Title: White Hands
Rating: M
Summary: Vayne reaches a breaking point
Pairing: Vayne/Milletian
Warnings:Suicide ideation/ Violence Spoilers for C6-7
It was, thought Beimnech distantly as he beheld the scene in front of him, a most unexpected situation. Surreal, too.
Elise, pitch black eyes wild and burning, knelt over the unconscious body of a woman. Her hair had come loose from its elegant-like arrangement, and was spilling in wavy tangles on the floor. The coppery strands were given a crimson tinge by the blood trickling from a shallow wound behind her ear. Her head was tilted back over the heroine's knee, and her throat was bare except for a silver necklace. The gleaming dagger that was held against the woman's pulsing artery grabbed all the attention.
Elise smiled maliciously and pressed the blade closer.
"Well?" she challenged.
Beimnech, mismatched eyes narrowed, didn't answer.
He was wondering what this feeling was.
—before—
Her hands were bloodless, trembling; shaking her head clear. Elise gripped the dagger more tightly as she knelt before the statue on the makeshift altar. She had a job to complete. Not that she was in any state to do it. If she were, she would have noticed that the bird perched outside the gate was not of this world. As things stood, the shining hero wasn't even aware of its presence.
How typical.
Beimnech sighed in mock-despair as he watched through the eyes of his summons. Elise was near asleep on her feet, not surprising since she hadn't properly slept for about three days. Or maybe it was four. Yes, it was four days since she had any real rest, or food for that matter. One would have thought the girl would know after all this time that it was downright stupid to work in such a state. But she didn't know better. Actually, perhaps it was more correct to say that she didn't care.
Small one, chided Beimnech silently, this is not how a 'pro' should work.
Then again, a pro shouldn't be so close to his enemy like this either. Not that Beimnech really cared. His own assignment had been taken care of a week or so ago, and in the inevitable subsequent boredom, he had found himself seeking out his prey for entertainment. For several days this had gone nowhere as Elise had done little more than try to waste herself away, but things had gotten remarkably more interesting when she had gotten a job at the same place where Beimnech's last had been.
The bloodstain was still there in the middle of the wooden floor. Beimnech gave an irritable sigh as his eye passed over it; Elise, he noticed, was steadfastly avoiding the blotch. As a message had to be sent, rather than using his usual method of using his cursed eye that night, Beimnech had killed the victim by stabbing his hand through the heart. He had instantly regretted his decision when the blood got everywhere on him, his hair,face,cape, everywhere. He reminded himself, it would be prudent to use the less messy method to kill the next one.
He wondered what Elise's situation was. Another exorcism, for sure, but here? Yes, there had been a violent death – the terrified desperation of the victim echoed in the room for those with the power to see – but the spirit in question had long been sealed away, so what ghost was left to deal with? It was tempting to send out a probe and find out but that wasn't the wisest of ideas right now, not with the girl sitting in there. Yes, Beimnech could deal with the weakened heroine easily should it come to a duel, but why waste such a beautiful and fascinating plaything over something so petty? A little more patience and Beimnech would have his answer.
Quietly Beimnech watched as Elise, finally having made her mental preparations (she had taken ridiculously long, another sign of her poor condition, not that he cared) closed her eyes, and, kneeling in front of the small altar and its statue, began to chant. Being on the other side of the glass, even with the summon's heightened senses, Beimnech could barely make out the soft murmur that was his prey's voice. It had none of the soft naïveté that had made it so endearing before; now it was lower, more mature. Darker.
Very pleasant to listen to.
Luminous lines began to appear between the four ceremonial daggers stabbed into the floor forming the corners of the protective circle Elise spun around herself. The hilts glowed with a pale blue light, and as they did so Beimnech could sense something stirring in the room, invisible but unmistakably present, like a great shark cruising the dark ocean depths. Another sound began to interject itself into the undercurrent of Elise's voice, soft and broken—
weeping
—growing louder with the rise and fall of her singing. The shadows cast by Elise's light seemed to twist at the edges of his vision, ghastly and deformed figures like demons across one's soul. She paid them no heed as she focused all her attention on the spell she was weaving. The sound grew louder, more shrill and hysterical, until it overrode the heroine's voice completely. One shadow, larger than the rest, flowed into existence against the wall: the figure of a young woman, long hair in tangles and fingers stretched over Elise's head as if to tear it from her body. There was a rope dangling from around her neck.
Beimnech remembered now. The man he had killed had had a wife. He hadn't paid much attention to her, except to take note of when she left their home. He had discovered among the gossip being shared that she was the one to find the body. It was also stated that she had not taken the death of her husband well … how pathetic people were. She was even worse than his prey. At least Elise had hauled herself out of her mental shell after his betrayal, this pathetic girl had taken it so far as to kill herself.
Again, pathetic.
The ghostly crying was reaching deafening proportions now. Beimnech deftly cast a spell to protect himself – if the summons were to be injured whilst he was projecting himself through it, there would be no small amount of damage done to his real self. This was an uncommonly strong spirit, the sheer force of the raw emotion it held giving it strength beyond the norm. Grief, love, despair, hatred … it would be most interesting to see how the heroine was going to deal with it.
Elise wasn't dealing with it. The dagger closest to her burst into pale flame and disappeared. There were three more tiny bursts in quick succession, almost invisible against the howling wind that was screaming around the heroine. Clumsily, Elise tried to catch the remains of the wards that held the protective barrier in place through nothing but her own strength of will—
—of which she had none left—
—as she fell forward, one hand still gripping the dagger and the words of the spell rolling off her tongue more and more desperately. The wind drowned her out.
The Savior of Erinn and Golden Dragon Conductor, thought Beimnech dispassionately, it's almost embarrassing to watch you, small one.
It was difficult to make out the crumpled form of the heroine inside the room, now. He shook his head. So much power the girl had, and she would fail through her own stupidity. Stupidity for working such a dangerous quest with a weakened body and mind, stupidity for being too soft, stupidity for caring so much …
And you wonder why you failed to beat me, small one.
The barrier gave one last feeble flicker. The ghost screamed in triumph.
Beimnech decided that things had gone far enough. After all, the heroine was still an integral part of his plans, so her life belonged to him alone. Before he could do anything, however, the wind stopped. A single crash as the statue shattered into millions of pieces.
Then the area fell into a deathly silence.
He frowned. Warily, his summon took a step closer to try to get a look at the damage. What had happened? Damn the night and its darkness. The only light available was that of the moons, which illuminated the bloodstain on the ground and little else. Elise was sprawled over it beside the fallen dagger – briefly Beimnech thought the blood was her's. Then he realised that the girl was still breathing.
Good.
He watched carefully as Elise sat up. The heroine moved slowly, disjointedly. Her head hung over her chest as if her neck had been snapped, then lifted. She seemed to stare blankly at the altar. There was a pale light there, reflected off the surface of the broken statue.
Suddenly, the heroine turned around. Her eyes, once bright as the sunrise sky, were entirely black, sclera included. She immediately fixed on the bird that was now perched on a tree.
Considering what Beimnech knew of his prey, he wasn't expecting a direct attack. As it was, he had barely enough warning as a bullet flashed in the shadows to pull his consciousness back to his body before the bespelled bullet sliced through his summon. The spirit-crow gave a shrill scream that was quickly cut off—
—and with a sudden jolt, Beimnech opened his eyes.
For a moment, a minute or two or maybe a night, he sat still on a bench, watching the ocean waves of Belvast's port go by. He closed his eyes again and took in a deep breath, lingering in the fading thrill of danger so narrowly escaped.
Well, well, well. He chuckled a little. You're certainly full of surprises, small one.
It had been a long time since something had been able to surprise him. Beimnech had certainly never imagined that the sweet, simple headed girl he had charmed with pretensions of friendship would ever shoot a bullet at his face.
The game had become most interesting.
Quietly, he rose from the bench. He was smiling, the predator's smile in anticipation of a good hunt as he set out to find his prey.
~
People, so many people. They crowded the street, jostling and avoiding others with little more in mind than the desire to get somewhere: home, the pub, a shop, anywhere as long it was away from here. Incessant, all these people coming and going. Searching. What they were searching for they probably didn't know, but they wouldn't stop. The city of Belvast was a living thing that never slept, determined to enjoy itself to the end of time even as it was decaying inside.
This was now Beimnech's hunting ground.
He moved easily in the midst of the oblivious masses, only given a second glance because. He had no destination in mind, only a person. One person in a population numbering hundreds. For a moment he let the crowd flow around him, seeking, magical senses tuned to that particular resonance audible only to him. Elise could run but never hide. He would find her. It was inevitable.
And then what?
Well. That would depend on what he found. The summons was a simple scouting spell, and so limited in what it could sense and do in terms of complex and subtle magic. What exactly had taken place during that ritual Beimnech wasn't sure, but it involved the girl. Anything involving his heroine had Beimnech's attention. Call it a habit from the chore of looking after her during the months of their "friendship".
More than habit.
Beimnech smiled to himself as he waited. Yes, watching the heroine had become far more than habit these past few weeks, but could he help it? She was just so fascinating now! No more was she the ignorant, innocent child, this beautiful young woman with the guardedly open eyes hurt. The fact that Elise was now dead set taking him and the Order down added a whole lot of spice.Elise could succeed in killing him if she really wanted to.
Which she didn't. For unknown reasons.
Again, most fascinating.
On impulse Beimnech gave a merry laugh, the unexpected cheerfulness startling those beside him. Who would have imagined that the girl was capable of changing so much? Why, now that he thought about it,earning her affections only to tear it to shreds had been one of the best things he had ever done!
The crowd kept moving. Beimnech didn't move. A flash of colour in a sea of grey …
Elise was close by.
Ah.
Deliberately, he turned and followed the street to his left. After passing several blocks of shops, he sensed the beacon that was his prey turning the corner he had just passed.
So. Elise was stalking him now, was she?
Beimnech smiled. Keeping his pace casual he kept moving, buildings to his left, a stream of carts passing on his right. Elise, he noticed, had quickened a little.
Are you so eager to catch me, small one?
He would make things easy for her.
There was a dead-end alleyway up ahead, one of those easily overlooked gaps between buildings usually frequented by lust-driven couples and the homeless. At the moment it was empty. Beimnech leaned up against the wall. Waiting.
People passed in front of the alley's mouth, eyes in front and feet pointed ahead. He continued to remain still.
Finally, one person stopped. Beimnech didn't bother to look to see who it was. Still leaning against the wall, he listened as Elise took several slow, hesitant steps into the alley, then halted. The alleyway was dark, save for what was thrown away by lights of the moons beyond and the glow of his armor. Only then did he turn and acknowledge his prey's presence.
"Hello, small one. Out for a night on the town, are you?"
No reply. Elise's face was in shadow. He merely smiled.
"A young lady like yourself shouldn't be here. Do you know the kind of things people get up to in a place like this? What would others think seeing us alone here together?"
Again, no answer.
How rude. Here he was trying to make friendly conversation, and Elise hadn't given him so much as a greeting.
Then,
"You are the lord of Fomors?" she asked softly.
He blinked. Her voice was low and oddly discordant. She stood very still with her back to the light, hands hanging limply by her sides and head tilted to the side. And her question …
"You are the lord of Fomors?" she repeated, still in the same strange voice.
What on earth was she going on about? Beimnech frowned. The scent he had become so familiar with was … not right. He could sense her life force, a brightly glowing flame like that of his armor and just as easily snuffed out, but there was something else, something alien, lurking in the darkness where the light did not reach …
"You are the lord of Fomors?" repeated Elise yet a third time. "You are, aren't you?"
Carefully, Beimnech looked at the face of his prey trying to discover what lay in the shadows. There was definitely something more going on here ... "What a strange thing to ask," he said, still maintaining the pretence of amiability. "Surely you haven't hunted me down tonight just to ask a question you already know the answer to."
"You are the lord of Fomors." Elise's voice held the ring of conviction. "The evil one. You kill people."
Beimnech smiled as he gently probed the other spirit. "That is indeed true,yes." He continued, still probing trying to search the girl's face. "Though the correct term is former lord of Fomors."
Slowly, she lifted her glowing hands. With a small flick of her wrists, a chain blade manifested. It was held ready at waist-level, the chain rose to cover the lower half of Elise's face. By the glow of it, finally, he could see her eyes, entrancing orbs that he knew so well ...
They weren't her eyes anymore.
"You kill people," the ‘girl‘ said, eyes empty in her expressionless face. "You hurt people. You hurt me." Her voice echoed strangely like two instruments playing out of tune, and at last Beimnech understood. "I'll kill you."
He laughed softly. "Oh?" he asked. "She said that to me a long time ago. You lowly parasite don't have anything to do with it."
The possessed heroine's eyes hardened, and she raised the chain a little higher. "But unlike this girl," the sluagh replied, lips twisting into a disturbing smile, "I want to kill you."
She flung the chain.
Beimnech languidly held up a hand to shield himself. The end of the chain pierced right through it barely managing to evade it from going through his face as well. A little surprised at the power behind her blow but entertained nonetheless. He casually stepped back a pace as her next attack streaked towards him. Out of the shadows he unsheathed his sword from his back to block multiple strikes from the chain. Beimnech gave the possessed heroine a smile.
"Having fun, sluagh?"
His only reply was another fling of the chain. Beimnech easily dodged it. He dove straight over to her to close their distance, intending to pin her against the wall. Elise backed up and quickly began spinning the chain around her to shield herself from his attack. He smirked. The sluagh had complete access to all of her powers and abilities, but it was barely doing enough to scratch him. Really, he thought, watching 'Elise' sprint around him so that again their positions were reversed, it was all so disappointing. Was this all that his heroine was capable of?
Belatedly, Beimnech realised that she was singing. He couldn't hear her over the sound of the twirling chain, but he could most certainly see the heroine's mouth moving and the vicious smile on her face.
She opened her mouth to scream.
The sound of it had him gritting his teeth as his ears rang with the force of it. He felt his surroundings begin to shake.
It was his fighting instincts that saved him, certainly. Beimnech hastily erected his own shield as brick and mortar came hurtling towards him like a meteor shower. The shield flashed under each individual impact, and some of the makeshift missiles tore through to give him some very painful bruises. When the dust cleared, he shook his head clear and carefully picked his way out of the rubble. The possessed heroine stood before him, blinking in surprise as if unable to believe that he was still able to stand. A crowd had started to gather and were nervously whispering and pointing as they struggled to work out what was going on.
Beimnech looked disdainfully down at his even more torn up cape. "That really wasn't very nice. Small one isn't supposed to be this impolite." He sighed melodramatically as he dusted himself off. "And we have an audience. Do you wish to continue?"
Ignoring the gapes and stares, Elise lifted her chain again. Beimnech raised an eyebrow at that.
"Yes."
Beimnech smirked.
"Very well, then."
And the fight began again.
There was an emergency staircase above them, and he jumped onto the third level as Elise's chain swung through where he had stood barely a second ago. Adrenaline coursed through him like a drug and Beimnech could have laughed euphorically for it. He had underestimated her, the girl had so much power that until now had only been hinted at.
But this wasn't really Elise.
That really took a lot of the fun out of it.
He cast a handful of fireballs down towards the ground, paying no attention to the screams of the crowd as those closest to the fight were caught in the resulting blast. Elise didn't hear them either, instead staring up at him with those empty pitch black eyes. Beimnech expected her to jump up to his level, to take their fight away from the non-combatants. She, unlike him, did care when the innocent were put in needless danger.
To his complete astonishment, Elise slammed the chain against the side of the building where he stood on the staircase. The structure seemed to pulse and Beimnech felt the platform tremble under his feet, already too unstable for him to propel himself to safety. The whole side of the building began to collapse and construction debris crashed down like an avalanche accompanied by the screams of stressed and terrified people.
Beimnech fell.
He was surprised for sure, but hardly helpless. Despite the turmoil he managed to grab onto the twisted broken railing, slowing his descent. He hung there for a breathless second as bits of brick fell about him, the platform above creaking crazily over his head. As it broke off and began to careen towards him, shadows appeared out of night. They blew in a blizzard around the rapidly approaching danger, hiding it completely from view.
When they dissipated, the air was clear.
He let go of his hold and dropped lightly onto the ruins of the building. His opponent was nowhere in sight. Quickly he scanned the destruction, the wails and groans of the bleeding all too clear now that the sound of the chain had stopped. Most of the rubble had fallen into the alley. The unfortunates who were trapped in it were the ones standing closest to the entrance, where they had been caught in what had spilled out. No one had been killed.
Luck or calculation? He thought.
Something tugged at his consciousness, and he looked up to see a familiar silhouette standing on the top of another building across the street. Beimnech smiled, and, in a display of complete disregard for witnesses, leaped over to where his opponent stood. Elise, or rather, the vengeful sluagh controlling her body, was not expecting that and whirled like some wild animal at the sudden appearance of the man behind her.
"I must say that I'm quite impressed," he said cheerfully. "Small one is never so uninhibited with her powers. Possessing Erinn's precious hero to find your vengeance, you've chosen very well." He took one step towards the heroine; instinctively the other moved away. "On the other hand, you do realise that you are infringing on my property."
She snarled, chain held at the ready. "I'll kill you!"
Beimnech smiled and kept walking as if he had all the time in the world.
"You had better take good care of her," he continued conversationally. "I will be most upset if such a pretty face were to be damaged." The expected attack came then and Beimnech idly deflected it. Still he kept advancing.
"It's so rare to see her this angry. A pity, anger suits her very well. It's very ... alluring." He laughed as the possessed heroine blinked in utter confusion at the subject. "Then again, she looks good no matter what she feels. I remember how her face used to light up when she was happy, or how adorable she looks when she blushes. And when she weeps it is so very beautiful ..."
He was barely a metre from the heroine now, and the girl had dropped into a defensive crouch. Beimnech stopped and tilted his head to one side. "But you know what?" he said softly. "I've never seen her hate before. Can you show me that?"
The sluagh blinked uncomprehendingly at him. Beimnech waited, watching those eyes, feeling – what? Something almost bitter, like a weight hanging from the heart he never did and didn't know how to use. Something, something people called ... He was never lost for words but now ...
He almost had the name before she suddenly flung the chain towards his chest. Beimnech found himself flung backwards into the wall. Pain blossomed everywhere but paled against the exhilaration of surprise. If it weren't for the fact that his ribs hurt he would have laughed. So many strange and new things tonight – this was the best fight he had ever had! He stood up, about to call something amusing out to his opponent—
Elise stood poised before him.Chain blade gleaming in her right hand.
"As I said, oh dark one," the sluagh said bitingly through her lips, "I will kill you."
Beimnech didn't answer. He could have easily attacked; Elise was close enough that he could sink his fist into her chest in a storm of blood.
Instead, he waited.
She smirked. Then she sprang into action. With one swift move she slit her own palm and let the warm blood drip over the chain. He couldn't help but stare as she began to chant, not the same melodic sounds he was familiar with, but something thick and guttural—
forbidden magic
—and the chain took on a dull purple glow.
Beimnech had just enough time to see the insane triumph on her face before the chain was stabbed into the roof they were standing on. The blast of raw tainted power radiating out from that single point slammed into him like a tsunami, knocking him off his feet to the ground where he lay as wave after wave of powerful magic swept over him. He gritted his teeth against the agony, almost deafened by the roar and every muscle clenched so tightly his limbs trembled. But the magic was wild, uncontrolled – somehow he managed to spin a shield around himself, a shield that also drew on the excess of his power bringing him out of the storm and cushioning him from the worst of it.
It still hurt, though. A lot.
Finally, it was over.
Long moments passed until he felt he was able to move again. He only did so when the sound of civilians screaming reached his ears. He forced himself to get up, feeling battered and bruised both inside and out. The ground was spider-webbed with cracks; too much more stress and it would probably collapse. Beimnech already felt concrete crumbling beneath his feet. His steps were a little unsteady – that disturbed him. He was accustomed to having complete control over himself.
The sounds were getting closer. He had to move quickly - imagine,him, the former lord of fomors with centuries of tradition and power behind him, being arrested by guards. Ignoring the pain, he was preparing to make his exit when he realised that his enemy was still nearby.
Small one.
The heroine lay on her side unconscious, fingers curled beside the fallen chain. Blood seeped into her clothes from a wound across her chest. Her pale face seemed even whiter under the moonlight, throwing her fine features into soft relief. Beautiful. Such a stark contrast to the twistedness of before.
Beimnech stared for a very long time. He wondered what this feeling was.
Voices, authoritative voices from the street below. Quickly, he lifted the unconscious girl into his arms and drew an illusion about them. It took a lot more concentration than it should have; he was drained. Irritated and more than a little uneasy, Beimnech focused his mind. As he silently leaped to the next building he tried to imagine how the people were going to report all of this. He wondered how it was to be explained.
It wouldn't be. It would be the hot topic on everyone's lips for a day or two, then fade as quickly as it had come up to exist only as one of those urban myths young people so liked to relate.
As always, he and Elise lived outside reality.
They were far enough away from the battleground now, so Beimnech landed soundlessly to the pavement, carefully holding her so that she wouldn't be jarred by the movement. His prey had been damaged enough. Quickly, keeping the illusion up, he began to make his way towards the lighthouse.
No one noticed them.
~
This high above the lighthouse, all one could hear was the occasional sound of waves or merchant carts. They came sporadically, the only sound to break the uneasy quiet of inside the room, a thin reminder that the rest of the world out there still existed. Not that Beimnech paid any attention to it.
He sat in the dark, completely at ease with shadows and blue half-light, in the easy-chair in the corner of the room. He rested his chin on his folded hands, mismatched eyes narrowed and watchful. They never strayed from the still figure before him, never blinked, as the mind behind them prowled like a restless panther.
The whole situation was ... disquieting.
Elise laid on the bed with arms by her sides and front of her dress open showing her chest bandaged. A body in preparation for burial if it weren't for the fact that she was still breathing. Her eyes were closed, face peaceful with none of the twistedness from before. There had been times during the month of their strange ‘friendship' when Beimnech, having the heroine before him so vulnerable, had been tempted to take their relationship to new levels she had never imagined. Rather sorely tempted, too. For some reason he never had, and yet here they were again, in this situation, another opportunity. Fate was funny like that.
This time, again, he did nothing. Instead, he stared coolly at his prey noting all the small things, how little space the frame took up on the mattress, the play of light and shadow over the long lines of arm and leg. So many details that he had known mentally, however, actually seeing them was a different matter entirely.
He watched the moonlight slide by on pale skin. After what seemed like half the night there was a subtle tensing of fingers – it seemed his guest was waking up. But who exactly was his guest?
Beimnech waited quietly to find out.
Slowly, the body on the bed returned to life. A hand was lifted, touching forehead and covering one eye as it made certain limbs and mind were still connected. Then, with a small moan, the body sat up, wincing as healing tissues protested against the movement.
"I'd stay still if I were you."
It was amusing to see Elise start at the sound of his voice, looking frantically about the unlit room in fright. Seated as he was, Beimnech was almost invisible. At least his little dramatics went the way he wanted – they were one of the few things that did this night. Before the other could realise that the darkened chair held a person in it, Beimnech stood up and crossed in front of the window to the bed. Immediately she jumped, scrambling backwards to the edge of the bed.
"That was quite a blow you took," he said conversationally. Elise's eyes darted wildly about – was she looking for a way to escape? Rather pointless; He could easily defend the door, and she was hardly going to jump out the window.
At least that's what he hoped.
"I do hope you're not going to blame me," he continued, moving to pull the curtains shut, "it was all your own fault. After all, you should have known that releasing all that dorcha—"
He had thought that she would do something foolish, like bolt for the door. That didn't happen, for the simple reason that this wasn't really Elise.
Beimnech instinctively ducked as an oil lamp was ripped from the table and hurled at his head. There was a crash as the makeshift missile smashed through the window and plunged out of sight. The sudden gust of wind fractured the window further and blew the curtain into his face, entangling him in its folds. He struggled against the thick material and freed himself just in time to see Elise leap towards him, claws outstretched and expression insanely furious. Before he could get over his startlement to dodge, she slammed into him, knocking him to the glass-strewn floor. Golden fingers grasped a nearby shard; just the razor edge touched his neck.
Beimnech punched Elise across the face.
The smaller woman was sent sprawling. As she struggled to find stability he kicked her in the bandaged area of her chest. The sluagh gasped in agony with her voice.
Beimnech glared irritably. "I thought that death was a release from pain. Isn't that why tortured prisoners beg to be killed?" He kicked her again, and this time the other coughed up blood. "On the other hand, I suppose feeling pain means that you are alive." He grabbed the heroine by the shoulders and threw her back onto the bed. Using his foot to flip the piece of glass into his hand, Beimnech raised an eyebrow. "If that is what you desire, I'm more than willing to help you."
Blood trailed from the corner of her mouth. "I thought you didn't want such a pretty face to be damaged," she said hoarsely.
Beimnech's eyes narrowed. He weighed the shard in his hand, it was just right for stabbing. "What do you want, parasite?"
"To hurt you, evil one." The possessed heroine spat the words out. "I want you to feel pain like I did."
He laughed. "Is that all? You're not the first to want that of me, you know."
Elise's eyes burned. "Do you know what it's like, evil one? To have your heart torn to pieces until you are nothing but pain? To hurt so badly that all you have left is the remains of your beating heart?"
"No, I don't." He lifted the glass shard up before his good eye, looking through it at the distorted image of Elise presented to him.
"Haven't you found that piece of information roaming about in her skull? I feel nothing, care for nothing." With sudden lethal precision, he slammed the glass into her shoulder, burying it deeply. Elise screamed in agony. "See?"
She was breathing hard in obvious pain. "Then why do you keep hurting this girl?"
Beimnech opened his mouth to answer – then stopped.
He wasn't sure what to answer.
That ... was disturbing.
Warily, he eyed the heroine. Her face twisted in pain, she reached up to take hold of the glass in her shoulder, and, squeezing her eyes shut, pulled.
The shard didn't move.
Gripping tighter so that the edges cut into her palm she tried again, and this time the glass came out. Immediately she let it fall from her reddened hand as blood oozed out staining the bedsheets. Beimnech sighed in resignation at the mess.
"Stop that," he said curtly as she tried to stem the flow. "You're going to make things worse."
The medical kit he had used earlier was out of bandages. Irritably Beimnech sat on the bed. Ignoring the priceless expression of mixed disbelief and fury on her face, he took hold of the girl's shoulder.
"Really," he said, wiping blood from the wound, "you certainly know how to make a nuisance of yourself."
Elise snarled and jerked away. "Get your hands off me."
Beimnech laughed softly and drew the other back towards him, pressing the palm of his hand over the wound. Elise trembled with barely restrained fury. He ignored it as he called upon his power and his hand began to emit a blue glow, stopping the bleeding and fully closing the wound.
"There. All done." He ran a finger along his work, critically inspecting it, and sat back satisfied. Only his finger lingered on her shoulder trailing over the soft skin. Fascinating.
"Stop. Touching. Me."
With a small sigh he let his hand drop. He slid off the bed and stood beside it, gazing down at the heroine sitting there glaring at him with those still so empty, bottomless eyes he was growing tired of.
This wasn't really Elise.
He didn't like that.
"It's most curious how easily you have taken over her body," he said at last. "I would have thought that someone with immense power like her would have put up far more resistance than this."
The sluagh laughed darkly. "Not when she is tired and sick at heart."
Beimnech's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Give her back."
"Back to who?" the sluagh asked, smile stretching widely into a glasgow grin.
"To me."
Something flickered in her face. "Do you care for her?"
Beimnech smiled a little at that. "I do not. It's the principle of the matter: you've taken something of mine away from me, and I want it back."
Elise's eyes darkened, skittering to the open door and back.
"She doesn't want to return."
Beimnech's smile disappeared. Beside him, the curtains swayed a little in the wind. "What are you saying?"
"This girl has nothing to live for, except you. And you don't even acknowledge that, too caught up in your own goals."
Beimnech did not answer to this, and the sluagh continued to grin, teeth encrusted with dried blood. "The fact is, evil one, she has absolutely no reason or desire to force me out. There's nothing for her here."
She grinned wider. "Not even you."
"She wants to kill me," he said, shrugging. "Isn't that good enough?"
Elise shook her head. "No. She can't kill you. She wants to, but she can't. Because she loves you."
"Oh?" Beimnech raised an eyebrow, not believing a word the other said. "Which me does she love? The lord of fomors or the eccentric mercenary who never existed?"
"Does it matter? Either way, she can't do it." The sluagh smirked at his disbelieving stare. "Since she can't kill you, I'll do it for her."
Beimnech laughed, perhaps just a little forcefully. "You've been trying all night to do that. Obviously you haven't succeeded."
There was a flash of anger in her face.
"There's no way that you can hurt me, parasite," he explained. Beimnech pointed at the bruise on Elise's face and the closed wound on her shoulder.
"Physically she is no match for me. Magically—" here he pointed to the bandage around her chest, "—you can see the results of that. As for emotionally or psychologically ..."Beimnech gave a triumphant smile. "I am impervious to anything of that nature."
The determination in the other's face wavered slightly, like heat off pavement. "You lie. There's no one in this world who is immune from pain."
Beimnech simply shrugged. "I wouldn't know, since I haven't—"
He broke off.
In silence he stared at the heroine before him, the pale face against the platinum hair, the blood on her skin, lingering mostly on the way the those empty eyes seemed so bottomless like a blackhole—
—saw those eyes sparkle for him when gifted that braid that day—
—and again, wondered what name to give to the tiny knot of almost-bitter tension that caught him.
Could it be—?
No. Pain was supposed to hurt. This, this tension, or whatever it was, did not hurt. It merely seemed to set him off-centre, disquieting in the way a cloud passes over the sun. Certainly nothing as resonant as what had caused the sluagh currently holding Elise's body.
The sluagh frowned suspiciously. "Haven't what?"
Speaking of which, Beimnech was getting quite tired of this thing. Elise was far more interesting to talk to and play with.
"I don't have the time for this," he moved away from the window and quietly made his way towards the other. "Small one is the one who enjoys playing counselor to restless people, not me." He stopped in front of the bed. "I just destroy them."
Beimnech struck. He slammed the palm of his hand onto her chest and stayed there. When the sluagh tried to move the ward burned, sending lances of pain through nerves that immediately subdued any resistance. Beimnech smiled at the other's struggle.
However, the smile disappeared as somehow Elise managed to lift one hand and draw a bloodied finger across his hand. It left a crimson smear. The ward glowed for a moment, then crumbled. Beimnech felt the spell's recoil like a lash from a whip as Elise tried to dash for the door, but recovered quickly and tripped her up. She managed to turn her fall into a roll and tumble out the door anyway. He swore under his breath and followed, getting more and more irritated by the second.
Irritation turned into anger when he stepped into the hallway and into a trap.
Glowing lightning was being pointed right at him. The moment he stepped out he was electrocuted, vision darkening. Beimnech grabbed onto the wall to steady himself.
Elise stood there, bloodied fingers twitching. Hatred burned in her face.
Despite his situation, Beimnech stared.
He had never seen Elise hate before.
It was ugly.
The walls shook as she began to chant; Beimnech stepped back to brace himself for the incoming scream. It was unbearable, the sound leaving an uneasy pit in his stomach and felt his ears bleeding. It seemed that Elise – or rather, the sluagh controlling her – was going to scream him to death.
That was unacceptable.
Avoiding the walls now, Beimnech tried to summon a shield, hoping to deafen the sound. The walls were seamless, the floor without fault. Ignoring the song Beimnech closed his eyes and concentrated on drowning it out.
Distantly he heard Elise intensify her song, and the light and dark energies wrestled in the air around them for supremacy. Being the more experienced of the two, however, and in his own territory,he won. The song stopped, the walls that were in danger of collapsing were stable again.
Beimnech smiled in the pleasant silence.
He remained there for a short while, taking a chance to rest and recover. That had been close, closer than he had liked. But it wasn't over yet. Taking a breath Beimnech dismissed the shield—
—and found himself alone.
For a long moment he stared coolly at the stairs, where she most likely ran off. The floor around him was blackened with the lightning from earlier.
He had to find Elise.
Find Elise?
Elise could not be found.
Elise would not be found.
Elise would not come back.
"There's nothing for her here. Not even you."
Beimnech frowned. Why should it matter to him that Elise wouldn't come back? He didn't care.
But, as he had told the sluagh, it was the principle of the matter and he had his own goals to achieve. Goals that required her.
He locked that thought in his mind so that it wouldn't slip. Then set out into the night to begin the hunt again.
~
Prowling the emptying streets Beimnech saw merchants, civilians, guards, the wandering homeless, children playing at being independent, but no Elise. He had caught the resonance of her scent early on, but whenever he started to close in, she would move, not idly as of one unsuspecting but deliberately, always countering his progress with exact precision so that he never got any closer to her than the length of a block. It had long passed the point of amusement or interest – now he was just irritated. Very much so, in fact.
Beimnech sighed in exasperation, leaning against a wall. They had been playing this cat-and-mouse game for hours now, and he hadn't gotten anywhere. It was rather difficult to hunt someone who knew where you were just as you know where they were. How Elise– correction, her resident sluagh – had accomplished that he didn't know. Then again, Elise had a lot of potential and talents she never used. Quite pathetic, that waste.
Small one, Beimnech thought to the heroine silently, you're really proving to be a nuisance tonight.
There was a group of what he perceived were milletians tough eyeing him; He ignored them. Perhaps they thought he would provide some entertainment. Children these days, whatever happened to discipline? Besides, the city was a dangerous place at night. This group was a nuisance at most, but there was always someone bigger ...
Perhaps, he thought wryly, even he would meet that bigger predator someday?
One young man, prodded by his friends, approached him. There was a blade being held on his hand. He came up to Beimnech, opened his mouth to speak—
Beimnech gazed implacably. He smiled a little. The milletian backed off.
Unlikely.
The milletian returned to his friends amidst a volley of jeers. A pity, Beimnech was inclined to think. Given his irritated state at the moment, he would have appreciated a chance to let some steam out.
Just where was that girl?
A sigh. He pushed off the wall, about to start the chase again. He had barely turned, however, when another presence neared. The sign of one who was marked for death. It was coming closer.
Beimnech stood a little straighter and scanned the crowd. There, across the road and walking briskly in his direction, was his next target. She wore her coppery hair neatly pinned back, a flash of colour against the grey elegant dress she was wearing. There was a silver pendant around her neck.
Interesting. He had meant to deal with his next target later, but it seemed that chance had other ideas. Besides, chasing after Elise had left him in a mood for blood tonight.
Keeping an eye on the woman, Beimnech observed her movements. He waited several minutes before following her.
The sluagh holding Elise seemed to think that the heroine was his only fixation. He would show otherwise.
Are you watching me, small one?
Whether by instinct or the primitive fear of being hunted, the woman sensed that someone was following her. Beimnech could see how she repeatedly looked back over her shoulder, how her manicured nails fiddled nervously with the silver necklace around her neck as if for reassurance. In the darkness, however, she didn't see the shadowy figure approaching. But she still felt its gaze.
They came to the graveyard, a dark area with the occasional streak of light from the night sky. She quickened her pace, heading for the stairs. Very foolish of hert. Swiftly and silently he leaped to the other end of the pass, ascending its stairs with enough time to before the woman arrived. Seeing him waiting there, a shadowy figure with a strangely intense smile, she froze.
Beimnech inclined his head in greeting.
"Good evening."
He didn't know her name, of course, but it made little difference to him. He did, however, manage to shake his victim further. Perhaps she thought he was some serial killer like in those tales?
Whatever possibilities her mind was thinking up, she knew what he represented.
When confronted by him, many people begged for mercy, tried to bargain, or fought. This woman fled. She dropped her bag as she ran back the way she had come. Beimnech summoned a crow and it dove to cut her off. It tore at her hair and face; she screamed as she tried to fend it off. Eventually she tripped over her heels and fell to the ground.
Beimnech smiled. Shadows melted out of the night. The woman stared at them for a moment uncomprehending, until one of them touched her skin and drew blood. Panic-stricken, she tried to crawl away, but there was nowhere for her to go. She screamed, high and loud and unnoticed. The expression on her face was breathtaking in this moment, this moment when she knew that now, finally, her end had come. And he was the one to finish her off.
Suddenly, the shadows were tossed away as if on a violent gust of wind. Except, there was no wind.
He blinked.
Elise stood soundlessly onto the ground in front of him. Her dress was buttoned up again, and she held a dagger in her hand. The blade shone as if in victory for dispelling Beimnech's attack. Behind her, the woman stared wildly at her unexpected rescuer. Elise, on the other hand, didn't seem to see her.
It was a long time before he spoke.
"To stand between me an my victim, parasite, you are either very brave or very stupid," he said coldly. Elise didn't answer. Beimnech frowned. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be amused, irritated, or something else. "In any case, you can't save her. Her death belongs to me."
There was a desperate cry from the woman. "Please, whoever you are, help me!"
Elise didn't look as if she had heard them. The moonlight casted shadows across her face. Staring into those shadows trying to read that face, remembering the way he had seen that face last, Beimnech felt a sudden twinge of – what?
Suddenly, there was a sound. The last sound he had ever expected to hear from her lips.
Elise was laughing.
"Who said I wanted to save her?" she asked softly.
Beimnech stared.
Offside, the woman gave a choked cry. The cry turned into a desperate scream as Elise turned towards her. She scrambled to her feet and lashed out at her wildly. Elise easily avoided her blows. As he watched in stunned disbelief, the heroine darted behind her. She held her free hand like a knife and slammed it into the back of the woman's neck. She dropped immediately. Swiftly Elise grabbed a handful of the unconscious woman's coppery hair, and, kneeling down, pulled her head roughly back. The dagger flashed as she brought it up against her throat.
The heroine's face was almost mad. "What are you going to do, evil one?" she shouted. "What are you going to do? Just one stroke and her death is mine. I can take something from you that you can never get back, what are you going to do?!"
The scream rose high over the roar of the wind, a sound that was strangely distant to his ears. Disbelieving, he took one step towards her and his victim; immediately the knife jerked, nicking the skin behind the woman's ear. Blood welled up, falling to be caught in a coppery net of hair. Beimnech froze and stared.
Elise smiled maliciously and pressed the blade closer.
"Well?" she challenged.
Beimnech, mismatched eyes narrowed, didn't answer.
He was trying to understand. There was a something in this moment, something sharp, almost breathlessly acute that he wanted so badly to comprehend, to name ... he was seeing Elise poised to kill someone, he was standing outside and watching a death hanging in a balance that would shatter at his touch—
Seeing Elise poised to kill ...
"Why are you doing this?" he asked finally.
The knife trembled, so tightly was it held. "Because the one way to hurt you is to take your victim's death from you."
"If you do that it makes both of us killers," he replied, trying his best to keep his voice under control. "I'm sure you don't mind being what you are, but small one might not take well to the idea that you've stained her hands with blood."
"Why do you care!" the sluagh shouted. "You who cannot lose anything, why do you care!"
Slowly, Beimnech lifted his hand.
"Why?" he asked softly. He was no longer smiling. "I can't tell you."
The wind howled, whipping his cape about him. Elise snarled, recognising the workings of a spell. She lifted the knife high, but before she could stab downwards into the woman's neck a blizzard of shadows blew into her face. She slashed through them and they exploded too close to her eyes. Blinded, Elise staggered to her feet. She started waving the dagger wildly in front of her.
Lunging past the unconscious woman, he struck Elise across the face. The heroine recovered quickly, trying to trip him. When he dodged she lashed out with the dagger, slicing him just below his cursed eye. Beimnech touched his cheek and his fingers came away bloody.
Warily, they watched each other. Elise gripped the knife tightly, poised for attack or defense. He eyed the dagger, one advantage she had over him, not that it mattered too greatly. He didn't need to be armed to be deadly. He could use magic – that was always an option.
He didn't.
Too tense to be patient, she attacked. She darted forward with dagger raised. Beimnech dodged a blow to his head and as the heroine passed, grabbed her wrist and jerked her forward. Pulled off balance Elise stumbled, choking as he punched her wounded shoulder. Beimnech wrestled the dagger out of the other's hand, throwing her to the ground. When Elise tried to get up he brutally slammed her down. He knelt beside the stunned heroine and held the knife to her throat. The hilt resonated in his hand – magic.
Dark eyes stared up into his mismatched ones. They were wild, almost desperate. "So you'll hurt me again."
"Again?" He lifted an eyebrow. "You brought this upon yourself."
"Because you were someone I loved! You hurt me so badly ... you're just like him ..." The sluagh swallowed, voice distorting between Elise's regular voice and its demonic voice.
"When this girl came hurting,and you were easier to approach than the other one, I thought I could get revenge. This girl couldn't kill you even though she wanted to; I would hurt you as you hurt us, and she wouldn't have to do it. She gave into me so easily, I thought I would succeed ... But you ... damned, horrible man..."
With a start, Beimnech realised she was crying. "I failed, you have nothing to lose, you cannot be hurt!"
Tears ... black oozing liquid began oozing out of her eyes along with crystalline tears and for a moment Beimnech thought he could see her actual face, so determined to hurt him, someone with passion and strength to rival that of his own, crying for love lost and for failure ...
Elise really was beautiful when she wept.
But this wasn't Elise.
Not fully her.
And now it was time for this to end.
"You did well," he found himself saying. He lifted the dagger away from the other's neck, trailing it over her chest. "But I cannot let you make her kill."
The sluagh snarled. "Why does it matter?"
"I don't want Elise to kill anyone." Beimnech smiled and gripped the dagger tightly, hand and blade poised above her chest like a bird of prey. "And now," he added without remorse. "I want her back."
He stabbed down.
Elise choked, stiffening against him – he twisted the knife, feeling the soft flesh give all-too-easily under the blade's keen edge and she screamed in agony, a raw, tattered sound that held yet another, a high-pitched, feminine echo as the magic in the knife stabbed the sluagh as well as body—
—blood, dark and warm, spread rapidly beneath them—
—and a dim radiance formed in the air above.
Beimnech looked sharply up. A glowing presence stared down at him, filled with hatred and yet, also relieved. Liberated. The sluagh that had caused him so much trouble that long night reached out towards him, then, as if thinking the better of it, halted. It was still crying, he noted, as it faded out of sight.
Gone.
But he had no time to think about that.
"Elise!" Pulling the dagger out of the smaller body, Beimnech tossed it aside and bent over her face. The skin was unearthly pale, her eyes closed. Immediately he pressed a hand against the stab-wound, pressing down in an attempt to stem the flow. Still blood leaked out from between his fingers. With a hiss of urgency Beimnech held her head with his other hand, pressed her chest further. Closing his eyes he called upon his power once more. He tapped that power, tamed it to his will, and, drawing it back to where he and Elise lay on the grass, wove it to heal. Under his hands flesh made itself whole again – but it wasn't enough.
The sluagh had possessed Elise because she had no will to live. Beimnech, in his determination to rid of it, had stabbed too deeply.
She was dying.
How could she just give up like that?
"She doesn't want to return. There's nothing for her here. Not even you."
"My dear Elise." Gently Beimnech lifted the small woman into his arms. He trailed bloodstained fingers over the too-pale face. "Come back."
No answer. Beimnech wondered if the sluagh was still present, and if it was, was it laughing at him?
"This girl has nothing to live for, except you."
Is that true, small one? Is that the only reason you endured?
Well. I'm still here.
And until I leave this world, you must stay too.
Ignoring the blood beneath them, Beimnech bent down and pressed his lips to her's. They were cold.
Come back, Elise.
For a heartbeat, maybe three, there was no response. Then, Beimnech felt a hand weakly reach up to touch his face. He deepened the kiss, and the mouth beneath his trembled, parting for him like a flower to sunlight, soft and warm, answering to him.
He closed his eyes.
Finally, he drew away. Elise stared up at him, familiar pale eyes dazed and confused. Did she think that she was dreaming?
"Beimnech ..."
Beimnech smiled. "Welcome back."
Elise gazed at him uncomprehendingly. Then, weak with blood loss, she drifted away into unconsciousness. Her pulse beat steadily against his hand.
Cradling the heroine against him, Beimnech stood up. Far, far away, the horizon was lightening.
It had been a long night.
Belatedly, he realised that they were alone. The woman whose death they had fought over was gone. Obviously she had regained consciousness whilst they were fighting, and taken the opportunity to escape. Let her run. He would get back to her very, very soon.
In his arms Elise lay limply, dress and apron covered in her own blood. He carried her down the stairs of the graveyard. There was a bench nearby. He carefully set her down on it and draped his cape over her. Then, calmly, he alerted the guards.
* * *
Perched on the roof of a building across the road, Beimnech observed below. He watched the pale robed figures carry the unconscious Elise onto a stretcher as she was to be taken to the healer. He wondered what she would tell them when she woke up. Would she remember anything of the night at all?
He didn't know. He doubted he'd be able to find out.
Looking through the eyes of the spirit-bird, Beimnech saw his escaped victim running heedlessly down a street, bare feet bruised and coppery hair loose. Her face held an expression of wild hope, of desperate relief.
It was short-lived as he, leaping from building to building, appeared in front of her. She froze immediately.
He smiled.
"Now. Where were we?"
How many people had he killed now? he thought distantly as the woman turned and ran. Too many to count, too many to remember them all. Some stood out in his memory of course, he amended as he sent a whirlwind of blazing fire.
But the one victim Beimnech remembered most clearly and perhaps, with something resembling affection, was his first.
The woman screamed as the fire consumed her.
His father hadn't screamed at all.
He was his first, and for that, it would always be special.
If you kill anyone, Elise, let it be me. Give me that 'special place' in your heart that no one can ever take away. I will hold it forever.
The fire disappeared. They left behind ashes. Beimnech turned and walked away.
Let me be your first.
~
Fin