| |
|
Chapter Three *** Up ahead, the Limousine has stalled. She still has a chance, Kendra dashes to the Limo and tires to rip off the door to the heavily reinforced black limousine. She seems indignant when the door stays solidly put. The car reeves and she realizes she doesn't have time to mess with the door. Go for the weakest spot. She drops the sword, she can't use it for fear she might hurt the whimpering girl inside. Window is impacted with her elbow, again and again the blows rein down. Suddenly she pivots and adds her spiked boot heel to the cracking splinter of glass. She is making leeway when suddenly the car lurches forward She's not giving up and runs along side the Limo as it starts to gather momentum. Her Slayer powers give her the advantage, but not when the car speeds up faster and the door suddenly flings open enough to slightly trip Kendra, but she regains quickly getting so close to see two dark-skinned children are held within by one massive vampire. The boy looks about 9yrs old, but he is still, eyes rolled up. The girl is maybe 15yrs, semi-conscious, lolling restlessly against the back seat just outside the clutches of the demon. Kendra is very close that she could almost even... get.... inside.... BOOF! A body is flung out at her, taking the both of them sprawling to the alley way in a bloody heap, the car door slamming shut tightly as the car speed off. The Slayer rights herself as fast as she can to pursue the car with vigor. Kendra has no time to check if the girl is alive or dead, she knows that the boy is still inside and needs her help but the Limo screeches around the corner into early morning traffic dragging with it the publics unwelcome attention as she rounds at a running pace to catch up. She notes the raised eyebrows and curious stares and cannot afford more attention her way. She opts to resume the chase at a more opportune moment, hopefully the boy will survive. That relied on the young lady, and what she could tell her about their kidnappers. Kendra approached wearily, stooping briefly to retrieve the fallen sword. Kendras breath caught in her throat. Remielle. Tante Matties grand-daughter. Kendra knew Remielle from the Herbal shop that Mattie Baptiste, better known in New Orleans superior and well respected families, as Tante Mattie, who owned and ran many businesses throughout the South. One of which was a herbal Voodun shop, out the front it was mainly for the tourists, but out the back it was the real deal. Crossbows, wooden stakes, swords, books and chronicles worthy of a Watchers archive. Tante Mattie had associations with both the Thieves Guild and their rivals, The Assassins Guild, but her strongest and most loyal bonds were with The Watchers and to Sam Mboto in particular. The two had been life long friends, and often Tante Mattie would look after the primogen Slayer while Mboto worked elsewhere. That is why Kendra felt a bond with her family, and trusted Mrs Mattie Baptiste with her life. Kendra sat on her haunches near Remielle, carefully checking her condition. No bite marks, but angry red marks around her neck, as if she was throttled. Her spider sense wasn't picking up any corruption, like she had 'sensed' on Willy in Sunnydale. Not yet anyway. Kendra sheathed the weapon and scooted forward to make eye contact. Remielles eyes cycle through the familiar routine Kendra recognizes from the many years of dealing with Vampire survivors, not yet driven into fetal coil by what she has seen. By what her brother still may be seeing. The Jamaican Slayer cannot afford Matties grand-daughter that time to mentally heal. She needs to know what happened. Remielles eyes are at first, a blank, dead stare. The pupils sharpen to a realization and recognition finally comes. "Slay..." Kendra nods once. "I am she. Were you bitten?" Remielle's eyes open wide. She's scared, disoriented. "Non, dey want.."Remielles face contorts as if trying to drag the truth from her clouded mind. "Ma fere! Where ma brudda?!", she screams hysterically, swinging her arms about her as if to ward of invisible attacks. "Calm yerself, gel!" Kendra entreats, banking the girl against the wall holding her wrists in her hands to stop her from being hurt. Completely Uncomfortable playing nursemaid, all she can do is try and get some sense out of the girl. "Tink Remi, do ya know w'ere dey're taking 'im?" Remielle is too hysterical. A sound of screeching of tyres, drives Kendras adrenaline screaming into her veins. She snaps a look down the alley one way, then the other. Mon Dieu! Cop car pulling into the far end of the alley. Kendra glances harshly in the other direction when another black and white pulls up. The other team signal to the other car they have this under control. The second team hand signal their agreement and pull out. Paramedics and police cars swarm over the area drawn by the noise. She's boxed in. Heartbeat goes triple time. Remielle sucks in her breath gets ready to shriek again. Fear of discovery makes the Slayer act rashly. Remielle is still screaming, when Kendras fist connects to her chin, knocking Remielle unconscious. Picking the girl up in her arms, she cradles her close, desperately searching for a way out. *** Slipping from shadow to shadow, slides a living patch of darkness. He is Louis Du Pointe Du Lac. His eyes are hidden by black shades and his shoulder length blond locks are pushed back into a tidy ponytail at the nape of his long neck. A youth of preternatural bisque beauty, deceptively young for a 230year old. The kind of man born to be a every girls dream... and most likely he would be, if he had not been a vampire from their nightmares. But more importantly, he is the reluctant vampyre juvenile of Lestat De Lioncourt, grand L'enfant de la mort (child of death) of all dark trinity, Armand. Armand. The ancient king of vampyres brings a chill to Louis he dare not examine. as his grand Sires words echo back to him from the past. "I saw you in the theater, your suffering, your sympathy for that girl. I saw you with the boy. You die when you kill, you feel you deserve to die and you stint on nothing. But does that make you evil? Or, since you comprehend what you call goodness, does it not make you good?" That was the question Louis had spent all his lifetime seeking the answer too. Conflict with his desire to hunt and feed opposed with a soul and reverence for life. Pity Armands insight to Louis' integrity, stalled at Lestat. But where his master, Lestat, sheds his humanity so easily, Louis takes his up like a cloak and shield determined never to loose what he so long held in a human heart. Light. The night slowly releases the ancient city from its prenatural immortal coil. She is moving with the girl slung over her shoulder. Up. Climbing the rusty fire-escape to the roof, away from the uniforms who blanket the area from below. Louis is following her. The *her* that haunts his dreams with such longing and mystery of late. The one that is the killer of killers. The huntress. She who is his final raptured, guiltless sleep of the truly damned. The Vampire Slayer - Kendra. He watches as she descends on the other side of the slippery roofs, down into a side alley where the bike remains. She places the girl on the back and they both resume their escape into the city. He slips down into the street, hidden safely within shadows to the awaiting car below. Kendra becomes the shape through trees as she and the rather quiet Remielle gun the bike out into early morning traffic in New Orleans. From the safety of a darkened limousine window, a well dressed vampire Mage sits back in the plush leather interior of the car sipping non-commitedly at a flute of champagne. Louis Du Pointe Du Lac watches the dark slayer with increasing interest. Cool as liquid nitrogen. He couldn't determine what drew him to her, more than all the others before her, but it was there nonetheless. The ultimate sirens song of the Slayers temptation. Perhaps more. Much more. After watching her battles in Sunnydale, Charleston and now New Orleans, the raw, nervous energy: like a kid who can't stay still, was still on overdrive. She had made her way into the heart of Garaks hold, inches away from one his high Commanders sitting in the back of the limousine with Tante Matties grand-son, Tyne. His connection to the kidnapping a disturbing confliction in itself, both connections as strong as death, he could not allow himself to be distracted by this tempting Jamaican Slayer, when the battle for victory was at hand. When so many lives teetered on his focus and dedication. He watched Kendra and Remielle disappear into traffic, reluctantly allowing them to escape his watchful eye. A bitter moment later, he turned to his right hand man and vampire adopted 'son' Chakkram, a 20something Asian-American dressed impeccably in Versae. Dedicated. Handsome in a strikingly roguish way. "Do you wish our men to follow her still, Sir?" Chakkram asked troubled over his masters preoccupation with the Slayer. "Our vampire kin have retired from their protective vigil at Tante Matties a few hours ago, our human associates will be there in another hour." "No, Chakkram, let her go - for now," Louis answered quietly, focusing on something else. "Our meeting with Garak takes immediate precedence. After all, what could possibly happen in 12 hours?" << Back Next >> |