Hacks from Hell, Unlimited
in co-operation with
Evil Entities for a Darker Tomorrow's
Department Three
and
The Whip Cream and Razor Blades Corporation's
North American Division
presents
Dawn of Darkness: Into the Abyss
A Vampire Princess Miyu / Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter
Crossover
by
Joey O'Leary
aka
The Apprentice
Anita Blake, Jean-Claude and all other characters taken from
the Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter novels are property of Laurell K.
Hamilton.
Miyu, Larva, and all other characters taken from Vampire
Princess Miyu are the property of Toshihiro Hirano and Narumi
Kakinouchi.
Unless otherwise noted all other characters are the mine.
Please get permission before using them.
Thank you's go out to:
Megazone, Gryphon, ReRob and everyone else who's wrote
something in that epic tale known as Undocumented Features. You're
the ones responsible for getting me interested in Manga and Anime,
again.
Darren Steffler (aka Twister) for Twisted Path and Twister.
For showing me the joys of Ranma 1/2 and reminding me that it *is*
possible to have a great self-insertion fanfic without reading UF.
And for Puck, the Canadian god who, it seems, is about to father a
race of half-elves all on his own.
Bert Van Vliet. For revealing to us that it is possible to
be more of a pain to Sylia than Priss and Mackie combined. Frankly,
I'm surprised you haven't given her an ulcer yet.
Hitomi Ichinohei. For amazing me with the number of fanfics
she can have going at once, yet have all of them be of superior
quality. I'm still working (some) on that BGC 'fic I told you about,
Hitomi. Believe it or not, it's what's caused me to create this one.
Barry Cadwgan. For giving me (in no particular order):
spellchecking services; inspiration; ideas; comments and criticism;
encouragement; and assurances that just because I'm able to write
characters like Set, is no reason to see a psychiatrist.
For White Wolf and the rest of the FFML. For great stories
and a chance to have this thing looked at.
To Toshihira Hirano and Narumi Kakinouchi, for giving us
Miyu.
And, finally, to Laurell K. Hamilton. For showing me that it
was possible to mix horror, fantasy, mystery and a bit of romance
together. For giving us vampires that are truly monsters, but showing
that humans could be monstrous as well. For Anita Blake herself; a
strong, smart heroine who doesn't shriek when the monsters are after
her, but instead gives them nine millimeter headaches. And for
Jean-Claude; a hero and villain all at once whom I can't help but
root for.
Any praise, comments, corrections, advice or out-and-out
flames that you decide shouldn't be made public should be sent to:
tjolear@ibm.net
But, please, put something in the header so the other people I share
my account with will know it's for me.
Thanks.
_____
Act 1
Of Pain and Pleasure
Chapter 3: Contractual Arrangements 101 - Give and Take
Part 3
"No man chooses evil because it is evil; he only
mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks."
- Mary Godwin Wollstonecraft
<The Morning After - Faith No More - The Real Thing>
"We're done," The Doctor states as she stares intently at
one of the displays on her screen and taps at her keyboard.
Instantly the treadmill the stranger was on came to a dead stop.
Even an olympic athelete would have had to make an effort not to
lose their balance at the sudden change, the stranger does so
instinctively. "Feel free to have a shower before changing back to
the clothes you were wearing. Towels, and those shorts you currently
have on, are to go in the white basket. I'll be finished processing
the results of your tests in a few minutes."
The stranger was more then happy to pull off more sensors then
used on most military bases and leave the room. Not because he was
tired, he wasn't. And not because he was sweating, he hadn't sweated
a single drop during the tests. No, the reason why he gladly padded
across the lab to the changing room was to escape The Doctor. He'd
met dead fish that had more personality then her.
A quick shower and a change of clothes latter and he was
staring avidly over the shoulder of the Midwest's winner of the `Worst
Bedside Manner' award. The Doctor was flipping through window
screens at an impressive speed. Each screen held pictures of body
parts, graphs of varying sorts and reams of information that seemed
to be written in English, but was Greek to the stranger. After
several minutes of expectant silence the stranger decided that if
he didn't ask her he could be waiting until she was dust before
being told anything, "Well Doc, do I get an A in Phys. Ed.?"
A sigh that wouldn't have been heard by a human being
was the only vocal or physical sign she heard him. Finally, a
few seconds later she started to talk in tone frosted with
intellectual superiority. "Most of your readings fall within
my baseline readings of vampires. There are, however, some
obvious differentiations in some of your readings." By now
the stranger can smell her excitement and grudgingly puts her
up a notch in his book. She's obviously excited at the new
information that she now has, her bedside manner may suck and
she's arrogant as hoek, but she is a scientist.
"Your strength allows you to bench press a Cadillac,
approximately one point two seven tons. Reaction speed and general
reflexes are off the chart. Your body's constitution and structural
integrity are at the maximums of human potential. Physical
coordination is equal to an Olympic athlete's. All off these
fall within my baseline readings for vampires."
She paused for a second before continuing. "However there
are some aberrations in the results. First, your muscular and bone
structures have been adapted to increase movements, basically you can
move at two hundred and forty percent of the maximum human potential.
And your body has also adapted to be more resistant to trauma, you
could take a nine millimeter round and not even be scratched."
"Your senses are almost the same as a vampire's. All of the
five senses are more acute, particularly the sense of smell. You
can now see into the ultraviolet spectrum of light. Your sense of
taste can now break things down to their components. Your sense of
smell is similarly adapted. This allows you to track by scent, and
smell pheromones given off when feeling certain emotions or when
lying. Your hearing range is now better than that of a dog's, which
can hear between the 5 to 50,000 Hertz range."
"All of these alterations are among the norm for vampires
except the ability to `smell lies', as it is commonly called. And
even that ability seems to be the norm among the vampiric subspecies
commonly called `master vampires'. The only real deviation from the
vampiric norm is the fact that you can now see in the infrared
spectrum of light as well."
"Your digestive system, on the other hand, is quite atypical.
Although it has adapted so it can only draw sustenance from blood, it
can still process liquids and solids." She waved a hand vaguely at
several empty take-out packages and blood bags lying on one of the
room's tables as she continued on. "It also seems you can draw
sustenance from refrigerated blood, also a deviation from the vampiric
norm, as I have observed it."
"This could be due to your unusual metamorphic ability.
Although all vampires have a limited metamorphic ability, your's seems
to be much more advanced then the norm. In addition to 'retractable'
fangs, your skin, eye and hair pigmentation all shifted during varying
parts of your testing. However, as I was told to test your physical,
and not your preternatural, abilities I cannot tell you just how
advanced this ability is." She frowned slightly before continuing,
"And, to tell the truth, my equipment isn't advanced enough for that
kind of testing in any case."
"Your reactions to sunlight and holy items were also extremely
off from the vampiric norm. Where a vampire would immediately burst
into flames when in contact with sunlight you reported nothing more
serious then feeling slightly weaker and feeling a need to shade your
eyes. Holy items caused no burn damage either, just the same feeling
of being weaker and a wish to shade your eyes from the light the items
were producing. Off course, while we used holy symbols and holy water
during our tests, we did not attempt any tests with either the Host or
holy ground. So I can't make any promises involving how you would or
wouldn't react in relation to them."
Unable to contain himself anymore the stranger started to
talk before Doctor Roboto could continue her sing song monologue.
"But I was always told that it was christian holy items that worked
on vampires. So why was I affected by the other ones? I'm haven't
become politically correct on top of everything else, have I?" Honest
curiousity, and the urge of self-preservation, made him ask that
question. Of course a warped sense of humour may have had something
to do with it too, the stranger admitted to himself.
After giving him a stare a dead salmon would have envied the
Doctor answered his question in an extremely annoyed tone of voice.
"Actually the holy items of many religions affect vampires, not just
those of the muslim, jewish and christian faiths. Who, even if they
won't admit it, all share the same deity. The notion that only
christian items of the faith could affect vampires is a lie that was
first introduced during the early days of `formal' christianity."
A faint smirk appeared on her face, which he could see reflected on
her compute screen, and her voice was now filled with sarcastic
amusement, not annoyance. "After all, if you claim that vampires are
the servants of Hell, and that all non-christian faiths are of Hell,
you really can't admit that the items of those faiths can protect you
as well as a cross blessed by the Pope himself, now can you?" She
turned back towards the stranger and they shared a smirk of shared
disgust and amusement at the hypocrisy of humanity.
"Basically the only things that can harm you, it would
seem, are silver, flames & heat, and preternatural attacks. I
decided that trying to shove a wooden stake into your heart wasn't
what Jean-Claude wanted me to do, so I skipped that test." The
stranger couldn't help but shake his head at the parched irony
underlaying that last sentence and found himself mirroring The
Doctor's impish grin. By now The Doctor's status in the stranger's
book had gone up several more notches. "Other then the facts that
neither holy items or sunlight burn you there seems to be only one
deviation from the vampiric norm when it comes to physical damage,
and that's your ability to feel pain. Or rather the lack thereof.
It seems your body has adapted itself to deal with pain by
`reinterpreting' the normal signal sent to the brain to tell it of
an injury. That's why, instead of the normal pain felt at an injury,
all you feel is a tingling sensation. It doesn't... distract as pain
would but seems to serve the same function, informing you where the
injury has occurred and how severe it is."
The Doctor suddenly muffled a gigantic yawn with her mouth
and rubbed her eyes before continuing in a much more subdued and
tired sounding tone. "Look it's just about ten thirty in the
morning, we've been at this for over twelve hours. Let's call it
a day and get some sleep." She started to go through the computer's
shutdown procedure while continuing on, "Is there anything I can do
for you before I lock the place back up?" The stranger thought
about it for a second and decided that there was.
***
As soon as he heard the knock on the door the stranger lept
up out of bed, eager to find out who it was. Seeing Jean-Claude he
quickly opens the door, and just as quickly closes it behind his
host. While Jean-Claude examines the room, he examines Jean-Claude.
To sum up his clothing tonight only one word would be needed, black.
Black leather cowboy boots led up to black jeans that looked like they
had been painted on. Then there was the thin, gauzy black shirt that
left most of his chest bare.
"I see," Jean-Claude stated with just a hint of amusement
tinting his words, "that you've been busy." With a languid sweep
of his hand he pointed out the room's condition. Books and magazines
were laying all over the floor of the room, with yet more of them
on the bed. Some were closed, others had been left open and yet more
had various bookmarks to make it easier to find the desired sections
that the stranger may wish to look at again. Sheets of paper, most
with scribbled notes covering both sides in a nearly unreadable manner
were also scattered around the room.
"What can I say," the stranger replied, "I wanted to find
things out. So I asked The Doctor if I could borrow some things from
her personal collection." As he was speaking he was clearing off the
bed and gestured for his host to have a seat after clearing it off.
Jean-Claude just shook his head slightly so both of them remained
standing.
"Not," the stranger continued on after a few seconds of
silence, "that there was all that much concrete information on many of
the subjects that I was interested in the most. No one, for example,
seems to even agree on what vampires are. The Pope here," he gestured
to a copy of Time magazine, "says we are the servants of Satan. But
here," he pointed to a copy of People magazine, "he says we have
committed suicide, and are therefore damned to Hell. Then there are
others who, to one degree or another, agree with the late Doctor
Mulligan, that vampirism is a disease and could be cured.
Personally," the stranger finished with sarcasm spicing his words, "I
much rather like that bunch over the Pope's yes men."
Jean-Claude chuckled briefly before he replied to his guests
comments. "True, but then how do explain things such as our reactions
to crosses? And, even if they are true that vampirism is a disease,
it would seem to be a retrovirus. So neither of us will have to be
concerned for a cure to being a vampire until mankind learns to
toy with his very building blocks, without killing himself in the
process."
The stranger nodded his head in agreement before going on
to more important topics. "So, how do we go about jogging my memory?
And what will I owe you," his hand waved his hand across the room,
"for all this?"
Jean-Claude just shook his head with a faint grin on his
face as he answered the questions. "As for the cost, well let's
just wait until we see how successful we are at regaining your lost
memories. And, before we go about trying that, would you like a
meal?"
For some reason the stranger felt this question was more
important then it should be. A free meal is, after all, a free meal.
"Sure, why not?" It couldn't hurt, he decided, to be fully charged
before Jean-Claude went into his mind again. He just hoped that he
would be neater this time, and that he wouldn't feel some of the
sensations he remembered from his feeding on the goat last night.
They disturbed him. Then Jean-Claude came in, with her.
She was in her early twenties, with short black hair and
a doe's soft brown eyes. Her clothes looked good on her; tight
and faded denim jeans, and a bright red blouse with a high collar.
She was human... and something was wrong with her. No, the stranger
realized, with her mind. Her face and eyes were empty as a
politician's smile, and he couldn't smell any emotions from her.
Jean-Claude just smiled as he quickly moved his glance from
Jean-Claude to the woman and back, and answered his unspoken question.
"I have put her into a trance state so that she'll be unable to
identify you. I assure you that she is quite willing to donate. In
fact," Jean-Claude smiled faintly, "she is what is popularly referred
to as a `vampire junkie'. Oh, yes," he continued on as the stranger
stared at him, "it is possible. If humans can get addicted to danger
or to the Internet, why not the bite of a vampire?"
The stranger shook his head before replying, "Just when you
think you've seen it all... But why don't you want her to know who
I am?"
"Because," Jean-Claude patiently explained, "it is possible
that your Mr. White will hear of you and realize that he did not
successfully dispose of you. And he will, therefore, perhaps try
to correct that error."
The stranger could smell that Jean-Claude wasn't lying
to him about her being willing. And he could hear the pounding
beat of her heart, the sea-like sounds as her blood circulating
through her veins. He trembled slightly as he undid the top
two buttons of her blouse and pulled the high collar down. He
almost felt as if he were sleepwalking, it all seemed to distant
and unreal. The fading marks of paired punctures that decorated
her neck like a necklace confirmed that this wasn't her first
time for this sort of thing. For a split second he wavered, but
then he breathed in her scent. Of perfume and sweat and oh so
sweet!
He tilted her head slightly to the side, his hand gently
brushing her hair out the way, and caressing her neck. He could
feel himself reach into her mind, even though he didn't know how.
He could feel it as he suppressed that parts of mind that would
produce fear or pain and stimulated her pleasure centers. She
moaned softly and her body shivered with emotions that he could
smell and sense. It was too much for him. He bit her neck,
his fangs piercing flesh, loosing the cork that held in that
delicious red nectar from him. He started to swallow the wine
her body was giving to him, revelling in the taste, the sensations
he was feeling. It was even stronger then when he had fed off the
goat, and this time he didn't feel like he was doing it with Farmer
Bob's livestock.
He could faintly hear Jean-Claude's voice, as if he were
miles away, telling him to stop. Stop? Why? Why would he want
to do that? This was the best feeling he ever had, he never wanted
it to end. He continued to drink the sweet red ambrosia until he
felt the jolt of an electric shock. He pulled his head away from her
neck and his hands loosened their hold upon her. Jean-Claude pulled
the girl away from him and lays her own the bed even as he lectured at
the stranger. "That was foolish, if you had drained much more from
her she could have died. You must learn to control your hunger, not
to let it control you!"
The stranger starts to shiver as he starts to realize both
what he did, feed off another human being without a second thought,
and what he had almost done, drained so much of her blood as to kill
her. It would have been murder. It would have been more then enough
to get a warrant of execution put out on him, kill on sight. In the
States, he remembers, a vampire is either found not guilty or receives
the death sentence. No other choices, and very few cases involving
vampiric defendants end with a not guilty verdict. Insanity is not
accepted as a plea, self-defence is no defence. The scariest thing
is that America has the world's best record when it comes to fair
treatment for its preternatural sentients. For example it's the
only country in the world where it is legal to be a vampire, and
vampires are considered citizens.
"It was," the stranger stammered after a few moments of
pregnant silence. "It was so Good! I just didn't want it to end...
Will she really be ok? Does the bite need to be bandaged?"
"That's understandable, but still must learn control."
Jean-Claude finally replied. "And don't worry she will be fine, all
she needs is rest and nourishment to replenish what you took. As for
the bite, well see for yourself..." The stranger looked at her neck
and blinked in amazement. The puncture wounds had already scabbed
over! "Our bites," Jean-Claude continued, "clot much more quickly
then they should. Or so science would tell us."
Suddenly Jean-Claude is standing next to the stranger, his
shirt still blowing from the breeze he himself had temporarily created
by his passage. "Now then, are you still willing to let me try to
recover your lost memories?" After the stranger nodded his head
Jean-Claude continued, "Good, then meet my eyes and relax."
The stranger slowly raised his head so his amber orbs would
be staring into Jean-Claude's midnight blue ones. He knew that eye
contact made the use of a vampire's telepathic abilities easier, and
a part of him can't help but wonder if this is really such a good
idea. But he can see no other options, so he does it anyway. There
are no white's in Jean-Claude's eyes. They are all iris, except for
the dark cores of his pupils. The stranger felt his nervousness, his
fears, his hopes, his cherished rage all drawn to those eyes. Into
those eyes. It was if they were whirlpools that were twisting him
around and around before he fell into the gaping abysses at their
centers. Falling endlessly, forever and ever. The stranger's last
conscious thought is to wonder when the deep blue water he was in
had transformed into blue flames. Then nothing.
***
The stranger woke up in a start, as if escaping a nightmare.
But he knew it wasn't anything so mundane, anything so kind. It was
a memory. One he had already known, not that he knew it already made
it any more welcome. Part of him noted that he was lying on his bed,
and that the only person in the room was Jean-Claude. The books had
been moved so that they no longer covered all of the carpet. But only
part of him was interested in anything so normal, the rest was
frantically searching for new memories, new experiences that were
really old experiences. And found nothing.
"It didn't work." The voice, the stranger knew, was his as
difficult as it was to believe it, to believe what it had just said.
It had been said in a wooden whisper, spiced with dashed hopes, but
it had still been his voice.
Jean-Claude stopped leaning against the wall the stranger
was facing and sighed. "I was afraid of that," he finally says in
a voice that echoes with unshed tears. "I believe that only time
will help you regain what has been torn away from you."
The stranger got out of bed and pulled his sneakers back
on. "You did your best, Jean-Claude. That's all that anyone
can ever do." He continued on a few seconds later, nothing in
his voice or on his face to tell that this was anything other
then an ordinary conversation, "So, what do I owe you?"
"Owe me?" Jean-Claude exclaimed incredulously. "The attempt
failed, you owe me nothing for it."
"Maybe, maybe not. But you've given me room and board,
clothing,... food ..., and some idea of what I can do. Not to mention
my sanity. I owe you." Despite his better judgement the stranger
stared into Jean-Claude's eyes as he said this. Not that he thought
that there was really a reason to be afraid. After all, Jean-Claude
had already been in his mind twice in two days, at least. If he had
wanted to change things in there, he could have already have done
so.
Jean-Claude answers finally, after a moment of silence.
"I have a copy of the test results, so it could be said that you owe
me nothing there. In fact, you owe me nothing. If you owe anything
to anyone for your treatment here, it is to the Master Vampire of the
City of St. Louis. This," he gracefully gestured at everything, "is
his, after all."
"However, I can offer, on behalf of the Master of the City,
you something that may interest you." Jean-Claude continued on, "A
deal, if you wish to call it that. In return for an oath of loyalty
to the Master, he will see to it that an identity is created for you,
that you are loaned whatever proves to be necessary to help set
yourself up in St. Louis, and he will try to discover the identity of
your attacker. If that identity is discovered, the information will
be given to you."
The stranger just blinked for a moment, stunned at the
enormity of the offer made to him, before cautiously answering
Jean-Claude. "I am honored by the offer, but why should I take it?
The law will get the one responsible for this," he gestured at his
form as this was said, "for my... condition. And I do have some
marketable skills."
Jean-Claude calmly nods and then offers his rebuttal, "True,
you have some skills, it is possible that even with the prejudice
that exists against our kind that you could find work. But, if it was
learned that you could withstand the light of day, or that you have a
resistance to the powers of holy items, many who fear us would attack
our kind. Some of us would, incorrectly, hold you responsible for
this."
"As for the police," Jean-Claude continued as the stranger
stared at him, his eyes wide. "Well, your readings alone should have
given you an idea of just how disinterested in preternatural crimes
they are when it is the `monsters' who are the victims. And even if
they do find, and catch, the one responsible, it won't really satisfy
you. I've been in your mind, you want him to die at your hands. Not
at the hands of strangers. And you want to die only after he learns
why he is dying. For what he did to you."
The stranger opened his mouth, but Jean-Claude just held up
a hand and quickly continued speaking. "Please, let me finish, " he
waited until the stranger nodded before continuing. "You do seem to
have some instinctive grasp of your mental abilities, but it is just
that, instinctive. And you have no idea how to use either of the
gifts I know that you have, shapeshifting or the ability to alter your
aura. That last talent is quite useful. With it you can make it
seem that you are younger, older, stronger or weaker then you actually
are. It can even let you hide the fact that you are a master vampire,
one whose mental powers are greater then they should be at that age
and who has other preternatural powers. I can teach you how to
control, how to use these gifts. I may even be able to help you
discover if you have any other gifts. I can teach you how to control
the hunger, the hunger that almost made a murderer out of you earlier.
And the Master can see to it that you are trained to fight, with or
without weapons."
"I will not deny that the Master will benefit from this
arrangement, either. A vampire that can change his appearance, that
can hold a cross in his hands without flinching or burn at the
gentlest caress of the sun would be a valuable addition to his forces.
Nor will I deny that your tormentor is obviously acting in such a
manner that he could possibly pose a threat not only to those in the
Master's care, but to the rights of vampires in the United States."
Jean-Claude takes a deep breath, as if preparing himself to be
gut punched, before he continues.
"If you wish to decline the offer, you may do so with a clear
conscious. Feel free to keep the clothing that has been placed in
the bathroom, and all the other personal items in there. Bags will
be provided for you to use, and some money will be given to you.
After all, the Master is responsible for all the vampires in St.
Louis." Jean-Claude starts towards the door as he issues his
last comment, "Take however much time you need to decide. I'll be
waiting outside."
***
The stranger just sat down on the bed after the door closed,
staring at the grey stone walls as he thought furiously at the offer
that had just been made. He could sense that every word Jean-Claude
had said was true. He could leave here, with much more then when he
had arrived, and there would be no debts left hanging over his head.
But he knew that he would still feel them there, he owed the Master.
He owed him everything that he had. And, he admitted to himself as
his lips drew back from his teeth in a terrifying parody of a smile,
Jean-Claude was right about Mr. White. He wanted to be the one to
snuff out his life, but not before telling him why he was dying. Not
before telling Mr. White who his killer was.
The stranger opened the door and let Jean-Claude back in.
After closing the door he started to talk. "Before I give you
an answer, I have two questions. One, why are you making this
offer to me? And, two, what's to keep me from breaking my end
of it later?"
"The reason I'm offering this deal is because you are used
to me and the Master's identity is known only to a select few,"
Jean-Claude calmly explained, "even among his followers. I act as
his voice. As for you keeping your side of the agreement, It's in
your best interest. Vampires can live forever, and you'll soon learn
that one's word is one of the few truly lasting currencies. And, as
I've said before I've been in your mind, I know you. You always
try to keep your word and pay your debts. Now then, your decision?"
The stranger sank to one knee before Jean-Claude,
but continued to stare unflinchingly into his eyes. "I agree to the
terms you have stated." The stranger continued to speak in a formal
tone. "I swear undying loyalty to the Master of the City." The
stranger bent his down to stare at the vanilla carpeting before
speaking again, in his usual tone of voice. "Will that do or will the
Master require something else?"
Unseen by the stranger Jean-Claude let a wicked grin
spread across his face, for a second, before answering. "Oh,
that more then satisfies me. I accept your oath." He chuckled
briefly at the sudden look of surprise the stranger was giving
him. "Let these be your first lessons: Appearances are often
deceiving, and that pride is a weakness. After all, who would
believe that the ruler would play at being the servant?"
"But," Jean-Claude continued on, "before we begin we
need a name for you. Something that others can call you."
The stranger thought hard on this for several minutes
before picking a name that sounded... right... to him. "David,
Master. Please call me David."
"I am not `Master', David. Call me Jean-Claude, please."
With that politely worded order the Master Vampire of the City of
Saint Louis opening the door and, after David was on his feet again,
said, "Shall we?" David followed him out of the room as if he were
Jean-Claude's shadow, or perhaps his hound. A few seconds after
the door closed the lights went out in David's room. And with
the loss of the light, darkness once more slipped from its
hiding places to fill the room.
***
End of Chapter 3
