As She Fades

"The wind blows;
I'll lean into the wind.
My anger grows;
I'll use it to win.
The more you say,
The more I defy you,
So get out of my way."
- The Offspring

Torryn wasn't sure how long she'd been standing beside the bed, just staring down at Skylar, half watching him, half contemplating, planning, remembering, but she did notice that her voice was thick with disuse when she said, "I have to go back." She did no one any good here, watching over her injured boyfriend with a healer standing across the bed from her and doing more to help than she ever could. She needed to do something. She needed to help.

Raphael didn't tear his eyes from Skylar, didn't lift his hands from the boy's steadily rising and falling chest, didn't let the mending glow fade from the deep bruises that still marred his skin. He didn't falter. He never did, and she never expected him to. "You don't have to do jack," he said, his voice even but for the gruff hint of warning that lurked beneath. "If Antony was having a hard time of it, what do you think'll happen to you? You'll be slaughtered. Besides, Skylar's going to need you when he wakes up."

"If he's okay, he doesn't need me," she pointed out, trying not to sound as frustrated as she really was and halfway managing it. "He only needs you to keep him getting better and better. But Antony's an entirely different story, and you know it."

He finally lifted his eyes from Skylar to glare at her. "No, Torryn. It's too dangerous for you to face the Lord again, especially now that he has a goal in mind that involves you."

"I've beaten him before," she said, crossing her arms and returning his glare. "I can do it again."

"You specifically told me that he has a massive following now, just for you." His tone was harsh, but the golden glow that lit Skylar's wounds still didn't fade. "You specifically said that it was too much to overcome. You can't go back, Torryn. It would be suicide, and you know ithat."

"Damn it, Raphael! If he's not back yet, something's gone wrong, and he needs me!" she shouted, uncrossing her arms to clench her fists at her sides. Saying it aloud made the situation so much more real. The danger wasn't hypothetical anymore. Antony's death wasn't just a possibility. It was a probability. He might've already been dead and gone for all she knew.

"Torryn, stop it," the healer snapped, and only now did he lift his hands from Skylar's chest and rise from the bed to face her squarely. "There's no justifiable reason for you to go back."

"Antony could die!" she screamed, growing frantic. She could feel the warm stickiness of blood as it seeped around the sharp edges of her nails and coated her palm, but panic had blocked away any sense of pain. "He needs me! I love him, and he needs me, and I can help him! How is that not a justifiable reason?"

"There's no point in both of you dying!" The sound of his voice raised in that completely out-of-character shout momentarily staggered her, and she could do nothing to respond as the man made his way angrily around the bed that separated them, stopping to stand at the foot with far too much concern in his pale eyes. "And that's exactly what would happen if I let you walk out of this house! I can't deal with anyone else I care about dying, Torryn! Just let it go!"

She couldn't deal with this right now. She couldn't process any of what he'd said. Without another word, she turned and started angrily toward the door. Raphael reached for her, but before he could catch her, an invisible force twined around her bare arms, warm and familiar. Slowly, she turned, daring to hope — and she was met by Skylar's sky-blue eyes, half-lidded but conscious, and his lips quirked in a smile beneath the blood that still stood as a red gloss over them.

"I can't let that son of a bitch vampire do to you what he did to me," he said, his voice rough but strong, and the moment his telekinetic warmth released her limbs, she ran to him and threw herself across his chest, tears streaming down her cheeks before she'd even realized they'd begun to well.

"I was worried about you," she all but sobbed as she gazed up at him, joy rising within her to tangle pleasant heat with the ice of the tension that still held her body rigid. "Raphael told me you would be okay, but I didn't…I couldn't be sure. You were hurt so badly."

He wrapped his arms lightly around her, his hold weak but just what she needed. "I know. Thank you so much for finding me. And thank you so much for making it out all right. Without you…" He trailed off, shaking his head solemnly, and she nodded against his chest.

"And Antony," she said softly, sobs no longer shaking her, though her tears only fell faster.

"And Antony," he agreed with a small nod, carefully running the fingers of a trembling hand through her hair. "I'm sorry about him. I'm sure he'll be all right, though. He'll come back as alive as he ever was."

"Just let me go to him!" she cried. "I went after you. Let me do the same for him."

"You're still injured, yourself," Skylar pointed out, his voice soft.

"She won't let me anywhere near her," Raphael said darkly, watching them both from the foot of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest.

She lifted her head from Skylar's chest and turned to narrow her eyes at the healer. "I wanted Skylar fully healed before anyone paid any attention to me at all, and now it's too late. I don't have time for healing, and I don't need to be in perfect health to save Antony."

"I love you," Skylar whispered, gently taking hold of her chin with an unsteady hand and turning her face toward his. "Please don't do this to me, Torryn. Not again."

"I went in for you," she said again, refusing to ease her glare. "I should do the same for him."

He was silent for a moment, averting his gaze as he thought, and he soon said softly, "I think it would be better if Antony died. Everything could go back to normal. You would finally be safe."

Appalled, she pulled easily from his light grip and took a step back, her eyes wide. "How could you say something like that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Because it's true," Raphael said gently, and she spun to face him, her eyes only growing wider.

She could do nothing but stare at the man for a moment, her eyes flicking to Skylar for only a second longer before she turned and ran out of the room. She couldn't handle this right now. What the hell were they saying? How the hell could they say that?!

But Raphael caught hold of her wrist before she could hop off of the last step of the stairs, forcing her to a violent stop, and desperation dulled the stern edge to his voice as he said, "I won't let you throw your life away for him. I know it hurts, but there's nothing to be done unless you want to die with him — him, Torryn. Antony. The vampire who robbed you of your entire fucking life. Is that what you want?" His tone was outright harsh now, the perfect match for his words, and he went on. "Do you want to die with the man who took everything from you?"

She jerked her arm from his grip and roared, "I'd rather die with him than let him die on his own! He doesn't deserve that!" She turned to leave again, Raphael's fingers closing tightly around her wrist again without so much as missing a beat, but her breath caught when she found herself face to face with Antony himself. He was covered in blood, no doubt his own, she could tell from the way he shook and swayed, barely conscious — but he wore a small smile, infinitely pleased.

"The Lord's dead," he said in cheerful rasp. "He's dead, baby. I killed him. And did you know that I know how to hot-wire a car?" he asked lightly, nothing to his tone to suggest that he'd just fought his way tooth and nail off of a battlefield, but his eyes rolled back into his head suddenly, and he dropped.

Torryn caught him before he could hit the floor, just as he'd done for her so many times before, and she couldn't stop a cry from passing her lips. "Antony!" She was horrified at the condition he was in…but he was alive. He was here. He'd come back.

"It's all right," Raphael said soothingly when she began to sob openly, happiness and dread at war within her. "Get him to the other guest room. Just get him upstairs. He'll be all right. If he ain't dust already, he ain't dying tonight."

She nodded, and with a sad little sniffle, she lifted the boy into her arms and headed up the stairs, very careful to keep from hitting his head on anything. He was lighter than she remembered. And all of that blood…

But she lay him down just as carefully when she reached the bed, stepping back when Raphael gently took her shoulder to let him settle in on the edge of the bed and get to work, and she could do nothing but stare at the vampire and cry silently as her sobs subsided. He was so hurt. Skylar had been in bad condition, but this…

Antony was a vampire. An undead. He was strong, so strong. He'd never lost. He never would. But he nearly had.

Because of the Lord.

No. Because of her.

She'd nearly lost both of the men she cared about most because she couldn't fight her own battles, because two top tier vamps wanted to sink their teeth into her, and she couldn't fight them herself — because she was too weak.

"I'm going to go check on Skylar," she murmured absently, and Raphael merely grunted his acknowledgment as she turned and headed out of the room. Down the hallway, she paused in the door to the guest room that Skylar lay in, only to find him unconscious again. He looked peaceful, his eyes closed and his head lolling lightly to the side, but though his bruises and lacerations had been mended, he was still covered in all of the blood he'd lost. He still looked just like Antony. There was so much blood. So much pain…

For a moment, she listened to the sound of Skylar's ragged breathing, to the sounds of Antony muttering worriedly in a fitful sleep, and she suddenly clenched her fists tightly, pressing her fingertips into the sticky blood that still stained her palms. She knew what she had to do. She knew who she had to blame. She knew who she had to see to make this stop.

Emmeline.

Without saying a word to anyone, still beaten all to hell and aching from her fights of the night, she quietly made her way down the stairs and out the back door.

Imagine her surprise when she found herself face to face with stunning green eyes and a familiar rich complexion. Emmeline stood leaning against Torryn's car, her ivory fangs glinting menacingly in the light that spilled through the open door, and Torryn stopped dead so that the tip of her shadow barely grazed the tip of the woman's toes, her eyes widening. Why was she here? How the hell had she found her?

"A very, very reliable source of mine relayed the details of the Lord's slaughter to me only minutes ago," the vampire said in greeting, a low laugh cutting through the seriousness of her words. "And with this in mind, I've made the decision to allow Antony — no, more than allow. I've decided to aid him on his way to becoming the fifth member of our so-called Big Five."

"Why?" Torryn asked, eyeing the woman suspiciously, and she left the safety of the threshold and pulled the back door shut behind her. Now only the copious moonlight illuminated Emmeline's features, her fangs still brightly lit in the expanse of dark skin and make-up that surrounded them, and the soft, soothing swish of silk accompanied her movements as she stepped away from the car, her deep purple dress rustling loudly in the stillness of the night.

"An agreement has been reached, only in part due to Antony's impressive skill." She looked toward the shadows that loomed at the edge of the house, areas out of even the moon's reach, and she murmured, "You may go in now."

Becca stepped into the moonlight, and Torryn clenched her fists and took no comfort in the haunted look that encapsulated the woman's expression, the shame that danced without end at the back of her stare. "I'm sorry," she whispered as she passed Torryn, stepping onto the doorstep and heading into the house without pausing to offer a more substantial apology — or an explanation. An explanation would've been nice right about now.

Torryn moved to step in after her, but a man suddenly appeared in her path, his hulking form blocking the door, and Emmeline said casually, as if there wasn't a damn thing wrong with this whole scenario, "Sadly, my dear, you were part of the deal." She gestured with a delicate upturned hand, laden with valuable jewels and metals of all colors, toward a black luxury car that idled on the curb nearby and added politely, "Join me, won't you?"

Clenching her fists tighter, Torryn leveled the vampire with a glare that might've frightened anyone lesser, but Emmeline didn't flinch, didn't falter. She continued to hold her hand outstretched, watching Torryn with eyes the green of envy and a patience that only a centuries-old vampire could ever possess, and uncertainty filled Torryn. She glanced back at the man and the house he blocked — a house where she might've been safer, if she'd had the intelligence to stay within its walls as she'd been told.

Or perhaps she would've only caused more problems. Skylar was still weak, Antony still brutally injured, and she wasn't sure how much battle Raphael saw these days.

She couldn't risk any harm coming to any of them. Not again.

And so, she turned from the house and headed toward the waiting car without sparing Emmeline another glance. "Fine. But I expect an explanation."

It killed her to go without making a fuss, without putting up any sort of a fight, but what choice did she have here? Maybe Becca had struck a decent deal with the woman. Maybe Torryn would get to live.

Maybe…

The slender figure of another man opened the back door for her, this one lean and possessing an intimidating grace where the man who still loomed in the doorway had only muscle, and when he smirked down at her to reveal a set of disarmingly long fangs, she forced her expression to remain neutral and said nothing as she slid into the backseat of the car. He shut the door and slipped into the passenger's seat in front of her, and she glanced to the seat beside her, doing her best not to jump when she found Emmeline already perched daintily beside her. Torryn hadn't even heard the door close.

She listened to the sound of crunching gravel as the car pulled away from the deteriorating curb, a stout man with skin nearly as dark as the car's tinted windows sitting behind the wheel, then she pretended to turn her attention to the dark night that lay beyond the tinted glass while watching out of the corner of her eye as Emmeline crossed her legs at the knee and carefully arranged the violet silk of her skirt about her thighs.

"So, this arrangement," Torryn prompted after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

"The most important part of this deal, first of all," the woman began, wearing a smile that made Torryn more uncomfortable than the silence had, "is that you belong to me now. Wholly and completely."

Torryn turned to face her with a glare. "Antony won't just let me go, you know. He'll come after me, and you'll have a problem."

"I've already discussed the matter with Rebecca," Emmeline said, a trill of laughter escaping her deeply colored lips. "The boy may attack as many times as he would like, but he will only find that my army is endless and my strength impossible to overcome. He will, of course, never be killed, per the arrangement. His men won't be so lucky, however, and I'm sure that he'll eventually understand the futility of fighting my coven, even if he is as stubborn as I knew his father to be." She let her attention wander to the road ahead, her back held carefully straight and her posture never sagging. Royalty. A queen. The queen. "Otherwise, I don't mind frequent and brutal slaughter. Perhaps I'll allow you to fight for me. You have proven to be quite the entertainer in hand-to-hand squabbles."

Torryn wasn't sure how to feel. Antony would be safe, and she was grateful for it, but…what hell would she have to go through at the hands of such an ancient, ruthless undead? And how many innocent vampires would Antony allow to die before he finally gave in?

He would never give in. Just like I would never give in.

Emmeline quirked her lips in that wicked smile as she went on. "As for the rest of the agreement, the terms are quite simple, really. I've been told where to find the Lord's freed Progeny, thanks to Antony's dear little right hand, Rebecca, and not at all to that weak, human-born scum who dared to give himself such a grandiose title as the Lord, and I intend to obtain them for myself and my coven to do with as we see fit."

Now Torryn knew what to feel.

Her eyes widened, and she faced the woman, too horrified to speak. After all that she'd endured at the Lord's hands, after all of the trouble Skylar and Antony had gone through on her behalf…

It was worthless. Useless. A waste. Becca had effectively undone the only good act Torryn had ever managed to perform, had effectively doomed dozens of Progeny to a state of slavery worse even than what they'd suffered through before — and for what? For a half-assed promise, probably a total lie, that Emmeline would never kill Antony and would attempt to help him on his way to vampiric masterhood?

"I know, I know," Emmeline murmured as she reached over to gently pat Torryn's hand where it rested on her lap, a convincing pout shifting her expression into a state of empathetic beauty. "It must be painful for you, knowing what future awaits your kin. But you may take solace in the fact that you're free to attempt to rescue them however many times you deem necessary, and none of them will be killed — though they will be severely injured, I can promise you that. Perhaps even outright tortured. Every last one of them," she continued in that faux-compassionate murmur, the cool skin of her hand still pressed against Torryn's knuckles and doing nothing to calm her. "It's up to you to decide how much their potential freedom is worth to you."

Torryn opened her mouth to speak, a flush bringing an unbearable heat to her cheeks, but she abruptly clamped her mouth shut and ground her teeth. She had no idea what to say. She had no idea what to do.

Tears stung at the back of her eyes as grief twined with her rage, and she glared down at where the vampire's hand rested over hers. All of her hard work, undone. The bright futures she'd envisioned for those Progeny, gone. And all because this uppity, rich-bitch coven master saw a Progeny she liked and decided she just had to have them all.

She clenched her fists tightly, but Emmeline didn't lift her hand, and her continued touch felt like a challenge as Torryn sat stewing in obvious anger. She refused to let her tears fall, but beyond that, she didn't know what to do. What could she do? What could she possibly do to fix this? To save all of those poor souls all over again? To keep Antony safe while she did it?

She didn't care what happened to her, but them…

Something. She had to do something. Anything.

Suddenly, something inside of her snapped, and only one thought reached the forefront of her mind.

Fuck it. And she spun in her seat and clocked Emmeline with every ounce of strength she had in her.

Blood spattered Torryn's hand, but she didn't hesitate to reach over the seat in front of her and grab the driver by his hair, the thud of Emmeline's head hitting the window filling the car and the thump of the man's forehead meeting the steering wheel following quick on its heels. Tires squealed as the car spun out of control, and as the passenger reached for her, she threw her elbow back, his nose crunching and giving way beneath the force of the blow. He went just as limp as the man behind the wheel, their bodies jolting violently about like rag dolls as the car sped over the curb and into the grass.

She looked forward, breathless as the car accelerated faster and faster toward the thick trunk of an oak tree, dead ahead. Emmeline's mirthful laughter was high on the air as Torryn threw herself back into her seat to brace herself for the impact, and the vampire's trilling cackle continued on, higher and higher, until the sound of twisting metal cut her off.

Silence.