As She Fades

"Like running in place,
A slow-motion race.
Knowing I could win,
I fall back again.

I wish I could wake up,
The distance would fade,
But I'm drifting farther and farther away.

The clock is ticking away,
And I'm failing,
Counting on her grace.
Hail Mary.

The price that's left to pay
Is still growing,
And I can't keep the pace.
Hail Mary."
- Dark New Day

Torryn jerked awake, already halfway upright before she'd even opened her eyes. A glance at the digital clock on the bedside table told her why. "Fuck! I'm late!" She swung herself over the edge of the bed and took off down the hall like it was an Olympic sport and she was going for gold.

Her footsteps were a ceaseless thunder on the stairs, but when she reached the living room, Raphael didn't even look her way. A middle-aged woman sat on the couch before him, the one across from where Torryn usually sat, and he laid a hand on her side as Torryn hurried to the opposite sofa. She could see a tear in the stranger's shirt, the red of blood staining the pale blue fabric in a wide, jagged circle, and the woman wouldn't meet Torryn's gaze. She longed to discover what had happened to her, but she didn't have time, and it was none of her business.

"Late for something?" Raphael drawled as she snatched her duffel bag from where she'd left it on the couch.

"Yep," she answered shortly, heading for the front door at a brisk walk. "Class." He grunted, and as she pulled the door open, she paused to look back at him. "Thanks again," she said softly, and his eyes flicked to her. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

His attention shifted abruptly back to the injured woman. "Don't you have somewhere to be? Get moving."

She chuckled. "All right. I'll see you later."

"You'd better not," he said as she stepped into the late afternoon sun, but she only laughed and pulled the door shut behind her.

"Girlfriend?" a feminine voice questioned from beyond the wood, and Torryn paused, unable to resist the temptation of hearing his response.

Raphael let out a bark of laughter. "I'm barely younger than her dad. What do you think?"

She smiled to herself and headed to her car with the appropriate haste, throwing her bag into the backseat where her backpack still sat before sliding into the driver's seat. The sunlight glinted off of the silver back of her cell phone, still lying on the passenger's seat, and she grabbed it, amazed that it hadn't been stolen…until she remembered how ancient it was.

"Skylar again?" she mumbled to herself. "Great. I'm sure he has so many enlightening things to say." Two missed calls from hours ago and a voicemail. She pressed the phone to her ear as she started the car.

"Uh, hey, Torryn," he began, awkward as always. "I'm sure you're not very eager to hear from me, but I think we should talk. Can we meet later? I promise I won't be an asshole." She rolled her eyes, erasing the message with the press of a button. I don't think either of you morons can not be a total asshole. There's no off switch.

She dialed his number and began to back out of the gravel driveway as the ring rumbled into her ear. It continued even as she started down the street, as she stopped at a sign, as she turned a corner. Finally, an automated voice filtered through, prompting her to leave a message, and she sighed.

"Hey, Skylar," she began after the beep. "I'm almost 100% sure that you'll still be an asshole, but we can meet at Antony's at around 9, if you're up for it." She paused, her mind racing as her memory returned. "Wait, no. How about 9:30? I think I've got something big going on in class tonight. Call me back if you can't make it, or I guess I'll just see you later." She snapped her phone shut and tossed it onto the seat beside her, sighing guiltily. She hated lying to him, to Antony, to everyone, but she really didn't have a choice. She had work to do.

The tingle of excitement mixed with the chill of nervousness along her spine when she fully realized just what she was going to do tonight. She wasn't just fighting any old vampire this time. She wasn't just going to hack and slash her way through a young coven. She was going to confront one of the most notorious, highest-ranking masters in the city and surrounding area…and, conveniently, the only woman.

She smiled to herself, and a giddy laugh slipped through her lips.

This would be fun.

And finally, finally, she would prove that she was strong enough.

-?-

Night had fallen, and as Torryn eased her car to a stop along the empty curb, every scrap of knowledge she'd gained during her psychology and sociology classes only minutes ago slipped from her mind.

This was it. This was where Emmeline lived.

Torryn cut the engine and slipped out of the car, staring in open-mouthed awe at the massive house that lay sprawling across lush green lawns before her. Located nearly in the center of the city, the Victorian-esque home was the closest she'd ever seen to a mansion in person. Over a dozen windows stared formidably down at her, but only three glowed with the golden light of the interior, the dark curtains parted to frame the panes. She couldn't see anyone, but she had no doubt that Emmeline lay within — and many of her followers, no doubt.

She squared her shoulders even as she swallowed back her rising terror. She could do this. No matter how many vampires lay within, no matter how strong Emmeline herself proved to be, she could do this.

She shuddered as an impossibly cold breeze blew by, shifting her hair along the back of her neck so that it tickled. What am I doing here? She wrapped her arms around her middle and stared at the front door, her teeth chattering — but the cold came from within, swelling alongside her growing doubt. Raphael's right. These masters are out of your league, even without their covens. Throw in their own personal armies, too, and…

She shook her head decisively, her nails stinging her skin through her shirt. "Coven or no coven, master or not, I can handle her. I can handle any vampire. The Lord is the exception," she told herself, "not the rule." His powers were what conquered her, his ability to manipulate her own mind and past against her, nothing more. With her ability to overcome vampiric pheromones, these other masters had nothing on her. Nothing. In a brawl, even wading through an entire ocean of bloodsuckers, she was guaranteed to come out on top.

She could do this, damn it! Emmeline and her lapdogs didn't stand a chance!

Leaning through the open door to press the button that popped the trunk, she caught sight of her cell phone, glinting beseechingly at her even in shadow. She popped the trunk, then leaned further into the vehicle, bracing herself on the seat as she picked up the phone. She flicked it open with a thumb and stepped back to stand at her full height beside the car, cocking an eyebrow at the glowing screen.

Antony now? What the hell do they think they're going to accomplish?

"We need to talk, Torryn," his deep voice rumbled, smooth and silky as always, but she could detect a hint of worry beneath his words. "Come home as soon as you can, all right?"

The push of a button erased this message just as she'd erased Skylar's, and she sighed. "Guess I have to live through this," she muttered, tossing the phone back into the car. "I'm really curious to see what these pricks have to say for themselves."

She rounded the car and threw the trunk open, pulling a machete from the gore-littered space without even pausing to deliberate. She'd been saving this weapon for something special, and what could possibly be more special than throwing herself at one of the city's most powerful masters? And on the off chance that she died here, she wouldn't mind going out with a machete in her hand.

Slamming the trunk shut, she took a deep breath, turning to the house. You can do this, she told herself, determination pulling her shoulders square once more. Without any fancy powers, these vampires have absolutely nothing on you.

She made her way to the front door, the flat of the machete resting against her shoulder, and after a single knock, the door opened, a sea of light slipping through the crack to pool about her feet. "My, my," remarked the tall woman who faced her with brows raised, appearing to be in her late twenties, though Torryn knew too well that looks could be deceiving. "I've always wished it so, but I never thought it would happen. I never expected my dinner to come to me, and I certainly didn't expect it to look so tasty!"

Torryn didn't flinch. "I'd like to see the master of this coven."

The woman smiled brightly, sharp white fangs showing between deep-red lips. "Certainly. I don't think she'll mind greeting you at all." She pulled the door fully open, and only now did her dark eyes land on the weapon lying across Torryn's shoulder. Quickly, she stepped back, her eyes widening, but before panic could truly set in, Torryn raised her blade and lopped the woman's head off in a freakishly swift move that surprised even Torryn herself.

"Who is it?" a silky voice called as the ash settled, and Torryn followed the sound through a door to the right and into a luxurious dining room. A mahogany table long enough to seat twenty people filled the center of the massive room, decorated with pretty vases of flowers, and a crystal chandelier glinted overhead. Torryn marveled at it for only a moment before she met the gaze of the woman at the head of the table. "Ah, delicious company! Has someone sent you for us?" Joy shone in her moss-green eyes — until they landed on the machete Torryn still held, blood dripping slowly from the blade. Her coven seemed to sense the tempering of her pleasure, as the vampires seated around the table rose as one, and Torryn could feel even more coming to stand behind her. Tension staled the air, but the woman's smile returned, and she raised a hand the same rich olive tone as her complexion. "Now, now, my dears," she purred. "You don't truly think me in need of protection from a young girl with a blade, do you?"

Torryn opened her mouth to speak, a cocky retort already bubbling to life at the back of her throat, but the woman appeared before her, as if out of thin air, and a cool breeze that smelled of cinnamon and almonds wafted over Torryn's face as the thick black hair coiffured high upon Emmeline's head bobbed gently, ever so gently. A chill raced along Torryn's spine, violent enough to hurt, and suddenly, staring into those lovely green depths, she found herself frozen. A frigid arm snaked around her, freezing her neck even through a thick curtain of hair, and the woman pulled Torryn to her breast, forcing her to bend uncomfortably, as the vampire was only inches taller, and heaved a long, slow sigh.

"I don't know who you are or just what it is you came for," she murmured in Torryn's ear, every fiber of Torryn's being straining to listen to that beautiful, melodic voice, "but I can promise you that you've just made the last mistake you'll ever make."

What is this? Torryn could barely hear herself through the reddish haze of desire that tugged at her every sense, at her very core. She needed to be with Emmeline, to protect Emmeline, to be forever inside of Emmeline. Pheromones? She struggled to break from the shallow breathing that her desperation for Emmeline imposed upon her, to slow the frantic racing of her heart. No way in hell that this was just pheromones. Another fucking power? What is this?! Finally, she managed a gasp of air that tasted like the scent of bitter almonds that swam cloyingly through the space around the vampire, and with a shove and a great pull, both mental and physical, she drew herself from the woman's hold and staggered several steps back.

"How rude!" Emmeline cried, though her serene expression barely shifted with the angling of two thin, perfectly shaped black eyebrows, and as if on cue, the swathe of vampires that cramped the vast space fell on Torryn with grabby hands and smacking lips.

She swung her machete, slicing clean through a group of the three closest vampires, but the weapon was snatched from her hand before the bodies had even vanished into ashen oblivion. "No!" she heard herself cry, her tone screechy and desperate, as fingers closed around her arms and a pair of teeth found her shoulder. She kicked blindly at the figures surrounding her, punched at them, even tried to bite them as they bit her, but they dragged her backward without slowing.

The jarring crashes of glass shattering filled the air as the vases were shoved unceremoniously from the dining room table, and Torryn's back met the table in their place with a thud and a gasp. Too many hands held her now, pinning her so securely, so mercilessly, that she couldn't even wriggle her body in her panic to escape. "Stop!" she shrieked, terror redoubling within her, tightening her chest and bringing stinging tears to her eyes, as she remembered being sold by Caesar to be raped by the highest bidder, as she remembered a woman's teeth and fingers inside of her and a man washing her pathetic, hunched form in a bathtub to rid her of the scent of Antony, to rid her of herself. The chill of arctic air and glacial skin washed over her as the mass of vampires tore her clothes away until every inch of her skin was bared to them. Sobs shook her shoulders beneath the heavy hands that held her. "Please! Stop!" She knew what they wanted. She knew what they were going to do.

She knew that it would hurt. She knew that she would die.

"You didn't walk in here under the impression that you would be facing a few weak pseudo-vampires, did you?" the woman said, and her expression soured as she bent over Torryn. Torryn longed to cower, but the hard surface of the table at her back left her with nowhere to go as hard green eyes bored into her very soul. "You've been fighting the Lord, haven't you? He really does give us a bad name, you know." She smiled suddenly, the barest quirk of dark-violet-painted lips, and Torryn suddenly felt like she was lying in an ice bath. The vampire's slender fingers, the tips soft as flower petals, drifted along the side of Torryn's throat, between her breasts, down her toned stomach, and Torryn quivered in an anticipation that terrified her even more. "Unless he's the kind soul who sent you our way, of course. In that case, he's most impressive, a true asset to our species."

"No one sent me! But I…I know Antony!" Torryn cried, panicking, grasping at straws. "Personally. Very personally. I don't think he would be happy if you killed me."

Emmeline lifted her fingers from where they rested, drawing gentle circles at Torryn's bony hip, and sliced the girl's stomach open with a quick swipe of one of her nails. Leaning down, she breathed deeply of the rising scent of blood, and a chuckle left her that sent a fresh shudder rippling along Torryn's back. "A Progeny, hm? It's been quite some time since I've tasted one of your kind."

Torryn gulped, craning her neck to look at the woman bent over her middle. The hands at her shoulders tightened, but the men did nothing else to stop her. "You…You don't keep Progeny?"

"Of course not!" Emmeline said as she straightened from her stoop, though her fingers seemed to be caught in the orbit of Torryn's hip bone, circling and circling and circling. "We drain our victims dry, as we were born to do in the first place. Why would we waste that much time, effort, and money to obtain a one-time meal? It's more convenient to pluck fresh humans from the street." Her twirling fingers slowed but never stopped, and she murmured thoughtfully, "But you…If you say that you're one of Antony's, but he didn't send you…" She leaned close to Torryn's stomach, and Torryn watched with tears still streaming down her cheeks as the vampire's nostrils flared. A dreamy sigh slipped through her darkened lips, and she bent to Torryn's ear and whispered, "I have a message for the little whelp, whether he sent you or not."

Daggers diving in all over her body — dozens of sets of fangs piercing her flesh — her throat, her arms, her sides, her thighs…

The sickly sweet scent of blood swelled.

She screamed.