ‘widow’. “We’ll accept,” she spoke for them both.


Silvio still gave a nod to show his acceptance of it, but he was careful not to lift his eyes as he asked the question Oriana had earlier been thinking of it, “What we need to know is the sort that this noble seems to be targeting. Has there been a pattern?”


Usually it was women. Usually, Oriana could play bait. Something told Silvio it would not be that simple this time around.

 

[InnocentThorns]

One of the other councilmen spoke up this time, "That's the thing we can't figure out. If he has a type, we can't tell. One night it's a whore. The next, it's an elderly man. Another, it might be a washerwoman."


Ianthe almost rolled her eyes, "That is a type, Councilman Baker. Those who would be out only at night and alone. The upper class rarely travel alone, and even more rarely at night unless there is some sort of event going on. That he knows where they are going to be and when can only be the work of those who watch for him. Yet, I do not think he is going to stay to this for much longer. People have learned. Few go out alone any longer."


She turned her attention back to the hunters, "If he wishes to continue on the way he has, he will have to start attacking pairs or groups of people, which will give us more information and more witnesses. Until then, I am afraid we can do very little in the way of telling you more about this Noble. But we would like to help in any way we can. If you have suggestions for our sheriff and his deputies, or anything we should impart to the citizens, I'm certain it would behoove us to do so."


The council waited for any other questions before they broke up, and Cavendish moved close to Ianthe, "I need to speak to you privately."


Nodding slightly, she looked at Oriana, ignoring Silvio for the time being, "I will be with you shortly. Please excuse me."


Heading into one of the private offices with Cavendish, he at least waited until the door was shut before he began haranguing her, "What the hell do you think you're doing, offering those two shelter?!"


Calm, Ianthe let him yell, not particularly worried as she stood there, quiet and composed. He continue to rant over how she had a social duty and was wasting her time.


"It's him, isn't it? You're ready to drop yourself at his feet. He's another hunter, and an odd one at that, Ianthe!"


Cavendish stalked over to her, grabbing her arm, and she glared at him, "Get your hands off me. I'm not some poor maid scrubbing your floors."


He was breathing hard in her face now, a look in his expression she had seen before. Ianthe wondered if she was going to have to bludgeon him with something in the room. But he got himself under control, and he squeezed her arm painfully.


"When they're done, they're gone. I won't have them lagging around."


"I'd almost think you were jealous, Harlan. But that would require me wanting to be with a man old enough to be my father, and disgusting enough to warrant his own bounty. Now let me go."


Every word was punctuated with disdain, and he released her, unable to stand the glare of a woman who truly despised him. Ianthe turned to leave the room, stopping in the doorway.


"They'll stay as long as they like. And touch me again, and I will geld you myself."


Vowing quietly to burn that blouse, Ianthe left the private chamber and went to find the vampire hunters. She had arrived in a carriage pulled by a matching pair of champagne colored horses, and a footman opened the door of the carriage for her.


"Please follow us back to the manor. Unless you have other business to attend."

 

[Lucyfer]

Reinhart got it. Oriana gave her an approving smile. ‘That shouldn’t be too hard to do.’ They could go at it by patrolling the town alone that first night, each on the opposite side. It would allow them to get familiar with the town, and hopefully find something. Drawn out jobs were the worst. The townspeople got finicky about the dhampir being around for so long.


When she suggested there’d be more witnesses, though, she saw Silvio shake his head slightly. ‘A Noble wouldn’t let them go.’ Not in any state to tattle, unless, ‘Or maybe so.’ Enough Nobles had egos.


“The obvious suggestion is don’t go out, but I know that’s never going to work, so, no,” Orianna gave a bit of a dismissive wave at the idea of such warning. People already knew not to go out, but clearly, they still were. The meeting broke apart then, and Oriana gave a nod to Silvio, and then a gesture with her head.


He followed her out to the main lobby of the town council’s building, where they’d met the receptionist. They did not approach her, though. They expected to be met here eventually by Reinhart. “Are you going to be all right with your new crush?” Oriana teased. Silvio rolled his eyes and leaned back against the wall, arms folding over his chest. “We can stay elsewhere if it concerns you.”


“It does not,” he was never the one who had the problem. It was always the human. Oriana was good that way—all of her exposure to nobles made her wise to their charms. She resisted his as if was a teenager soaked in cologne, rather than a comely young gentlemen.


Sometimes, just for the amusement, he wished she’d falter.


“So what’s the plan tonight?” Oriana asked.


“Patrol the town, each alone,” except, he tapped by the side of his ear to signify not really. The small earbuds would work to keep them in communication with each other, just in case. “No disturbances unless one is caused first.”


One nod. “Any human working with him is working for the hope of immortality.”


“Mm.”


With the night’s plans decided quick enough, they turned to see Reinhart rejoin them. Both followed her to the outside world again, and on went Silvio’s hat. At the question of business, he shook his head and walked to his horse, leading it away from the post before mounting it. Oriana followed once hers was untied, “We’ll follow on these. Apologies,” she offered, in case Reinhart had wanted or expected them to ride with her in the carriage.

 

[InnocentThorns]

"Of course," Ianthe said, nodding. "I'm more than happy to offer your horses a place in my stables as well."


Getting into the carriage, she sat comfortably as the horses headed through the city, hoping the hunters were following behind. They left the business area of the city, out to the residential areas. Houses gave way to larger properties, and it was a gated property where the wrought iron gates opened and let them inside. The stone and wrought iron fence that kept people out of the property was topped frequently with crosses, not tied up there, but melded right into the wrought iron so that it was part of the design.


In the stone next to the gates was a small brass sign, marking the manor as Graywood Estate. The carriage headed inside, and went up a long, winding drive lined by trees, hawthorn trees that were supposedly protective. Looming beyond the trees was a large stone manor with a turret, the ridgepoles of the roofs marked with more of the large crosses. There were windows topped in stained glass marked with crosses as well, and a long garden behind the house. The carriage stopped and the footman got off the back, opening the door for Ianthe. But she helped herself out, not taking his offered hand.


Lifting her skirt, she walked up the steps to the double doors, the door opening and revealing a butler. She spoke to him softly, smiling a bit.


"We're having guests."


The butler smiled, "Well, my lady, it is about time."


"They are hunters. I would like them to have the nicest guest rooms, please. And for the gentleman...one without windows."


He nodded, "I'll make certain Mrs. Capp knows."


"Thank you Brandt."


Turning back, she waited for the hunters to come to a stop, the footman running to reach for their reins, "Please, Keller will take care of your animals. Come inside and make yourselves at home. You undoubtedly need a rest after your travels and dealing with that group of idiots."


Away from the city council, there was something sweet and kind about Ianthe that she kept tightly in check around them. Perhaps because she found all of them repulsive in some way. Or perhaps because she knew that they would jump on any sign of her not being cold and closed off. But there was no reason to be this way with the hunters. She frowned a little.


"Excuse me, I have not introduced myself properly, either. I am Ianthe Reinhart. Please, call me Ianthe. I do get tired of Widow Reinhart and my lady."


She smiled at them, "The house has a large library of books on mythology and lore, and an armory. If there is anything that might help you, please feel free to utilize what I have."


Turning back toward the open doors, she beckoned for them to come in with her. The inside of the house was just as grand as the outside. It was decorated beautifully, the lavishness not for the sake of being lavish, but for the sake of the aesthetic. Dark, polished woods, brass, glass, it was all over the house and all worked together with the deep, plush carpets and the gas lights on the walls. Dropping her skirt in the house, it moved along with her as Brandt approached her once again.


"The star room, and the green garden room are ready, my lady."


"Thank you Brandt. Ms. Godfried, Mr. Aisling, this is Brandt, the head of the household staff. If you need anything, ask him and he will do all he can to help you."


The butler bowed to the two of them, no mocking tones in his expression, "Welcome to Graywood, Ms. Godfried and Mr. Aisling."

 

[Lucyfer]

The two hunters had expected nothing less for their horses, even if the cybernetic aspect made them rather easy to deal with. They didn’t require much in the ways of food or water, after all. It was one of the perks of having them, and compared to a motorcycle, they were far cheaper. They didn’t require the gas, and when they ‘broke’ it was easier to replace them.


Neither of the horses had names, since these creatures did tend to die. They were seen as vehicles, only.


They followed, and Oriana noticed how Silvio seemed to grow smaller as they passed through the fence. She gave him a sympathetic smile, understanding as the shadow of the crosses fell upon him, and the scent of hawthorn entered his nostrils. Her stakes were always made of hawthorn. Wooden death. She joked about them being mere thorns. Silvio never appreciated it.


Soon enough, though, they were before the lavish estate. “We should have asked for more,” Oriana realized, and Silvio smirked.


They both dismounted as the woman went up to the door, and looked to each other, then to the footman, before they were called to. The footman ran to them, and with an exchange of looks, both allowed him to take care of their horses. “Thank you,” Silvio said, and it was echoed in a nod from Oriana, before the pair made their way to the door where the dark-haired woman awaited them.


There, she properly introduced herself. “It’s good to meet you, Ianthe,” Oriana jumped right to first names.


The dhampir offered a smile, “Miss Reinhart,” he would keep a careful distance, always paranoid about coming off too friendly, but he’d respect her wishes not to be ‘Widow Reinhart’ or ‘My Lady’. Now that he considered the widow bit, away from the council, he swore it was familiar. He thought over the name as he examined the lavish home. It was not the sort of life he’d ever have, unless he turned to his ‘noble’ heritage.


It was not the sort of life Oriana would have, either. For that, he did feel a pang of guilt, but he knew it was not in her to live this way. She had made her decision before they ever met.


Brandt came to them, “Thank you, Brandt,” the dhampir said.


Oriana voiced concern, “Is the green garden room near the star room?” Oriana asked, a touch of concern. She’d not be kept far from the dhampir, “We’d really prefer rooms near each other,” she then added, “Oh, and you can call me Oriana,” knowing that her partner would prefer to keep the ‘Mr. Aisling’ part, she didn’t correct that. “I’m not a lady. Never plan on being one, either.” Some joke in the tone brought a smile to the dhampir’s lips.


The only lady’s were Noble Women. Ah, Nobility. So easy to mock.

 

[InnocentThorns]

"...Mrs." she corrected him gently.


Ianthe nodded, "I considered that the two of you would want to be close, to be able to find each other quickly, and this house is rather cavernous. The star room is directly across the hall from the green garden room. But I felt you would enjoy the green garden room, Oriana. It's so lovely, and has glass doors to a balcony that overlooks the gardens, with steps that lead right down into it."


She looked over at Silvio, "The star room has no windows, Mr. Aisling."


A smile touched her lips, "I do not particularly approve of Brandt 'my lady-ing' me but he insists it's appropriate. So I let him have his way. He's rather spoiled."


The butler, who had been quietly waiting for further instructions, frowned, "I heard that, my lady."


"Ears like a rabbit," she replied, watching him with a fond smile.


"Dinner is just before dusk. You're both welcome to join me in the dining room. I do not dress for dinner, so please, do not feel any pressure to do so yourselves. Despite the grand manor house, I never did particularly enjoy the social niceties that came with such things. If you require anything else from me, please let me know. I must excuse myself. Tonight is the semi-annual recital for the school children. I teach the younger children in the Celestine Primer School. Our city has two schools, and the primer school has six classes. I hope to let my little pupils show off tonight. Please excuse me."


Ianthe left them with Brandt, who showed them to their rooms. Oriana's was properly named, with beautifully painted walls that were murals that looked like a garden, so there were flowers even in the dead of winter. A massive canopy bed sat in the room, decorated with green satin, doors leading to a bathroom as large as some smaller frontier cottages. There were indeed the large glass doors that were protected by the stained glass cross over them, but they led out to a balcony with an ivy and morning glory wrapped balustrade, steps leading down into the magnificent gardens below.


Silvio's room was appropriately christened as well. It was painted a deep blue, and flashing in the light from the gas fixtures and the fireplace that burned cheerily were silver stars set with crystals so they shimmered in the flickering fires. The bed there was large, but did not have the canopy, as the ceiling was hung with more crystals that caught the light on occasion and would keep the room from being perfectly dark. It too was equipped with its own bathroom, and as she said, it had no windows to let in the sun nor to have a cross present at all times.


Brandt left them to refresh themselves, giving them directions down to the smaller dining room. The larger dining hall was only used during parties, and those had been desperately in scant supply during the past year or so. If they chose to come down to dinner, they would find Ianthe already there, though the prim and proper lady from before had given way to a grander figure. She was wearing a silk gown that revealed just a bit of her shoulders, the lace trimmed and embroidered violet silk giving way to champagne colored sleeves and ruffled underskirt. Her long hair had been curled and pinned back with a hair band that flashed in the lights, her arms covered in gloves that matched the champagne underskirt. A bustle, not too big, rose in the back and came to train that went just an inch or two beyond her delicate slippers.


Around her throat she wore another cross, but this was studded with diamonds, and hung on three rows of pearls that fit closely against her throat. She was looking over a stack of papers, waiting for her guests to arrive, for dinner to be served. Outside, the sun was just setting, and she knew she would be safe if only because she would not be alone in her carriage. It would be a good night for Oriana and Silvio to go hunting, and quietly, she thought it should be better that they hunt, kill the Noble, and leave as soon as possible. Not for Cavendish's reasons, but because she felt herself drawn to Silvio Aisling, and it disturbed her.

 

[Lucyfer]

“Ah. My apologies,” Silvio spoke. He had thought most widows took ‘Miss’. He made a note to refer to her as ‘Mrs’. That would make things easier, too. Another layer of distance.


They were both pleased to hear how close the rooms were going to be to each other, and Silvio’s smile became truly sincere at the idea of a room without windows. Dinner was before dusk, too, which would make their life easier. They would eat quick, and be gone soon.


Oriana was the one to say it bluntly, “We won’t be too talkative, I’m afraid, but we will join you for a bit, then we’ll have to be off,” breakfast might be a better affair for them to interact. Fortunately, it sounded like Ianthe was going to be busy that night, too. Oriana bit back a comment, but plans had changed, and she knew it as Silvio shot her a lock.


A parent, no doubt, would be the target that night. A single parent, mother or father, going to see their kid after leaving them at the school to practice.


They were taken to the rooms, and Oriana actually gasped when she saw hers, though Silvio backed up as the stained glass cross played across the floor near his feet. She took to it immediately, walking around and feeling the satin, looking at the glorious cross, and making a fuss over it so Brandt would hear.


Silvio was not so loud. He stepped into his and found it all the more intriguing. No crosses. No level of protection. ‘Did she host nobles?’ He thought that odd, and considered it not so. Otherwise, there’d be a coffin. What he wouldn’t do for a coffin some days, usually when he was ill from the sun. At least this one offered him the courtesy to be out of the sun, and a plush bed. The flames of the candles flickered comfortably.


It was not long until Oriana joined him, though. She had gone back to the horses to fetch their bags, and she threw one to him. He caught it without even glancing back, “We’ll be staying near the school and residential areas while the event is going on,” Silvio said as Oriana drew near. “If—”


“When.”


Silvio’s crimson gaze lifted. Right. They’d both been at this long enough, and if the townsfolk here already thought things were due for a change, well…here was the change. “When the Noble or one of his lackeys shows up, we’ll deal with it.”


“Mm. I’m going to get cleaned up, you’re going to drink,” she saw the way his nose wrinkled, “and then I’ll rest, and eat well before we head out. I doubt we’ll end up killing the Noble tonight.”


Which meant that night he had to drink, lest he put it off too long and risk losing himself to bloodlust in the heat of a moment. Synthetic blood was hard to come by; humans didn’t exactly enjoy selling it, and he didn’t interact with enough nobles to acquire it easily. Oriana kept him on the straight and narrow.


“Very well,” he knew it was pointless to argue that she would need her strength that night. He had a similar sense as her. They might confront the Noble, but the odds were it would amount to little more than sizing up, and retreat on one side to recalculate.


Even so, they’d be ready. He’d beat at peak, after all.


Oriana left him, and he went to clean up as well, utilizing the bathroom to wash himself. It felt good, refreshing, to feel the warm water on his flesh and he enjoyed it immensely since his temperature was cooler than a human’s.


He let his silver hair drip-dry, as always, and let it hang over his white robe as he walked back into the main room. It was not long before Oriana joined him, her hair already dried, and put up. She was in what they’d jokingly started to call her ‘day gown’, since she so rarely slept at night. There was silence in the actions, known by heart, as she took a seat on the bed and he stood before her. His fingers brushed the nape of her neck, before he bent, tilting her head back with his thumb, and finding the vein.


He bit without teasing, and felt the sharp intake of breath. Oriana’s hands clenched the cloth beneath her, and her eyes fluttered close. One promise that Silvio had made, was that it would never feel good. There was an inherent risk in the ‘kiss’, and though Oriana had been bitten more than once and her will always won out, they did not want to risk it.


The pain was there instead, coursing through her veins, making every breath tight and shallow. Silvio’s hand reached up to rest on her shoulder as he leaned into it, taking more with each passing moment, until Oriana finally reached up and put a hand to his chest, and pressed.


He always let her go then, fangs retracting, and he took several steps away. A lick had sealed the wound, and stopped it bleeding. It would close soon, as it always did, but that first night Oriana would cover it.


She fell back onto his bed, and he scowled at her, “You have your own.” But he knew. This process was exhausting to her, and she often was light-headed immediately after.


“Mine now,” she curled up there, lifting legs onto the bed.


“I need to rest, too.”


“Floor,” she didn’t care. He let out a huff as he saw her closing her eyes and, indeed, drifting.


He could have carried her back to her own room, but he remembered the cross.


Floor it was.


Their naps were short enough, fortunately. Silvio was stirred by the coming night, and Oriana woke at his disturbance, and quickly gathered herself to go to her own room, to change into something more appropriate for hunting. She checked her wound in the mirror, and did wrap a quick, lace choker over it. There was no cross, though, just a red ruby shaped like a tear; or, a drop of blood, in some eyes.


In fact, her attire all but invited such attention, and normally the choker would have been discarded. The duster was left behind, and the laced-up bodice she wore had no sleeves nor collar, and ended only at the point it covered her breasts. The sleeves of earlier were gone, the knives now hidden beneath the ruffles of lace that flared out from the bodice and covered her hips. She had a belt of small weapons there. She still wore leather pants, of course, and the boots were the same.


Her red hair was pulled up, though only in a ponytail, again to be out of the way. Easy access.


Silvio was conservative as usual, and didn’t change much. The hat was discarded with night approaching, but he let his silver hair remain loose, let it hang down his back, long enough to brush his shoulders. The collar of his coat covered his neck. However, the shirt he now wore appeared more armored, a metallic sheen to it. His arms were bare up to his elbows, and for good reason—he had inherited the Mayerling claws, and would use them.


Even so, he had his sword at his hip, hidden a bit by the coat. It hung on a belt that had no other weapons, and his dark slacks held no secrets either, nor did his boots.


When they joined Ianthe, Oriana whistled, “I thought you said you didn’t dress for dinner.” Then again, what would a lady like her know? She was dressed to the nines now, “You look gorgeous, Ianthe. You must have the eyes of many a single father.”


Silvio gave her a disapproving look, “Excuse her, she’s light-headed,” he said curtly, “You do look lovely, Mrs. Reinhart,” he said as he took his seat. He would eat. He could eat both sorts of meals, and needed both to balance out. He was pleased to see she kept wearing a cross, when she seemed to be inviting a similar sort of attention with bare shoulders.


She wasn’t doing it so overtly, though, and certainly not wishing to invite it the way that Oriana was.

 

[InnocentThorns]

"Thank you," Ianthe said, smiling at Oriana. "But this is not for dinner. I dress up for the recitals, mostly because my students do the same and I want to afford them the same respect and courtesy. If it were a normal dinner, I would not be in such finery."


Her cheeks flushed ever so slightly at Silvio's compliment, and her tone was a touch cooler, "Thank you, Mr. Aisling."


She sighed softly, "I certainly hope not. I have only just put away my widow's weeds and returned to society. I have no desire to attract their attention."


It was, unfortunately a true problem for her. A Penelope with far too many eager suitors, but there was no Odysseus who would return home for her. So she had put up with the ardent men who thought any widow as young as her should have another husband. But Ianthe had not forgotten her beloved Grey. She also knew that they were only truly after her property, her money, everything that her husband had left to her when he died. That was nothing she wanted in her life.


Brandt came in with serving dishes, followed by a maid, and they were served a simple but delicious meal of roast fowl and potatoes, asparagus, and for dessert, ripe berries in whipped, sweetened cream. When they were coming to the end of the meal, she looked up at the two of them.


"Tonight's even takes place at the primary school, which is in the north end of the city. The schools are all at the north end of Celestine because there are no residential areas in the southern part that is closer to the unbroken frontier. Most of the people who will be there tonight are working class, with some of the upper class. The impoverished of the city, unfortunately, keep their children at home so both parents can work. My goal is to start a program where we can send teachers into those parts of the city to educate those children, with easy lessons learned between the chores that keep them working all day."


She smiled at the two of them, though her eyes never truly went to Silvio. He was far too dangerous to smile at.


"I am afraid I must leave you. If you need anything else, Brandt will help you, and the front door is watched all night. Someone will be there to let you in, should you return early."


Rising, she bid them good night and headed into the foyer, where Brandt was waiting with her cloak, white with swan feathers to keep her warm. She then left the house, heading out to her coach, getting in and being taken to the school. There were already families swarming Celestine Primary as the sun set completely, and when Ianthe got out of her carriage, she was swarmed by her students. They loved her as much as she loved them, and their awe and delight at seeing her dressed up was worth digging the dress out of the armoire. The students were dressed up as well, middle class children in their Sunday best, the few upper class children in evening wear as she was.


Ushering them inside, she heard a voice behind her call out to her, a voice like a bell. Ianthe smiled as she felt a hand grasp her own.


"Ianthe! You look ravishing!" Helena Jasper, daughter of the man who owned most of the city, Christophe Jasper, exclaimed. "It is a true delight to see you out of black finally. I hope this means you'll attend our parties this year."


"I will try," she promised.


Helena curled her arm around Ianthe's, and they walked into the school, not surprisingly gathering a lot of attention. Ianthe did not think herself beautiful in any eyes but that of her dead husband, but Helena was truly ravishing. A heart-shaped face set with brilliant blue eyes, surrounded by apricot colored curls that were coiffed flatteringly. She was wearing cream and sky blue, which only made her eyes more blue, and her peaches and cream complexion did not need cosmetics to be enhanced. Aside from her beauty, she was also the only child of the richest man in the city.


Inside the school, Ianthe shed her cloak and helped her friend with her own, slipping into the lady's dressing room. Helena prinked while Ianthe made certain the students were doing what they needed to be doing. She hoped the vampire hunters were safe. Glancing at the students heading into the gathering room, she stopped and sat down.


"I've invited the vampire hunters to stay at Graywood."


Helena's perfect lips dropped open, "Ianthe Reinhart, you scandalous thing. Isn't one of them male?"


"And...particularly attractive," she murmured. "But I'm certain they are a couple. They rested in the same room this afternoon. The maids know everything."


"How delightful. I believe Grey would have invited them to stay as well."


"I know he would have. I hope to help them, at least a little. It would be what he would do."


Helena nodded sagely, "See, life has already become more interesting."


The talk went back to more mundane things, and Ianthe went to the gathering room, heading to the front to begin the recital. The students were all ready to go.

 

[Lucyfer]

The food came, and despite her own weaknesses, Oriana found she had eyes larger than her stomach. Silvio did not eat so much, for he tried to never take more than he needed. He did shoot a few side glances at the voracious way Oriana ate, thinking she ought to slow down.


They lived in two different worlds when it came to thinking—he was paranoid that others would suspect he did drink from her (something they’d never deny, but something they never spoke of, either). She was better at assessing what mortals thought—that most would think them a couple when it was far from the truth. Silvio rationalized in ways most humans did not. Most would not think the onset of Oriana’s hunger was from weakness; of course, most here did not know her usual appetite. He did.


So, internally, he fretted while he picked at his own meal.


The sun had not yet set when dessert was served, and the silence was broken by their hostess. Both looked up attentively from their meals to listen, as she spoke of the recital and the sorts attending it. The important details were taken in. The school was north, and many would be coming to attend, working class and elites alike.


She was such an idealist. Oriana bit back such a comment, and Silvio politely said, “I hope that your program kicks off. Education is often the route to bettering entire communities, as well as the self.” He would know. He knew what education throughout centuries did for Nobles, and all the things they had created.


Oriana didn’t roll her eyes, though she wanted to. He was being too friendly again. The woman left before them, though, which Oriana hadn’t expected to happen. The two hunters weren’t long after her, dressed to go as they were, all they had to do was put in their earbuds to stay in touch while far from each other. “Let’s quarter the town first,” Oriana said once they were outside and astride their mounts. “Spend most of our time in the northern two quarters tonight, and see how it goes.”


Silvio nodded his agreement. First things first, they actually had to map the town, and that task had to be done together so they’d know the general center of it, and where the southern portion began. Fortunately, at their pace, that did not take much longer than an hour to go around and get a gist of it, and agree on quartering. “I’ll take the east,” he stated.


“West it is,” Oriana wouldn’t fight for one side or the other. The school was relatively near to the center, too, though on her side.


Distance. Always distance.


And so, they put distance between each other to monitor their sections, even if they’d mostly stick to the south.


~***~


The fuss from the school eventually died down as the parents arrived, and the program must have begun. Silvio listened to the silence around himself, and the silence from the other end. They did not speak to each other when on patrol, lest they give away the illusion that they were alone.


This Noble hunted those alone, it seemed.


It also seemed he had been informed by his daylight-walking associates what the town intended to do, for in the silence Silvio heard an arrow cut through the air. He turned his mount and caught it with his hand, then snapped it.


“Come out.”


And then on Oriana’s line, he heard the rush of wind, and the clatter of hooves as the horse danced.


~***~


Oriana did not hear the arrow on Silvio’s side, but her situation had been rather different. She had attempted to intercept a problem, finding a lone mother on the path to the school—or that was what she thought, anyway—who was about to be assaulted. It turned out to be a trap, unfortunately.


The woman was a mutant, and revealed her true colors when Oriana threw a dagger at the assailant. The cloak she was wearing which looked like feathers, turned out to be wings which she spread to cause a gust that blew the dagger back. It missed hitting Oriana, but her horse was none too pleased with the change of circumstances.


Silvio had spoken on his line, signifying both hunters were found at the same time. Organization. That meant, “Someone on the council’s with the Noble,” that’s how they had to deduce who would be watched closely by the hunters, even if they couldn’t guess the hunters would split up.

 

[InnocentThorns]

The applause of the crowd of adults was deafening, and Ianthe smiled as the students pulled her up for a bow as well. A small child toddled toward her with a bouquet that was nearly too much for her, and she brought it to the school teacher, who accepted it with grace and gratitude. Then everyone began to pack themselves up, and Ianthe went with Helena to gather their cloaks. It was getting cold out at night, and the two of them were not wearing clothing that could be deemed protective or warm.


When they got outside, Ianthe was aware that her horses were being hard to handle. The normally docile creatures were rearing with fear or something else, and the coachman was struggling to keep them from bolting. It was not lost on her, especially because the other carriages had horses that were also acting the same way. Real horses could smell something foul upon the air far before humans did, and it made something cold settle in the pit of her stomach.


That was when the screams began.


A child, torn from the hands of its mother, and with a spray of blood in the shadows, the screaming stopping. The panic that began then was pandemonium, and Ianthe struggled to keep herself from be swept away in the fleeing people. Instead, she began picking up children that had been separated from their parents and put them into Helena's carriage with her. The good natured young woman took as many as she could, before the carriage rode off into the night. Swan's down fluttering in the breeze, Ianthe ran to her own carriage and put more people inside it, before grabbing a sword out of the inside of it.


Some of the men were stopping to take a stand, and she stood with them, unsheathing the straight edged sword, made for a woman with its lighter weight and delicate etching. It had been a gift from Grey and she never left the house without it. Now it came in handy as the creatures who had been stealing people into the shadows came out into the light around the school. There were a few firearms, more swords than anything, and even one man with an axe. But it felt strangely useless when the entire throng of them came out of the darkness. Some of them had to be vampires, others were mutants, and it felt like it had been a trap to have their normal events.


She reached up and pulled her cloak off, revealing the cross around her throat. But Grey had prepared her. He was well aware that she was the wife of a prolific vampire hunter. That they might discover he had a wife and would come for her. Ianthe was not as helpless as she seemed, and she would not let the men who stayed stand alone. So when they were attacked, she fought back with them, the battle brutal.


Heads were torn off, limbs hacked. She felt the first spray of blood patter along her lovely dress, and only part of her was angry that it was ruined. She was far more angry that they dared interrupt something as sacred as a children's' event. And to take children, that was even worse. She decapitated one of them, only to narrowly avoid claws trying to rake down her back. They caught the binding that kept her hair up, and she tore away from it, some hair coming out on its claws, her long curls falling around her shoulders. Ianthe promptly removed that hand from the creature's arm.


"Push them back!" she cried, trying to buy time.


Undoubtedly, Helena would have alerted the authorities. She might have been silly and obsessed with clothing and men, but that was only because she did not have to think of the hard things in life. In reality, she was kind and smart, and she would have known to warn someone. The real soldiers would be coming soon. They would help them to fight. At least Ianthe desperately hoped so. There were fewer and fewer humans in the fray, and she had a number of close calls already. But her cross was still firmly in place, even if she was bloody and disheveled.

 

[Lucyfer]

Dealing with one creature was no hardship for the dhampir. Silvio took in a breath and caught the scent of the mutant on the wind, and he was off his horse by the time the second arrow flew at him.


He could hear the cackling laughter on Oriana’s end, and though attentive, he gave it little attention as his feet landed him before the mutant who was producing arrows of bone. What a shame that talent took time, growing bones rapidly into weapons to launch always did.


The arrow growing out of his palm contorted and became a gauntlet, to which the Mayerling dhampir answered by holding up his own hand, and letting it change. His blood turned flesh to metal, and elongated the already too-long fingers into claws a werewolf would envy. He always felt disappointed when he couldn’t spread it over the rest of his body, to have natural armor.


He had no time to mourn that, or for this whelp. He pushed forward as the mutant tried to grasp him, catching the hand in one of his hand and pulling him forward. With his other hand, he took hold of the creature’s neck and broke it, several layers of bone snapping and breaking beneath his hard grip.


He let it fall. “Oriana, where—” but there was a cry, and then more, on the wind. ‘The school.’ “Can you handle it?”


Her answer was affirmative, though the location she offered was not what he expected. He understood, though, as he got back to his horse and urged it towards the sounds of violence. Oriana had a captive. Good. They’d get information from him.


‘Be careful.’ He wanted to say, but didn’t, as his horse galloped towards the school. He took a few of the spare throwing knives Oriana always left with him, and as he got in sight of the school, he threw the five.


They went through five of those assailing the school before they could so much as turn around to see the source of the galloping horse. He let his hands return to normal, and drew his blade, thinking it would be much more useful in this situation. He swung out of seat of the horse, and with his unnatural speed moved to meet with one of the vampires. ‘Made.’ He noted as he saw the bloodlust and primal need in its eyes. Not a smart one, not one cared for, one turned just for the sake of causing havoc.


He cut through its heart, and moved on, deciding to single out the vampires so the humans could take on the easier prey. He could easily match the speed of any made vampire, after all. They were nothing to him, and so he let it rain blood as he took steps towards them and destroyed them, his hatred of what his father’s side did to humans growing with each one he felled.


How dare they meddle with human lives that way.


He hardly noticed how the fangs grew behind his lips, a twitch of his that happened under intense emotions. The anger, the hate, brought them forth, not the scent of blood in the air. It was fortunate he had fed, or this would have truly bothered him, too.


Among the fighters, Silvio recognized Ianthe, and his eyes went wide. Even if she could fight, he quickly found himself moving to help protect her. That dress and those shoes were not exactly a fighter’s garb, and would hinder the best of them. ‘Reinhart.’ He thought again, and realized as he saw the sword just who’s widow she was.


Grey Reinhart.


He felt an appreciation that the man had not left her wholly ignorant or unprotected.


~***~


The man was the one to laugh, a cackling, head-throwing laugh as he heard Oriana’s declaration about who the tip-off had come from. “Maybe,” his head twisted in a clearly inhuman way. “Poor little girl,” he teased, “You won’t get to find out.”


With his own declaration, the mutant woman pushed forth a gust again, but with it came the feathers—not soft, but razor sharp. Oriana was prepared only for a Noble, but she still knew how to fight other creatures. Nobles had their pets. She urged the horse forward and it ran out of the path of the feathers fast enough, and ran forward towards the two mutants. The man drew a gun, but Oriana did not care. On the other side, she heard the change of flesh to metal—a sound she was too familiar with to not notice it—but she paid little mind to it.


She rose to stand on the saddle, and jumped from it a few moments before the gun was fired. Her horse ran the man down, and she managed to catch the arm of the woman. Given, some of those sharp feathers broke through her skin and caused her harm, but it was well worth it. The shock of being caught and the extra weight was enough to pull the winged woman to the ground, with Oriana atop. Perhaps she would have been strong enough otherwise to keep them both aloft, but not that time.


Oriana crushed the mutant’s neck with the bottom of her foot, as hollow as a bird’s, and turned to the other and approached, as her horse kept running. Blood and oil leaked. The bullet must have grazed it.


Silvio started to speak, “I have it handled,” she told him, hoping she wasn’t lying as the mutant started to get to his feet. “I’ll meet you at the town hall.” For some reason that seemed better than bringing this one to Reinhart’s home.


She twirled a dagger into her hand, and as the man pointed the gun at her, she threw. His finger pulled the trigger, but his aim was off as her dagger struck his shoulder. Too high. The bullet still pierced her, but she made a concentrated effort not to stagger or flinch, but keep walking. A battle was often won when one bothered their opponent’s mind. Intimidation was power.


Oriana whistled for her horse and kicked the gun out of his hand before he could fire it again, and then kicked him to the ground, “In a few minutes, that poison is going to start numbing your extremities. In a half hour, you’ll be dead.” It worked faster with vampires, for whom blood was more important, since it poisoned the blood stream. Not that it mattered much. Once the vampire started slowing down, it was easy prey for Silvio. “I have an antidote.”


“G-give it to me.”


The horse trotted back, “Nah,” she said, and reached for the reins, then the saddlebag, to pull out a rope, “Start talking, and I’ll consider it.” She also pulled out a few cloth bandages, to wrap around the bullet wound. She couldn’t do much more in the moment, but she would soon. Every movement of her left shoulder caused her to want to scream out in pain, but she bit down on it. She was so used to pain from this life.

 

[InnocentThorns]

The carnage was unbelievable, brutal, demoralizing. If that was all this attack was, to keep the city from feeling safe, the monsters had done a superb job at frightening innocent people. Ianthe hated them all for it. She had an outlet though, as her sword was in hand, and she would not tire. Not while she still saw creatures tearing people apart in front of her, turning toward her next.


She had been moving to engage one of them when someone moved in front of her. The silver hair and tall stature could only mean that it was Silvio Aisling, there to assist them. The hunter must have been close, or heard the screaming. It was impossible to not hear it. Ianthe was certain she was going to hear it in her sleep, haunted by the vision of children being stolen from their mothers' hands.


"Mr. Aisling..." she said quietly, the cacophony not making it necessary to shout when they were so close. "Thank you for coming."


But she was not going to hide behind him. There was far more work to do. Moving next to him, she just protected his flank, as he did with her own, and cut down a vampire that was soaked in the blood of someone he had just fed upon. Her sword slashed at his torso, and the blood he had just devoured came spilling out over the ground and his clothing, and he swayed. She then drove the sword home, the metal blessed by the church and the edge honed with holy oil. He went down, and another took his place, licking pale, darkly stained lips.


"Please Mr. Aisling, you must help the others," Ianthe said after a moment. "I will be fine on my own. He did not leave me destitute of knowledge."


Part of her would have been flattered that he had come to her side first, but she knew it was only because she was female and wearing that damnable gown. Of course, she had no indication that she would have needed any other attire that night. Ianthe did pride herself on being able to dress appropriately. She tossed her hair away from her face and left his side on purpose, so that he might aid those who were still alive only because of luck. The men of Celestine were not warriors, not against creatures such as these.


Finding herself in front of two of the creatures only meant she had to fight harder, ignore what she was afraid was exhaustion pulling at her limbs. They were faster than her, but there were ways to combat that. They would look at her as an amateur. They would swing wide, thinking they would catch her on a simple dodge, never bothering to assume she would move right past their swinging claws and catch them across the torso again. Her slippers were soaked in the blood of vampires, mutants, and humans, and they left prints as she lopped off the head of one and moved for the other who tore the sleeve of her dress trying to grab at her.


Truthfully, the gown was undoubtedly already ruined, but this simply added insult to injury. If she ever got to face the Noble behind this, she would demand reparations for the gown. If only because it was a matter of principle.

 

[Lucyfer]

As a human, there was an allure to being Noble. Oriana knew it well, and imagined the allure was true to mutants, too.


Immortality.


Yet, Oriana knew it wasn’t true. Few “made” vampires were truly free-thinking. Most ended up mindless. A few ended up slaves of their maker, capable of thought, but bound to the will of their sire. As she adjusted her top to give herself ample room to wrap the wound, she said, “Why are you with the Noble, mutant?”


A sneer came to its face, but it didn’t speak. “Tick tock,” she reminded, calmly wrapping her wound as the individual struggled to his feet. Already, the poison was making it difficult to move. Feeling would be lost in his feet and fingers by now.


“What’s it—why’s it—matter?”


“It does.” Bandage tight. The wounds from the feathers still bled. “Go on. I’ll leave you here to die, otherwise.” Despite holding the rope in her hand. He eyed it, uneasy.


“Or…?”


“Depends.”


He was shaking, body cooling rapidly, blood flow slowing dramatically. It would start to impair how well he could think soon, which would be a pity, but Oriana wasn’t bluffing. She’d leave him to die. The words came out when she put a foot in the horse’s stirrup. “He promised us land, money, opportunity,” sputtered the mutant, “ain’t much for us, not outside of barberoi!”


Ah yes. Nobles and their sweet whispers. This one wasn’t seeking immortality, just life. Difficult, difficult life.


“Name the noble.” She wanted to be right on the identity.


“Nicolai Lafayette.”


Good. She was right. “And who tipped you off about us hunters?”


A pressing of lips together. A pause. Fear. Then, “Jean-Luc Harding.”


“Describe him.”


“Oh come on, you can,” a shiver, chilling continuing, and her eyes hardened with mockery. He started sputtering out the description so that Oriana knew who was meant. There was only one from that meeting it could be. Her smile was unkind as her foot left the stirrup, and she approached the mutant. She took from a pocket in her pants a glass vial, and he reached for it, but she closed her hand around it.


“Unfortunately,” she said softly, “I only have one on me, and I’ll need it.” Before he could voice his outrage at the deception, the huntress slit his throat and then pushed him back to the ground. She moved to her horse, to the saddle, and downed the poison herself before kicking her horse off into a gallop. She had built a tolerance, but it would still kill her.


More importantly, bleeding as she was, it would serve as a lure and she knew damn well that Silvio was off fighting vampires without her. That just wouldn’t do.


~***~


Women were in such a difficult position. Accepting help was weakness. Not accepting it was arrogance. There was rarely a middle ground for women in this world, but Silvio had taken a lesson to heart years ago: let them do as they would. If the woman refused help, accept that. Help them when it was painfully obvious they would die without it, but otherwise, let them struggle. The same of men. The difference was that men did not live in a world that judged them so strongly based on every little action.


If a man took help, then it was because he understood his own strengths and weaknesses.


If a man refused help, it was because he was competent.


A woman’s place was different in the eyes of others.


A woman on the council had to look strong. A woman once married to a hunter had to look competent. She was a rock in the midst of a storm, and others would come to rely on her. She could not appear to rely on another, and so Silvio let her go off on her own way, and he looked for others who needed his assistance, and dashed there.


To and fro, he made his way, and listened in on Oriana’s conversation. “Oriana, what are you doing?” He had to ask when she mentioned needing the antidote more, “I have things covered here. Don’t do anything foolish.”


Her, of course, he would speak differently to. They were not strangers. “Maybe I’m going after Nicolai, Silvio.”


“Without me?”


“I am bleeding enough to attract him, I’m sure.”


‘Especially with that poison in your—’ “Oriana, do not.”


But she didn't answer him. Within a few minutes, he smelled her, too. He knew others did, as well. His eyes narrowed on her as he saw the bloody woman atop the horse, also bleeding oil and blood, and he immediately redirected himself as some vampires took notice of her and decided she was a much tastier meal. He knew what she was doing, acting as a lure to bring them all into one place, letting more people escape, putting them all in one place for him to get at.


He didn’t like it. He never liked it, but he made a mad dash to get to her before the others did, and he impaled the first on his sword, right through the heart. “I hate you.” He vocalized.


“I hate you,” she returned pleasantly as she dropped from her horse, one foot stomping against the ground to bring a stake shooting up into her hand. Her back fell against his, and he knew it was for support and protection. She was weakening from her wounds and the poison.


He thought she’d keep the stake in hand, but curiously, she didn’t. He saw her throw it instead, but its target wasn’t a vampire. It was the leg of a man. He didn’t get a good enough look, or he would have realized it was the one described to her. No, he had too many other things to occupy his attention.


At least their numbers were dwindling. He hoped that the Noble had planned for this to be an attack to take the town, and not merely one to weaken it, but he had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach as he beheaded another, and then caught Oriana around the waist as she fell. ‘Antidote.’ Damn her. Damn her. Damn her. She’d bled too much, and his fangs ached painfully to finish the job, even though he knew the consequences of that sweetened blood. “Oriana, wake up!” He snapped.


Her eyes fluttered, and she then shifted to fall the rest of the way to the ground, out of his arms. Her hands dug into a pocket to find the antidote, to down it before she wasted too much time.

 

[InnocentThorns]

Fighting vampires when one was human was different than when fighting a normal person. Ianthe was very aware of how often she avoided looking in their eyes. It would have helped her decide what was going to happen next, but it would have also trapped her in that gaze that was nearly impossible to break. And she had no desire to die that way, or any way, that night. Instead, she zeroed in on their noses, knowing it was close enough that they would be uncertain of why they had not caught her yet.


When the second horse appeared, she saw Oriana in a sad state, and rushed through the battlefield through them, though it was not easy. Vampires were turning that way, and she had to kill a couple who foolishly had their backs turned to her, as if she were inconsequential. Nothing she had learned from Grey was to make her inconsequential. Instead, it was to make her stronger, to protect her and others. It was how Ianthe used her abilities.


Making it to Oriana's side, she knelt down next to her, knowing that Silvio would protect them as she moved to cover some of her wounds with fabric from her own torn dress, "You look horrible."


Well, there was no reason to mince words. She just wanted to help her, to know that they were not going to all succumb to the fighting that was thinning out. In fact, it felt like there was barely any going on at all. Did that mean they had won? Ianthe did not have the optimism to think so. She was far more realistic. They must have been regrouping, especially since further off, she could hear the sounds of the Celestine cavalry. They were men trained to fight, but were not particularly successful because they fought like an army, not like hunters.


"My goodness, you look worse than I do," Ianthe continued, smiling because it was easier for her to be cheerful when things were dire.


Of course, it was difficult for anyone to look worse than the two of them. Gown torn, in ribbons in some places, splattered with blood, Ianthe looked like she had caused as much carnage as she had stopped. Her dark curls were hanging down her shoulders and back, and she was thankful for it, because it was chilly and her cloak was gone, left behind at the school and undoubtedly trampled upon or stained with blood. She would have to order another.


Looking up, she tried to see if they were truly out of danger or not, but it felt like they were being watched. That eyes were on them, having retreated into the darkness of the night simply to watch them. Ianthe hovered over the female hunter, thinking about her instant admiration for Oriana. In their world, women were a salable, tradable commodity in most communities. Ianthe had no delusions of grandeur. She was on the council because she was rich and because her husband had been famous. It was not because they wanted a woman there. But Oriana had her life in control and needed no such trappings to show herself as strong as the men.


"How else might I aid you?" she asked Oriana softly.

 

[Lucyfer]

There were many things that Silvio would never allow to happen. Allow Oriana to die before her time was one of them, and he fought nearly like a man possessed—except, with the calm and collected awareness his years as a hunter had given him. No vampire got within three feet of the two women, but they all kept trying, allowing others to manage attacks on them, to kill them.


Oriana’s lure tactic always worked well on hoards. Some superior vampires were able to resist, at least when it was obvious what she was doing. When it wasn’t, they’d tricked plenty, and usually let them drink so they’d be even weaker.


That wasn’t the case this time. None would drink of Oriana.


Oriana found the comment of Ianthe amusing enough to chuckle through her own pain, the antidote restoring her senses slowly, “Vampires like blood,” she said in a conspiratorial tone to the woman who was trying to tend to her. She lifted her own hands and pushed her away, got to her feet. “Go fight. Go help that way.” Her eyes latched onto the fallen man, that idiot Jean-Luc. “The wounded get tended after the fighting.”


Though already the fighting was dying down. The cavalry had arrived, and with many so wonderfully distracted, they were taking the advantage. No made vampire would flee, but they were all faltering, all falling. The mutants, it seemed, had been killed or run off. The man in charge did not reveal himself, which left one question—was this a test of strength, or was this meant to truly wreck them?


If so, Oriana was confident he’d failed. Perhaps not on the morale front, but the town hadn’t fallen. The town came together.


As Silvio paused, started to take his breath and relax, Oriana stamped her other foot and up came the other stake. She walked towards the man. Well, swayed, but still managed it. “Would you—” Silvio sensed her movement and whipped his head around, but he saw the stake, saw the approach, and saw the field was clearing.


He straightened up, decided not to finish that sentence lest the stake end up pointed at his own heart. She said it was funny to scare him that way. He disagreed, and shut his eyes. He stilled his breathing, willing his fangs to retract, willing himself to gain control again.


Patience.


In his ear, rather than at his side, he heard Oriana kneel down by the wounded man. He did not see her put the stake at his heart, but he imagined it as she said, “Do you know how easily I could kill you, Mr. Harding?”


He opened his eyes and looked to Ianthe, and spoke to keep her from Oriana, lest she intervene out of some concern for the fallen councilmen. It was likely quite obvious now Oriana was not there to help him, “What do you know of Harding?” He would not distract from the subject, though. He needed information, too.


His eyes were attentive to movement, looking for other combatants, or someone going to save Harding. The man’s fate was already sealed; the hunters weren’t there to make friends, but to protect the entire town.

 

[InnocentThorns]

"There is, luckily, very little fighting left," Ianthe replied.


But she did not take it personally, she knew that the warrior's spirit was in the other woman. She herself was more of a nurturer. At least, that was what Grey had always told her. She had embraced it, and liked to take it into the classroom with her. But she went to finish off a few of the stragglers, until she noticed that Oriana and Silvio were hovering over someone who was fallen. Coming toward them, she saw that it was someone familiar, someone from the council.


Shocked, she came closer, only to be stopped from moving closer to Oriana and Harding by a look from Silvio. Somehow, she knew that it was better if she just stayed back, watched, though it was becoming clear what was going on. There had indeed been a human helping the vampires, and possibly the Noble himself, though it hurt to know that it was one of the council members. She moved closer, though it was not to stop Oriana.


"Jean-Luc...how could you?" Ianthe asked, not out of hurt, but because she truly could not understand how damnation could seem better than a high place in the society he was born into.


Yet, even though he had betrayed them, he was human. He had to be put on trial, though she knew the penalty for working willingly with a Noble toward the destruction of humanity was death. But it was what he deserved. For betraying them all.


"Oriana," she said firmly. "Please do not kill him. He must stand trial for his crimes. You can question him in the prison."


Not that she knew whether this would work or not. Instead, she turned to Silvio, "Mr. Aisling, please. I know he's betrayed us, but there are laws for a reason. You hunt monsters in monster form. Not monsters in human form."


The cavalry had approached by then, knowing their councilwoman in the light of the torches. She was going to wait though until Oriana got up. This was not going to turn into something with hard feelings and the disruption a fight would cause. If there was a peaceful way to finish all of this, she certainly wanted to find it. Ianthe held her sword to the side, not in a fighting stance at all.


"The battle is over. We have won, and he will pay for his crimes. Let us return to Graywood and rest. In the morning, you will have all the time you need with him to get the answers you seek."

 

[Lucyfer]

There was a glint that a man got in his eyes when he was guilty, but felt safe. Oriana knew it better than Silvio—she knew humans better than Silvio, and she saw it as the cavalry approached. “Get this crazy bitch off me, I don’t know what she wants!” He tried to squirm, but Oriana pressed the stake down.


Blood bubbled up from his chest. He whimpered. Silvio kept his blade in hand. “Widow Reinhart, I have not done anything!” Nothing had even been stated, and he looked confused, “I don’t know—please get her off me!”


The cavalry was there, and Silvio moved calmly to be between them and Oriana, as Oriana ignored the request made by Ianthe. No, she would not let Harding up, and no she would not let him go to a prison until she had answers. In the prison, his sense of security would skyrocket.


Here, in this moment, he knew his life hung in the balance. “Where does the Noble reside, Jean-Luc?” Oriana asked, voice steady even if she knew they might all choose to go the way of their laws and their society.


She heard the whisper of Silvio, but could not make it out. It was to Reinhart, “Your laws are what allow human monsters to exist,” he had seen how harsh laws on the frontier often favored the well-placed, and destroyed the lives of others. This Harding man would do well. “He will be safe in your prison,” Silvio said, “and he will plead innocent.” And there was no evidence otherwise.


Even if Oriana hadn’t killed the mutant, who would take the mutant’s word? Not a soul.


“Did you see the vampires here tonight, Harding?” Oriana continued. “Did you see how primal they were. That’s all you’d be.”


“I don’t know what you’re—”


“Mindless. Enslaved to Lafayette at best, a dutiful servant,” Oriana had to get into his head, get him angry to break him into a confession. Wound his ego. “But most likely, you’d be one of them, without even a mind to serve.”


Oriana had to hope she’d be given enough time to find out where this Lafayette was residing, so that she and Silvio could go there during the day, and end this easily.

 

[InnocentThorns]

"Mindless. Enslaved to Lafayette..."





That name was all Ianthe had to hear before she was stricken, to her very core. It might have been easier for others to not be so easily thrown off, but she was not others. In fact, she was certainly not as strong as those vampire hunters, or the man who had come to put his faith in a Noble who would undoubtedly never give him what he wanted. She stood there, ashen faced for a moment, before she turned away.


Harding's fate was no longer of any consequence to her. Mostly because she was flooded with memories. Thoughts of a night that she would never forget, that would be burned into the grey matter of her mind for the rest of her life, whether it lasted another breath or another million years.


"Do you have to go?" she asked him softly, sitting in the chair he had brought into the armory for her especial use. Grey liked it when she sat with him while he prepared.


"It's a noble, Ianthe. Of course I do," he replied.


Grey came over to her, his golden wheat hair catching the gaslight and giving him a halo that made her want to smile, even through all her worry. He lifted her chin and kissed her gently, "I will be back with you before you know it. All I ask is you stay in the manor through tonight. It is the safest place you can be."


"That is why you built it for us."


"For our family," he said, crouching down in front of her.


His hand went to her stomach, touching it gently, "I will be back, little one. Just as I promised your mother."


"Then we can tell people? Helena and her family?"


Grey nodded, "Yes. I've had enough of my foolish time on my own, enjoying our little secret."


Helping her from the chair, they left the armory, and he went to the front door, where Brandt was holding his coat. Grey had prepared himself by washing in holy water and wearing a large cross over his waistcoat. He also had a collar around his neck, locked there with a key that he liked to give to Ianthe to wear around her neck, that would protect him. The dark coat and the hat went on, and his massive axe went on his back. Turning, he moved to his beloved wife again, touching her cheek.


She was just as beautiful as she was the first time he had seen her, there in the city of Celestine, gathering the children at the primary school to go inside from their recess. It was the first time a woman had made him stop his horse in its tracks. It was not just her beauty, but the genuine care she gave to the children who were her responsibility. Rich or poor, she gathered them all up with the kind of maternal comfort that he valued in people in the harsh frontier. It had only been harder and harder to leave as he knew her more.


"I love you," he said softly, kissing her.


It was the last time she would see her husband as the man she knew. It was nearly dawn as the banging on the door woke the entirety of Graywood Manor. In her dressing gown, Ianthe came running down to the front door even before Brandt, pulling the door open to find her husband battered and bloody, one arm broken so badly that bone stuck out of the flesh, a ragged end of parts never meant to be seen. He collapsed on her, Ianthe barely managing to catch him. She felt a twinge of pain in her midsection, but figured it was just Grey falling on her, and managed to get him into the house.


"Grey," she said, trying to get him to open his eyes.


He did, just once more to look up at her, and she saw both of them had been put out. A smile touched his bloodied lips.


"I wanted to hear your voice. One more time..."


The eyes closed again, and she was shrieking his name, Brandt and the others at her side. The bite marks were apparent on his throat, and even through her grief, she knew what had to be done. Ianthe had removed her beloved husband's head so he could not rise again as a vampire, right there in the front hall. The sun rose on her weeping over his body, not knowing yet that she had also lost the child the two of them had been so excited about only hours later.





When she could think again, breathe again, Ianthe looked at Harding with dead, broken eyes. Let them kill him if that was their desire. She had not let her husband go, nor her dead child. But she knew, she knew that name. It was the name of the Noble responsible for it all. Turning, Ianthe began to walk for home, not afraid to be alone at night. She had nothing to lose, not in recent memory, and she was armed even if she was accosted. Heart beating painfully in her chest, she headed for home, unable to see anything but the memories replaying in her head over and over again.

 

[Lucyfer]

“Get off Lafayette, hunter!” One of the men did dare to bark, as Ianthe walked away. Some might have taken it for a sign of defeat or disappointment in the hunters, but Silvio saw more. He saw the ashen face. It momentarily confused him; did she not know which Noble?


The look on her face said she knew the name, but for her to turn away like that indicated it was not the name she expected. ‘I heard Oriana say it.’ All of their information had led them to believe it, and Silvio had heard Oriana in the meeting room, yet Ianthe had not walked then. Perhaps she had been in a state of denial, only now cleared up.


He believed that.


Much as he knew Harding was lying as he said, “I would never work with that sonofabitch, not after what he did to us!” Us, as a town, he meant.


Someone moved to grab Oriana, and Silvio put his blade in the way. “Do not,” he spoke lowly. He would not kill if he could avoid it, but this was for the town’s own good.


“But you imagine what he can do to you. You imagine you’ll be better than all of those vampires just killed, but you won’t be,” the stake pushed down deeper.


“I WOULD BE!” He roared out, and this time him flailing was more focused. He was able to buck Oriana almost off of him, but she got her bearings quick enough and with her free hand, slammed him back down hard.


There was a gasp through the crowd, and Silvio turned from them, no longer worried that they’d intervene, although someone muttered about confession under duress. “That’s why he came to me,” a laugh, “So go on, throw me in the cell. He’ll—”


Apparently kill him. Silvio knew he should have saved the man for the information he had, but his concern was Oriana when he saw the inhumanly fast assault come. Many Nobles had particular talents, and Lafayette’s was as infamous as the Mayerlings. He reached down for Oriana and lifted her from Harding just as the root of a tree beneath him rose up to impale him the way the stake had threatened to.


He pulled her back against him as he stepped away, glaring out into the darkness in the direction he assumed the vampire was in, as the crowd fretted and panicked. ‘There goes morale.’ So this battle was merely a test, not an all out assault. If it were, Lafayette would have seen the attack through to him, as well, but he was playing with them. It was not geomancy, the dhampir knew, but an ability to drain life from something and control it. Silvio saw the line of plants as they died to reach Jean-Luc and Oriana. It was an ability that Silvio had first heard of in listening of the downfall of the Barberoi, and of one mutated dhampir who could drain life not from just humans, but anything, even oil. Plants had been a favorite. Then, she could control it, like any vampire could control what they drank from.


Oriana tried to break from his grip then, and he whispered. “No. Not now.” And he waited for the words to register and kick in, as someone shouted at them.


He let Oriana go and turned his gaze upon the gathered. “Prepare,” he suggested, and walked off, to his horse and to Oriana’s, with her following. They would return to the home of Ianthe and hear what she had to say. They would scour the lands in the day.

 

[InnocentThorns]

There was a sense of relief when Ianthe got to the gates of Graywood. She was so afraid before that something would happen, something that would knock her from her thoughts. But she had walked home without almost never even needing to look where to go. When she arrived, Brandt was already running out of the house with a blanket, wrapping it around her, easing the sword from her hand.


"What happened, my lady?"


"Lafayette," she murmured softly.


He visibly winced, and guided her inside, nodding to the night doorman to stand guard. There were vampires afoot that night, though none of them were at the protected manor. They would have to work hard to get past all of Graywood's defenses. Grey Reinhart had built the place before marrying Ianthe Kellerman, local school teacher, so that he could put his most precious possession somewhere that the vampires he hunted could never get near it. He had then hired only people who he had saved from vampires. Brandt was one of those people.


Ianthe allowed the butler to bring her inside, but instead of going to her chambers to clean up and strip off her gown, she went through the house, beyond the ballroom and the formal dining room, to a pair of doors that were locked. She opened them with the combination she knew so well, and left them open, heading down the wide set of steps. It was not a basement she was heading for, but a shelter, one meant to keep out vampires and to arm the people who had to go down there. It was vampire technology gleaned from Nobles that Grey had slain, and the door opened when it scanned her eyes for her.


Inside, there were a number of weapons, from swords and stakes, to flintlocks and ammunition that was blessed and engraved with crosses. But it was the axe hanging on the wall that she was most interested in. It was Grey's weapon of choice, and of course, even though he had a sword made just for her, she would never do what she was planning to do without it. It was large, but made of a metal that was so lightweight that even she could use it easily. The axe blade was not metal, but made of a beam of energy that cut through flesh in a way she did not understand.


But she could certainly appreciate it.


Setting her sword aside, she had to take a moment. It was painful, easing her cramped fingers off the hilt, mostly because the blood that had dried stuck her fingers to the handle and she had left them that way, not caring. Flakes of dried blood fluttered to the floor slowly as she eased her hand away from the weapon, and then set it up against the chair that had gone unused since that horrible day. But that was not anything to think of any longer.


Going to the wall, she picked up the axe slowly, gripping it hard enough that the blade came to light, illuminating the shadows around her. She was going to kill Lafayette. He had taken everything from her and did not even know her name. She would make certain he murmured it before he died at her hand.

 

[Lucyfer]

The ride there was slow, slower than normal. Oriana rocked in her saddle, unstable and clearly dehydrated. Her head remained bowed, and Silvio watched her carefully. “We’ll rest,” he said to her. “In the morning we’ll resume the hunt. We will find where his lair is. It cannot be far.” Though they knew not the direction. Guesswork could be the end of them.


Nicolai’s real attack would come that following night. It would be better to put him down during the day. “Do we still have a time bewitching incense?”


Slowly, Oriana shook her head. “Used the last one back against Reed,” she reminded, “We haven’t found a place to restock material for me to make more.”


He thought as much. That would make things difficult, too, if they had to take on the vampire at night. They’d pull through, of course. Silvio would not let pessimism cloud his thoughts, but he knew it would be difficult. He would have to weigh things carefully from this point on.


They came through the trees to the gated manor of Graywood. Silvio dismounted once they were before the door, and he helped Oriana down. She could stand, fortunately. He looked around for the one who had taken their horses, before Oriana said, “He’s likely sleeping. Come,” and grabbed the reins of her own cybernetic creature to lead it back to the stables where she’d found it before.


Silvio followed after her, bringing his horse along, too. The stables were not difficult to find, and both were familiar with the process of de-tacking their horses. They’d done it so many times it required almost no thought. Once the task was finished, they both returned to the front of the house, where Silvio knocked upon the door in the hopes someone was within and awake to let the pair of them inside the manor.