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August 29th
Sorry, not sorry for the absence. I had a death in the family that took a lot out of me.
However, I'm slowly getting motivation back
I have a four-day weekend coming up for the holiday so I hope I'll have some time to do replies and stuff
I'll be more active with the -Ber months settling in and it's slower at work
Thanks for sticking it out with me <3
Somewhere in Russia | After Midnight
The streets were dimly lit, casting long shadows that gave the area an eerie ambiance. Despite the lack of illumination, there was surprisingly little crime. Those familiar with this part of town knew to stay away. It was the HSHQ's trash pit—a dumping ground for released creatures that didn’t warrant a proper arrest and compromised agents cast aside. While these inhabitants were free to travel, most chose to stay, finding camaraderie among others in similar circumstances. The Russian branch of the Hunter Society was reputed to be far harsher than others. This was Alexander's home for a long time, seventy-four years ago to be exact. Once a compromised agent, his descent into vampirism had driven him away from the society. Returning would only spell trouble for both him and the society. Yet, he still adhered to some semblance of the rules, revisiting the Hunter Society's dumpsite of a city for his needs.
The dim street lights, combined with the blacklight from a nearby bar, cast a dull blue sheen over the vicinity. This wasn't just any lounge—it was a Vampire lounge. A haven for creatures like him, it welcomed them with open arms. It was his go-to spot when hunger gnawed at him. The patrons of this bar were mostly humans, those few who understood the supernatural world and, more importantly, longed to be part of it. The thought was distasteful to Alexander.
Alexander and his willing participant weren't inside the lounge. Fancy settings had never been his taste. His dark eyes studied the woman in the alleyway. She called him "master," a term that made his nose scrunch in response. It was a tradition among the willing participants of the Vampire Lounge, one that had persisted for as long as he could remember. She continued rambling about her fascination and overwhelming love for vampires. Eventually, Alexander cut her off, leaning in closer. The girl blushed, not his intention but a common occurrence in these scenarios. His mouth opened wide, exposing pearly fangs that gleamed with a blue tint from the lighting. In one swift motion, his bite penetrated her neck, sending her into a trance-like state.
His venom was another reason humans were so willing to participate in the feeding events at the lounge. Most vampire venom provided a high like no other. Alexander's eyes closed as his mind drifted back to his first vampire encounter, then to the first and only time he had been bitten. He had died that day, becoming the monster he was now. During feeding, his mind opened, becoming numb—a feral downfall he couldn't prevent. Yet, in a city like this, there were minimal risks, especially around the Vampire Lounge.
Alexander's eyes opened for a moment. What were once dark hues flared to life in crimson beauty. His gaze was blank, glazed over—another common reaction to feeding. His tongue flicked out, swiping the corner of his mouth. A passing car bathed him and his victim in bright light, which eventually faded back to the iridescent blue. His crimson gaze slid to the girl's neck, where a stream of blood flowed. He trailed his tongue up her collarbone and back to his meal. With another bite, Alexander continued feeding.
Black strands of hair fell over his closed eyes, revealing something peculiar. A unique symbol reflected in the blacklight—a mark of old, tattooed onto his neck. It was the symbol the Hunter Society of Russia used to stamp all their agents. Whether they still did so, given Alexander's long absence, was anyone's guess. The symbol appeared more like a stamp one would get when entering a club, glowing with the same blue iridescent sheen as the blacklight. This symbol would reveal his identity to any other hunters lurking about.
Jett stood in the shower, the curtain casting his silhouette against the tile. Though it was doubtful anyone could see him considering someone had slammed the door closed behind him. Jett let out a sound that was somewhere between a chuckle and a 'tsk,' a mildly irritated noise that expressed his exasperation better than words ever could. It was a sharp, quick expulsion of air through his teeth, almost like a scoff, but with a hint of amusement lurking beneath the surface.
He raised his hand, inspecting his fingertips as crimson mixed with the water. After several minutes of his green eyes fixating on the sight, the blood was practically gone. It wasn't his deeds that bothered him; it was the fact that he couldn't remember doing them. The evidence was there, staining his skin red.
His green eyes blinked slowly as a memory of blood clouded his focus. A woman with long raven hair and a sultry voice tinged with a rasp came to mind. It was his mother. "Good, Jett, like that," her voice echoed as a scene unfolded of a much smaller Jett, still wearing a similar black, hooded jacket. The child was gnawing on the neck of an already deceased man. "But I don't like blood, Mother..." As the child spoke, there were no fangs present. Small adolescent hands gripped the fresh kill's neck once again before attempting another chomp.
The scene ended there, as Jett blinked back to reality, his eyes focusing on a single flaw in the paint on the wall. He let out a sigh as the water ran over his back, eventually creeping down his face as his head hung forward.
--
The door opened, and Jett emerged. A large white towel was wrapped around his waist, the corner tucked by his hipbone to keep it from falling. One hand rubbed the back of his head, silently wishing his hair was dry. Jett flopped onto the other bed, his arms behind his head in a resting position. He disregarded the pizza comment as he wasn't actually that hungry. There was a long silence as Jett studied the ceiling, his green gaze shifting between different points.
"What is it you want from me anyway, Pipsqueak?" His tone was much calmer now, almost attempting to match the hushed persona of the room.
She walked and she blabbed. Jett tuned out most of her conversation as the two continued down the street. It was a surprise she hadn't noticed his lack of attention. It only went to show how completely oblivious to her own incessant talking she was. He exhaled a puff of relief from his cigarette as she finally came to a stop and disappeared inside the building. He had to admit, those were the best ten minutes of his life in a long time. Silence at last.
Jett turned, taking a step back and away from the entrance of the hotel. His green eyes scanned through the glass doors, noticing that Pipsqueak was still inside. He leaned back, his gaze darting down the narrow alley that separated the hotel from the next building. It was a small, maybe two-foot-wide crevice. To an ordinary passerby, his actions might have looked like he was making a run for it. Instead, he stooped down, barely entering the alley. "What's up, man," Jett said, pulling another tattered cigarette from his pocket.
A homeless man sat on the ground, wearing a tattered long-sleeved shirt and sporting wildly overgrown gray hair. "Women, right?" Jett remarked rhetorically, tossing the cigarette in the old guy's direction before flopping down beside him and continuing to puff on his own. Perhaps the old bloke was unfazed by the amount of blood on Jett's shirt, or maybe he just didn't care since he'd been given a cigarette. "Oh, need a light?" Jett asked again, fishing into his other pocket and pulling out a green BIC lighter. He tossed it, landing it in the old man's lap. The old man gave it a flick, lighting up the cigarette with a rattly huff but doing little else.
Neseva returned from the building, and Jett sighed. His playtime was over. "I gotta go, bud. See you around," he said, flicking his half-smoked cigarette in the homeless man's direction before pulling himself to his feet and turning to Neseva.
Jett followed her inside, through the hall, and into their room. It was alright, he guessed, but nothing fancy. "Where's the Jacuzzi?" he asked with a hint of distaste, flicking a strand of red hair out of his face. "Demon," Jett retorted, his tone snide. He didn’t elaborate, letting her think what she wanted. Instead, he decided to play along. Pulling the sodden white tank top over his head, he threw it at her feet. His skin was stained in certain places with a red tint, indicating the shirt had indeed been soaked at one point.
"You don't have to worry," he said, working at the buttons of his jeans. The jeans weren't too stained; they were a pair he really liked. "I'm not interested in souls like yours." His pants slid down to his ankles, and the redhead stepped out of them. "Way too annoying," Jett continued, heading toward the bathroom, his feet meeting the cold white tile. His boxers were the last to come off, though he left the door open. "Way too needy, extremely squeaky," his voice echoed between the walls of the basic masoned room. "And besides, I like to have a bit to hold on to. Your soul is severely lacking."
As quickly as he had stopped talking, Jett poked his head out of the bathroom and looked in her direction. Half of his naked body followed, leaning on the open doorframe in all its glory. "Oh, but uh, room service. Pizza sounds great, and a pack of Marlboros... and a light for them, thanks."
Jett stepped back, releasing his grip on her hair. He had indeed felt the sudden tension that had intruded between them. His eyes darted briefly to the right and then to the left. He almost took it as an insult. Sure, he'd faced rejection before, but what more could she possibly want?
"A hunter," Jett scoffed, his laughter tinged with bitterness. "They let anyone play God these days, huh?"
Taking a moment to glance over himself, Jett brushed off his white wife-beater as if it could erase the bloodstains. It was becoming an uncanny coincidence how frequently he crossed paths with Nes. First, she disrupted his threesome, then had the audacity to show up at his coffee shop, and now she had chased him all the way here.
She turned and began to walk away, leaving Jett momentarily alone with his thoughts, still trying to comprehend her insistence on taking him away. As she barked her orders, Jett shuffled his feet, hesitating before reluctantly following her. "You know, I'm not usually one for the demanding type," he remarked, his tone laced with sarcasm.
"What exactly are you hunting me for, anyway?" he prodded, though beneath the sarcasm, Jett was genuinely curious. He wouldn't let her see that, though.
Closing the gap between them, Jett slipped his hands into his pockets. A beat-up cigarette was still tucked in his right pocket, Jett pulled it out and soon ignited it with his lighter. He took a long drag before exhaling the smoke, which caught in the wind and quickly dispersed. "So, are you taking me to jail? A secret headquarters maybe? Do you need me in cuffs?" he coyly questioned, the cigarette dangling from his lips as he continued to follow.
"A motel," he echoed, his voice dripping with distaste. "5-star, I presume? With a jacuzzi tub, no less."
Silence was something the demon had never managed well in the face of others. Let alone the young psychic, whom he’d never known to stay quiet in all their travels. The same wounded dog response was something he’d shown best to Alice over the past years. His eyes drifted toward the road and stayed there. All in all, he understood. Whether he knew how to respond to it or not was a work in progress. A subtle sense of relief crept into his mind when Neseva continued, but it was short-lived. Light blues flickered to the passenger seat once or twice before he looked on ahead to the road.
You’re right.
A silence he expected was one Jason could live with. He settled further into his seat. His driving habits (while technically safe) were something bound to worry anyone unlucky enough to sit in the passenger seat. The rural township greeted them quickly enough. With their heads each full of thoughts, Jason was quick to study the outside world for what might keep them down. Why did people bother to live in a shithole like this? The demon from Queens had never understood the idea of hulling up in the middle of nowhere. He couldn’t help the assessment after a life of partial homelessness and living off forgotten scraps of the city. Still, the fewer the people the far fewer places to search for leads or explanations. Or so he hoped.
Neseva’s chime back to the woman earned the glance of the two older gentlemen, who were still deep in their topic of this year’s crop expectations. One man’s unruly white eyebrows raised and lowered as they went back to their business just as quickly as the two sat down. Jason exhaled a breath and swept a glance over the diner’s knick-knack filled walls.
“At least I’d know what I’m supposed to shoot at,” Jason quipped back. Of all the missed movie culture? Of course that had to be one that he knew. The original, that was. Once or twice more he caught the glance from one of the farmers at the counter. It was bred by lack of familiarity; if they weren’t from town, then who were they here to see? No one passed down the less-traveled highway without a reason.
“-Our man’s name is Owen Sutton, age forty-seven. His daughter Rachel, is age twelve. Both were reported missing a week and a half ago, but Rachel herself hadn’t showed up for school the two weeks prior.” Jason recapped from their hunt’s file, keeping it close to under his breath. “We have a missing man, absent daughter, and a disappeared cop that went to check on the property. From the sound of it, the manhunt for their officer gathered more attention than Sutton’s actual disappearance.” His brow raised briefly. He looked toward the counter. “I have a hunch that Miss Cheerful is the waitress who called us in. It sounds like a cold case if you’d ask me, but she insisted it was up our alley. Apparently, she’s come across Hunters in the past.”
Jason’s train of thought paused at the sound of urgent footsteps that came over Nes’ shoulder. There was a clink as two glasses of water were set in front of both of them at the table. He cast Neseva a pointed look. The name tag matches, Emma Thatcher. We need to find out why she called us. What she knows about the guy. If we drop the right name, maybe you can get a read on those two while we’re at it. They’ve looked over a few times now already.”
Look who was doing his research. Jason, at some point, might have learned the hard way what happens when Alice isn’t around to bear the brunt of it.
“Alright sorry about the wait there Hun! What can I get for you two? Pop, tea, lemonade? Our lunch specials are on the front page of the menu here, so I can give y’all a minute unless you know what you want?”
“Coffee to start,” He answered.
Their waitress Emma looked over to Nes next while splitting the two menus between them, tucking a loose strawberry blonde lock behind her ear. “I don’t think I’ve seen you two in here before, welcome on in! Are you folks in town, or just passing on through?”
“Just passing through. Although, it might be something you can help us with. Your name is… Emma, is it?”
With the menus gone, her hand rest on the curve of her hip. “That’s right sweetheart, what can I help you two with?”
“Bryce,” Dahlia spoke up when the sibling was mentioned. “He still hadn’t heard from him, as far as I knew.” She had heard enough about the mystery boy and the trouble that had pulled the two apart. Even in her hunting, she had failed to find the younger Everett boy’s whereabouts, not that it mattered. I don’t think all of Nik wanted to find his brother. Not with the trouble he carried around with him. The silence put a pit in the blood mage’s chest. The kid was a punk and a hard enough student to teach, but did he deserve all of this?
The other train of thought in the room was less patient and understanding. Dominic looked onward with a stone-cold expression that wouldn’t be wavering for the street kid who meddled with his fate and fell short of what was expected. Nikolas Everett had a choice. He made a decision. Those were two precious things the vampire was never granted in his own fate. Meanwhile, the young man treated them like bargaining chips to throw at what he didn’t understand to begin with. The vampire worked to keep his life intact, despite it. What had Nikolas done other than run?
Dominic could practically feel the tension in the young woman’s body from where he was seated. The unsteady breaths, the tight-jawed remarks that were filled with hope. In some ways, she was right. Demons could be traced. They all had their signatures. Still, in the vampire’s eyes, the creatures that hunted Nikolas proved more telling than whatever had a grip on his soul. "What will you do now?"
“-The demon went by Omega,” Dahlia spoke up, cutting the vampire off. Any little bit could help. “Nik was tampering with a spell that he shouldn’t have been, mind you I warned him. The side effects left him unconscious, it even weakened our wards, for a moment.” Her hand slipped through her hair and pulled it away from her face. “I saw it peek through, just that once. When it spoke through him, I got a sense of reluctance. It felt almost like a power struggle, almost like something was holding it back. In all the time he worked here, that’s all I managed to find. Our walls are meant to hold off the supernatural, after all.” Dahlia could feel the vampire’s eyes divert to her and paid no mind. It was an instance she had never bothered to share, nor had she planned to. If it put a spark of hope in Neseva’s mind, then it was worth the conversation to come.
They both watched Neseva’s shoulders sink further. The energy in the room followed suit. Surprisingly, even Dominic disengaged and bit his tongue behind tight lips. He had little sympathy for Nik’s self-made predicament, but he knew what the loss of a love looked like when he saw it. A part of him even stepped back to think, you may have gone too far.
“Keep in touch, Nes… If I find out anything new I’ll call, I promise,” Dahlia responded quietly. “-take care of yourself, alright?”
Jason listened in tentatively while she explained. In the past months of being on his own, from time to time he felt his shortcoming of skipping out on the classroom portion of becoming a Hunter. If he ever wanted to be more than an on-the-ground grunt handling lesser conflicts, they were things he would need to pick up, one way or another. He could be one snip of information away from death at the hands of a spirit, cryptid, or not ever getting to the bottom of a hunt at all. Close calls could have been resolved, if only Alice were…
No matter how convenient his ‘second chances’ were from the curse, he couldn’t learn the hard way forever. “I’ll put it on the watch list,” He murmured. After their quarrels in Egypt or even Russia, he wouldn’t rule out space as another source of hell to be dealt with. How much else did they have to go on, anyway?
“We can stop in, ask a few questions… see if you can read the room if our waitress doesn’t have more of a tip to give us than what’s written. There’s only so many places to look, worse comes to worst.”
When she changed subjects abruptly, he looked Nes’ way sharply and his brow knit together. He tried to read the lines on her face for what they were worth; all-in-all there was something the cat was missing and no amount of prying right now was going to change it. Forbid he ever had to raise a daughter. Hell knew it was a toss-up if Agnes would have done better or worse with him in the picture.
“...Alright, alright,” Jason responded readily. His hands uncurled from the steering wheel, palms opening for a second like he had signaled a truce on the matter. He seemed to sink a little more relaxed into his seat, shifting to glance out his window briefly at the middle-of-nowhere scenery that enveloped them. “Don’t worry about it, ‘won’t be nagging you.” Still. When was the last time he’d heard her as fragile? “Just- if or when you want to…”
He roped his thoughts back in after the sentiment and took a breath. He thought over the hunt’s details as he drove their last stretch. Barns and outbuildings grew more prominent until the semblance of the edge of town seemed to appear in the distance.
-/-
The township of Shade, Ohio was a blip in the road along the highway. They could have missed it if not for the single-stake sign on the side of the road that marked its beginning. The main road branched off into what was two or three residential streets. The front facade of the township was as simple as it could be. Lodi’s general store to the left doubled as the laundromat and post office. A small single-room church sat empty just beyond it, the concrete steps in disrepair from use over the years. On the right hand of the street, was Amelia’s Diner, home to one or two pickup trucks that were bound to be locals by the treads in the gravel they had parked perfectly within. The sign out front was in a simple inviting cursive, and possibly the newest addition to the town by the looks of the fresh paint.
Their Buick rolled to a stop in front of the diner and Jason threw it in park. As they approached the front windows, a couple of men sat at the counter watching a program on a corner television while the waitress paced back and forth behind the counter. When they walked in, the bell tethered to the door rang.
“-Just seat yourselves wherever you’d like, hun! I’ll be right with’ya,” The woman’s voice chimed in greeting. She appeared in her forties, strawberry ginger hair pulled up in a messy bun, fly-aways contained by a headband below it. She wore jeans with a server’s apron tied atop and a t-shirt donning the diner’s logo.
A sweeping glance caught the attention of the two farmers griping back and forth at the counter. Wouldn’t need to guess we’re not from here, hm? The cat thought, trying to keep the normal resting scowl off his face if he could help it. Jason opted for a booth on the opposite end, sliding into the side that had a view of the door.
Following the thought was an odd silence the cat had never realized was always absent from the girl. There was always a remark, a response, or even a facial expression to be picked up on. In the absence of it all, there was only the creeping feeling that something was off. In the end, even her answer back to Jason wasn’t an answer. The open-endedness of it earned a side glance from Jason that lasted longer than it seemed natural.
Nonetheless, he went on with his synopsis.
Fourth kind? There was a brow raise. The reference flew over the head of the man who certainly hadn’t spent their time apart catching up on pop culture references he’d missed while hulling away in the stuffy old theatre building. Still, he could do his best to imagine where she was headed with it. When the question was posed, he seemed to chew on it for a moment before he shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose we’ll have to ask and see who in this town might have the motive. It would be one helluva revenge case, to have the daughter go missing too.”
Since when was he one to worry about kids? England was the short answer. Emotions or not, the detail stuck out, although not as strangely as the missing officer who was thrown into the obscurity of it all. Speaking of worrying about kids, he cast another wayward glance at the cornered-off psychic in the car that had tucked herself away against the window. Nonetheless, he listened. His brow knitted together at the prospect of vampires, wolves, or cults for hell-knows. He couldn’t decide which sounded worse given their wide-open scenery.
“If we had more information than this, at least we’d know what to plan for. I guess we’ll have to scrape up some information ourselves, starting with the diner. If there’s a cop station around, that ain’t a bad idea either. What do you think?”
It wasn’t just a prompt; at this point, he was poking her in what ways the socially-awkward cat knew how to. Certain silences were enough to make him stir… and if she took even a second or so too long to think?
“-You know, you haven’t said more than a sentence about how things are going since you got in the car. Did… you want to talk about it?”
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