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„Bloodstained Angel“ Chapter Three
by Greta
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“ … Odango … ?”
The sound the soft voice had made echoed in her
head. No, echoing was understating it. It pounded heavily, thudding mercilessly
in her skull, hammering steadily away.
Scrunching up her eyes as tightly as she could,
she shook her head. No! NO! It just couldn’t be! Why, why was her mind playing such cruel
tricks on her? This was by far one of the worst things it had ever done to her,
as she had not heard those three syllables for almost a century now. She had
shed that name soon after it had all happened, hoping to leave all that would
remind her of the pain as far behind as she could. No one knew of that name, no
one at all but those people who had died all those years ago. No one … ?
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
She listened to her heart pounding loudly in
her chest. It had never ceased to do so in all the time she had been alive now,
but she could not recall hearing its thudding so clearly before. The sound
seemed to reach every fibre of her body, every notch and corner of her being,
right to her racing thoughts which were confused and jumbled.
It couldn’t be; it was impossible, nothing more
and nothing less.
And so she stood there in the darkness of the
night, just as unmoving as the dead vampire at her feet. Her eyes were opened
widely and her body still as it listened to the unbearably loud beating of her
heart. She just could not face the thought of turning around, moving her body
out of the strangely slouched position she was standing in, the silent scream
of her aching muscles easy for her to ignore.
What she was hoping for she really did not
know. That if she stood there long enough, nothing would happen? That the
painful whisper would turn out to be another enemy, wanting to avenge
Zachariah? That her sanity had finally cracked from all that she had ever
endured? She was almost glad to believe that last thought her mind presented to
her as she felt hot tears well up in her eyes, something she had not
experienced for an unbelievably long time. And
it was just another thing she could not need! She must really have gone
insane at last.
Hadn’t she promised herself never to cry again?
She had.
Hadn’t she promised herself to be strong? She
had.
Then what was she doing right now, crying in
the darkness, afraid of turning around?
Wiping angrily at her cheek, where the salty
drops had already mingled with the blood which was still seeping from the wound
she had received earlier, she gripped the handle of the sword tightly. She
could face anything, she was sure of it. Hadn’t she already faced the greatest
of horrors in her many phases of life? She turned around swiftly, swinging the
sword with years of experience, ready to face whatever there was to face.
But an indefinable sound left her mouth, all
air having been knocked out of her lungs by the mere sight that met her eyes.
Losing the control over her fingers, she noted distantly that the heavy blade
dropped to the hard ground with a clatter, the loud sound echoing around …
them.
She wasn’t alone. Her mind had not been playing
tricks on her, making her imagine voices of long ago. But why was this
realization doing little to calm her?
-
His eyes rested upon this woman standing across
from him, this strange woman who was yet so familiar. This strange person the
innocent girl he remembered had turned into.
“ … Odango …” he repeated ever so quietly, even
though he saw that she was one no longer. Her golden tresses had turned the
silvery-white colour of the moon and she had abandoned her old hairstyle to let
her now shorter hair sway around her body freely.
High-heeled shoes were making her much taller
than he was used to seeing her, her tight clothing showing off her figure even
in the dark. Her crimson mouth was agape, red blood marring her cheek. Her eyes
had become lighter as well, the bright blue, which had always bubbled with
mirth, now full of the world’s sadness and anger.
And it hurt. It hurt him deeply to see the treasured
picture he had kept in his heart of her no longer to be true.
And it wasn’t only her appearance that
irritated him. It was the fight he had witnessed just as much. What had happened
to the Senshi of Love and Justice he had fought beside? Where was the ever
powerful light of her heart and soul which had defeated even the darkest of
enemies?
She had defended herself and fought with such
ease that he had to wonder on how she had acquired those skills. To act as
fluidly as she had done, sensing her enemies movements almost before they
acted, one had to fight for a long time, an unbelievably long time. And he
could not recall it being that case the last time he had seen her. She had been
clumsy and helpless, but adoringly so. Now something almost dark emanated from
her. There was something haunting hovering about her aura, mingled with grief
and anger and sin.
Nor could he recall her every fighting with
anything but magic, never needing more but the infinite power of her Silver
Crystal. But tonight she had swung the sword easily – almost elegantly - and
with such force, that she gave her predator no chance at all, bringing
destruction and death within seconds.
How could she have been so cruel? He could
barely bring himself to look at the crumpled body at her feet, convincing him
of what she had done. Blood was already seeping into the dusty ground beneath
her boot-clad feet, adding to the garish sight being displayed in front of his
eyes. The Sailor Soldier he remembered, innocent and naïve, was no longer.
How could he even be sure that this was his
angel at all? And yet how could he doubt it even for a moment? She was still an
angel; but blood now soaked her once so pure wings.
Her eyes were fixed on his, a glazed look in
her eyes, making her look just as confused as he felt at that very moment.
“Is it you, Usagi?” a voice, which was not his
own, asked quietly, making him feel very thankful. He was glad, that he had not
made this discovery on his own, very sure of the fact that he might never found
his voice to speak up first, torn in-between feasting his eyes on the one
person which haunted his every dream and despairing at the loss of all he had
expected her to be.
-
Shock had left her immobile once more, her
breath entering and leaving her body in short gasps. So she had thought that
she would be ready to face anything? Oh, she had been horribly wrong.
No, this was
wrong.
She had to be dreaming. She just had to be
imagining things. For what her eyes were surveying was just too unreal. It was
just impossible. The hate she felt for her arch-enemy was steadily rising
inside her once more. If only destiny was a person! Because if blood pumped
through the cruel creature’s veins and air filled her lungs just like anybody
else, she would have spent her cursed eternal life hunting after the cruel
damsel, wanting to return all the pain and tears, cruelty and torture she had
ever experienced to its rightful owner.
Back when her world had crashed, it had only
taken weeks to mar her old personality so far to make it unrecognizable to all
that knew her, to shed all that she had ever known, but it had taken decades to
lessen the pain the cursed memories brought to her hour after hour, day after
day, year after year. And now, one hundred fucking years later, after she had finally
given up all hope she had ever held for rebirth, a brand new destiny, or maybe even
time re-adjusting itself, bang!, life
decides to do this.
And she couldn’t even put off what she was
seeing to her imagination, tiredness or what-else. She wasn’t insane, she knew
that. She felt their presence, clear and strong, and the words that had been
spoken to her slowly made their way into her mind, taking their own sweet time
to make themselves understood in her raging mind, in her whirlwind of
thoughts., making her stagger inwardly once she somehow realized what she had
been asked. Usagi … Another word she had not heard for what seemed an eternity.
The little innocent Moon Rabbit ...
A laugh escaped her lips, a soft, hollow laugh.
Had she been innocent once? Yes, she had. How far away that time seemed to be,
how endlessly far away … “I guess I can’t even answer that truthfully,” she
answered slowly, knowing it was the only truth she had to offer. What was she
to say after all? Well, in a way I am still the person you remember, I’ve just
been murdering, drinking, smoking and much, much worse in all those years since
you left?
Focusing her eyes on what the night was
presenting to her once more, she bit her lips. Standing across from her stood
three young men. Three young men she had never anticipated seeing again,
believing them to be just as dead as the others. After they had left the blue
planet when she had still been the Usagi they remembered, she had often spent
her days thinking of them. Yes, she had missed them. And yes, it was especially
one of them that had haunted her mind. But exactly a century ago, thoughts of
childish needs and worries had been driven out of her mind, leaving her to
believe him – no, them – to be just as dead. But now her eyes fixed on him as
he stood there, very much alive and breathing in the air of the night, his dark
blue eyes eyeing her in shock.
He still looked as she remembered
him from so many endless years ago; his dark hair fell handsomely into his
face, pulled back into a low ponytail, his body and features male. But he
looked more like a man than she remembered him, some of his boyish features
having disappeared. He looked like he had experienced and suffered as well, the
features of his face having deepened.
But amidst her unconscious noting of him, one
question stood out in her mind. One question which confused her tremendously,
upsetting all she had believed for those many, many years of solitude.
“Why are you alive?” she muttered
lowly, raising her eyes from his beautiful face to also look at his two
companions. They looked as if they had grown up just as much, and were very much alive as well. But how could
it be? Even if they hadn’t suffered the cruel deaths her friends - her very
soul-mates - had had to, they now had to be over a hundred years old. They had
to be just as old as she was, and that was no common age anymore, most likely
not even on Kinmoku.
The three men looked at her in
surprise, the question startling them deeply. “What do you mean, Usagi?” the
silver-haired man asked, eyes narrowed. He was feeling very confused, finding
this strange vixen to have taken the place of the childish girl that had used
to aggravate him slightly in her naivety, and no one else. She had never been a
loner. He remembered her thriving on company, needing it as it was part of her
personality to love and be loved by – frankly - everyone and anyone.
“I mean to say, that there is no
logical way for you to be alive. Or that you have kept exceptionally well for
being over a hundred years of age.”
Seiya’s
stare never left her face, the words leaving her mouth making no sense to him at
all.
But a loud rustling which steadily
grew in noise, followed by a deep and angry bellow, stopped his train of
thought forcefully.
“Silver!”
Snapping around, she saw a blotchy
body burst out of the dark shadows of the shrubbery surrounding them. Oh, damn! Lingering around the dead body
of a vampire master was definitely not a good idea, especially when said
vampire master’s head was lying a meter away from his body, which might only
aggravate whoever was out to avenge him all the more. Picking up the sword from
the ground hastily, she looked over her shoulder at the three visiting lights. She
knew that as fighters – and especially as sailor soldiers – they would not listen
to her feebly muttered, “Go!”, and get out of the way as she hoped. So she did
something she had not done in forever; she pleadingly eyed them. “Please, get back there!” she hissed at
them, pleading at the same time, motioning in the direction opposite from where
the angry voice had come. Hoping that they’d take her well-meant advice, she
quickly darted forwards, her muscles tense and her senses strained. She had yet
to get a look at her enemy, and therefore had no idea if she was about to face
a puny little follower of Zachariah or someone worse.
A glimpse of golden hair caught her
eye. Swearing under her breath she realized she might be in for the latter. Nuncio. Golden haired, blue-eyed Nuncio.
He stood close by the low brick wall, eyeing the dead body of Zachariah with
horror. The moon was illuminating his face which was as white and smooth as
marble, making him seem like a Greek statue all the more. His silken hair was
tied back in a short braid, his dark clothing making his body look like a mere
shadow. Nuncio was far too beautiful for a vampire in her opinion. It made it
far too easy for him to seduce any human he wanted or needed, as they were
always bound to be trapped by his exhilarating beauty, a spell being woven over
them without them ever realizing before it was too late.
She was not proud of it, but when she had first
laid her eyes on him, she had almost been ensnarled as well. And that memory
managed to embarrass and anger her to the very day. And she therefore never
missed a chance to anger dear Nuncio.
“Oh, please don’t tell me that you’re shocked to see Zachariah in this
state,” she said presumptuously while prodding the dead vampire’s body with her
foot, ridiculing Nuncio’s beloved master.
Said vampire was staring harshly at
her, flinching only when she prodded his master’s body with her filthy and
unworthy feet. He knew she loved to aggravate him, anger him on purpose with
small stabs here and there, almost unrecognisable as such to anyone else. Never
present your weakness to her, was therefore one of the best advices given out
by Zachariah. Advices he had given
out and would never again. Oh, how she would pay for this. “Do not ridicule
him,” he whispered in a deadly voice. “You only won because he always had a
weak spot for you.” That was sadly
true. He had never understood why, but his master had always lusted after this
human being unlike after any other. He had enjoyed chasing her, hunting her
down as if she was prey, fighting her and testing her skills. And yet, the
master vampire had never fought her with all the strength he had, not once
bringing the striking blow to her body that would end it all. He had been one
of the few master vampires of
It therefore gave him great pleasure
to see the anger rise in her eyes and flush her cheeks upon hearing the few
words he had hissed angrily at her. He liked angering her just as much as she
did him. He knew he was by far not as good a fighter as Zachariah had been, and
therefore instead always relied much more on the ability of his voice to
seduce, anger, and coax people into what he wanted and needed.
“Oh, cut the crap out, you pathetic
vampire-bastard!” she retorted, swinging the sword of his master with
expertise. “What do you want to do anyway? Avenge him?” she asked, making it
obvious she thought him unable of doing so. She knew she shouldn’t let her
pride get a hold of her thoughts and actions, having been driven into a few
quite nasty situations by it already. But, logical as those thoughts were, she could
not keep the anger from rising inside her chest, making her swing the sword
menacingly once more. She could go on angering him forever, playing
cat-and-mouse with him; she knew that just as well as he did.
The faintest scent of olives interfered her thoughts though. No! She absolutely mustn’t!
Not today, not now. Hadn’t she hoped for something like this all these years?
That it would turn out she wasn’t alone after all? She had. It was not a smart
move, to risk losing the only sliver of the part of her life that had been the
happier by far, so easily.
But having her hope come true after all this
time was confusing her slightly now, making her unsure of what to do. She had
not had anyone but herself for so many years now, and had almost forgotten what
it was like to be anxious about someone’s safety. Should she ignore Nuncio? Kill
him? Run? Leave them, take them along?
What is wrong with
you? her mind was hissing angrily at her. She frankly did not
know. At the moment she was feeling just as she had felt when she had first
found out eighty years ago that she had to fight once more; when she had first
found out, that vampires were infesting
She couldn’t let that happen today.
She would protect them, she would see to that. This time, she would not let her
friends die as she had done a century ago.
Without another word, she moved
forward, punching Nuncio squarely in his beautiful face once she was close
enough. Grinning at him, she swung her sword. She was not looking for a good
fight today, nor was she planning on killing him, come to think of it. A few
bruises and scratches, some blood and maybe a broken rib was all that she
wanted. Throwing punches and kicks at him, she parried his attacks easily. She
thought it strangely funny, how easy he was to attack tonight, having received
few hits up to now. So Nuncio might not be the best of fighters, but he usually
was very good at evading what needed to be evaded. Maybe the shock of finding Zachariah
dead had gotten to him? Shaking her head angrily, she knew she had to stop
thinking so jovially of her enemy.
“Oh, Nuncio, this is ridiculous,
really, even for a bad fighter like you,” she said suddenly, stopping her
attacks for a second. “You know what?” she asked slowly as she crouched down on
the ground beside him to where he was kneeling, before propping up the sword on
the ground to rest on it heavily. Studying his unearthly face for a moment with
narrowed eyes, she felt the silence of the dark night rest heavily on her
shoulders before she leaned down to him to whisper into his ear, “I’ll make
this fast. Better for you, and better for me.” Her crimson mouth turned into a
malicious grin once more, before she grabbed him around the neck, twisting one
arm painfully onto his back, driving one knee up to meet his ribcage with
force, hearing the soft crack with slight satisfaction. Gasping, Nuncio stared
up at her in pain and, strangely, surprise.
“What? Aren’t you going to kill me,
Silver?” he gasped out, his eyes narrowed.
“Not today, Nuncio, not today,” she
replied, her sword now at his throat, pressing painfully into his skin. “I need
you to deliver a message for me after all. Tell Kairos that she shall be expecting
me soon.”
His eyes widened in horror. “Kairos?” Speaking those two syllables was making white-hot
pain spread in his body, mingling with the fear of the meaning behind those
cursed syllables.
“Exactly.”
Adding pressure to the sword, she slowly let the blade cut into his skin. “You
will do that for me, Nuncio.” Releasing the sword from his throat just as
suddenly as she had raised it, her fist let go from his twisted arm as did her
knee from his back, and she let him crumple to the ground, where he lay for a
few moments, his breath leaving his body in painful gasps.
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
she asked, eyebrows raised, after she had let him
catch his breath for a few seconds. Hateful eyes stared up at her, menacing and
angry upon seeing her standing there above him, still grinning. It seemed that
she had finally done it. He downright hated her. Upon seeing him slowly get up,
she turned from him, wanting to show him that she did not need him anymore.
Instead her eyes now searched the
dark for three other figures, who had seemingly taken
her advice and gotten out of the way.
Well, more or less.
Blue eyes wild, Seiya was just being
kept back by Yaten and Taiki, their hands clasped on his upper arms.
Risking one last glance at Nuncio,
who was disappearing in the shadows just as she wanted him to, she hurried
towards them. Upon seeing her advance, Seiya was released by his companions.
“Wh- I
mean- How- … What has happened,
Usagi?” he asked, obviously troubled by what he had seen. It was bound to be an
enemy he had only imagined to exist in books and movies, and maybe not even
that. She did not know what kind of legends they had on Kinmoku,
and if there might be one of blood-sucking creatures of the night among them.
But strange as it was, what startled
her the most about his question was him calling her
Usagi. What had happened to the teasing nickname of Odango? And why on earth
was she thinking about such a trivial thing, when much more was at stake? Why
was she caring how a man she had not seen for over 36500 days called her, when
in the end she was neither Odango nor Usagi? She did not like this. She did not
like it all, that the shell she had been keeping impact for such a long time was
getting the tiniest of hairline cracks.
Sighing loudly, she looked up in the
sky. The moon was still shining brightly from the dark sky, no cloud marring
its light, making it clear to her that the sunrise could still be hours away.
“It’s too dangerous here. More vampires will turn up soon enough, once word
gets around that Zachariah is no more.”
“Vampires?”
Taiki gasped. “That – was a vampire?” His voice was thick with disbelief,
reminding her of herself when she had discovered the dark creatures to be a
real part of her life and not only some stupid story or legend of a crazed
lover of mystical stories.
“Much time has passed, and much more
has happened … I’ll tell you eventually. But now, we have to get away from here,
and fast.” She could sense their racing minds and confused thoughts, busy with
everything from her different appearance and character, to what they had seen
since they had arrived. But she couldn’t let them speak right now. She could
not answer the questions which were bound to leave their mouths, once their
confusion had settled, leaving a need for information instead. She could not
bring herself to tell them what had happened just yet. They would have to wait,
until she herself had sorted out her thoughts, having other matters pressing on
her mind as well. For instance that one third of
Seeing two blue eyes staring at her,
looking hurt and betrayed, she sighed once more, feeling strangely sad. “I’m
sorry, Seiya. I’m sorry … I’m sorry …” she repeated softly, not exactly sure
what she was apologizing for. For having displayed two bloody fights, both much
harsher than what he was used to from her? For not telling him what he wanted
to hear, and help him untangle his thoughts? Or even for being who she was, the person she had turned into?
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And now, just because I feel like
it, I present you what the names of my made up characters (all the lovely
vampires!) mean:
Zachariah: is Hebrew and means ”Remembered by the Lord”
Nuncio: is Latin and means
“Messenger”
Kairos: is Greek and means
“Last Born Goddess”
Did that have any real importance to
the story? No. But I like the names themselves (I adore Kairos) and their
meanings are all very nice too. :-)
Oh, and by the way, I want a beta-reader! (batseyelashes) Anyone interested?
Love,
Greta