Blood Bourne (Chapter 3)

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Blood Bourne (Chapter 3)

Post  thisangel on Thu 20 May 2010, 11:59 am

Here it is, as promised, Chapter 3. I'll leave it rest for a bit after this - am working in Chapter 12 at the moment, so have lots to post and don't wanna hog the new forum! Wink As always, your comments are welcome - I want to know what you think Very Happy

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Chapter Three: Rue

I wake to the crunch of three pairs of boots on the gravel of the rooftop – one pair very near my head. There are voices to go with the boots – male voices, arguing. I lay still, face down, eyes closed, my hunger snarling in my gut as my own blood spills into a dark pool beneath me. Better let them think I’m still out, at least until I can suss who, what, where and how many they are. The voice belonging to the boots nearest me speaks, interrupting the argument.

“What about the half-breed?”

A second voice, a bit further away and to my right side, answers.

“Leave her. She was just the bait. We got what we came for – she’ll come ‘round eventually. If the sun don’t get her first.”

The owner of the first voice chuckles and pokes me with what is most certainly the barrel of a gun – then he aims a hard kick to my side. That hurts like hell, but I still play dead, my mind working fast. Shotgun boy said ‘Half- Breed’… a derisive term for those like me, used by those who think they’re better. That phrase and a certain smell above and beyond the smell of my own blood all around me – a sickening scent of decay and sulfur - all add up to a conclusion that doesn’t make me happy. Not one bit. These boys are Demons. Fuck. I really hate demons.

I'm still bleeding – and although I’ve started to heal already, there’s not enough blood left in me to complete the task. And to make matters worse, the thing inside me is railing to get out – its need to feed is growing into an ever-louder muttering in my head. I’m going to lose it. Soon. This is not good.

A third voice speaks up, further away – a few feet behind and to my left as well.

“I still say we drain this bitch now – all he needs is her blood anyway, right? Save us the trouble of carting her all they way back down.”

The hell they will ‘drain’ me! Over my dead body. I start to tense up, ever so slightly. It’s been a long time since I’ve fought one of the Truly Damned. Never mind more than one. It’s never gone that well. This just isn’t my night.

Then the second voice speaks again – he sounds like the one in charge.

“No. We take her to him as planned. Alive…”

His voice changes…a cruel pleasure coloring his next words.

“He didn’t say we couldn’t play with her first, though.”

He’s further away – and from somewhere beside him I hear muffled sobs and a scuffling sound. The girl. She’s alive. Realization dawns then. They aren’t talking about me. They’re talking about her.

I lie there a few more moments as they laugh – and the sounds of a struggle get louder, accompanied by lewd taunts and sadistic laughter. The boots that were standing beside me move away - and I’m left to make my decision. I could make a break for it while they are otherwise occupied. They’ll never even notice, more than likely. Okay. So. I should go. It’s a good plan. They don’t want me – don’t give a shit about me, from the sounds of it. So why am I not going? Shit. Shit shit shit.

I can’t leave her to them. Nevermind for the moment that she was trying to kill me not all that long ago. I like her, for some reason. God damn it. Biting back a groan, I get to my feet, assessing the situation as I do so. About fifteen feet away from me the Demons are huddled around the girl – two pinning her cruelly to the gravel rooftop and one in the process of pulling his trousers down. She’s crying - and bleeding from a few nasty cuts and scrapes, but she seems otherwise unharmed. So far. And I was right – the Demon boys don’t even notice me. Until I clear my throat. Loudly.

They freeze and all turn to gape me at the same time. It would be comical, if I weren’t about to get my ass kicked. They’re all great big thick thugs of men – their once-human bodies twisted grotesquely by their possession of them. I give them a little wave.

“Sorry to interrupt your little party, fellas – but I believe I got here first.”

The one with his trousers partway down yanks them back up and looks to his buddies – then back at me, initial surprise giving way to a leering disdain.

“Well, well well…looks like the leech woke up boys!”

He walks toward me, an arrogant sneer on his blackened lips as his cohorts yank the girl to her feet – one of them holding on to her roughly, a knife to her throat – as the other – the one who shot me – lifts that same shotgun and aims it at my head. Lovely. I take them all in, and then look back to Mr. Cocky Pants as he saunters up real close, his solid black demon eyes meeting my own.

“I think you’d better leave, half-breed. This isn’t any of your business”

I shoot him a toothy smile, buying time, measuring the distance between us, and between the girl and the other two as I do so.

“On the contrary – this is exactly my business. In fact I was conducting a bit of my business – when you and your friends so rudely interrupted with that shotgun of yours. And don’t call me half-breed. That’s so crass.”

He raises an eyebrow and tosses an incredulous look back over his shoulder to his buddies. Which is exactly what I was hoping he would do. It’s now or never.

In that split second, I move as fast as I can, the base of my hand hitting the base of his jaw with a resounding crack. The blow connects and he flies backwards onto the rooftop, skidding to a stop a few feet away. Without stopping to see if he stays down, I jump over him and run right for shotgun boy. The gun goes off just as I reach him, ripping a new hole in my shoulder. But at least it misses my head. It hurts like bloody hell, and the muttering hungry thing inside begins to roar. There is a sweet familiar pull in my jaw and I feel my fangs press sharp against my lips.

I’m beginning to get angry.

I growl and grab the shotgun by the barrel, ripping it away from shotgun boy - breaking his arms in the process. He screams - and I swing the shotgun around like a club against the head of demon-boy number three - who is still holding the girl - before he has a chance to even blink. He crumples to the rooftop and I grab his knife and swing back to shotgun boy, just as he leaps for me – his arms sticking out at wrong-angles. But it’s the human host that’s hurt, not the demon – the demon just doesn’t give a shit. He hits me with a blow that knocks me off my feet and halfway across the roof. Okay – so he’s strong. Somehow I manage to hang on to the knife with one hand, and the shotgun with the other. I roll to my feet, bring up the gun and aim for his head just as he leaps in for the kill. The resounding blast echoes around the surrounding buildings as he falls and doesn’t get up. I feel a rush of air and hear a sucking sound as the demon quits the body.

One down – two to go.

There’s a snarl like a really angry and really big cat from behind me, and I turn to greet Mr. Cocky Pants mid-leap. Spinning the knife around, I let fly into his chest. Surprisingly, he falls to the rooftop and lies very still in a crumpled heap. That was easy. I follow in for the kill – bloodlust thrilling through me – but then I hear a scream from behind – and turn around to see demon-boy number three dragging the girl by her hair - back with him toward the side of the building.

I change direction, leaping across the rooftop and cutting him off with a snarl. Unfortunately demons don’t scare easily. He tosses the girl to one side, meets my snarl and raises me an ear- piercing screech as his skin begins to boil and shift - then split open in several places, hundreds of oily black spines jutting suddenly out from his arms, legs and hands.

This is why it’s never a good idea to pick a fight with a demon. They always cheat.

Before I can do much more than stare, he backhands me – little more than a slap for him – and I go skidding across the roof yet again, a handful of his spine thingies embedded in my face and neck. Blinding pain rockets through my body, and blood fills my vision as the control I have over myself slips away like ice on a sunny day. I hang on desperately to the last shred of my sanity and claw some of the spines out of my face just as porcupine boy leaps in for the kill – and I realize I still have the shotgun. I bring the barrel up to his eye level just as he hammers a black spiny fist into my gut. It’s reflex more than anything like skill on my part that pulls the trigger. Another whoosh of air, another sucking sound.

That’s two. But it’s cost me. The spines from porcupine boy have some sort of poison in them. Everything goes foggy and off-kilter. I try to turn back to check on the girl, but my legs won’t hold me up anymore and I fall to one side, losing my grip on the shotgun as everything becomes a wash of red.

I watch as if from a great distance as Mr. Cocky-pants gets up from where I left him with that knife sticking out of his chest. I knew that was too easy. His human body is warped and stretched by the true form underneath. Steam rises up from his skin as it begins to boil from within, and a horrid, fetid stench fills the air, burning my eyes and making me gag and choke. I struggle to stay conscious as he walks slowly across the roof towards me. Numbly, I reach out, grasping for anything at all – and my hand closes in around the warm barrel of the shotgun again. I manage to grab it, but I can’t get my hands to work well enough to use it before he’s on me. He yanks me up by my hair and slams me back down face-first into the pebbledash rooftop. The leftover spines from porcupine boy drive deeper into my face and things begin to go black - but he’s not done. Dragging me back up, he bashes my head into the side of the roof again and again - until I see stars, then whole galaxies, and then nothing but blood and a growing darkness.

He picks me up then, holding me by the throat in one hand - dangling me over the edge of the roof for a long moment. My skin begins to smoke and burn where he touches me. But I refuse to scream. Somehow I manage to meet his solid black gaze with my own in defiance - the last weapon I have - as he sneers at me with abject hatred.

“Traitor.”

He spits in my face…his demon breath sour and stinging. Then he lets go – and I go falling, ten stories to the pavement below.

This is really gonna hurt.
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thisangel

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Re: Blood Bourne (Chapter 3)

Post  Liberty on Sun 23 May 2010, 3:58 pm

Great action sequence. Describing action is one of the harder aspects of writing, at least in my opinion, without making it sound like a very long run-on sentence. I thought you did a great job with it.
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