Hunted Ch 05

Disclaimer: Warning! This story contains some fetishes that may make some uncomfortable: BDSM, Bondage, and Bloodplay for example. Also this story contains gothic themes such as Vampires, Demons, etc. If this is not for you then hit the back button on your browser now. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

-Dannygirl

*

"How the...?" I mutter under my breath as I gaze out upon the calm ocean waters. The moonlight reflects of the still surface of the water, highlighting the gentle tides as they lap at the beach upon which I am standing.

Monica's trail leads right to this point, right INTO the bloody ocean...

I mean, sure, she HAS to cross the ocean to get to the church, but I honestly wasn't expecting THIS. How is this possible? Did she simply dive into the water and expect to swim to North America?

Can vampires do that? ...Swim across the ocean? I suppose I don't see any reason why not, I mean: Their bodies are already cold, icy waters wouldn't really kill them. They don't get tired or fatigued, like even I do. They move so fast that they could clear the ocean pretty quickly, and if the sun rises they could dive so deep that they could hide from the sun's light completely.

I frown: Okay, this is bad. If Monica and her vampire cohorts decided to swim across the ocean, then I'm going to have a hard time beating them to the church. Unlike them, I'm going to have to fly, and as much as I wish I had wings, I'm just going to have to do it like any other mortal would: The crummy airlines.

The temporary vampiric powers bestowed upon me by drinking Darrien's blood are already starting to fade: The night begins to blur as the night vision that allowed me to see in the dark with perfect clarity starts to vanish. I was concerned Monica's scent was dissipating as her scent began to grow weaker and weaker, but then I realized that it was my vampiric sense of smell that was suffering. By the time I get to North America the powers will be gone completely. Oh well, I was hoping to catch her here in Europe, but now that she has fled into the ocean any hope of tracking her with these vampiric powers is gone. I'm just going to have to beat her to the church and confront her there.

I double back and start dashing towards the nearest airport. I'm sure a plane would fly across the ocean faster than Monica could swim it, but there is the take off and touch down times, boarding, idling, and disembarking to worry about. Not to mention I basically just wasted all this time tracking Monica to the coast.

A knot ties in my stomach: I don't think I'm going to make it...

* * *

The sun sets at last and Monica can feel its absence, even submerged under several miles of water where even the power of the sun could not reach when it was at its zenith. She thanks god for that in her own mind as she begins to swim quickly for the surface. She rebukes herself though: She can't really thank god for anything anymore really, she is an abomination of god now. But she is immortal, and if she plays her cards right she won't have to worry much about eternal damnation anyway.

The other vampires surface just after she does, directly behind her. They sigh in relief: Sure, vampires don't really need to breathe and so it was no problem for them to swim so deep and stay there for the entire duration of the daytime, but, still, they are still quite thankful to be back in the night air. Something about swimming at those depths just feels so unnatural. Mind you: Nothing about being a vampire is all that natural really.

Monica feels a deep pain in her stomach though, and a fire burning through her body: For for the first time since she was transformed into a vampire, she is hungry. She can see the shore ahead in the distance: New York city, lit up brilliantly in the night, and she can even hear the bustling activity of the city from as far from the shore as she is. She can even smell the mortals from way out here, thanks entirely to just how dense New York city is populated. The smell drives her wild with blood-lust and she immediately begins to swim as quickly as is possible for shore. The other vampires catch the same scent and are just as hungry, they follow after Monica eagerly.

She leaps out of the water into a port, abandoned at this time of the night. She darts into a back-alley and the vampires follow after. The scent gets stronger and stronger the closer she gets to the nearest human, and the blood-lust fogs her mind. She gives into it, losing control of herself. Out on the street she catches a lone woman, walking hunched over, covering herself with loose clothing trying to stay warm in the cool night air. The clothing, while inadequate to cover her slim form, is very elegant, and she smells a little of alcohol: She must be coming from a party or a club and walking home alone: Foolish girl.

Monica licks her lips and darts into the alley so fast any mortal would only recognize her as a dark blur in the faint street lights. She grabs the woman and drags her into a back alley, covering her mouth quickly so her screams are stifled. The other vampires dart off, each looking to claim their own prey. The young woman cries and moans as Monica pins her down and wrestles her arms to her side. The smell of her blood is exquisite and Monica cannot wait to sink her fangs into her supple arteries... But, then something unexpected happens: Monica looks into her eyes, and sees the full extent of the fear there.

Just like that, Monica snaps out of the blood-lust and, for the first time since she has become a vampire, she thinks: 'Oh god, what have I become?' Perhaps immortality isn't about avoiding that final judgement and eternal damnation after all, but instead she is already eternally damned...

Monica lets the woman go, and the poor girl runs off into the night screaming...

The hunger burns at Monica, how long can she fight it? How long can she stay in control? She needs to feed, but she doesn't want to take a life. She panics: What is she supposed to do? Her mind works furiously until she decides on a plan: She must go back and see William. He can comfort her, he will know what to do.

But will she make it? The hunger burns at her body and she doesn't know if she has the strength to make it back across the Atlantic. Nevertheless, she has to try: And so she darts back towards the port and dives headfirst into the water. She ditches the other vampires without even a single thought, and abandons her mission against the church.

It will be a long swim, but she must make it. She must stay alive, or well, less dead, for William. She loves him: As long as she has him, she can do this, she can survive, she can find a way... For him...

* * *

By the time my plane sets down in the United States my temporary vampiric powers are gone. Oh well, it wasn't like I could track Monica anymore anyway since I lost her trail. Still, the boost in speed and strength would have been helpful for the confrontation: I don't expect Monica and the other vampires to give up without a fight. I don't intend to kill Monica, not unless she leaves me no other choice. It's my fault she is a vampire after all, I just can't exterminate her like she is any other vampire. There has to be something I can do for her... Though, I killed William, so I don't expect Monica will be very happy about that.

Getting off the plane doesn't take long, and I don't have any luggage of which to speak of, so I make my way directly out of the airport and begin to dash for the church. I'm pretty tired, unfortunately I didn't get much sleep on the airplane, I was much too worried about everything that has happened, and even more worried about everything that is about to happen.

By the time the plane landed the sun had set and it was nighttime, which meant Monica and the other vampires could submerge from the ocean and begin their run towards the church. The best flight I could get put me a little too far to the west, the church is much closer to the Atlantic. It's likely Monica will beat me to the church.

I have to cross a few states before I get to the church, but I can run so fast it doesn't take me much longer than a few hours. I run as hard as I can, never slowing my pace. I wish I could stop and acquire a weapon, but I doubt I have time for that. There will be weapons at the church, and in the worst case scenario I imagine I can last against four vampires without a weapon anyway.

When I get to the church my worst fears are realized...

The church is completely up in flames! The fire is roaring across every inch of the church and the smoke has covered the sky. As I push through a crowd standing around and gawking at the inferno, I make my way towards the church. However, I'm stopped by a fireman. "Ma'm, please stay back!"

"Is anyone still in there?" I scream at him over the sounds of sirens and roaring flames.

"We don't know Ma'm," he shakes his head at me, and I scowl at him.

I just push him aside with a bit more force than I intended and he stumbles back a bit. I don't look back as I dart into the flames. I can feel the intensity of the heat against my skin instantly as I run into the building: "Hello? Anyone in here!?" I scream, but my cries are met only with the roaring sound of the fire. I dart through the halls, shielding my eyes with my hands, and stumbling over burning debris. The ceiling caves in in front of me, nearly crushing me, but I stumble back. Great, I guess I will have to take the long way around.

I find a collapsed wall which allows me to take a shortcut as I make my way for my goal: The office of the father. Oh, please let him be okay: I can hardly believe Monica would do this, how can she hurt those she used to call family?

I find his office quickly enough, amazingly enough its still mostly untouched by the flames. Coughing against the smoke, I look through the room frantically. I'm not sure what I'm hoping to find, if he is still in here he must be dead, or else he wouldn't have stayed here long. I feel my stomach churn as I find him, lying on the floor behind his desk. He's lying face down and I turn him over as I crouch over him. "Father! Father! Wake up!"

He coughs weakly as his eyes flutter open, and he looks up to me, "Samantha?"

"It's me Father," I laugh a little, too relieved to find him alive, until I spot the wound in his chest: He's losing a lot of blood, and I don't think he's going to make it. No! "What happened!?" I cry.

"Da..." he groans, he doesn't have enough strength to talk.

"Don't speak Father, I'll get you out of here," I steel myself, swallowing back my emotions. This is not time to blubber like a little girl, this is a time to act.

I start to move to pick him up, but he yells out, "No!" I freeze, unsure of what to say or do, but he continues, "I'm...lost...girl." He wheezes, "Da...vik..."

Davik? What about Davik? My mind turns to the hunter who hated me so: He was always suspicious of me. He didn't trust my unique abilities, and was constantly watching me trying to turn the other hunters, especially the father, against me. He thought of me as barely different from the creatures we hunted. It had been a while since I had seen him: The last time I was in the church I had found he had rooted through my room. Sadly he was not in the church for me to confront him about it at the time, and I was too eager to hunt down Darrien to wait for him to return.

"Davik? Is he okay?"

He shakes his head at me weakly, "You... have to... save him."

"From who? From Monica?"

He reaches out and grabs my head with both hands suddenly, I'm surprised he has that much strength left. "Listen... I need to tell you... about your father..."

My stomach sinks, I can't believe I am hearing this: The priest knew my father!? I can't even fathom the appropriate words.

"I made... a deal..." he winces and falls back coughing. "To raise you..."

"In exchange for?"

"Time."

His eyes grow wide quickly, like a shock of electricity jolted through his body, and, with one final wheeze of air, the last bits of life drains out of him. A tear rolls down my cheek and my body tenses, I wince my eyes shut and squeeze my fists, trying to control the wave of pain that rolls through me.

Monica will pay dearly for this.

* * *

The rain falls down upon Monica, impassive to her pain, as she sits, curled into the fetal position, sobbing into her own accursed hands. She curses the rain, she is so, so cold, but, she supposes, it isn't the rain's fault: This is her fault, she hasn't drank blood in much too long. A vampire's body grows colder and colder as less and less warm blood flows through their veins.

She refuses to drink. She cannot bare to take a life to feed her cursed existence. She has survived this long on the blood of animals, fish, rats, cats, dogs... But it isn't enough to sustain her forever: The taste is horrendous, and the more she feeds on them the less they fill her. Apparently, a vampire needs human blood eventually to stay alive, or well, un-alive anyway. She had witnessed Darrien drink from Samantha without killing her: He had simply exercised self control to drink and then stop before he had drained all the life from her. However, Monica knows the amount of self control that is required is beyond her power. She is so thirsty even a drop of blood, or even the scent, would throw her into a craze, she wouldn't be able to stop drinking until her victim was dead.

She cannot bare this curse any longer, so she intends to starve herself until she dies. She had considered facing the sun directly and letting it burn her to ash. However, the church had taught her that the sun was god's judgement, and it always judged that vampires were monsters and were to burn for their sins. She knows it would be quicker and less painful, but she cannot bare the thought of god's direct will setting her aflame.

Worst of all, William is dead. He was the centre of Monica's universe, and for him she would bare this curse. Her mind turns from her thirst to him once again and her cold, dead heart sinks. She had managed to return to Darrien's coven in Venice easily enough, but when she had arrived there she had found the coven in ruins: Bella had been slain, along with all the other vampires, Darrien and Samantha were nowhere to be found, and worst of all, she had found William lying dead in Samantha's cell.

She had spent several nights kneeing at his side, cradling his lifeless husk in her arms, and sobbing. Day and night had no meaning in that cell, it remained pitch black, and all sense of time was lost to Monica. The time she spent there felt like eternity and only moments at the same time.

And then, Davik, of all the people in the world, came to her. Except, it wasn't him either: She had smelled him before he had even come into the room, and every vampiric instinct she had inherited in her un-life told her to run as fast as she could. But she didn't care, William was dead, and so she wished to be too, why run from danger? His stench grew more foul as he stepped into the prison, if it weren't for the scent Monica would have no way of knowing he was in the room at all, he had been just that silent.

He stood quietly for the longest time, just staring at Monica. She felt as though his eyes were burning a hole into the back of her scalp. She couldn't care less about him though, and continued to just to gaze upon the lifeless form of her beloved. Finally, he spoke to her, "It was Samantha you know."

She could tell it was Davik by his voice, he was a hunter, and a friend, that she had known for a very long time. If he was a hunter, and she was a vampire, would he try to kill her? Something in her gut told her no, something was definitely different about him. He was right about Samantha, of course, deep down she had known it too.

Samantha had led them, William and her, to this coven. She had split up the three of them so that the vampires could pick them off one by one. Worst of all, Darrien had not killed Samantha, or turned her to a vampire, but instead kept her as his own personal pet, his slave. Darrien seemed to love her...

Did Samantha really come to Venice to kill Darrien?

"I know what she is," Davik hissed, "She is much worse than a vampire, much worse than anything we ever hunted, Monica."

Monica turned, at last to face him, and her face blanched even whiter than it already was, if that was possible. One look at him and she could tell: It was not Davik. It appeared to be him, but it was something else, something masquerading as him. His eyes were blood red, his features pale. He wasn't human, or a vampire, but something entirely other.

Something dangerous.

"Who are you?" Monica whimpered.

He grinned, "Samantha's father."

"What are you?"

"A demon."

Monica quivered, gently resting William aside on the ground. Trembling, she stood up and slowly, instinctively, backed away just a little. "What do you want?"

"Where is she, Monica?" his tone was dark, threatening.

"I d-don't know," she murmured, pressing her back against the wall.

Davik slowly moved towards her, "I know she was here."

Monica eyes the space between him and the door out, she had to run for it. She knew she did not care, she was cursed, she had nothing to live for, but her instincts told her to run, and she was too afraid to not try. She made a dash for it as quickly as she could, moving at incredible vampiric speed, but she hardly made it more than a few steps before her body lifted off the ground on its own and was thrown back against the wall.

She screamed in terror: Davik had moved her via the power of will alone. It was hopeless, she could not escape him.

"I don't want to hurt her, Monica," he grinned, and something about his expression looked too fake to be trusted. "But, why should you care? She betrayed you. She killed William. She left you to rot."

"I...really...don't know...where she is," Monica coughed as she felt an invisible force press tightly onto her chest, nearly crushing her.

Davik stopped, and considered that, then let Monica drop to the ground. She fell onto her knees, whimpering. "I believe you," he sneered at her, and then turned to leave.

"Wait!" Monica shouted after him, and he stopped and turned to her again. "K-Kill me," she moaned, "I can't live like this."

Davik laughed, a slight menacing laugh, "No, your suffering pleases me."

And then he was gone...

Monica continued to tremble as the rain fell on her as she thought about Davik. His presence was palpable, his aura was so thick you could probably cut it with a knife, he irradiated tension and threat.

A demon, loose in the world, he had to be stopped, Monica remembered the stories: Demons desired nothing but chaos and destruction. If Davik continued to roam unchecked...

A lot of innocent people were going to die.

Samantha had to be warned. Yes, Monica should hate her for her sins, but she just can't muster that emotion anymore, for at least anyone but herself anyway. If Samantha really is the daughter of whoever that that demon was, then she is the only one who can stop him.

But what did it matter? It changed nothing: William was dead, and Monica would be soon too...

"Oh, William..." She rests her head into her arms, folded around her legs, and sobs uncontrollably. The sun will be up very soon, and she no longer cares about god's judgement. Whether he judged her now or later, it didn't matter... Either way, she won't be going to heaven, and if there was a hell then it can't be any worse than her current miserable existence: Maybe she will meet William there.

Suddenly she smells something, something she never smelled before, yet, still, something... familiar. She can't place her finger on it, but she had caught something similar to this scent in her short vampiric existence before. She is sure it wasn't the same scent, however, because never in her short un-life has she caught a whiff of something so strong, including Davik. It smells amazing, it is taking all of her will power not to go into a frenzy, she is so thirsty, and the scent is so delicious.