Interlude: Beginning of a Name

An episode of Jack's (Department of Foreign Affairs) past.

 

                The trees swayed gently in the night breeze, silver moon light falling from the half moon above them. Harsh panting filled the air as a woman rounded a bend in the forest path, almost losing her footing on the uneven ground. Blood fell from the corner of her mouth, and a pink tongue darted past inch long fangs to lap it up. Red water flowed from various wounds that dotted her body.

                “Come back and play vampire!” The words came ruthlessly from behind the bend, and only caused the vampire to run faster. A rider dressed all in black rounded the bend on a horse the color of midnight, gold eyes narrowed in enjoyment of the hunt. “Come and play little one, and let me feast on your fear.” This time the words were whispered from behind the black cloth that covered the bottom half of the rider’s face.

                The vampire ran as fast as she could, for she knew that if the rider caught her she would be dead before the sun rose. The figure on the horse behind her sped up and passed her, then turned and blocked the way on the path. The horse snorted and its nostrils flared, and the vampire before it realized that the beast’s eyes were a red that gleamed in a way that seemed they came from hell itself. The horse stamped it’s hooves on the ground, and the rider slipped from its back. The vampire backed up and hissed, showing fangs that were inches long. The figure dressed in the black cloak simply drew two wicked looking blades that were then placed parallel to its forearm.

                “Give up vampire, there’s no way that you could defeat me. You are barely 50, while here I stand, over 200 years old. Give in now and the empire will show you mercy, 20 years in the crystal prison, continue to rampage and resist, and my orders are to kill you now.” The figures voice was characteristic of vampires, developing a slight hissing list to it as it past the fangs.

                “Never, hunter. I would rather die than spend any amount of time in the presence of the crystal that the prison is made out of. It is poison to me, and to all true vampires.” The vampire’s mind was poisoned then, for the crystal only destroyed those who were corrupt and unjust. The cloaked figure shrugged, not particularly caring if it had to kill this fledgling or not.

                “Very well rogue, this is your choice.” After saying this, the figure grabbed a section of its cloak, and threw it back, revealing its body. The woman in black, for her figure was most definitely feminine, was dressed in a far eastern style shirt and pants, and a black face mask covered the bottom of her face. She had long dark brown hair, pulled back into a braid that fell to mid thigh, and her golden eyes were narrowed in concentration and battle lust.

                The other vampire’s eyes bled out to red, and her short blond hair waved about her face as she concentrated on bringing her creature traits out. The vampire’s nails began to sharpen and take on a brown tint, growing out until they were several inches long, and extraordinarily deadly. She shook her head as the bloodlust began to take hold of her, sapping her reason and logic from her mind.

                “Tell me rogue, what is your name? I like to know the name of my kills.” The golden eyed vampire inquired, confident that she would indeed win.

                “It will be not your kill, but mine. But if you must know, my name is Illyra, and I don’t need to know yours, for I don’t care who I kill.” Illyra sneered at the other female, thinking that the other didn’t know who she was messing with.

                “Well then Illyra, I will enjoy killing you and ending your arrogance.” The figure in eastern clothes slipped into a battle stance, bringing her arm blades to her fore front. Illyra sneered again and stretched her left foot behind her and brought her claws to her front, narrowing her blood red eyes in deliberation for battle.  

                Illyra was the first to move, as she dashed forward in attempt to catch the other off guard. The woman with golden eyes raised her arm blades as she blocked the attempt, and brought up a kick that hit Illyra square across the face.

                “Idiot childe,” the vampiress intoned, “you know nothing of the arts of battle. You are barely a fledgling; you left before the teachers you could instruct you on anything but the most basic of fighting. You will lose.” Illyra looked shocked that she hadn’t been taught very many things when it came to battle, for as long as she had remembered she had been instructed in the ancient art of fighting. Her shock soon turned to hate and anger as she looked at the other vampire, knowing that she had already lost the fight.

                Illyra charged again, screaming in anger, the red in her eyes bleeding out of her irises and into the white of her eyes. Within seconds Illyra’s eyes were completely crimson,  and her fangs were hanging past her bottom lip. As Illyra’s claw came down at her, the vampire with gold eyes dodged to the side, and stabbed her blade into the other’s side.

                Illyra’s face was a mask of shock as her eyes returned to their original ocean blue color, and her fangs shrunk until they were barely there. A horrible understanding filled her face as crimson colored tears spilled out of her eyes and down her face. Blood bubbled out of Illyra’s mouth as it spilled from her side, staining her white blouse a horrifying red. The other female gently lowered Illyra down, her eyes fading from gold to green as the lust for battle died out.

                “There is no honor in this victory.” The other vampire mumble as she held Illyra as she bled out on the forest floor. “You are but a childe, and should not have to die.” She looked down at Illyra and into her fading blue eyes, the color now more gray than anything else.

                “Please,” Illyra stopped for a moment as blood spilled from her mouth. “Let me see the face of the one who killed me.” Her voice was weak, and a hand trembled as it rose from her side, trying to touch the mask that covered the face of her killer. Sympathy filled the other’s green eyes as she raised a hand when she saw Illyra’s fall, and she removed her mask.

                Her face was slightly lean and smooth, unmarked and lightly tanned. Lightly pink lips, unlike the blood red of Illyra, were slightly open to show pearly white fangs. Her green eyes were framed by thick black lashes, and several pieces of dark brown hair were falling into her face. Illyra tried to raise her hand again, and this time the other vampire took her hand as it was about to fall and put it to the tanned face. Illyra smiled through the pain, feeling the smooth coolness of the other’s flesh.

                “N-name?” Illyra stuttered the question, keeping it to a single word because of the pain.

                “My name is Desmond Reneria, but I also go by the name Jack the Ripper.” The words were whispered into Illyra’s ear, and she looked at Desmond in surprise. Jack chuckled. “So you’ve heard of me, huh?” Desmond reached down and pulled Illyra into a gentle hug. “Let go Illyra. Let the gods take your soul and give you peace.” Illyra’s eyes fluttered closed as she let go of life and took one last shaking breath before going to the other side.

                Desmond, or Jack as she preferred to be called, sat back on her heels as she watched the body of Illyra decay now that the spirits of time had claimed their hold. It was a pity that such a young one was killed; Jack always hated having to kill the young ones.

                “Jack.” A male voice flittered through the forest, and as Jack looked up she saw a man of about 6’5” walk out of the trees. He was wearing a grey eastern style shirt, along with red pants of the same origins. His scent, picked up by her sensitive vampire nose, signaled to her that he was a Lycan, or more appropriately a Were Leopard.

                “Seiffyr...” Jack looked down at the now decayed body, little more than a pile of dust now, and looked back at Seiffyr, her best friend for over 130 years. “Let’s get out of here.”

                Seiffyr took one look at the pile of dust and nodded his head, walking forward pulling two horses. Jack grinned as she saw her horse being pulled along and, taking one last look at the dust, which was now blowing around, she grabbed her cloak from the ground and hauled herself up onto her horse. She turned and grinned at Seiffyr.

                “Come on then, let’s get going!” Seiffyr looked at her once and raised an eyebrow, then pulled himself up onto his own beast. Jack grinned again and tucked sharply on the reigns, causing her horse to rear up on two legs. Giving a great yell, Jack began to gallop down the forest trail, Seiffyr following after, leaving nothing more than a rapidly disappearing pile of dust.

Author's Note

This is a little interlude from my new book Department of Foreign Affairs, and it's centered around Jack and what she does exactly for the department.

Reviews

[awesomesauce]

Aw, poor little vampire, she didn't deserve to die =(

This was a little bit to dark for my tastes, but it was still written really well.

[*Kantola*]

Ooh... a girl named jack? DOES SHE WANT TO BE A MAN!? Good job on this! I read most of it because halfway through the puppy jumped into my lap and hit the space-bar with her nose >< good job! I WILL WAIT FOR MORE! :[ *FANGS!*

[NCPanthersgurl]

Hmm. I do like this, as I'm a vampire enthusiast. But I wish that the woman had been more developed personality wise, because I found myself wondering if she was cold blooded or sweet or bipolar.

But that come with more reading, so I can't wait for a continuation. =]

[Elemiah]

So...she kills people? That seems like it'd be a difficult job to have, mentallly, anyway. And she seems a bit cruel in the beginning, but once the battle is over she's a bit gentler. It kinda makes you wonder which version is the real her. I suspect the gentler version, but who knows with you sometimes.