Post by Calypso on Mar 21, 2006 16:37:28 GMT -5
OOC Please note: General Undead Roleplay. Slayers more than welcome (see mentions in post) Werewolves (Lycans if you want to be uppity about it, ^_^) and naturally vampires too. Normal mortals... appreciated. Anything else, feel free I guess. Miaow.
There's also little physical description of my characters as yet - partly because I'm tired and shmeh, basically, and partly because... um... I'm lazy too? Oh well. Have fun.
IC The night was dark. The moon lay hidden behind the clouds. The rain had eased off. The streets were silent.
Except for the pant of breath and slap of running feet through the puddles.
Someone stumbled, clutching at a wall to change direction and dart down a back street in the desperate, vain hope of confusing their pursuer. Black boots shook droplets everywhere as they were flung from one pool of water to another, and black trousers clung to the runner's legs, soaked through, just like the once-white shirt above. The long black trenchcoat flapped behind them, demonic wings that prevented rather than enabled their flight.
The follower was close behind, not quite running to keep up. He paused at the entrance to the alley, then ventured along it cautiously.
The runner tripped, and fell to his knees, gasping for breath and trying to scramble back up to run on. There was a livid red burn on his neck, blistered and agonising.
It was the shape of a cross.
The runner looked ahead, and stared in horror at the thick, chain-link fence that stretched across the alleyway. It was topped with vicious spikes, and he was shaking too hard to climb anyway. He got to his feet and turned, but all he saw was the hunter approaching, cautiously. The man pulled a gun from an inside pocket, and the runner's eyes went wide.
He backed away, slipping in the rain, until his back hit the chain fence.
"What did I do?" he asked desperately. "What did I do to you? I never hurt you!"
"You know why," the hunter said, and there was a flicker of blankness in the runner's eyes, then he bared his teeth in a wild snarl.
"You think you can kill me with that? Fool of a mortal, you're no match for me!"
"The bullets have mahogany tips," the hunter said calmly. "I've been waiting to test if they work as stakes. And if not, don't worry. I have plenty of holy water left. And my crucifix."
The runner gave a cry and leaped forward with terrifying speed, but the hunter had kept his distance, and had time enough to pull the trigger. The runner's scream echoed in time with the gunshot, and he fell to his knees, clutching his chest.
His eyes flickered blank, then into entreaty, a manic gleam lighting them as he stared at the hunter and said hoarsely, "You must tell me what death is. Before I die, I must understand what death is!"
He curled forwards for a moment, then looked back up at the hunter. "You missed our heart," he said calmly, then giggled. "The Queen of Hearts made some tarts, all on a summer's day!"
Again his eyes flicked, and he whispered, "Mercy. Please."
"You're insane," the hunter breathed, eyes wide.
"Yes!" cried the runner despairingly. "In... sane... Help us. Help me. I beg you."
The hunter levelled the gun directly at him, aiming straight for his heart, no more than a metre from him. The runner stared at him, terrible hopelessness brimming in his eyes. And then the hunter felt the brush of fingers on his neck, and someone whispered in his ear, "Your blood... so fresh and warm..."
In sudden panic, he tried to turn, but the stranger seized his arms. He fought fiercely, striving to reach his crucifix, but the struggle made his finger tighten on the trigger. And the stranger had twisted his arm until the gun pointed at his own head.
The runner watched the hunter's corpse drop to the ground with mild interest, then looked back up at the stranger. The man stepped forwards and offered a hand to help him up. The runner's eyes flickered, then he lunged forwards, grabbed the stranger's arm, and sank his teeth into the man's wrist.
The stranger sighed, saying, "You fool."
But the runner swallowed greedily anyway - then gasped in pain and recoiled. "It burns," he screamed, clutching at his throat. He stared at the stranger, who merely pulled a handkerchief from his pocket (not a tissue, but a proper cloth handkerchief), opened it out with a practiced flick of his wrist, and then tied it tightly around the wound.
"Are you really insane?" he asked then, and the runner snarled at him.
"How should I know? Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you! I won't tell you anything!"
The stranger noted the momentary blankness in his eyes before he said calmly, "Yes. I am. I know it, sometimes, but there's nothing I can do." He sighed a little, then said sincerely, "Thank you for saving me. Us. Me."
The stranger appeared curious, asking, "Why are you insane?"
With a mirthless laugh, the runner turned bitter, saying, "Because I've been here too long. Four hundred years. Four hundred and seventeen - I worked it out. But you wouldn't know. You're young blood. Mostly human. In step with this world. It'll get to you too - just wait!"
The stranger laughed suddenly, and the runner stared at him until he said again, amused, "Fool," then explained. "The place of my birth... my home... is nothing more than a museum exhibit now. There's nothing left of it but stone and soil. It is generally agreed that the last time it was inhabited was more than five thousand years ago."
The runner gaped at him in shock, then whispered, "Five... thousand... years? How are you still sane?"
"Maybe I'm not," the elder vampire suggested calmly. "There are many forms of insanity, after all."
There was that flicker in the runner's eyes, then he crawled forwards and caught the stranger's uninjured hand, kissing it before the stranger snatched it back, saying, "Don't do that!"
"Master," the runner gasped, grovelling before him. "Teach me!"
He kissed the hem of the stranger's trousers, until the stranger said in disgust, "You can stop that as well."
With fanatical adoration in his eyes, the runner gazed up at him, fingers clutching at his trouser leg as he breathed, "My master!"
"Don't call me that!" the stranger snapped. "My name is Cade. At least, it is now. Oh, for heaven's sake, let go of me and get up!"
The insane vampire obeyed eagerly, eyes riveted on Cade with terrifying intensity. "Lord Cade," he said devotedly, "I will serve you gladly!"
Cade was almost relieved when his eyes went blank, then he giggled, "Gladly or sadly, but always madly! Orders must be obeyed!" He hunched over a little, eyes darting around the alleyway. "Got no choice, do we?" he asked, a little sharply.
The elder vampire sighed, then said, "Do you have a hiding place nearby? Somewhere safe?"
"A hiding place to keep us safe? No, no no no! We lost it. So safe we put it down and left it behind to the slayers. A den for us is a den for them, but we had to go first. What's ours is theirs, they say. Finders keepers, vampires weepers. They'd love to sweep us off the road! Sweep us out of life - brush brush brush us aside like cobwebs!" The runner paused for breath, then grinned and said rationally, "But then they'd be out of a job."
Cade said, "How true. Well then, follow me."
"Follow the yellow brick road," the runner whispered, then his eyes flickered and he growled, "No! We're not connected in any way! I won't do what you tell me!"
Cade turned and started walking. He'd taken three steps when the runner gave a strangled snarl of fury and ran to catch up with him.
"Tell me your name," Cade suggested, and the runner growled, "Saladin."
The five-thousand-year-old vampire laughed, asking, "As in the leader of the Saracen army during the Crusades? You're nothing like him."
Saladin glared at him, and spat, "I don't care what you say. I don't care what you do. I don't care what you think. But if you're only going to force me to obey you, then laugh in my face, I will kill you."
Cade stopped, and held his gaze evenly. In quiet, measured tones, he said, "Don't even try to hurt me."
The younger vampire froze, then made a convulsive movement as if trying to throw a punch with a group of determined people holding back his arm. His face twisted in fury, and he started swearing at Cade, vilely and inventively. For a few moments Cade let him run on, remaining expressionless throughout, until, quite calmly, he smashed a backhanded blow across the side of Saladin's face, snapping his head to one side. Rendered instantly silent by rage and shock, the young vampire was forced to hear Cade out.
"You brought this on yourself, Saladin. You're the one who was stupid enough to try drinking the blood of an elder vampire. You threw yourself into my control, so now you're my responsibility, and there's no way I'm going to let you loose in the city. I saw the news. You've already killed one girl, and that's more than enough. Can you imagine what would happen if you gave mortals conclusive proof of our existence? They'd slaughter us! I didn't live for five thousand years to let one mad little vampire get me killed now! Do you understand?"
Saladin glowered at him, the left side of his face burning red frorm Cade's vicious slap. Finally, he hissed, "You have no honour. To strike me while I am defenceless...!" He choked into silence again, speechless with fury.
"Didn't a single word of that go in?" Cade sighed.
The other's eyes flickered blankly, then his expression became weary, and he winced a little, clutching at his chest.
Cade eyed him cautiously, asking, "Which one are you?"
"My name is Laurence," he said quietly, voice rough after Saladin's raging. "I spoke to you before. Called you young blood."
"Ah," Cade sighed again. "I see."
Laurence forced a smile, though lines of pain creased up around his eyes. "You're quite right to restrain Saladin," he murmured tiredly. "He is the most dangerous of us all, with the notable exception of..." he paused, and closed his eyes for a moment, whispering, "the Vicomte," as though trying not to be overheard. He opened his eyes again, pausing as he tested his mind, then started to say, "But he hardly ever appears, thank goodness." He got only as far as "But he -" before groaning and falling to his knees.
Cade half-caught him as Laurence clutched at him to steady himself, hanging his head as the pain consumed him.
"What's the matter?" the older vampire asked warily, and Laurence dragged his head up, forcing himself to breathe calmly.
"The bullet is still in me," he said matter-of-factly. "It's preventing us from healing."
"I'm sorry," Cade said. "I thought it went straight through. Why didn't Saladin say something?"
Laurence tried a weak laugh. "He's too proud. But I'll admit it. We can't walk, Cade. I should probably stop talking, too - no doubt I'm just making it worse."
"Then be quiet," Cade ordered him, and he instantly fell silent. "You have to stick around, Laurence. You're the only one of you rational enough to deal with. All right?"
The young vampire nodded exhaustedly, and, with apparent ease, Cade simply picked him up and carried him the rest of the way to his current hiding place - an abandoned block of flats, due for demolition.
"Still Laurence?" he asked as they arrived, and again the other managed a nod, as Cade shouldered open the few doors in their way. Reaching his room, he laid Laurence down on a pile of blankets that served as a bed. The younger vampire's eyes flickered, and he took a sharp breath - too sharp. His eyes went wide, and Cade, remembering his earlier command, said, "You can talk now."
"Lord Cade?" the other whimpered, then gasped in pain again.
"What's your name?" Cade asked gently, recognising the fanatic's style.
Blinking, staring at him trustingly, the fanatic stammered, "R- Raphael."
"All right Raphael," Cade said soothingly, "you're going to have to do exactly what I tell you - to start with just nod. Don't speak."
Raphael nodded.
"Right," Cade said, turning away as he moved over to the other side of the room, where a cloth kept the dust off his possessions. "That bullet has to come out, understand? If it's not removed quickly you'll heal around it, and then you'll really be in trouble."
He found what he was looking for, and slowly unsheathed the long knife, saying, "Close your eyes, Raphael, and keep them closed until I tell you otherwise. Stay still. And don't make a sound."
Carefully, he went and closed the door.
The sun was setting outside again when Laurence awoke. For a moment or two, he remembered what had happened the previous night, and reasoned that the lack of pain in his chest must mean that Cade had been successful.
"Laurence?" the older vampire asked, but he found himself unable to respond. He couldn't even open his eyes.
"Oh," Cade said in sudden realisation, then, "I release you from your commands."
Immediately, Laurence sat up, looking down at his chest. He was relieved to see a distinct lack of gaping wounds, and glanced up at Cade, who leaning against the wall by the covered window. Cade smiled, saying, "Catch," as he threw something to Laurence.
He caught it, and examined the bullet for a moment before saying, simply, "Thank you." He then looked around, taking a moment or two to examine the flat. It was in a terrible state of repair, empty of almost everything, the paint peeling and plaster flaking.
"Why do you live in this place?" Laurence asked curiously, and Cade simply said, "I don't."
As the young vampire raised his eyebrows questioningly, Cade elaborated, "This is a temporary place - if ever my real home gets discovered I can stay here until I find somewhere else to go. And if the slayers find this place, there's a thousand others like it in the city."
"More slayers?" Laurence said fearfully, his eyes wide.
"Afraid so," Cade confirmed. "The one who was after you was from out of town - brought in by the news of that girl. There'll be others like him now, as well as the group already here. But we have an advantage over the local ones: one of us has infiltrated the group."
Laurence froze with shock. "A vampire? Posing as a hunter? But... but they all have crucifixes! Holy water! It's impossible!"
Cade grinned, saying, "This vampire is special. Young blood - sired in the last few years. Completely atheist. Holy symbols, holy water... totally useless against a vampire that believes in nothing. So the rest of us have advance warning of raids and plans, and if we get caught it's our own fault."
"Utter genius," Laurence breathed. "I had no idea an atheistic vampire would have such power... Whose idea was it?"
"Mine," Cade admitted sheepishly, "but don't tell Raphael or I'll never hear the end of it."
Laurence laughed, and then Cade paused, and said thoughtfully, "Saladin, Raphael, Laurence... You all have different names - what about the other one? You know. Nutty but sharp. Follow the yellow brick road and all that."
"Oh, Simon," Laurence realised.
"Simon?" Cade repeated in surprise.
The other vampire grinned. "As in Simple Simon. He had no memory of another name, so we picked it for him. But he won't use it - he always acknowledges all of us."
Cade rolled his eyes, laughing a little as he said, "I should have guessed it would be something like that, shouldn't I?"
In the brief second when he glanced away, Laurence's eyes flickered swiftly. Cade, however, stretched a little, continuing, "Now that's sorted, it's safe enough to go out now. You don't know the city, do you? I'll show you around."
He stepped forwards as the younger vampire got to his feet, replying, "Thank you," again.
And then he drew back his fist and punched Cade square in the mouth. Caught utterly off guard, Cade was knocked backwards, head cracking painfully off the wall. Dazed, he slid down to the floor with a groan, weakly raising his hands to his head.
It took a few moments before he was able to see and think clearly again. Then he realised that Saladin - it had to have been Saladin - had fled. And he had taken the knife.
There's also little physical description of my characters as yet - partly because I'm tired and shmeh, basically, and partly because... um... I'm lazy too? Oh well. Have fun.
IC The night was dark. The moon lay hidden behind the clouds. The rain had eased off. The streets were silent.
Except for the pant of breath and slap of running feet through the puddles.
Someone stumbled, clutching at a wall to change direction and dart down a back street in the desperate, vain hope of confusing their pursuer. Black boots shook droplets everywhere as they were flung from one pool of water to another, and black trousers clung to the runner's legs, soaked through, just like the once-white shirt above. The long black trenchcoat flapped behind them, demonic wings that prevented rather than enabled their flight.
The follower was close behind, not quite running to keep up. He paused at the entrance to the alley, then ventured along it cautiously.
The runner tripped, and fell to his knees, gasping for breath and trying to scramble back up to run on. There was a livid red burn on his neck, blistered and agonising.
It was the shape of a cross.
The runner looked ahead, and stared in horror at the thick, chain-link fence that stretched across the alleyway. It was topped with vicious spikes, and he was shaking too hard to climb anyway. He got to his feet and turned, but all he saw was the hunter approaching, cautiously. The man pulled a gun from an inside pocket, and the runner's eyes went wide.
He backed away, slipping in the rain, until his back hit the chain fence.
"What did I do?" he asked desperately. "What did I do to you? I never hurt you!"
"You know why," the hunter said, and there was a flicker of blankness in the runner's eyes, then he bared his teeth in a wild snarl.
"You think you can kill me with that? Fool of a mortal, you're no match for me!"
"The bullets have mahogany tips," the hunter said calmly. "I've been waiting to test if they work as stakes. And if not, don't worry. I have plenty of holy water left. And my crucifix."
The runner gave a cry and leaped forward with terrifying speed, but the hunter had kept his distance, and had time enough to pull the trigger. The runner's scream echoed in time with the gunshot, and he fell to his knees, clutching his chest.
His eyes flickered blank, then into entreaty, a manic gleam lighting them as he stared at the hunter and said hoarsely, "You must tell me what death is. Before I die, I must understand what death is!"
He curled forwards for a moment, then looked back up at the hunter. "You missed our heart," he said calmly, then giggled. "The Queen of Hearts made some tarts, all on a summer's day!"
Again his eyes flicked, and he whispered, "Mercy. Please."
"You're insane," the hunter breathed, eyes wide.
"Yes!" cried the runner despairingly. "In... sane... Help us. Help me. I beg you."
The hunter levelled the gun directly at him, aiming straight for his heart, no more than a metre from him. The runner stared at him, terrible hopelessness brimming in his eyes. And then the hunter felt the brush of fingers on his neck, and someone whispered in his ear, "Your blood... so fresh and warm..."
In sudden panic, he tried to turn, but the stranger seized his arms. He fought fiercely, striving to reach his crucifix, but the struggle made his finger tighten on the trigger. And the stranger had twisted his arm until the gun pointed at his own head.
The runner watched the hunter's corpse drop to the ground with mild interest, then looked back up at the stranger. The man stepped forwards and offered a hand to help him up. The runner's eyes flickered, then he lunged forwards, grabbed the stranger's arm, and sank his teeth into the man's wrist.
The stranger sighed, saying, "You fool."
But the runner swallowed greedily anyway - then gasped in pain and recoiled. "It burns," he screamed, clutching at his throat. He stared at the stranger, who merely pulled a handkerchief from his pocket (not a tissue, but a proper cloth handkerchief), opened it out with a practiced flick of his wrist, and then tied it tightly around the wound.
"Are you really insane?" he asked then, and the runner snarled at him.
"How should I know? Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you! I won't tell you anything!"
The stranger noted the momentary blankness in his eyes before he said calmly, "Yes. I am. I know it, sometimes, but there's nothing I can do." He sighed a little, then said sincerely, "Thank you for saving me. Us. Me."
The stranger appeared curious, asking, "Why are you insane?"
With a mirthless laugh, the runner turned bitter, saying, "Because I've been here too long. Four hundred years. Four hundred and seventeen - I worked it out. But you wouldn't know. You're young blood. Mostly human. In step with this world. It'll get to you too - just wait!"
The stranger laughed suddenly, and the runner stared at him until he said again, amused, "Fool," then explained. "The place of my birth... my home... is nothing more than a museum exhibit now. There's nothing left of it but stone and soil. It is generally agreed that the last time it was inhabited was more than five thousand years ago."
The runner gaped at him in shock, then whispered, "Five... thousand... years? How are you still sane?"
"Maybe I'm not," the elder vampire suggested calmly. "There are many forms of insanity, after all."
There was that flicker in the runner's eyes, then he crawled forwards and caught the stranger's uninjured hand, kissing it before the stranger snatched it back, saying, "Don't do that!"
"Master," the runner gasped, grovelling before him. "Teach me!"
He kissed the hem of the stranger's trousers, until the stranger said in disgust, "You can stop that as well."
With fanatical adoration in his eyes, the runner gazed up at him, fingers clutching at his trouser leg as he breathed, "My master!"
"Don't call me that!" the stranger snapped. "My name is Cade. At least, it is now. Oh, for heaven's sake, let go of me and get up!"
The insane vampire obeyed eagerly, eyes riveted on Cade with terrifying intensity. "Lord Cade," he said devotedly, "I will serve you gladly!"
Cade was almost relieved when his eyes went blank, then he giggled, "Gladly or sadly, but always madly! Orders must be obeyed!" He hunched over a little, eyes darting around the alleyway. "Got no choice, do we?" he asked, a little sharply.
The elder vampire sighed, then said, "Do you have a hiding place nearby? Somewhere safe?"
"A hiding place to keep us safe? No, no no no! We lost it. So safe we put it down and left it behind to the slayers. A den for us is a den for them, but we had to go first. What's ours is theirs, they say. Finders keepers, vampires weepers. They'd love to sweep us off the road! Sweep us out of life - brush brush brush us aside like cobwebs!" The runner paused for breath, then grinned and said rationally, "But then they'd be out of a job."
Cade said, "How true. Well then, follow me."
"Follow the yellow brick road," the runner whispered, then his eyes flickered and he growled, "No! We're not connected in any way! I won't do what you tell me!"
Cade turned and started walking. He'd taken three steps when the runner gave a strangled snarl of fury and ran to catch up with him.
"Tell me your name," Cade suggested, and the runner growled, "Saladin."
The five-thousand-year-old vampire laughed, asking, "As in the leader of the Saracen army during the Crusades? You're nothing like him."
Saladin glared at him, and spat, "I don't care what you say. I don't care what you do. I don't care what you think. But if you're only going to force me to obey you, then laugh in my face, I will kill you."
Cade stopped, and held his gaze evenly. In quiet, measured tones, he said, "Don't even try to hurt me."
The younger vampire froze, then made a convulsive movement as if trying to throw a punch with a group of determined people holding back his arm. His face twisted in fury, and he started swearing at Cade, vilely and inventively. For a few moments Cade let him run on, remaining expressionless throughout, until, quite calmly, he smashed a backhanded blow across the side of Saladin's face, snapping his head to one side. Rendered instantly silent by rage and shock, the young vampire was forced to hear Cade out.
"You brought this on yourself, Saladin. You're the one who was stupid enough to try drinking the blood of an elder vampire. You threw yourself into my control, so now you're my responsibility, and there's no way I'm going to let you loose in the city. I saw the news. You've already killed one girl, and that's more than enough. Can you imagine what would happen if you gave mortals conclusive proof of our existence? They'd slaughter us! I didn't live for five thousand years to let one mad little vampire get me killed now! Do you understand?"
Saladin glowered at him, the left side of his face burning red frorm Cade's vicious slap. Finally, he hissed, "You have no honour. To strike me while I am defenceless...!" He choked into silence again, speechless with fury.
"Didn't a single word of that go in?" Cade sighed.
The other's eyes flickered blankly, then his expression became weary, and he winced a little, clutching at his chest.
Cade eyed him cautiously, asking, "Which one are you?"
"My name is Laurence," he said quietly, voice rough after Saladin's raging. "I spoke to you before. Called you young blood."
"Ah," Cade sighed again. "I see."
Laurence forced a smile, though lines of pain creased up around his eyes. "You're quite right to restrain Saladin," he murmured tiredly. "He is the most dangerous of us all, with the notable exception of..." he paused, and closed his eyes for a moment, whispering, "the Vicomte," as though trying not to be overheard. He opened his eyes again, pausing as he tested his mind, then started to say, "But he hardly ever appears, thank goodness." He got only as far as "But he -" before groaning and falling to his knees.
Cade half-caught him as Laurence clutched at him to steady himself, hanging his head as the pain consumed him.
"What's the matter?" the older vampire asked warily, and Laurence dragged his head up, forcing himself to breathe calmly.
"The bullet is still in me," he said matter-of-factly. "It's preventing us from healing."
"I'm sorry," Cade said. "I thought it went straight through. Why didn't Saladin say something?"
Laurence tried a weak laugh. "He's too proud. But I'll admit it. We can't walk, Cade. I should probably stop talking, too - no doubt I'm just making it worse."
"Then be quiet," Cade ordered him, and he instantly fell silent. "You have to stick around, Laurence. You're the only one of you rational enough to deal with. All right?"
The young vampire nodded exhaustedly, and, with apparent ease, Cade simply picked him up and carried him the rest of the way to his current hiding place - an abandoned block of flats, due for demolition.
"Still Laurence?" he asked as they arrived, and again the other managed a nod, as Cade shouldered open the few doors in their way. Reaching his room, he laid Laurence down on a pile of blankets that served as a bed. The younger vampire's eyes flickered, and he took a sharp breath - too sharp. His eyes went wide, and Cade, remembering his earlier command, said, "You can talk now."
"Lord Cade?" the other whimpered, then gasped in pain again.
"What's your name?" Cade asked gently, recognising the fanatic's style.
Blinking, staring at him trustingly, the fanatic stammered, "R- Raphael."
"All right Raphael," Cade said soothingly, "you're going to have to do exactly what I tell you - to start with just nod. Don't speak."
Raphael nodded.
"Right," Cade said, turning away as he moved over to the other side of the room, where a cloth kept the dust off his possessions. "That bullet has to come out, understand? If it's not removed quickly you'll heal around it, and then you'll really be in trouble."
He found what he was looking for, and slowly unsheathed the long knife, saying, "Close your eyes, Raphael, and keep them closed until I tell you otherwise. Stay still. And don't make a sound."
Carefully, he went and closed the door.
~*~
The sun was setting outside again when Laurence awoke. For a moment or two, he remembered what had happened the previous night, and reasoned that the lack of pain in his chest must mean that Cade had been successful.
"Laurence?" the older vampire asked, but he found himself unable to respond. He couldn't even open his eyes.
"Oh," Cade said in sudden realisation, then, "I release you from your commands."
Immediately, Laurence sat up, looking down at his chest. He was relieved to see a distinct lack of gaping wounds, and glanced up at Cade, who leaning against the wall by the covered window. Cade smiled, saying, "Catch," as he threw something to Laurence.
He caught it, and examined the bullet for a moment before saying, simply, "Thank you." He then looked around, taking a moment or two to examine the flat. It was in a terrible state of repair, empty of almost everything, the paint peeling and plaster flaking.
"Why do you live in this place?" Laurence asked curiously, and Cade simply said, "I don't."
As the young vampire raised his eyebrows questioningly, Cade elaborated, "This is a temporary place - if ever my real home gets discovered I can stay here until I find somewhere else to go. And if the slayers find this place, there's a thousand others like it in the city."
"More slayers?" Laurence said fearfully, his eyes wide.
"Afraid so," Cade confirmed. "The one who was after you was from out of town - brought in by the news of that girl. There'll be others like him now, as well as the group already here. But we have an advantage over the local ones: one of us has infiltrated the group."
Laurence froze with shock. "A vampire? Posing as a hunter? But... but they all have crucifixes! Holy water! It's impossible!"
Cade grinned, saying, "This vampire is special. Young blood - sired in the last few years. Completely atheist. Holy symbols, holy water... totally useless against a vampire that believes in nothing. So the rest of us have advance warning of raids and plans, and if we get caught it's our own fault."
"Utter genius," Laurence breathed. "I had no idea an atheistic vampire would have such power... Whose idea was it?"
"Mine," Cade admitted sheepishly, "but don't tell Raphael or I'll never hear the end of it."
Laurence laughed, and then Cade paused, and said thoughtfully, "Saladin, Raphael, Laurence... You all have different names - what about the other one? You know. Nutty but sharp. Follow the yellow brick road and all that."
"Oh, Simon," Laurence realised.
"Simon?" Cade repeated in surprise.
The other vampire grinned. "As in Simple Simon. He had no memory of another name, so we picked it for him. But he won't use it - he always acknowledges all of us."
Cade rolled his eyes, laughing a little as he said, "I should have guessed it would be something like that, shouldn't I?"
In the brief second when he glanced away, Laurence's eyes flickered swiftly. Cade, however, stretched a little, continuing, "Now that's sorted, it's safe enough to go out now. You don't know the city, do you? I'll show you around."
He stepped forwards as the younger vampire got to his feet, replying, "Thank you," again.
And then he drew back his fist and punched Cade square in the mouth. Caught utterly off guard, Cade was knocked backwards, head cracking painfully off the wall. Dazed, he slid down to the floor with a groan, weakly raising his hands to his head.
It took a few moments before he was able to see and think clearly again. Then he realised that Saladin - it had to have been Saladin - had fled. And he had taken the knife.