Hunger Pains

Selene groggily opened her eyes, her gaze eventually fixing on the same stone ceiling she'd seen several times before. It seemed that she was still imprisoned. A few moments after she regained consciousness, the familiar resignation settled in.

[If I am awake again, that means they'll be starting the interrogation again soon. Ah...the boss is going to be pissed about this.]

It was a distant concern. A large part of her realized that the chances of Mike finding her now were slim. Her captors had seen to that by taking her to this secluded hideout once they'd severed her familiar bond, something she had not thought possible.

More as a formality than anything else, she once again tried to strain at the chains binding her, but they remained securely fastened. After a few seconds of effort, she collapsed back, her vision narrowing for a moment as the exertion left her lightheaded.

She still wasn't exactly certain what her captors had done to her that had made her so weak, but she felt like a decrepit old woman.

[Really, just how lousy is my luck. First I get turned into a monster and abandoned by all of my friends, then I get picked up by the boss and forced to run myself ragged over the whole world to look for information he usually ends up ignoring. Finally, I get captured by these bastards right when I was about to find out something big. It feels like I'm stuck on a miserable path with no hope of escape. Did I piss off a god in a past life or something?]

Her ruminations on her fate were interrupted by the door to the small chamber banging open. A trio of guards in dark full plate stomped in and took up their now familiar positions around the room. After a few moments, the scarred man walked in, a smile plastered on the horror of his face.

The figure that stood in the doorway was whip thin, nearly skeletal. His dark robes hung off of him like a sheet on a clothesline. This time his hood had been drawn back to reveal his nausea inducing face and head.

If Selene had to describe him, she would be forced to say that he resembled a poorly assembled puzzle made of leather scraps. By all appearances, the man had been flayed alive at some point and had the resulting strips of skin sewn back together haphazardly. How he could have survived something like that was a mystery, but the resulting scar tissue had twisted his face into a mockery of a person.

The wrenched mouth opened into a gap-toothed grin, a bit of spittle flowing from the corner, and emitted a hoarse whisper. "Now, my dear. Have you had quite enough rest? Are you ready to continue?"

Selene mustered up enough energy to glare at him angrily, but didn't bother to respond.

"Haha," The interrogator chortled. "Still feisty, are we? Excellent. I had hoped you wouldn't make this easy. There are still a few techniques I've yet to employ. It would be quite the shame to let them go to waste."

A chill ran down her spine. Surely he wasn't planning on…

The scarred man leaned in close, whispering a little more quietly. "I'm sure you are familiar with the process by now, so I will begin with the usual question. Who do you work for?"

As much as her bindings would allow, she turned her head away from the horror of the man's face as well as the accompanying scent of rot that came with each raspy word.

"Well, well, no sassy comebacks? No insults? No half-hearted attempts to mind control us with your voice? We really are making progress. A few more days of this, and we'll be ready to welcome you back into the fold."

Selene gritted her teeth to ensure that she didn't let out an inadvertent whimper. As terrified as she was, she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear.

"However, seeing as you have not yet realized the futility of your continued resistance, I believe it is time to move on to one of our more effective methods of persuasion."

The interrogator motioned to one of the guards, who promptly wheeled in a little cart carrying a wide variety of implements. After a quick glance, Selene chose to focus on the ceiling again. She really didn't want to see what was coming.

Unfortunately, this only seemed to spur the scarred man further, as he held a jagged hook in front of her while explaining with obvious pride. "This is one of my personal favorites. It may look crude and brutal, but there are a wealth of ways you can put it to use. You see I treasure versatility…"

His words began to fade out as something began building in the depths of Selene's mind. It felt a bit like the connection she had with Mike, a mental bond that had the back of her head tingling with the presence of another person. Only this time, it felt...different.

Her boss's mind was fairly calm and unobtrusive. Even when he was mentally messaging her, his impact on her thoughts was minimal. If she had to describe it, his connection was a bit like drinking lukewarm water. It's taste was plain enough that one would quickly forget anything about it once they were done.

In contrast, this new connection was like throwing back a shot of distilled liquor. It burned, and she could feel her consciousness quivering under the effects of the intrusion.

It was clear that someone was trying to reach her, but even in her terrible situation, something about this new person terrified her. She sensed a sort of depth to the mind on the other side of the mental connection that hinted at something beyond her comprehension.

So concerning was this potential threat that she honestly considered shielding herself from it to the best of her ability in the hopes of avoiding it, even though it might very well be her only option for deliverance from her current circumstances.

However, her memories of the last few hours won out in the end. She didn't think she could tolerate another round of questioning, and feared that her sanity would start to crack. Since madness apparently was the outcome of either option, she decided to go for the one that at least had a chance of saving her from further suffering.

So, Selene embraced the connection.

--------------------------------------------

"Does she still refuse to answer?" The Marquis asked distractedly. He was focused on the latest reports concerning the situation in Gildusi, a much more serious threat to the Court's interests. It didn't take much effort for Pithke to realize that he was not really interested in the interrogation of potential spies.

Indeed it was quite common for said spies to simply be executed once they were discovered, but in this particular case, the woman they found had some unusual traits. Some of which were only known to occur among Vargulfs. The highest levels of the Court decided to uncover the secret of her existence and ordered a complete investigation.

Which was why Marquis Montiffiat was overseeing the questioning, something that was ordinarily well beneath him. It was clear that this menial task was wearing on the man's ego, and Pithke expected an outburst or tantrum sometime in the near future.

"Not as yet, my lord, but you know that Naristan's methods take time. Surely by tomorrow, we can expect more favorable news." Pithke answered from his position kneeling on the floor. He couldn't see the Marquis's face, but he was quite certain the ancient vampire's mouth had pulled back in a snarl of disgust.

"That twisted monstrosity thinks too highly of himself, and I will not tolerate his inefficient methods for long. Go tell him that he has until sunset tomorrow to break the woman, or I will find someone else who can."

Pithke suppressed a sigh. This is why he hated working for one of the ancients. They had an intense hostility towards the unfamiliar or unusual. Any plan that didn't rely on techniques long honed by one's predecessors was sure to earn their disparagement.

"I will, my lord, but I feel I must remind you that Naristan was given his post by the Queen. Any attempt to interfere in his duties may be considered tre-"

With a crash, the Marquis's fist slammed into the stone wall of the chamber, cratering it despite the fact that this particular section of the hideout was carved from the bedrock, and therefore should be amongst the most sturdy in the entire complex.

"I don't need you to remind me of anything! Tell that wretch what I said, and make sure he gets the job done!"

For a brief moment, Pithke felt a surge of anger at the ancient, and it took nearly all of his willpower to resist the urge to throw himself across the table and attempt to throttle the man. This of course would have quickly resulted in his death, since there was little he could do against one of the most powerful vampires as a pitiful, mortal human.

Suppressing his rage by relying on his long years of experience serving the Court, he managed to school his emotions long enough to say, "Very well, my lord. I will see to it."

"Good, now get out of my sight-"

Something washed through the room, an imperceptible surge of an intangible energy that passed over them without any warning. The sensation was so strange that Pithke momentarily hallucinated the image of a tidal wave flowing in the chamber and smothering them both. Before he had a chance to be distrubed by that however, he was hit by intense hunger pains.

Hunger was no stranger to the old man. He could recall nearly being pushed to the brink of madness on a few occasions when he was growing up on the streets, but this was somehow fundamentally different. For a brief moment, it seemed that nothing could ever fill the void that had become his stomach, but the sensation soon passed.

After a few seconds, he felt well enough to speak, and raised his head to ask the Marquis. "Do you know what that was, my lord?"

Mere moments after the words had left his lips, he realized that the vampire noble was not acting in his usual manner. The man was bent over, face clenched in his hands, a grimace of pain or anger peeking out from between his fingers. However, as soon as Pithke spoke, the Marquis's head snapped up, revealing a beastial snarl.

The ancient vampire's eye's had changed color, with the normal white sclera being colored with a dark, bloody red. His fangs had protruded, filling his mouth with serrated, hook-shaped horrors that were the trademark of the lamprey-like Vilusi clan.

A trail of drool spilled from his lips as he rose and began slowly climbing over the desk, his bloody gaze fixed on the prey in front of him.

Fear overwhelmed Pithke, an unremitting tide of it that shut out all other thoughts and feelings. He wanted nothing more than to run screaming from the room, but some long forgotten survival instinct told him that as soon as he turned away, the predator stalking him would pounce.

Trapped in a hellish prison of indecision, he was forced to wait as the dangerous creature grew ever closer to the point that he could feel it's warm breath on his face. Just when he began to think that this couldn't go on any longer, that he must do something, anything, the wall to the office exploded.

A massive, brown furred creature smashed into the room, showering both of its occupants with debris. It took a few moments for Pithke to recognize the hulking monstrosity as a Vargulf, and by then the two vampires were squaring off, hissing at each other like cats.

Before he had the chance to slip away in the resulting confusion, the two beasts threw themselves at each other, ripping and tearing at each other's flesh in an orgy of bloodshed and violence.

Unfortunately for Pithke, he was still in the line of fire, and the last thing he saw was one brown-furred tree trunk of a leg swinging in at his face.