89 Arrest (Part 2)

My minor cut seeps with a foul scent, it burns. I feel a stiffness in my hand. I suck at my thumb and spit.

Poison, that weapon was laced. It seems anyone who intends to do me harm resorts to poison and silver.

'They wish to apprehend, not execute on sight? An interesting and disturbing revelation.'

I lend my attention to the hooded figures perched in a half circle, dressed in velvet black cloaks. They are spaced like the hourly markers of a sundial, the dense fog now only partially concealing them as mystical Stonehenge rising from the earth.

All quite still, howbeit, many are rigid from the speed of my retaliation. In all likelihood, intimidated by my aggression that needs little provocation. Curious they did not react, perhaps they were unprepared for my strike?

Dim rings glitter within their hooded faces, all fixed and more wary than their fallen.

They could spring at any moment, the rising threat of power flowing over my foes has my beast jaunty for foreseeable bloodshed. I feel that unquenchable monster stir from within.

The corner of my mouth twitches and my playfulness returns. It appears they want to talk first. If they believe I will come quietly they were sorely misinformed.

"My crimes?" I ask with feigned innocence.

A few reflective eyes blink in the dark, some shifting downward at the body I dispatched.

"For the murder of a high Thorn leader in cold blood."

I look down at the armless corpse, then glance back into the cloak with irises of sky blue, "Oh? Was this one Thorn? I was simply defending myself," I grin, "surely you cannot fault me for my ignorance."

"Year 1938, for the murder of Isabelle Pemberton, leader of Zepherine. And many other malfeasances you are not ignorant of," the presumed blue eyed chief of this brigade responds unmoved, "Surrender… Juniper."

"Isabelle Pemberton? Cold blood?" I recite with incredulity, "Surely you have proof of these alleged violations."

Cold blood is debatable, but I did murder her... ate her heart. She was the most powerful vampire I had ever devoured. She took from me so I took her life and her gift in return, but also inherited her curse.

The ailments I gained were similar to the ones I've suffered since my turn. Poison herbs have become more of a hindrance, which is unfortunate given the current circumstance.

"You have been prosecuted. Come quietly or we will take you by force."

"1938 was nearly a century ago," I wave my hand contemptuously, "Does the Thorn not let bygones be bygones? And what of my defense, what reason do I have to murder a Thorn unprovoked?" I stand, picking myself from the fresh corpse with my hands plainly visible, the unease from the group grows evermore potent, "Are you simply sent to apprehend me on their word alone? Are you dogs to the whims of your master?"

I cross my arms and tilt my head, flattening my smile, "And how do I know *you* are not Thorn imposters?"

I narrow my eyes, unable to restrain my smirk as it spreads again. They are unmistakably Thorn but I've always liked questioning ones that are so resolute and this buys me time to measure my opponents.

There are many, some may be afraid but they all appear more competent than the one I recently extinguished. My odds are not good. I will attempt to isolate and take out as many as I can.

Six on one, is it? I bite into my lip experiencing that wash of vicious hunger. My monster is chanting for violence once again. There is nothing more thrilling than a challenge.

An utterance of objection sounds from one of the vampires before their presumed leader cuts it short with a sudden flick of his hand, he never takes his gaze from mine. The same outstretched hand drifts to a pin near his lapel, a valuable looking brooch of a single flower on a stem, "I bear Thorn Altissimo's sigil. Our allegiance lies with them."

"Is that fancy trinket supposed to mean something to me?"

"Enough stalling, we will take you willingly or broken. Choose now."

His commitment to the cause amuses me. If he were alone I'd goad him to the point of exhausted patiences.

"I will not go with you," I state with a sneer, adrenaline and hunger coursing hot through my veins, "I reject your laws and the travesty that you call justice. It has no hold on me. I was born without rule and I will die without rule."

Small rays mirror off bits of scattered metal as many raise weapons, the sour ringing of silver and poison floating among them. I flash my teeth. I prefer my natural weapons and free hands to plunder.

"Then by blood," he declares his final warning, all eyes illuminating like rows of gas lamps breathing oxygen as they flicker to life.

I examine my opponents, my own eyes flaring with excitement. I am outnumbered but surrender is not my way and will do me no favor. I may fall, but not before taking my pound of flesh.

My first target and my second are marked, that unexpected banter alloted me time to plot.

With a raised hand and tilted chin, I beckon them. The tension liken to harpsichord wire pulled taut and thin, ready to snap. A glint of fire flashes in my core and I can taste their life on my tongue.

I snarl through my fangs, "Then come at your own peril."

Several blades are queued by my taunt as archer soldiers might send their barrage of arrows to blacken the sky.

I launch, airborne dodging all but two. A star in my shoulder and a dart in my thigh. The poison mixture is potent, my flesh curls as my muscles stiffen from the sting.

I roll, then crouch on all fours. Wasting no time, I lunge for my first target, the vampire that is most secluded and advantageously positioned, taking his leg out from under him.

He's not altogether unprepared for the assault, raising a dagger and side swiping, plunging the curved point for my temple. And I am not unprepared for the counter, grappling his wrist and redirecting it into his own neck, maring his flesh and pulling the blade through like a lever.

He gurgles, black spewing out of his mouth and gushing from his throat, more metal shrieks against the air. I enfold myself around his torso and roll with him, blanketing myself with his body. His chest jerk as more blades meant for me hail, sticking into his flesh.

My nails sink into his scalp. I let out an unintelligible yell, kicking him into a cluster of aggressors, the drowning cry is silence by a wet tear. I scramble to retreat for cover and better ground, the dismembered head thuds as I release.

A heavy chain comes whooping, catching and nearly clotheslining before I can flee.

"Gah!"

It coils once around my throat and tightens. My fingers fly upward catching the second forming loop. I pull to separate but am given no time to detangle. The cutting links whip back to retract.

I dance on my toes to stay upright, more darts and handleless daggers flitting on all sides. The links clank and jerk as they strangle, numbing my neck as if my head is hovering detached, a wave of nausea nearly sends me to my knees.

I make a choked snarl as another blade embeds itself in my calf, still fighting the drag of the chain. The trees and bleak clouded sky rock as the wielder reels me forcefully, violently like a trout on a line.

One arm encircles my chest. I throw my head backwards with a gutteral yowl, forcing a throaty grunt as the attacker's skull shatters and caves at the brow. I spin, unraveling like regal carpet.

The vampire refuses to release the morning star whip, weapon handle still firm in hand. I grip the chain and yank him to me.

'Too reliant on weapons.' I muse at his attachment, striking his throat and shredding it with teeth, pulling at his flesh in strips.

My vision begins to sway as the razored end of the whip pulls at my flesh and more poison seeps in. My spine clicks going stiff and cold. I thrust the near-dead whipper into another foe, springing from behind.

Tearing at the chains I cry out enraged, using anger to keep me hot and moving. I swing it above my head like a steel bolas, hurling the silver links at the radiant eyes multiplying by twos, charging for a dogpile.

The floating eyes scatter like fireflies with the sound of a pride of cats hissing as they disperse. One gaged holler pierces the dark as the chain ensnares an unlucky victim.

A sharp pain flares up my arm, I lurch back receiving a deeper gouge into my shoulder blade. Two blurred lithe figures continue the onslaught, taking jab after jab with butterfly knives, bouncing like acrobats as they heave with manic swipes. Due to my groggy state they appear as four, surrounding on all angles.

A blade rings as it sweeps past my nose. My body twists in recoil as the tip of the other blade stings across my back again, slitting my clothing like a maw. I duck, attempting to dive out of the two man circle and cough abruptly as I am forced back by an elbow or knee, shoved directly into the aggressive stab by the other. I release a ragged hiss as my shoulder is skewered by silver before it sings back out.

I bare teeth swiping and am nicked a third and a fourth time.

I snarl as they blur, letting out a controlled breath, following the white arc as the arm scoops on the upward thrust. I clamp down into the arm with teeth, catching it in the air and am rewarded with a shriek. The one at my back hisses as they lunge forward, knife plucking strands of my hair as they aim the blade for my throat.

I jerk back, peeling muscle with fangs as I whip around, tackling the one behind. Roars and snarls rise as we brawl, stumbling then crashing into the wooden railing. We bust through the planks with our violent momentum and plunge into frigid water.

Plummeting headfirst into the murky swamp, the muted sounds pop into screams as I surface. The vampire I took under emerges gasping and I fall upon them to dunk her back under, submerging her head once again.

They panic, bubbles boiling the surface as they scream under water. They would have fared better holding their breath. She begins to suffocate as her insides fill with sludge.

The taste of blood and the woman's failing limbs encourages mad cackling through my clenched teeth. My hands find her throat and squeeze, I feel out the collapse of her windpipe. I laugh harder as I enfold.

Two splashes join us in the mud and overgrown weeds as the cacophony of disarray continues on shore. As individuals they are formidable but as a unit they are sorely disorganized.

I break the neck of the drowning one, not able to sever the head before being tackled by another and submerged again.

We roll, entangled in the moss, jabbed by tough reeds as we struggle through the floaty resistance of the foreign battlegrounds. My sight is a wash of filth and water mixing about. We bob like a lone boyue, tossed about in an angry sea with giant waves to be ripped from anchor. Hair is matted, pulled and torn from the root as I blindly claw anything resembling flesh.

The muddy water becomes inky as our wounds blacken and taint it further. I swallow an odious mouthful of swamp as a sharp pain digs into my side. I thrash to blow out the gunk. Sound warbles as we're thrown up and down, in and out of the choppy bog water.

The bigger body is above, drowning mine, wedging me against the squishy bottoms. A hand compresses my skull against a rock in the shallow. I tear at the girthy forearm for a release.

The temptation to flail increases with his palm pressed to my forehead. His fingers squeezing harder, crushing into my temples and scalp. I garble more water.

I curl like a dying insect on its' back. My toes scrape across something solid. I huff out all remaining air in two puffs. A kick of my left then my right.

The pressure is released, sucked away. I scramble to the surface, inhaling and gagging on stinging air as I reemerge.

I'm temping myself to the nearest bank, kicking through the moss in no particular direction. My vision is distorted as if oil is smeared through every edge of color. My head is pounding, mind terribly clouded,

Panicked screams and commands are being shouted all around. My limbs ache with unnatural stiffness. I'm tired, cold yet feverish with mania.

A hand clasps my arm. I whirl around in a craze, attacking without thought. Fingers ripping into flesh, teeth biting until they meet in the middle. I'm tearing savagely without pattern or reason, separating flesh from bone. A howling, mewling sound rises from my chest.

I feel the familiar piercing of fangs in my arm and strike at their face. I crush anything with this misfortune of meeting my claws, dragging my nails across a fleshy curtain and working it to ribbons. Bones or stone crumbling and cracking, the porous seaweed or strewn intestines as I yank a fistful then go for another. Emptying my wake as I scream and growl.

No thoughts, only a craving for blood and terror from this increasing impairment which only enrages me further.

The opposing strain relents and I feel the remains float away in pieces. A crack of heat hisses as orange light engites the atmosphere. I stumble back into the bog, shielding my eyes from the abrupt burst of brilliant light.

Fire dances on atop black water, clamor and racket is inhaled as if sucked from a massive tube. I spin in the murky sludge comprehending a full circle of hellish inferno in which I am trapped within. The flames stretch skyward and heat bristles, fire steaming and bubbling the water like molten steel pouring in.

I take myself to the middle, submerging my lower half. Ready to dive under if the circle begins to shrink. I feel my limbs sway and my vision falter. Fatigue is setting in, I may not hold out much longer. I cry out deranged as I rip the silver blades still clinging to my flesh. Not a cry of pain but wracked with dread and rage. The dread of being captured and tortured again. It's only a matter of time before the poison forces my collapse.

There is a hiss of disapproval as someone barks the command, "Away with your weapons. She is mine now!"

"You can not have her, Mordecai. She is not your claim. Christina wants her alive," contends another from across the swamp.

"I said back!" retaliates a resonant hiss.

I lock eyes with him. A lone figure on the opposite bank of the swamp. A mirage beyond the fire. Eyes as orange as the hungry flames, even in my haze it is unmistakable. He desires violence.

"Yes," his voice slithers in a delighted tone. The irises waving as his head dip into a nod.

It becomes clear in my delirium. If I rid him from my path, I will escape. I must destroy him.

"Come…" I expel a growl, craving the taste of his life.

'Kill… Kill… KILL!'

I throw my head back and bellow into the night as my vision rocks. He's walking to me, a smile stretched, gleaming in the dark. I begin to howl with laughter, eager to tear into his flesh. His shadowy figure distorts and ripples, but he must die. I must remain conscious long enough to tear him apart.

His low laughs rumbles to match my derangement. My breath rasps through my clenched teeth. My own blood mixing and pooling around my gums, more dripping from my palms as my nails bite into the skin as they convulse with feverish hunger. All my energy, all concentration pouring into his demise by my hand.

I feel the bottom of the shallow bog disappear. My feet hover above the muddy water. I will myself to rise with my stolen gift, resolve to fly over the flames, slaughter the one with fire in his eyes.

His glowing sockets are erratic and unstable, beckoning with their call. My monster is chanting like a stampede, 'Kill him! Eat him! Take his heart!'

The flames are dancing in my vision, spreading and distorting. His laugh provokes my violent inclination. The earth tremors as an earthquake might, sound ringing then suppressed. My limbs disappear, numb, sight blurring into shapes and shapes bleeding into obscurity.

"No…no!" I cry out in frustration, yet it is slurred and incomprehensible, my vision begins to dim. I feel myself weaken, hunger for him writhing in my gut, I'm falling from the sky.

My consciousness drifts far off without return. I lose sight of purpose, my convictions, lose all fear, lastly my rage and hunger as it too desolves. And the beastly screaming in my head quiets to eerie nothingness. It all goes dormant as disembodied shouts echo in the space around.

My body slams into a massive force but I feel no pain. The ground gives as I float in a void with no trace of light nor sound. Inescapable… Fate.