Blood Stained

“Guys we need to calm down. He’s just mind fucking us.” John said addressing the remainder of the team as he paced infuriatingly around the circle of light. “And we are not going to give him or them, the satisfaction of a reaction. We just gotta get our heads together… does anyone remember the way out?” They stood in deep thought. Contemplating the worth of the escape. The Werewolves lost a mate, and the rest a friend. Who or whatever that was shielded in the darkness, was far more powerful than any of them. Escape, it seemed, was far beyond their desperate grasp.

After nothing but silence emanated from his fellow team mates, John made the assumption of neither of them having knowledge of the way out.
“Right. We move. Now.” He ordered. The team remained silent and still. Fearful of moving from the very spot of which they stood.

Cold, iron hands pierced the darkness and into the light. The teams eyes widened in shock as the next thing they heard was the ear splitting scream of John Fredrick bounce off the walls.
“Oh shit, shit, shit, shit!” Kayla repeated frantically as she chewed her nails, slowly letting the icy embrace of madness, slip over her mind. Kiera slapped Kayla across the cheek, which brought her back into clear thinking.
“Come on we need to go. Now.” She said taking leadership, and gripped Kayla’s wrist and dragged her along, scooping up a glow stick along the way. The others followed her, eager to be released from the torturous grip this being had upon them.

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John, fell to a slump on the floor, throwing up a cloud of dirt. His vision blurred and his head heavy, he pushed himself up and steadied on something cool and smooth. He looked up to find it was glass. And on the other side stood a slowly retreating Lorna. He slammed the side of his hand on the glass, desperate to grab her attention.
“Lorna!” He called. Nothing. She couldn’t hear him. But he could hear her.
Her breathing, fast and heavy. A little cry in every exhale.
“No. Please. Please leave me alone.” She cried retreating slowly. A robed figure advanced out of the many shadows of the room, and moved gradually towards her. Rusted sickle’s in each hand. His face sheathed in the shade of his hood.
“Lorna! Turn!” John shouted, trying in vain to make his voice pierce through the thick glass. He paced backwards. Only to trip on a rotting corpse. He yelped as his heart tried to punch it’s way out of his chest. Standing up he swung round his gun. Aimed. And fired. The bullets flew, crashing into the glass. But barely making a scratch. Still he gripped the trigger of his automatic fire-arm. And still the bullets came.

Lorna had backed up completely. Cornered. No where to run. The robed figure tensed, sensing it’s victim’s fear.
“Please don’t. Please. I beg you. Leave me alone” She cried. Every step closer the monster took, doubled her fear. It welled up on her chest. Weighing it down. She collapsed. Falling to her knees. Tears, streaming down her rosy cheeks. “P-Please” She mumbled weakly in defeat. Holding on to a mere splinter of hope that the creature would be merciful. “P-Please…”

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“Would do you mean you can’t turn!?” Kiera shouted, panting as they ran in a direction unknown.
“As in we can’t! I’ve tried! No more than sharpened teeth is the outcome” Damon replied. Kayla coughed violently.
“Sulfur…” Nathaniel said, sniffing the air.
“Sulfur?”
“Yes.”
Lycanthropes concentration, focus, and air supply wavers in the presence of sulfur. This is for unknown reasons. Religious beliefs believe this is because the air is rich with sulfur in hell, and Lycanthropes are powerless in the presence of the devil. Which, in turn, made the Lycanthropes go through a short term of being believed to be holy and sent from the heavens. But this was overruled as there was no proof of this, or the devil existing, and it could be quite logically a simple reaction of rejection from the body. Although Werewolves can get ill, there is a far less probability of them falling under any illness. But, on some level, they do share some poisons with homo-sapiens. While the poisons may not be as effective on Werewolves as it is to humans, if prolonged, it can cause a fatal reaction of the body.

“Shit. We have got to get out of here. Nathaniel. Scout ahead as fast as you can. Find a way out” Kiera ordered. Unsure whether it is wise to split up the team. Kayla continued to choke and gag on the sulfur. She fell to one knee, clutching her dry throat. Nathaniel stood, reluctant to go, as Kiera tended to Kayla. She looked up at him. “Go! Now!” She commanded and a shimmer of wind followed after Nathaniel, kicking a swirl of dust in it’s trails.
Damon and Mitchell breathed deeply, panic shook over their bodies as they soon found it harder and harder to breathe.
“Why. Is. It. Not. Affecting.” Mitchell paused, collapsing to one knee, unable to finish the sentence.
“Half-Vampire” Kiera answered. Vampires, being the supposed living dead, are unaffected by poisons and illness. And since breathing is instinctual, Vampires ‘false breathe’. They breathe so that their bodies do not believe they are suffocating. They are not actually required to breathe.
Damon stood in defiance of the sulfur. Taking all his strength to remain standing.
Another skull splitting scream surrounded them and held them in the rancid clutch of fear. Nathaniel.
“Fuck! It’s happening! They’re coming for us!” Kayla wheezed, pushing herself off the ground and sprinting as fast as humanly possible into the darkness.
“Kayla comeback!” Kiera shouted into the darkness drawing her blade, and sure enough, Kayla’s shrill voice engrossed them in a terror filled shriek.

Marcus and Kiera stood, protecting the two remaining Werewolves.
“Okay we are going to have to move. You ready Damon?” There was a silence. “Damon?” Kiera repeated, slowly turning around. She licked her lips in frustration, and stood. Alone. “Don’t leave me!” She screeched. Her voice echoed around, interrupting the deathly silence. “Fuck.” She said.
Her blade hummed loudly as it fell against the floor. In silent tears she collapsed to the ground, embracing the warm light of the glow stick on her face.

All was still. As if dead. Kiera knew she was still being watched. Observed. Not a sound graced her ears. Nothing arrived and embraced her in a spirit lifting hug. Nothing came to take her away from this madness. Nothing came. Total nothingness.

The glow stick flickered slightly, turning off for a brief second.
“Oh no” She sobbed. On. Off. This time the darkness engulfed her for longer. It flickered on again and standing in front of her was a robed figure. Eyes shielded in darkness but staring at her all the same. It’s pale hand clenched into a fist.
Kiera forced her voice out in a throat ripping scream, just as the light went out