Darklings/Blood's Submission

Hello friends. It has been some time since my last post and possibly even longer since I actually sat down with the business of writing - everything else seems to get in the way nowadays. All the same, I managed to squeeze in a few hours last night and decided to take the story of Darklings (somehow renamed Blood's Submission) and refine it slightly. My fellow writer friend pulled out of this project with the same reason that life just seems to be getting in the way of writing. As such I was left with a character I didn't fully understand. But then luck would have it that my dear friend was willing to give me some base notes on Lady Vanessa. I had to create a cover for the story when I uploaded it to my Deviant Art account. This cover is a hurried piece that is far from the what I actually had in mind for Darklings/Blood's Submission. That being said though, it shall suffice for now...

Enough blah blah blah from me... Have read of the story and tell me what you think.

"The boy’s bad news," Simpson said, letting the bloodied arm fall back to the floor. The body it belonged to lay some feet away, where it had been tossed. "He didn’t even know he’d led those halflings here. It’s strange how they followed him."

His red-headed partner sighed, but didn’t comment. She missed working alone. This man was all show and no style. She pulled her gloves on and looked over the remains of the body. "How many do you think came through here?"

The smell of death always drew Simpson out of his usual introspection. He knew it made the others feel uncomfortable when they saw the excitement in his eye. "He probably locked himself in that walk-in fridge," he said, pointing. "I hear they have trouble sensing him through metal." He eyed Vanessa then as she meticulously pulled her gloves on.

Vanessa wondered if he knew the rumours about how he’d come to ‘hear’ so much in the first place. He had that manic look in his eyes again. All this blood splashed through our the restaurant had gotten to him. His Bloodlust was building. He gave her a headache when he got like this. She walked over to the refrigerator, giving Simpson a wide berth. At the door, she stopped and delicately tasted the air. "He’s here," she confirmed. "Break it down."

Hearing those words was sweet release to Simpson. Without warning, he stepped up, grabbed the refrigerator door and pulled. The arms of his six foot figure fully stretched to reach the edges of the door. The others watched as his muscles bunched. ‘Let them see,’ he thought. ‘This is what you get in exchange.’ His senses were keen. Almost as keen as Vanessa’s. His madness prevented him from accessing them fully, but it gave him strength. More strength than the others realized. The boy was just behind this door. All he had to do was open it. His fingers dug into the metal…

He’d gotten close too her before she realized. Before she could turn away, the power of his being hit her full force. Bloodlust, thick and heavy in her throat, and the taste of copper in her mouth. From inside her, she felt a sharp, crackling energy, strong enough to split her in two, she thought. She swayed, grabbing at the wall nearby, and realized that the feeling inside her was delight. Sheer, mad, delirious delight. Vanessa dug her fingernails into her palm, concentrating on the pain, trying to bring herself back to herself, before she let in any more of him.

The door’s hinges sheered and gave way with a cracking sound. Simpson heard a sharp, startled gasp escape Vanessa’s lips. When he looked at her he saw traces of the retreating Bloodlust in her eyes. The satisfaction of driving her that close to it was almost too much for him. ‘Soon, Vanessa. Soon you will submit to me,’ the voice in his head cooed. He tossed the fridge door aside with a negligent flick. The others regarded him with hateful eyes. They dared not make a move against him. Not when he was this close to a frenzy. Inside the fridge sat a boy. No older than thirteen. Sandy haired. Eyes of perfect blue. Eyes that regarded Simpson with cool determination. Then Simpson felt it. The rhythmic thump emanating from the boy. Pressure in his head. The Other One wanted to take over control of the body. Simpson’s fangs ached to sink into the boy. So much power. The Blood Boil was calling…

It didn't work fast enough; Simpson's power still pulsed viciously from inside her, making her frantic. This had to be managed. She couldn't afford to let the others see the full extent of her sensitivity. They were watching Simpson now, as he put on his little show; for once, she was grateful for the man's arrogance. It gave her a chance. She yanked back her sleeve and pushed her forearm into the rough grain of the brickwork, dragging her skin against it hard. It did the trick. The top layer of her skin was sanded off, the pain immediate and clear, bringing Vanessa instantly back to full awareness. She gulped down a lungful of air, relieved to be free. The refrigerator door landed on the opposite side of the room, and she watched the way the others stared at Simpson. Awe, terror, bordering on reverence. She knew at least one of them wanted to be jerking off right now. The boy's scent drifted into her awareness, at the same time she realized that Simpson was close to turning.

She gritted her teeth, and gathered up her energy, focusing it in the tip of her finger. She stepped between Simpson and the boy, and touched his forehead. 'We are working. Stop this.'

The Touch. So close. He bared his fangs at her in defiance. The Other One laughed. At that moment Simpson wished desperately for a way to shut Him out. To cut that sniggering laughter off. To kill Him. Once and for all. The rhythm of the throbbing sped up. He looked over Vanessa's shoulder. The mist had begun to gather around the boy. The boy stood. Burning unrelenting power poured out of him. They were too late. The boys feet had already started to disappear under a dark cloud of the boy’s Shroud. The look in those cold blue eyes mocked Simpson. The smile on his lips a challenge. This power was the reason the Covenant wanted the boy. This power was the reason Simpson wanted to sink his teeth into the boy's coronary artery. To drink of that blood. What wonders would it reveal? What power would he, Simpson, wield by taking in the boy's Blood Boil? 'None.' the Other One intoned in the recesses of his mind. 'With that power I will silence you' Simpson thought. The Other One laughed. The power pulsed now. Gathering around the boy as the mist continued to grow. Even though there were seven of them, Simpson knew there was nothing they could do if the boy’s Shroud reached completion.  A lump of disappointment twisted in him. If only Vanessa hadn't moved so quickly. If only... Simpson picked up the scent of blood in the air. It wasn't much, but enough to get his attention. I wasn't the blood of the dead people in the kitchen behind him. This was fresh blood. It smelt like... Vanessa? He looked back at her. She was calm. Finger still on his forehead, holding him back. Her arm had already begun to close the wounds, but Simpson had seen enough. 'So close...'

Vanessa turned to see the boy’s Shroud grow. She almost wanted to laugh, though she suspected it would grow into a scream if she did. Or a sob. Caught between the Devil and the deep blue sea, and what a Devil Simpson made, raging silently behind her, his fury rising off him like steam and raising the hair at the back of her neck. And this boy standing before her, already manifesting the Shroud, gleeful malevolence spilling from him like blood from an uncauterised wound. She exhaled slowly, narrowing her focus to shut out the panic from the others, and the molten heat from Simpson. Deep, deep underneath the Shroud, the boy remained. She half-closed her eyes and felt for him. 'Who are you?' she asked softly, and felt something shift. She knew she had the attention of whatever humanness remained, but also of the creature trying to come out of him. She steeled herself, ignored the feeling. Images and feelings rushed at her. Small. Confined. Painful. Someone pulling the wings off a fly. Gritty. The smell of saltwater - and now she knew why she'd thought of the deep blue sea.

She saw a small boy playing on the beach, alone. The sounds grew soft, the sunlight dimmed, and the shadows distorted and danced around the boy. The child's terror tightened around her like a tangible thing, and she knew she would see no more - the creature turned all it’s attention to her, and she felt the force of it’s anger.

Simpson's strained against the effects of The Touch. He needed to at least try get to the boy before the Shroud was complete. He felt Vanessa's Projection touch him lightly, but it's focus was not on him. It was on the boy. Did she want the boys Blood Boil  for herself? No, she would serve the power to the Covenant. Her servitude to them would have to be broken. His immediate problem though was getting his body to respond to his commands.  The Touch had effectively neutralized his movements. Frustration welled up inside him. He would not stand for this. He was of the Third and deserved respect as such. His rage was a surprise even to him. Despair and frustration were immediately buried under avalanche of  rage. The Other One laughed in the recesses of Simpson's consciousness. 'Do you want my power?' it asked. Simpson could feel it mocking him. 'What will you give me in return?' Still mocking. He had no choice. His broken mind was so engrossed in his rage that he barely noticed when he bit his tongue off. The sweet pain was a distant sensation felt by someone else. 'That will do just fine' the Other One cooed as he burst out from Simpsins sub-conscious. He felt his fangs extend. Power surged through him. Yet, he felt it rush through someone else's body. He saw himself move with incredible speed. Bleeding tongue spat out to one side as his slap threw Vanessa in to the air. ‘The power!’ The body that had been his reached out a hand and caught the boy by the throat. The force of the throw that followed sent the boy crashing into the back wall of the refrigerator. 'How did He access so much power?' Simpson asked himself as he watched. Locked in his mind. Detached. He could sense Blood Boil powers that were never there when he was in control of the ancient  body he shared with The Other One. His fury escalated. 'How DID He access that power?'

The electric zing of the slap took Vanessa by surprise. She had felt Simpson break her bind not a second ago. She hit the side of the fridge and caught herself just before she fell to the ground. She could not let the others see her fall so easily. Subordinates were supposed to believe her more than a match for Simpson. Yet, the fire like sensation on the skin where Simpson had slapped her and the broken jaw told her she wasn't. It didn't make sense. She had bound Simpson as easily as she had done countless times before. She knew his limitations and was capable of handling him any time she wished. Her power superseded his. But somehow he broke he Bind. She had not seen how he did it, but had turned just in time to catch his backhanded slap… With her face. She clenched the muscles around her jaw to keep it in place. It would heal in a few minutes and she didn't want to have to re-break it so it would set right. The shock of the sudden attack lit her anger.  Where had all that power come from? His Blood Boil was far below hers. Yet somehow he not only broke her Bind, but almost slapped her face off. 'Get a grip Vanessa!' she silently scolded herself. 'Get a grip and put this arrogant asshole back in his place.' Determination straightened her up. Shoulders set. On the brink if Turning. Then Simpson turned to regard her with a mocking calm. There was something different about him. His entire mannerisms had changed. She sunk into the depths of terror as she realized it was no longer Simpson she was looking at. Had he managed to reclaim what he was? This cold malevolence that now turned to face her was new to her. It made. Her heart twist in fear. She didn't have to Project to feel the power emanating from the person that had been Simpson. Had he been hiding this all along? Playing the part of a halfwit, depressed fallen lord while holding such power? Even the Second didn't have this much power. The boy lay on the floor behind the stranger she now faced. He was either dead or unconscious. She had seen precious little of what Simpson - The Stranger - had done to him., but a glance at the others told her he had done something unexpected and direct. She tried to speak, forgetting about her jaw. Pain exploded on her left cheek and she clenched the muscles again. 'Who is this person?'

It was amusing to see the shocked look on Vanessa's face. The others were in reverence to the power he had just demonstrated. Two centuries of scorn and dismissal gone from their faces. Word would get out. Simpson had moved like one of the Thirds. No better than the Thirds. He stood like the Seconds even as they stared. He was commanding. Vanessa eyed the tongue on the floor. Disbelief dawning on her. He bit his tongue off. It was a difficult part of the body to grow back, but he had done it. She looked back at him. His eyes were a mystery. He sensed her Projection tentatively touch the awareness that is The Other One. It was brushed aside with such negligence that Simpson wished he had that kind of power. He turned his attention away from the body he had been in control of just a few minutes ago. His focus on the Blood - the powers it held. He tried to find their source and why they were hidden from him. He had done this every time The Other One took control, which wasn't too often. In the three centuries since his mind broke, Simpson had given over control of the body only twice. One of which was not by choice. Again he failed to find the source nor how to access them. 'That bastard.' he thought. 'Give me Vanessa.' he threw the thought at The Other one. His answer came in a flood of mental activity. 'No.' it said. 'You will work to have her yourself.' Frustration rose in him. How dare He take his body and not give him what he wanted.

The last of the pain drained away; her jaw was fully healed. It seemed to Vanessa that her panic had dissolved along with it; her mind was clear, calmly taking stock of the situation. The backup agents were belligerent, overcompensating sycophants at the best of times, but right now she knew they would be less than useless to her. Nothing in their briefing had touched on Simpson's malady extending this far, and the agents reeked of fear and desperation. And The Stranger, though he radiated malice strong enough to make her bones ache, didn't seem an immediate threat to her - although she'd been swatted away when she reached into its mind, it seemed uninterested in harming her any further. The Stranger had its sights set firmly on the boy, and the boy (back on his feet, completely unharmed) returned his interest with a barely-human grin. This was no longer a standard subdue-and-capture. This was shaping up to be a monster fight. As for who or what Simpson had become... All she knew was this wasn't possession.

Vanessa had seen hundreds of cases, and Simpson didn't feel possessed by a Projection. It didn't quite feel like a turning, either. There was a nuance, a different flavour to it, that she had never seen before. She took a breath, releasing it slowly. What did she really know about Simpson? Many spoke of his power, but none spoke of him as a friend. His Bloodlust, she knew from earlier, was deep and insatiable. He drove too fast and smoked cigars. Pretended to be a lord in a keep that only had her servants. He was the only man who looked her in the eye; the other Covenant lackeys zeroed in on her breasts or thighs. The man was an island, it seemed, entire of himself. Why, then, was he content to serve as a tool for the Covenant? Solely to feed his lust for battle? She bit her lip. With the boy and The Stranger sizing one another up, she'd faded into the periphery. And since the agents were paralysed and awestruck, there was one trick she just might be able to pull off.

Simpson watched through eyes that were no longer his as the boy picked himself up. Smiling. 'How can he be smiling?' Simpson asked himself. 'That throw had cracked the back of his skull. The blood on the wall is evidence of this' Then it hit. The boys Projection. Simpson could feel it surge against the him. It was raw, brutal power. He wanted it. But could do nothing about it at that point. Vanessa dropped back. Enveloping herself in a Shroud as she pulled back out of the fridge. She was up to something. Simpson kept an eye on her through the peripheral vision of what was his eyes. The Other One was focused on the boy. Standing lightly on the balls of his feet. Waiting. Simpson was not sure what he had been waiting for till it happened. A sudden darkness fell in the boys face. It twisted in something more than an evil sneer. Simpsons attention was immediately taken away from Vanessa, by the sight of the boy beginning his transformation. The pain mingled with evil pleasure of the boy’s face mesmerizing. All that power focusing on an under developed body. There was something pure in the way the body twisted and thrashed as it tried to settle in a form that would contain its power. Just then, The Other One moved. It was sudden, precise movement.

A step on the floor in front him turned into a leap so fast the air roared as it rushed passed the ears that belonged to Simpson. Two bodies collided. The one that belonged to the boy was smashed against the wall of the fridge once more, but this time Simpson’s had come with it. Fangs dug into flesh with such ferocity even Simpson recoiled from within the mind. A bone broke as it was forced out of its natural position. Simpson’s body was suddenly hurled through the air, but he was occupied with savouring the taste of blood that washed his mouth. A piece of the boy’s neck hung loose where he had been bitten. This didn’t seem to concern the boy as he surged forward. His partially formed body still in the throes of transformation, but he kept coming.

Blood ran freely from the thick neck of the beast the boy was turning into. Simpsons arm was bent at an awkward angle from the break at the elbow. He smiled. The pain of facing such power was sweet. The Other One moved again. The throes of transformation were coming to an end. The boy’s body had settled in to a form that stood a whole head and shoulders higher than his original body. A sub-nosed snout snarled at Simpson. Beady, sunken eyes flashed anger and Bloodlust. Simpson’s body thundered toward the boy. As he did so the beast that was once the boy used one of it’s huge, muscular arms to hurl itself in to the air. Forward at Simpson. Its fangs bared. Simpson felt the collision as a distant push to his body. The fight turned into a frenzy of claws, fists and fangs. It was at that time that Simpson felt Vanessa's Projection invade his mind. She reached in and tried to plant calm emotions on him.

She was in. Simpson’s mind was wide open to anyone who could Project. The others were too awestruck to notice. The raging battle between the being who had been Simpson and the turned boy seemed to root them to the spot. Or was it Simpson? Vanessa reached in to his mind. This time sure she would be successful. She spread her projection over his mind. Tentatively feeling for any abnormalities. She’d heard all the stories about his Fall and how it had broken him. There were no tell-tale signs of a broken mind. For all she knew the being fighting was Simpson. How was it possible for him to hide so much so thoroughly. He appeared to be a different person. She’d seen him in battle before, but nothing like he was now. His movements were different. His very presence was different. He seemed complete and focused on killing the boy for his Blood-Boil. She could not allow that. She pulled her Projection back slightly and felt the edges of his mind. Its attention was focused on the boy. Bloodlust surged through it. The boy and Simpson were locked in a frenzied battle. Neither of them backing down, both sustaining damage but ignoring it. It was hard to tell who had the upper hand.  The confined space kept them in close proximity. There was no way for either of them to disengage. Simpson would be out of control soon if she didn’t do anything. She gathered herself once more and reached deeper in to the animal she’d known for a hundred years, but never understood. Diving blindly for the core of his intellect. Then it happened. Something grabbed a hold of her Projection and pulled. She took a physical step back, dropping her Shroud for a second. Another tug. Stronger this time. This was not going according to plan. Then she heard it. The evil whisper that emanated from his subconscious. ‘Got you’ it said.

It was glorious. The Other One was locked in battle with the boy while he lay in wait for Vanessa’s Projection. He sensed her tentative touch, but did nothing. He waited.  He had lost interest in the fight between his body and the five-foot mass that had once been a boy of no more than thirteen. He was more attentive to the blind wanderings of the woman that he’d been saddled with by the Covenant. He drew his presence to the depths of his mind. Obscuring himself in the thoughts of his subconscious and waited. His predatory instincts were acute. Honed by four hundred years of hiding from intelligent prey. Four hundred years spent in the shadows.

Vanessa reached deeper. She seemed to be honing in to the very spot he’d chosen to hide in. It was all too convenient. He let her get closer, not giving any indication of his presence. She kept coming. He could feel the energy of her projection pulse through his subconscious. From his detached vantage point Simpson could clearly follow the line of her Projection. He reached out with his own and found an anchor point in her mind and pulled. He would pull on her Projection till she had no choice but to pull it back. When she does, he would have her. After a hundred years he would have her. It delighted him to feel surprise and shock ripple through her Projection. He revelled in her struggle to free herself from his grip. Her mind was strong. He had not counted on such strength in her, but soon it would be his. He pulled even harder. Anticipation raging through him like a run away train. Suddenly it all went dead. There was nothing. No Projection. No presence. Just residual ringing of energy dispelled. She had cut herself from her Projection. There had been no warning. Just a savage disconnection. How dare she! He had been so close.

Rage. It exploded within him with a fury he’d not felt in decades. He rode it like a dark horse, baring down on his conscious mind.

He turned. The surprise of her severing the link had driven him to full Bloodlust. Vanessa watched the uncontrolled Shroud explode from him. She didn’t have the enough energy right now to stop him from turning. The others took cover. They had never seen Simpson’s Shroud. Even if they had, they would never have seen it like this. It broke out of him like a wave crashing amongst rocks. The boy was thrown clear of Simpson by a blow to the gut. Again Simpson’s presence changed. He was becoming a different creature. The one occasion she had seen him use his Shroud was during a fight in the daylight against human assassins that had taken The Ever Young in an attempt to draw him out in to the sun. It worked, though he killed them all and retrieved The Ever before the sun claimed him. He had been impressive as she watched him from within the shadows of the keep. His body on fire, yet felling several enemies in an instant.

The creature Simpson became stood hunched in the fridge. It was all lean muscle and poise. There was nothing of the showboat Vanessa knew. There was nothing of the presence that had been there a few seconds ago. Dark eye flashed over her and she felt herself drawn in. Her heart beat quickened. And she wanted him. It was raw animal in her that wanted to have him. Before she lost all control she grabbed her knife in trembling hands and stuck it into her thigh. Again the pain brought her back. Her breathing was heavy. She was sure he could hear it. Her mind still raced with images of having him. She had to distract herself from this presence. She looked around for the others and found on one of them huddled at the back of the room. How pathetic the vampire gene pool had become. These snivelling good for nothing were supposed to be at the top of the food chain. Only Simpson seemed to be the epitome of vampire at that moment. He was pure and powerful. She looked over his body hunched in the fridge. He was relaxed. In control. The boy stood. His bulky mass bleeding from various places that were beginning to heal even as she watched. Simpson blurred towards him. The impact of two bodies dented the walls of the fridge. Vanessa heard some bones crack. The body let out a howl of pain. Simpson wrapped a hand around his throat and Vanessa could see him squeeze the huge neck in one hand. His muscles bunched once and there was a loud snapping noise as the boy’s head bent at ninety degrees. His frenzied attempts to push Simpson off him fell limp. Simpson released the body and it fell to the floor in a heap. He calmly turned to her and behind her back she grabbed the blade of her knife and squeezed. His movements wasted no energy. If anything he generated energy. She’d never seen such a thing in all two hundred of her years. He moved effortlessly towards her. There was a sudden crack and Simpson fell to the floor. Behind him was the boy. Eyes glazed over and lifeless. One hand buried in the back of Simpson’s head. When he pulled it out the was a brief squirt of blood. The glazed eyes turned to the shocked Vannessa. Regarding her in their empty gaze. Vanessa released the blade of the knife and took hold of it’s hilt. The creature that had been the boy fell on top of Simpson’s body, which had started to return to it’s human form. Vanessa could not hear a heart beat from either of them.

She was about to send out her Projection when she sensed them. They were rushing for the room and there was a lot of them. She would have to marshal the others quickly if their little party of now six was to survive what was coming.

Well, there you have it. I have decided to leave this here for now. I may return to it a bit later if there is enough to warrant it. I need to give focus to The Shinning. Who would have thought find enough creativity and time to write five pages a month would be such a challenge.

Till next time, my friends. Take care of yourselves.

Nic. Out.