Flash Fic February Day Twenty-One (02/21/2022) Prompt: Creature
Stephen sighed, turning the key into the door of Paradox and pulling his jacket in close to his body.
It had been a slow day for business, and he’d been secretly hoping that Lucy would drop by unexpectedly, as she usually did. But he hadn’t heard from her all night. Last message he’d gotten from her had been about some mission from Dante, something important, she’d said.
He hoped she was okay.
Stephen was almost to the back room when he’d heard it; a desperate whining and scratching at the front door. “The hell?” He made his way back up to the front, weaving between tables and counters. Maybe some stray dog had found its way here; it wasn’t unheard of. But what waited him at the front door made his stomach sink.
Artemis was on her hind legs, both paws up on the glass, anxiously scratching at it and whining, her paws scrabbling against the rain-slick glass. Her eyes were wide with fear.
Stephen ran to the front door, stumbling over himself. What was Artemis doing here, this late at night without Lucy? It took him a couple of tries to unlock the door; his hands were shaking too badly to get the lock. But when he’d finally opened it, Artemis rushed him, pulling at his clothes with her teeth, her whines insistent and anxious.
“What’s wrong, Artemis?” His heart was pounding in his chest, his calm mood shattered by a powerful fear. “Where’s Lucy?”
The fox, of course, didn’t answer, but continued to pull him until he was out of the front door. He didn’t bother to lock it behind him, not as Artemis tugged him down the street, toward where his car was parked. He didn’t question how a fox knew which car was his, or how the fox even knew they’d probably need a car in the first place. Lucy might’ve been hurt, or… he didn’t let himself think of the possibilities as he let Artemis into his little sedan, getting in the drivers seat.
He started the car, only to realize… he had no idea where the hell Lucy even was. He looked at Artemis, who was looking back at him anxiously from the passenger seat. “Where… where am I supposed to go?”
Artemis huffed, annoyed. And if foxes could roll their eyes, Stephen could’ve sworn that Artemis did. “What? Like I’m supposed to just know?” She barked at him, as if to say you’re a Mage, idiot. “Okay, just because you’re right doesn’t mean you have to be mean about it.” She whined at him, pawing anxiously at his seats.
He felt stupid for forgetting something as simple as a drowsing spell, but his mind was far away, anxiously hoping that Lucy was okay, that he wasn’t going to be too late. His hands were trembling as he reached over into his glove box and pulled out his map of New York. And, sitting on top of it, was the Veri Peri. He’d meant to give it back to Lucy, but he’d kept forgetting.
He’d never been more grateful to be a forgetful idiot than he was now.
Holding the crystal over the map, he concentrated, channeling his magic into it and the map, conjuring images of Lucy in his mind. Lucy, smiling, laughing at something dumb he’d said. Lucy, with a slight tint of pink in her cheeks as their almost-kiss was interrupted. Lucy, hugging him, her hair dyed forever white, her body pressed against his.
The chain holding the Veri Peri suddenly went taught as the crystal pulled and strained. Stephen opened his eyes, finding the crystal hovering over the woods where they’d nearly kissed, the woods where Lucy had died. His blood chilled in his veins. She’d gone to investigate whatever creature was lurking in those woods. And only Artemis had returned.
Without wasting another moment, he tossed the map out of his lap, shoving the crystal into his pocket and peeling off into the street. He didn’t care that he was speeding, didn’t care that he might get pulled over. Lucy needed help.
As he neared the woods, Artemis had curled up, resting her head on his lap, still whining in fear. She was shaking just as much as he was; but he couldn’t offer her words of comfort, not when Lucy was in danger, not when he didn’t know what to say. He could only put a free hand on her neck, gently petting her as he drove.
The moment he pulled into the entrance near the trail, he threw the car into park and flung the door open, both he and Artemis spilling out. They’d parked right next to Lucy’s Jeep, but there was no sign of her. Stephen felt sick with anxiety; he’d had some naïve hope that she’d be there, waiting for them, a smile on her face.
Rain was pouring in thick sheets, making it nearly impossible to see. Luckily, Artemis stood in stark contrast to her surroundings; she was easy to follow as she bolted into the tree line, Stephen running to catch up. The trees here seemed impossibly thick, denser than he remembered, and he struggled to follow the fox, who barely waited for him as she wove through the trees with a natural grace.
He didn’t know how long he’d been running when he heard it; the same, horrible howl piercing through the sounds of the rain. And then the inhuman scream that followed it. Lucy. Fear gripped his heart with an icy hand, but he forced himself to pick up the pace. His clothes and hair were soaked, but he didn’t care. The howl was quickly followed by what sounded like fighting; horrible screeching and slamming noises, and the sound of trees and branches snapping and breaking under force.
He followed Artemis until she suddenly disappeared over a fallen tree trunk, scored with claw marks. To his horror, Stephen saw it was splattered with fresh blood that was quickly washing away in the rain. It was impossible to tell if it was Lucy’s or not.
Stephen scrambled over the tree trunk, awkwardly climbing over it and falling hard onto the ground on the other side of it. Mud splashed, getting into his hair and eyes. He wiped them, desperately trying to clear his vision. He heard Artemis, whining, the sounds of fighting loud and prominent, as though it were right in front of him.
When he’d finally cleared the mid from his eyes, silently cursing, he could finally see the scene in front of him. Trees had been knocked over as though a hurricane had torn through; there was blood splattered across both the fallen trees and the ground, all of it washing away in the wake of the rain. In the center of the destruction were two figures, fighting, one massive, one small, tiny in comparison to the massive werewolf she faced.
He fought the urge to scream out her name; knowing if he did so, it might mean the end for both himself and Lucy. The relief of finder her alive was immediately washed away as he took in her appearance.
A silver knife, so small in her hand, was the only thing she used to face the wolf, who’s rippling, muscled form stood taller than even Stephen did. It dwarfed Lucy, and to his horror, Stephen realized that she was bleeding from several claw and teeth wounds, her clothes ripped and shredded. Her eyes were glowing in a way Stephen had never seen; her eyes were a cross between a cat’s, and something wholly unnatural, something that made the primitive part of his brain want to run and hide from her.
Artemis looked back to him and Lucy and the werewolf circled each other, teeth bared, both growling and snarling. Do something, her eyes pleaded. But as he was scrambling to his feet, the two were clashing again, entangled in each other, a blur of limbs and teeth and silver. Stephen forced himself to ignore their screams and the sounds of the two fighting. His hands scrabbled against the slick forest floor; he fought the urge to be sick as his hands occasionally landed in rivulets of blood, but he found what he was looking for, eventually.
He grabbed the branch, about as long as one would imagine a sword to be, into his hand, just as Lucy let out a horrible, gut wrenching scream from behind him. He couldn’t help it, he whirled, turning to see what had happened, and found the werewolf had its massive jaws around Lucy’s midsection, blood flowing freely from its teeth as it clamped down. Lucy had one hand free, the one holding the knife, but she seemed to have forgotten about it as she wildly pounded against the wolf’s snout. It snarled, tightening its grip, making her blood flow faster. Lucy swayed, going nearly limp in its jaws.
Artemis howled, in rage and pain, and hurled herself into the fight, flinging herself at the werewolf.
Stephen’s stomach twisted. He knew, if he made it in time, they’d be okay. Lucy would live. But he had to hurry.
He returned back to his branch, it’s thick, smooth bark the reason he had picked it. When bending the laws of reality, it was best to work with an object that was as close to what you wanted as possible. So he concentrated, focusing hard on what he wanted the branch to be, what, he convinced himself, it always had been.
Stephen had never held a sword in his life, never imagined he would, either. But as his magic flowed out of him, and into what he held in his hand, he felt it distort, then change. Until, as he opened his eyes, he was holding onto a silver sword, the metal glinting as lightning flashed across the sky. This kind of magic always left him a bit tired and drained, but he couldn’t rest, not now.
He turned back to Lucy, watching as, with a sudden burst of strength, she lifted her arm before plunging the knife down into the werewolf’s eye. It shrieked, but refused to let her go. Artemis had her own jaws clamped around its ankle, desperately tugging at it to no avail.
As Lucy held on for dear life, Stephen approached, sword at his side. As he neared, Lucy finally caught sight of him; but there was no relief in her eyes, no joy at seeing him. Instead, she snarled at him, fangs flashing in the night, a violence in her eyes he had never seen before. He ignored it for now; the wolf hadn’t noticed him, it was far too busy trying to shake Lucy’s knife out of its eye to no avail.
He knew that, by killing this werewolf, he was doing something more than saving Lucy. He was firmly declaring his allegiance to the Kindred of New York. The mages would be furious, the werewolf packs even more so. But he didn’t care. None of it mattered more to him than saving Lucy, than freeing her from the creatures jaws.
The werewolf didn’t notice his approach until it was too late. It turned, remaining eye wide as it raised a clawed hand to swipe at him. But the silver sword was already arcing through the air, its vicious point aimed directly for the wolf’s chest. Stephen had never stabbed anything before. It was almost like poking a pin into a pincushion, and the silver cut through the werewolf as easily as butter, its skin and fur burning and smoking. He was forced to let go of the hilt as it started to thrash.
It screamed in pain, finally fully releasing Lucy, who fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. The werewolf was shrieking, clawing at its chest, where the other end of the sword stuck out; Stephen had stabbed the sword clean through the creature. It staggered back, letting out one final scream before collapsing, splashing mud up into the air.
Without thinking, Stephen rushed for Lucy, who was struggling to sit up, her hands covered in mud and blood. He fell to his knees next to her, putting his hand on her shoulders. “Lucy,” he called softly. “Lucy, are you okay?”
She wouldn’t look at him, her head turned down towards the muddy earth, her body trembling. She was still bleeding badly, the wounds across her midsection the worst of all; if she had been mortal she’d surely have died. “Lucy?” He heard Artemis whine from behind him, her footfall silent as she approached the pair.
Lucy finally looked up at him, her eyes unfocused and wild, still glowing in that unnatural way. She hissed, softly, but seemed to snap herself out o fit, clutching a hand to her head. “Stephen?” Her voice was hoarse, likely from screaming. “Stephen… w-what are you doing here?”
“I’m here to save you, you idiot.” He squeezed her shoulder as she placed one of her hands over his. “What were you thinking, coming here alone?” He scolded her, but his heart wasn’t in it; he was just relieved to see her alive.
Lucy’s eyes fluttered, and she swayed. “You shouldn’t-” she swallowed, hard. Her grip on his hand tightened, her body shaking as though she were trying to hold herself back from something. “You shouldn’t be here.” Her voice was tight. Restrained. She was looking at him like a predator would assess its prey. Fear grabbed Stephen’s heart, and then it clicked.
She was horribly wounded, still bleeding out into the dirt. She was hungry, and he was a delicious human who had just delivered himself into her lap. But he swallowed his fear; he wouldn’t run from her, not when there was only a few hours to sunrise. Not when she needed him. “I’m not just leaving you here.”
“Please,” she pleaded, her grip tightening, her pupils dilating. “I… I can’t stop myself. Leave.”
“Nah, I’m not going anywhere without you.” He moved his free hand, the one she wasn’t grabbing, and pulled his pocket knife free.
Her eyes widened as he flicked open the blade. “Stephen, don’t-” but she couldn’t stop him as he carefully cut into his wrist. It was only a small nick, but it bleed freely, and Lucy’s nostrils flared as the smell of it hit her nose.
“Drink,” he prodded her gently. But the words had barely left his mouth before her lips were on his wrist, her fangs sinking into his skin. He winced as there was a brief flash of pain, but it quickly melted into a feeling of contentment, of bliss. He’d never been fed on by a Kindred before; he now understood the tales of ghouls getting addicted to the bite, of begging to be fed from over and over again. He felt calm, complacent.
He didn’t know how long the two of them sat together like that, her at his wrist, him with a bracing hand on her shoulder. But he didn’t care. He could’ve sat with her like that for an eternity.
Stephen watched her minor wounds slowly, forcibly, close, the worst of the wounds still bleeding, but the flow slowing into a trickle rather than a deluge. When she finally released him from the grip of her teeth, he was woozy, lightheaded, as though he had just donated blood. He shuddered as he felt the tip of her tongue gently trace against the knife wound, and the deep punctures her fangs had left. Slightly amazed, he watched them seal closed, until no trace of the bite or cut remained.
But his mind was more on the feeling of her mouth, her tongue, on his skin, a tingling, electric feeling remaining her her tongue had traced the lines of the injuries.
They sat together for a moment, listening to the sound of the rain pounding around them, his wrist still grasped carefully in her free hand. When she looked back to him, her eyes are lost their ethereal glow, and gone back to their normal blue. “You saved me,” she breathed, barely above a whisper, as though she were doubting if this were a dream or reality. “Thank you.”
Stephen smiled at her. “Always, Lucy. Always.”
And then without thinking about it, without even realizing he was doing it, he pulled her by the wrist pulling her close. She let out a soft, startled gasp as she fell into him, a sound that was silenced by their mouths meeting, softly and gently amidst the rain. Her lips were soft against his as she melted into him, kissing him back, the coppery taste of his own blood on her mouth.
He couldn’t say what had compelled him finally kiss her. Maybe it was the near-death scenario, maybe it was the lingering feelings of being fed from, but he didn’t care, especially not when her arms wrapped around him, deepening the kiss. He wrapped his own arms around her, one hand resting on the small of her back, the other running up to entwine in her hair. The hair he’d cut and dyed for her.
Just as his tongue brushed against her lower lip, to deepen their kiss even further, Artemis let out an impatient, annoyed bark from behind them, her tail thumping against the ground. Hurry it up, she seemed to say. They broke apart, startled, but didn’t let go of each other. There was a shy smile on Lucy’s face, that same smile she had always given him, even if she looked different than she had when they first met.
He glanced toward the dead form of the werewolf, unmoving and bleeding into the mud. “Sorry for the lousy first date.”
“I dunno, I’ve always liked dinner dates,” she smiled, wiping a small smear of blood from the corner of her mouth.
He felt his face pale. “Please don’t eat me, at least, not like that.”
She smiled again. “Don’t worry, mage blood tastes funny, so… you’re safe.”
He rolled his eyes at her, helping her to her feet, hands clasped tightly together. As all three of them started to walk, finally leaving the woods Lucy began to sway and limp, her injuries reopening with every step. Stephen stopped her, and before she could protest, he scooped her into his arms, carrying her bridal style. “Hey!” She complained, wiggling in his grip. “I can walk, you know.”
He snorted at her. “Barely. Quit wiggling, you’ll make me trip.”
“Maybe I want you to trip.” She was sticking her tongue out at him.
But when he smiled at her, she smiled back, and relaxed into him, her head resting on his shoulder, and Artemis leading the way home.
