The title of this chapter is as of yet untitled.

With the party of five freelancers quarry now surrounded in a semi rundown old mansion, the party of five now move in to strike at the hearts of the undead preditors.

 

January 17 2009

Shadowed Guilds (Unseen worlds) the beginning.

Blood! The smell of blood seemed to permeate from the structure that now lay before Alex. It was noon and the sun now lay high over the head of Alex. The sun, always a warm and welcoming friend to any a day walker, served as a guardian to Alex now, seeing since Alex was a day walker the sun held no malice towards him or any of Alex’s kind.

The smell of the blood, so minute and slight as to only be perceptible to Lycanthrope, Vampire, and Were-coyote seemed to point like so red and blooded an arrow to a target, that this was indeed the spot that their elusive pray had taken refuge in, to hide from the rising of the sun (some six hours before). Their quarry, a small group of nightwalkers that had dared to break one of the Vampires most ancient and solemn tenets (that of no feeding on the innocent living) had taken refuge only six hours earlier in this old and semi rundown mansion from the coming of the rising sun.

From Alex’s concealed vantage point (that being behind a dumpster in an alleyway running south, directly across from the mansions main double doors) Alex could see that the windows of the mansion had been either painted jet-black in colour or had large and thick draperies adorning them to help ward off the suns rays. The suns rays, unlike being a well meet friend and companion to a day walker, were like a deadly assassin to a nightwalker (one that would incinerate the entire undead body of that of a nightwalker in a matter of seconds) if exposed to direct sunlight.

They had their prey surrounded now, though their prey had no idea of this yet. Stevrow, before daybreak had managed to gain entrance to the mansion and conceal himself within (waiting for the rest of the party to arrive). Both Sashai and Telah were in their van near a manhole whose sewer line ran very near the basement of the mansion. The van that both Sashai and Telah both called their "base of operations" since they ran all the groups communications through it and had computers that they could use to pull up almost instantly the schematics of all sewer systems and road layouts to help the group to come up with a plan of either attack or rescue as they needed it. Bruno was on a rooftop behind and to the right of Alex. The group was all here now, and they were all ready to do to these nightwalkers what their laws demanded of them.

Alex speaking into a headset, which allowed him to speak with the other four, said, "Let’s move". "Right" came Sashai’s reply. "We’re on it" was Telah’s reply. "Finally! We can end this and them" was Bruno’s answer. "Finally! Do you know how ‘Long’ I’ve been waiting? Let’s just do this." was all that Stevrow would say.

With that, all five of them moved into action. Alex, through his headset could hear both Sashai and Telah c**k their Uzis. Bruno (a Werewolf from the Silvermane clan) started his transformation from human form to Werewolf. The thought that Werewolves could only transform on a full moon night, was just that, a thought nothing more then a myth perpetrated by the Vampire race thousands of years ago (to discourage would be Werewolves from joining the Werewolf ranks). A few precious seconds was all it took for Bruno to transform into his true form, that of a hulking Werewolf. A second after that Bruno took to the air. In one long jump, Bruno left his perch on the roof of the building to rise some thirty feet into the air and spanning the some twenty feet from his launching pad on the roof of the building that lay behind and to the right of Alex. With a landing made, as silent and light as possibly could be for a three hundred pound Werewolf (both the sound of the landing and Bruno’s impact with the mansions roof sounding like that of the impact of a wrecking ball) Bruno landed on all fours.

Bruno then stretching his neck to the moonless daytime sky, (his snout pointing on an angle to the blazing sun) Bruno let out a low and mournful howl (a howl to the soon to be departed and the loss of their souls to the dark instincts within). To the urban denizens of the city, this low mournful wolfish howl might seem out of place. Some of the fine tenants of this city might even give way to their curiosity and look out their windows or doors, in the hopes of catching a glimpse of just what type of dog gave out such a low and wolfish howl. A wolfish howl so alien to the city sprawl around it, and so far removed from the howls natural habitat. Though soon enough all this would be over, (both the situation and the renegade nightwalkers within) thought Alex. The denizens going about their lives as they always did, completely oblivious to what had occurred around them and of the true unseen worlds about them.

 

"So much for subtlety" thought Alex. With that, Alex pulled back his hands, fingers and thumbs spread out, the palms of his hands and his arms pointing straight to the ground. With the movements complete, an addible clicking sound from the bottom of his upper arm area could be heard resonating from under the arms of his leather trench coat. A spring-loaded devise then shooting forward and then launching what appeared to what most people might be a round tubular "wand" with a trigger, down the sleeves of his trench coat, the "wands" then emerging out the ends of his coats sleeves (the sleeves terminating a hands length before the start of the hands).

Upon completely exiting the coats sleeves, what appeared to be the bottom end of the so-called "wands" with the trigger snapped forward and locked in place. The shape of the so-called "wands" now took on the more distinct shape of a pear of firearms. The transformation of the "wands" into the guns ending just a half a hands length away from the start of his hands and upon the handle of the guns reaching the palms of his hands Alex then repositioned his hands to their regular positions (his fingers and thumbs curling around the grips of the their respective guns and the first fingers slipping around their respective triggers).

"Now" Alex was ready to do the deed. As Alex then relieved himself of his cover behind the dumpster in the alleyway, he listened to the chatter on his headset. "We’re in position," said Sasha. "We’re in position by the manhole that leads to the sewer line that connects to the mansion. If you need assistants in dealing with these dark hearted nightwalkers, we can fly down this manhole and be there to help deal with them in a matter of seconds, should these dark hearts ever make it as far as the sewers" said Telah.

"Its time to start this sad hunt, and hopefully end it soon", Bruno said.

Alex could hear no response from Stevro to any of the chatter, or any words coming from him period, still in his concealed position, though this was not unusual for Stevro when dealing with the hunting of nightwalkers.

Standing then across from the mansion, Alex took in the sight for just a moment. Alex’s eyes taking in every detail of the mansions stonework. How every stone seemed to fit into every other stone with what seemed to be no mortar, almost as if by magic  and how, even from this distance Alex could see that most of the stones of the building was heavily covered over by moss, which gave some evidence as to the age of the structure. Even the vines of Ivy that seemed to both claw and crawl up the mansions stony surface. This stony mansion might seem to be right out of the early seventeen or early eighteen hundreds, though with the more modern surroundings you might not know it. The mansions stonework, its many moss covered stones, it’s both blackened and drapery clad windows, even its vine growth belied the true nightmares, horrors, and violence within held.

This was it then. At least this was it for the renegade nightwalkers. Alex took in then a deep breath, and squared his shoulders for the coming solemn task at hand.

After exhaling the deep breath, Alex started across the street. All the while Alex was trying to look inconspicuous. It then occurred to Alex that what was the point of looking inconspicuous when he must be looking so out of place as it were. Alex’s Long brown leather trench coat, long black jeans to his ankles, black and white running shoes, brown sunglasses with round rims and no shirt (leaving his chest bare). Not to mention the guns, one to a hand that Alex was carrying (how obviously out of place was that).

Alex then walked the fifteen feet to the other side of the street and up the many steps of the mansions front door staircase. Thirteen steps to be exact. The thing about being a vampire, like the werewolf and were coyotes, was that the vampire has a very long and precise memory. Alex would remember every detail of this event, from the pursuit of the renegades, then the cornering, and eventually the look of death claiming them as the renegade vampires dead at both Alex and his friends’ hands. All this Alex would remember if he wanted to or not.

However, for Alex it was always something to remember. These events stood as something of a reminder to Alex of the hardships that had befallen both himself and his community some seven hundred and eighty years ago, in a time before he became a vampire (in particular a day walker). When a hoard of renegade vampires (nightwalkers actually) swept through Transylvania and his little community when he was only twenty. Though both he and his parents survived, they had lost many a family member (as did many of the other villagers). When the renegade vampires had moved on (the vampires at last having their fill with the villagers) Alex and his community were left to cleanup the mess left behind due to the vampires’ rampage.

What made the outcome of the cleanup worse was the fact that the vampires, with their sick and twisted sense of humor (as Alex had come to view the situation) had not completely feed upon all that they had pursued but had sired against the victims will the victims into vampires. These new vampires had been left behind, not remembering or knowing how they had become what they were (for a vampire sired against their will seldom remembered such a forceful and such a traumatic event as that) without even the knowledge of the laws and tenets of their kind, to feed a hunger that they had never felt before. A hunger that they would find could only be feed in part (if they were lucky enough to be a day walker) by blood or come to the utter sorrow if they were a nightwalker (for a nightwalker could only sustain themselves with blood alone).

These new vampires were left for no other reason (to Alex’s mind) than to hunt their kin, for with no knowledge as to what a vampire may feed upon, some of these new vampires had turned upon the very kin they had so earlier sat to dinner with the nights before. For such was the intense hunger that a vampire felt for blood (may they be nightwalker or daywalker). The twisted sense of humor of the renegade vampires had not been lost at all on Alex (not in the slightest). For if the new vampires gave into their bloodlust they would no doubt hunt the villagers, and if the villagers went easy on their former kin, they would be slaughtered all over again (and this time it would be to the last of them).For then like now was what had to be done, namely the hunting of the vampires that had dared to feed on the blood of the innocent. Those new vampires that had formally been part of his village that had not turned to feeding on the innocent had been allowed to reintegrate back into their community.

Standing on the top step in front of the double oak doors leading into the old stonework mansion, Alex took another deep breath, thinking, "Not all nightwalkers were like the lost ones inside". Most nightwalkers were appalled at the thought of feeding on the innocent living, but not these. These vampires held only malice and contempt in their dead hearts for the living (even though some of these nightwalkers might have had beating hearts themselves at one time, if they were old enough). Choosing then to leave the sad memories of his past behind, Alex choose to focus on the here and now.

Allowing himself to pause for a moment, just before entering the undead sanctuary, Alex allowed his gaze drift to his right, to affix its self to a spot on the brickwork just to the right of the doors. The spot, marked by a handprint of blood, (though the blood had been carefully scrubbed and washed away) stood out to Alex like a second bloody red arrow to a target. Though to the human eye there was no sign of blood, no trace of evidence that any act of violence had ever occurred here, to a vampires eye the mark was as plain as if the blood had never been washed away at all. Were a human would need forensic tools like ultraviolet lights to even hope to see the blood print, to a vampires eye it was as clear as "day". "CSI eat your heart out!" Alex thought both gravelly and solemnly to himself.

 Putting the gun in his right hand in the holster on his right side, Alex reached out his right hand and loving and carefully placed his hand over the bloody handprint. Alex, thinking then of the victim that had laid their hand on the stone and had left their bloody handprint on its stony resting place. Soon it will all be over, the situation within, the renegades, and all the nightmares that had befallen and settled on this place for who knows how long. There would be no more hunting of the innocent and no more violent deaths to feeding. But most of all, Alex thought to himself, no more nightmares.

Removing then his hand from the red and bloody handprint (a handprint that seemed to both scream for vengeance and the setting of this made right) Alex replaced his hand back on his gun on his right side and drew the gun from its holster.

Turning both his head and attention to the right hand oak door before him, Alex thought to himself that "he had no love for either a renegade daywalker or nightwalker, just sorrow for their lost and empty souls".

Leveling then his upper arm with the door, and pointing both his forearms and the barrels of his guns to the sky, Alex said under his breath "knock, knock, can I come in". With that, he raised his right leg, the flat of his foot pointing firmly to the door and kicked in the door with all his might. The suns rays, the strength of all daywalkers, suffused Alex then with the incredible strength and abilities that only a daywalker could draw from the sun, but it was only the strength that Alex needed right now. The healing would come to Alex’s body later, should he needed it (providing that there was enough direct sunlight as to allow the deep healing that Alex might need).

Smash! Came the loud sound of an impact with the roof above. "What’s that!" said one of the renegades to the others inside the undead sanctuary.

"A woo!" Came a Werewolf’s low and mournful howl.

"Werewolf! Gregg, we have company!" said one of the nightwalkers to one of the other members of his party of five.

The party of five was in what was a large main front room to were the main double oak doors of the mansion open into. The layout of the room was in almost the shape of an octagon. To the right of the right hand door were a chesterfield laying width wise from west to east and a chesterfield laying length wise from north to south, both facing to the center of the room. The room, lit only by candlelight saw its light flicker and play as its light danced off the many walls and surfaces of the room. The shadows that played across the faces of these nightwalkers might have revealed their faces to be that of death masks, if it weren’t for the looks of utter terror on their undead faces.

The flickers of shadow and candlelight both brightened and relieved them selves of one more face, a face not of the undead or nightwalker, but that of a young human female. A woman clad in a long black dress that ran from her shoulders to just above her knees and with tall black boots that ran just below them. With black lipstick and black eyeliner that ran out from the outer corner of her eyes, her apparel marked her as probably a Goth. She lay on the ground, unconscious and very near to death; fang marks on her the bottom of her wrists and on both sides of her neck. The last place marked on her body by the party of five, was the inside part of her left thigh. The five pairs of fang marks still mark by the blood that still flowed out of her veins. Though near death, she might yet be saved, if she was given aid soon enough. Though she may need to be sired, if she hasn’t been already, it would be hard to tell right away.

For a transformation through vampirism was not a quick and easy thing indeed it was a slow and gradual process in which the disease of vampirism would be first transferred to the host, then over a matter of hours to some time weeks (depending on the host immune system and how long it would taken to be defeated) before they were transformed into a vampire. Though in the siring of a vampire there were to methods to choose from, that of a full siring (which gave way to a nightwalker) or a half siring (which would bring about the siring of a daywalker). Thought both vampire types had their distinct strengths and weaknesses and abilities, the daywalker had their distinct advantages over the nightwalker in some respects. For unlike a nightwalker, the daywalker still had within them a still beating heart, which gave the daywalker the ability to blend in more easily with the human element of the world. Not to mention the daywalkers immunity to sunlight and the strength from which a daywalker could draw from.

The reason why Stevro, Alex, or Bruno had not taken notice of the scent of this human was that the whole place was filled with the scent of humans. Every nook and cranny both inside and out to the delicate nose of a vampire and that of the even more delicate nose of a Werewolf or were coyote smelled of the scent of both human and blood. And the reason why not a single call for help, nor a single note had crossed her lips for any assistance was do to the vampires ability to both mesmerize and subdue their prey with just their suggestive tone of voice and the controlling gaze that would subdue all but only the strongest of wills.

"Quick! Take to your blades" came the call from the one the group of five had called Gregg. The blade, a crude and simple (but no less an ancient of a vampiric a devise), was a devise that was a sharp iron short sword, the blade was double edged blade curved like a backward facing scythe, with the double edge of the blade to its outer edge. The outer edge both its top and bottom was as sharp as a Japanese katana. An inch or to away from both the top and bottom of the leading edge was inlayed with sacred oak drenched in saltwater. This sacred oak was both cherished by both "clans" of vampires due to its strength, which could penetrate any substance up to, and including the strength of steel, (though sacred oak could not pass through other sacred oak).

In addition, the saltwater that had been soaked into the wood was lethal to both vampire "clans" as it would incinerate the bodies of both daywalker and nightwalker alike (though with daywalkers the saltwater had to be feed directly to their heart). Though with nightwalkers the contact with saltwater to any part of the skin (both internally or out) would cause that area of the nightwalkers body to instantly start to incinerate and would eventually kill the nightwalker if that portion of their body was not removed immediately removed (if at all possible, though with nightwalkers it was surprisingly just how much of their bodies could be removed without no ill effects). The body parts (namely their limbs just needing a full night cycle and complete darkness to regenerate).

At the end of this blade was a cylindrical pointed spike (blunt ended at its bottom), a spike attached to the top of the blade (point facing in the same direction of the blades edge) with small, thick iron bolts. This spike (also made of sacred oak and carefully allowed to soak in the salt waters incendiary properties) was a centimeter in diameter, and along it perimeter every ninety degrees was a vein of silver. The veins of silver caped at the bottom flat end of the spike and came together at the spikes point. The veins of silver meant as a line of defense against Lycanthrope aggression (seeing that when this devise had been first created by the vampire clans the situation between the Werewolf’s and vampires was more than just a little "tense" for lack of a better term.

As the five renegade nightwalkers (who stood either near or around the still and barely breathing female body, two near the hallway leading to the basement and the west wing of the mansion and the other three near a corridor that lay in the shadows a corridor that lead to the north wing of the mansion ) moved to draw from their specialized sheaths their blades, their blades coming out with both the splash and glint of candlelight on reflective iron, there came a crash and the sound of splintering wood ( the splintering wood being that of the right oak doors door frame). A second or two later the door came flying off its hinges and with both the speed and impact of a speeding locomotive pinned one of the nightwalkers standing no more than three feet behind it to the wall no more than five feet from the door.

The nightwalker that had been pinned (like some wild soulless beast in a trap) to the wall by the oaken door would live, crashed as he was by the thick and heavy door. At least he would have lived if it weren’t for what happened next.

A bullet, made of solid sacred oak and soaked in saltwater whizzed from the barrel of the gun held in Alex’s right hand, and a second before it reached its eventual target a cry of "Blake! We’ve got to help Blake!" came from the nightwalker that stood furthest to Alex’s right. A second after the cry came out the bullet slammed into the regular oaken door and right into the nightwalkers sad and empty heart. The cry that then came from the dieing vampire echoed throughout the entire mansion. The scream echoing from its maker, the same maker that at last must be feeling the pain that the nightwalkers victims must have felt (though this pain was through incineration not through feeding like the nightwalkers victims would have felt).

As the saltwater swept through the nightwalkers system, burning as it went, leaving in the end only ashes in its wake, Alex turned his attention to the nightwalker who had given the yell of concern for the newly departed Blake. Crossing then his left arm over his right, Alex to aim yet again at his next target that of the nightwalker and the dark heart within. The barrel of the gun in his left hand pointed in an angle at the nightwalkers heart, Alex merely said, "Bang! You’re dead! Alex then fired.

Author's Note

Please tell me what you think about this story and how you think I can makeit better. Thanks.