To Bleed for Him

"They fall in line,
One at a time,
Ready to play.
(I can't see them, anyway.)
No time to lose.
We've got to move.
Steady your helm.
(I am losing sight again.)

Fire your guns.
It's time to run.
Blow me away.
(I will stay in the mess I made.)
After the fall,
We'll shake it off.
Show me the way.

Only the strongest will survive.
Lead me to heaven when we die.
I am the shadow on the wall.
I'll be the one to save us all."
- Breaking Benjamin

The ride to the house had been completely silent, even with Torryn's mother and father in the back seat together — after the initial discussion about why her mother was even coming along at all, of course. Her answer had been that Antony had told her to, and his logic made sense. It was either join them here, where someone would at least be around to watch over her on the off chance that a stray vampire discovered her in the car, or wait around on the upper level of the warehouse, entirely alone, and just hope that no one noticed her presence.

Torryn couldn't argue, but that didn't stop her stomach from tightening as she parked the car and slid out into the crisp night with her father. The tension quickly unwound, however, as she breathed deeply of the cool air. It was the perfect night for a battle.

She turned as Antony's car pulled into the driveway, kicking up gravel until it finally came to a stop behind her car, and Skylar's car soon followed. She wasn't entirely sure why they'd needed to bring all three vehicles, but she guessed that it had something to do with Antony not wanting to be crammed into a crowded car with Skylar and with Skylar not wanting to be around anyone at all.

He hadn't lost his half-sarcastic, half-bitter expression during the drive over, she noticed as he stepped out of the car and slammed the door behind him, and she winced. It was probably her fault. But then, he offered her the barest smile, which she gratefully returned, and she wasn't sure what to think anymore.

The party gathered on the sidewalk, and all eyes fell on Antony as he glared at the house, light streaming through all of the windows as if to taunt them. "I assume we all remember the plan?"

"Pretty hard to forget a two-step plan," Skylar drawled. "Kill the things that want to bite us, run if they actually manage to bite us."

Antony turned an eerily empty gaze upon the boy. "Good job, dipshit. You actually managed to forget the first step of a three-step plan."

The human rolled his eyes like a petulant child. "I'm sorry, Suckity Wonder, but I don't count the 'try to talk to the big, bad vampire and see if we can come to a peaceful conclusion' part as an actual step in the plan, since, you know, it won't work."

Torryn sighed. "Can we just get started? The longer we wait, the stronger they get, and the more annoyed we all become."

Antony gave a single, sharp nod. "All right. I want all of you to wait outside, by the door, while I go in. The second you hear anything more than simple conversation, get inside."

"Okay," Skylar muttered, "but I still don't see the point of this."

Ignoring him, Antony made his way down the path and into the house, and the remaining four waited on the doorstep. The first thing Torryn heard was a laugh, almost a cackle, and then the sounds of hearty conversation. She allowed her eyes to wander to the car, where her mother watched from her place in the back seat. The woman's brows were drawn, her lips pursed, her entire expression heavy with determination.

She has faith in me, Torryn realized, shock and wonder flitting through her anew as she recalled her mother's kind words back at the Arena. I have no idea how she's felt about me up until now, but this'll be plenty for now, I guess.

She started when Antony's cry reached her ears, and she'd thrown the door open and stormed into the massive farm house before she'd even registered that she was moving. Her eyes fell on Antony, dancing around the pairs of swift hands reaching for him from all sides, then their little war band was accosted by a full-frontal, full-fanged assault, and she lost sight of him as a vampire of her very own fell upon her.

She dropped into a crouch as the giant of a man tried to sweep her up in a bear hug, and the weight of Clara's dagger was heavy in her palm. He began to lower himself, to follow her down with his bright white fangs glistening in a snarl, but, closing her fingers tightly around her blade, her strength, she lurched up and met him halfway. The serrated edge tore through his stomach, and the man staggered back as blood and intestines spurted out. Ignoring the damage admirably, he reached for her again once he'd regained his balance, but her knife was already in his neck. A rough swing and and a push sent it through, and his head fell away from his body, and both his head and his body fell to ash.

Another vampire was already on her, yet another following along. She longed to survey the battle that raged loudly around her, to catch sight of Antony, of Skylar, even of her father to assure herself that they were all up to this particularly daunting task, but she didn't have time now. She skipped back as a woman swiped a bony hand at her, then again as the man lagging along in her footsteps followed suit. Her back met the ornate wooden banister at the bottom of the stairs, and she was forced to duck beneath the next incoming set of grabby claws.

Flipping the knife in her grip, she rammed the tip of it into the woman's thigh, then tore it sideways as the man dove down after her and she skittered to the side to escape. The woman cried out and caught a handful of Torryn's hair, jerking her upright, but the girl planted a foot in her stomach before her elongated fangs could get anywhere near her person. The slender fingers slipped from her tangled mane, the woman stumbled back, and even as Torryn sidestepped the man's quick hands once again, she ripped through the woman's throat with her dagger.

As the woman's body faded into an ashen memory upon the hardwood floor, Torryn spun to face the man who still pursued her. Finally, he managed to snag her arm and pull her toward him, but as his other hand reached for her, she shifted her grip on the knife again and stabbed it through his palm. He cried out, and his grip on her arm tightened instead of loosening as she'd expected. She winced, feeling the bone beneath her bruising skin on the verge of snapping, but he tossed her aside in a fit of rage.

She bounced off of the window beside the door with a grunt, and her eyes instantly flickered down to her now-empty hand. She glared at the man, who smirked as he pulled her own dagger from his palm and brandished it before her in challenge. Reaching behind her, she jerked the thick, dark curtain and its flimsy metal rod from their perch above the window, and immediately flung both at her stupid rival.

Though he tried to duck out of the way of the attack, he was nonetheless caught up in the tangle of rough fabric, and his first instinct seemed to be to tear through it with her knife. She caught his hand the moment it popped through the freshly ripped hole, jerking the dagger from his grasp with one hand and throwing him to the floor with the other. He rolled on the hardwood, tangling even further in the curtain, but she stopped him by shoving her foot into what she assumed was his back. She bent, tore through both the curtain and the man's neck with a spurt of crimson, then leaped back before his body fell to nothing beneath the tattered fabric.

She spun to face the rest of the battle, daring to take a short moment to observe the scene. She couldn't discern much in the swathe of bodies that wriggled about, a sea of pale flesh in the living room that bottlenecked in the doorway nearest her, but she was sure that she could make out the top of Antony's head as well as that of her father, and she was sure that the others were still struggling somewhere in the tightly packed mix. After all, she'd already taken out three vamps, and she hadn't even broken a sweat yet. How bad could they possibly have it?

-?-

Uppercut. Dodge. Right hook. Left hook. Go for the stomach.

But Antony's blows were just bouncing off of the vampire before him, almost as if they weren't even connecting. The man let loose another punch of his own, and Antony let it hit him square in the jaw in order to test a hypothesis. He staggered back, blood flooding his mouth, but his test had failed. There was nothing unusual about the strike, nothing particularly powerful; thus, it was safe to conclude that these vampires weren't amped up on strengthening charms or potions or whatever it was that people used these days.

He spat out the fresh mouthful of blood and dove right back in to the battle.

Dodge. Dodge. Aim for the stomach. Aim for the jaw.

Nothing. Still nothing. What was this? He felt his knuckles hitting something, something that gave just a little bit, just like flesh, but the vampire didn't even flinch.

Suddenly, Antony's opponent was shoved ungracefully aside, and Caleb came to stand, smirking, in his place. "I'm honestly disappointed that you didn't come after me first. I'm sure you knew that I wanted your blood on my hands and no one else's tonight."

The battle still raged around them, but no one even stopped to look at them, not even the vampires who had yet to find themselves an opponent. Just as Caleb wanted, Antony was sure. "I figured it couldn't hurt to put a dent in your sad little army before we got down to business. Make it a little easier for me and mine to completely annihilate your ranks later on, you know?"

Caleb chuckled, bulky arms crossed over his broad chest. "Since you first realized what had happened here last night, since I first saw that look of pure shock on your face when you walked in and saw me standing in your place, I've been thinking about the absurdity of it all. You'd thought that I'd hired other vampires to have your little half-breed girlfriend killed, but the thought had never even crossed your mind that I'd usurp you? Pathetic. If that lapse in judgment is anything to go by, I'd say our final battle will end pretty quickly, and we both know who'll be coming out on top."

Antony smiled cruelly to bear his sharp, overextended fangs. "I apologize for not realizing how truly stupid you were from the very start. Attempting to overthrow me was not your brightest idea, which I'm sure you'll realize in a moment." And with that, he lunged at the man, managing to land a punch to his stomach with all of his might.

But Caleb barely fell back an inch, shifted only slightly off balance, and he hadn't even uncrossed his arms yet. He chuckled. "I think you're in for another surprise tonight, you pathetic excuse for an undead."

Antony threw up an arm to block a sudden, incoming punch, then leaped back to avoid another. The third found its mark, however, and set Antony staggering several steps back, pain shooting through his abdomen. Caleb was quick to follow, and his limbs blurred with that unerring undead speed as he swung again and again, over and over, at every part of Antony that he could reach.

Antony ducked beneath one punch, blocked a knee with his arm before rising again, then took a massive fist to the stomach even as he raised his own hand to strike. He fell into and through a coffee table that had been pushed closer to the perimeter of the room in preparation of the coming battle, and a grunt left him as he met the ground among the splinters. He leaped to his feet almost immediately, whirling on Caleb as the vampire circled him.

He dodged another volley of rapid blows, ducking and blocking and dancing his way around the flurry of limbs, and this time, when he saw an opening, he actually managed to take it. His fist met Caleb's jaw, then his stomach, then his throat, but beyond forcing the man back a few steps, the punches had no effect. Antony gritted his teeth. What the hell was going on?!

Caleb punched Antony in the face before the boy had the chance to duck again, and blood gushed from his nose as he fell back. Another punch found his jaw, and he quickly dropped beneath a third, adrenaline urging him on. A knee came toward his face, but he rose to his feet and danced swiftly back, and he managed to block another punch with his forearm. He grimaced as he felt the bone begin to give way beneath the man's strength, and though it didn't break, it began to throb as if it had. He blocked with his other arm and achieved the same result, but this time, he wasn't able to avoid the hand that reached out for him, and he was suddenly thrown into a packed-full bookshelf just beyond the broken coffee table. The shelves snapped, and the entire unit fell with its store of heavy tomes, and Antony fell to the floor, trapped beneath it — just like what had happened to him during the battle with the Lord.

If he'd had lungs, he would've been panting by now, gasping desperately for breath, but as it were, he only growled and felt the ache and throb of his every injury and strained muscle. He should've been able to beat him. He would've been able to beat him if it weren't for that damn…whatever it was that protected him from attacks!

He began to push himself up beneath the pile of wood and paper, but he was suddenly dragged out by the thick hand of his enemy and hoisted high into the air. Caleb smiled up at him, the smile of the victor, and pulled back his bloodied fist.

Antony needed an escape. And if his situation was any representation of what the others were facing, they all did. Now.

There was no hope of winning here.

-?-

Skylar could already feel sweat gathering on his brow, and he'd only been in battle for a matter of minutes. The lukewarm bodies of the undead and the smoldering bodies of their living counterparts swarmed and surged all around him, half a dozen of them focused solely on him, and the scent of blood was heavy on the air. His stomach turned as he dropped beneath a punch, his crouch bringing him disgustingly close to the crimson pool that now flooded the living room, but adrenaline drove him right back into the battle.

He lurched to his full height and threw his hands out almost involuntarily to accompany the surge of power that left him. The six vampires before him — and the few locked in battle with someone else behind them — staggered backward, and with another mental push, they fell. Quickly, he tried to remember what Antony's kitchen looked like. The knives…Where were the knives…?

But the vampires were back on their feet, and he had no more time to ponder. He'd just have to work with what he had.

He kept his hands in check this time as he swept a nearby chair from its position against the wall and sent it scraping across the floor, nearly shrieking on the hardwood, to bowl the tightly packed group over at breakneck speed. One vampire managed to leap over it, however, and another was quick enough to dive out of the way. Both of them lunged toward their enemy as the others recovered from their fall, and Skylar found himself dancing around punches and kicks even more quickly than before.

Sweat dripped into his eyes now, burned a shallow cut as it welled on his temple, and it took everything he had to keep his breath even as he struggled to keep on dodging. A punch finally caught him in the stomach, knocking him back, and though he threw up an arm to block, another blow found his jaw and set him spinning like a top. He lost his balance, dropping to his hands and knees, and even as he jerked the chair forward to knock his enemies aside, he couldn't help but wonder where Torryn was in all this. If he was having a hard time, could she be doing much better?

He sprang from his kneeling position to take advantage of how his two closest attackers had fallen, and as he threw an arm out with a wave of will that knocked his other four opponents back just before they reached him, he used that same will to strengthen the blow as he slammed the sole of his shoe down on the back of a man's neck. His foot neatly separated head from body with little physical effort on his part, and the body crumbled to ash and clumped up in the blood that had spattered from the decapitation.

Turning his attention to his remaining five opponents, he was surprised to find them nearly within arm's reach. He took a quick step back but bumped into someone else, and a pair of thick, meaty arms wrapped around his torso. Fangs glinted in the rushing crowd in front of him, hands grabbing as the vampires stampeded, and he knew then that he had to take drastic measures if he wanted to get out of this scrape. No one was coming to his rescue. Not in this clusterfuck.

The throats of the five vampires who now took hold of him, of his limbs, his shoulders, his shirtfront, whatever they could grab, suddenly burst as if a stick of lit dynamite had been crammed into their tracheae. Blood and gore spattered Skylar, but beyond squinting against the onslaught, he didn't react, and another thought tore through what little spine still lingered at the back of their necks.

Fatigue fell over him like a heavy wool blanket, and he would've sagged in his captor's arms if the man hadn't dropped him and hurried away. But was that what had happened? Uncertain, Skylar glanced behind him — and surely enough, there was a drift of chalky gray in the vague shape of a person right where the man would have fallen. He hadn't intended it, but he wouldn't argue.

Going against his better judgment, he dropped into the chair he'd been using as a weapon only seconds ago, ignoring the conglomeration of blood and ash that he'd lowered his ass into. His clothing was soaked through with sweat, and he could feel it oozing its way down his forehead and nose. He could feel his hands trembling violently against his thighs. As he fought to slow his breathing, he couldn't help the bitter smile that curved his lips to accompany the thought of the Lord's effect on him during their battle. He'd been even sweatier then. Weaker.

He forced himself to focus on the battle at hand, and he snapped to attention, his eyes scanning the room in search of his companions. The vampiric horde had thinned, but barely, and he could vaguely make out the top of Becca's head over the crowd. Her face came into view a moment later, eyes wide and lips parted in secondhand agony, and she was suddenly crossing the room in long strides. He followed her gaze.

He noticed Caleb first, only partially concealed behind a wall of the dead and the soon-to-be dead, then the red-streaked face of Antony beyond him. His eyes widened to match Becca's. Angry red welts covered every bit of skin Antony had showing — which was quite a bit, considering the tears in his shirt — and though the boy struck viciously at his opponent, Caleb never even stumbled. But a single punch sent Antony to the floor — and he didn't get back up.

Becca swept into the scene, blocking a punch from Caleb and then trying to land one of her own. She met the same fate as the undead she was trying to save, however, and her ineffectual blow was returned in the form of a backhand that sent her sprawling. He tried to kick at her, to stomp on her, but she rolled away from him, and as Antony rose to his hands and knees beside her, she grabbed his arm and pulled. He didn't rise, didn't even try, and she was suddenly on the floor again, Caleb's bulky form leering down at her.

What the fuck was going on?

Skylar was on his feet before he realized it, and he sprinted through the weakening crowd on wobbly legs. He thrust out an angry tendril of will before he even neared the vampire, but Caleb didn't move. It seemed to wash right over him. Sliding to a stop, Skylar tried again, this time aiming directly for the man instead of manipulating the air around him. Caleb, unmoved, turned to face him after sending Becca back to the floor with a swift kick. He smiled.

"Run!" Skylar screamed, his eyes flicking to Becca as she crawled to her knees, Antony useless beside her. "Go!" Caleb was advancing on him, and he tried again to take hold of the man's physical body, but something blocked him. He staggered away from one punch, but a second caught him in the cheek, and Caleb's fingers curled in his shirtfront to keep him from stumbling.

"Run!" he yelled again, this time around a mouthful of blood, and another blow to the cheek sent crimson spraying everywhere. As his vision began to dim, as the coppery taste of blood became almost more unbearable than the pain in his face, he made a last ditch effort to shove Caleb back.

Skylar fell to the floor with a crash, his knees taking the brunt of the impact, and he caught himself before he could continue to drop. Did I do it? Did I get him? But when he looked up, just barely able to see, he received only an eyeful of blurry Becca as she danced around Caleb with vampiric speed. Her punches did nothing but distract him, and that seemed to be all she wanted, as she was suddenly at Skylar's side, dragging him to his feet.

"Let's go!" she cried, and he obeyed.

Caleb threw another punch, but Skylar found that he could still block attacks with a wall of energy. The blow reverberated through his shield and into his mind, but painful as it was, he and Becca hurried onward.

He was glad to see Antony on his feet as he and Becca ran past, heading as quickly as they could for the door. "We need to go!" Skylar called to him, and he nodded, resolve glinting in his pupil-black eyes as they skimmed the pulsing mass of bodies. Skylar knew what he was looking for. It was the same thing he wished he could find through his hazy, half-darkened vision.

Torryn.

-?-

"Retreat!" Antony bellowed once Skylar and Becca were safely through the living room doorway, hopping over unconscious bodies as they went. He ducked beneath Caleb's reaching hand and tried to land another punch, as hard as he could, to the vampire's stomach. For the thousandth time, his fist bounced back like he was locked in battle with Styrofoam, and Caleb clocked him in the nose. More blood gushed forth — like he had much left to spare! — and he danced away from another series of rapid attacks, dashing back until he had a second to look for Torryn.

Instead of finding her, however, he spotted her father, swallowed up in a swarm of eight or so vampires. It seemed that their fight had ceased, as Ripley sagged in the arms of one woman while the others merely sniffed and pawed at him hungrily. Antony felt his lip curl. Were they…enthralling him?

He darted away from Caleb when the vampire drew near once more, still throwing manic punches, and Antony moved as quickly as he could with his injuries, eager to save the man. He should've known better than to allow a Progeny to join him in this battle!

Caleb's fingers closed on his shoulder before he made it far, however, and just as Antony turned to look up at his cruelly smiling face, a stainless-steel skillet came sailing in out of nowhere to slam into the man's overconfident face. He staggered back, and wide-eyed, Antony looked toward the source of the weapon, only to find Torryn's mother wielding a whole pile of cookware in the doorway to the living room.

"Help him," she ordered gruffly, and as she threw a sauce pan, he hurried on to Ripley's side.

Three sets of fangs were in him, Antony found, one pair in each arm and a set in the side of his neck, and the vampires seemed much too caught up in their pheromone-swamped meal to notice Antony's approach. He tore two away by the shoulder and incapacitated them with a blow to their heads, then did the same to another pair before the three feeding from him even noticed what was going on. They pulled free of Ripley's flesh while the woman holding him hissed, then, dropping him, they lunged.

After facing Caleb, dodging the punches of these vampires was nothing; but as he was unsure of which of them were alive and which of them were undead, he settled for knocking them unconscious instead of outright killing them to avoid adding to Caleb's undead ranks. With the help of a nearby lamp and his quick reflexes, he managed to knock them all out in a matter of seconds, and he only had to suffer one more punch to his broken nose during the course of the fight.

He dropped the lamp and hauled Ripley to his feet from where he lay half asleep and motionless on the floor, then turned and limped as quickly as he could toward the exit. Torryn's mom was still safe, thankfully, as Skylar had come back in to throw up barrier after barrier in her defense. But even as Caleb's furious blows bounced off of the boy's invisible shield, even as the boy began to tremble more and more violently, Antony could see the human's eyes sweeping across the crowd. They'd put a dent in the army's numbers, that was for certain, but there were still enough of them standing to make it impossible to find Torryn, though the sounds of an ongoing battle still raged somewhere in the living room.

"Torryn, we have to go!" Antony called to the mass of bodies, the only ones he could see eyeing him contemptuously as he sneaked safely behind Skylar's shield. They began to back out the door together, Skylar leaning heavily against the door frame as the shields began to take their toll, and Antony looked past Caleb's angrily contorted face and flying fists to search the crowd once more.

Still, he could see nothing but the few unoccupied vampires, who faced him as if purposely hiding the others from view. The grunts and thuds of battle continued, but none of them sounded like Torryn.

Was she even there? Was she even alive?

"Torryn!" he bellowed again, but as instinct urged him back into the room, Becca and Ripley caught his arms and pulled him out into the night. "Torryn!"

-?-

Torryn was trapped in the back corner of the living room, her back flush against the wall and her dagger glinting through the air amid a wicked spray of blood, but she could hear them — she could hear him — calling for her, ordering the retreat. Some part of her knew that she should follow, but the thing that made her want to flee was the very thing that kept her from doing it. Quite a bit of the horde had been dispersed, yet here she was, pinned in the corner, a throng of no less than a dozen vampires desperately fighting to get to her.

"Torryn!" Antony screamed one last time, and the adrenaline singing through her veins guided her into a crouch more quickly than she thought possible, a fist sailing over her head and breaking through the wall. The blow reverberated through her, and she pushed away from the wall to tear through the vampire's middle with her blade. It was becoming surprisingly easy to tear them in two, complete with the necessary severing of the spinal cord. She couldn't even feel the hitch and grind as she forced her way through the bone anymore.

A shower of blood cascaded over her, followed by a dusting of ash, and she sprang upright — just in time to take a fist to the stomach. Her back hit the wall, the breath bursting free from her lungs, and a second blow bounced her off of the wall. Instinct urged her on through the burst of pain at the back of her skull, and by the time she'd returned to herself, the dust of three vampires lay at her feet.

But more were on the way, kicking up a storm of ash in their wake. She had no choice but to duck and roll out of the fray, and as she landed in a crouch outside of the circle of vampires, Caleb caught her eye.

"I bet this came as a surprise to you, didn't it?" he said, smiling darkly, and the vampires swarming at her back stilled. "You followed him into battle thinking that he was so strong, so brave, so loyal to you…and yet, here you are, alone with fifteen ravenous vampires and the one who scared him away. Waiting to die." He chuckled lowly, a deep rumble in his chest, and her jaw popped as she ground her teeth together. "Do you still trust him? Do you trust that weakling to come back and save you?"

"It's not like he left me willingly, you scumbag," she wanted to scream. "You don't even know him!" But all that left her mouth was a guttural cry. She charged.