MaeB

Bloodbound & Broken

It had been many a year since Renaissance had brought another soul, alive, to the Loft. She’d brought soon-to-be victims, granted. But the last time she’d invited someone living and breathing into her home? It would’ve been when she first acquired the apartment 60 or so years ago. The concept of being seen in this way made the vampire a little apprehensive. There were no tell-tale signs that this revelation was bothering her, other than when she pressed her lips together in a fine line as they approached the nearby apartment entrance.

From the outside, the block looked unassuming. Dark grey in colour, it loomed above the two of them, staring them down with lightless arched windows. Ren sniffed the air cautiously as she keyed in her entrance code. There was no nearby scent that caused her concern; Just the hypnotic perfumed scent of Lyselle’s blood pumping just behind her. As the Vampire shouldered the heavy door open and let the warmth of the apartment lobby wrap its arms around her, she shot a look over her shoulder at the Huntress.

“I’ll have to undo a few enchantments before you’re able to cross over the threshold,” Ren explained, making her way to the elevator that readily opened its doors to them both. The apartment had air purifiers and diffusers built in to the ceiling panels, constantly pumping the sweet smell of geranium and fig into the air. This smell had become so familiar to Ren that she barely smelt it anymore unless she really tried. And because she was seeing her home through the eyes of a stranger for the first time, the floral scent circled her nostrils and gave her that comforting embrace that familiar smells did.

The elevator pinged, signalling it was ready to make its way upward. Ren cleared her throat and punched the “Penthouse” button on the control panel. Again, the elevator pinged, and the doors slid shut with a smooth hiss. The silence between the two of them felt laden with so many thoughts. Doubt and anticipation had filled the air between them and they were both right to be nervous; A huntress and ancient vampire? United in an elevator on the ascent to said ancient vampires lair? If someone had told Ren even yesterday that this is where she’d be in 24 hours, she’d have scoffed and slain them for being so ridiculous. She did not fraternise with humans, least of all Hunters. And she certainly did not invite them back to her precious, safe Loft for sacrilege.

The elevator rung out again and Ren had already begun reciting an unravelling spell, loosening the iron grip of the protection charms on her Loft. Like in a sweltering desert, the air in front of her apartment door became hazy and rippled. Ren completed the disarming of her enchantments and the locks clicked obligingly. Then, the door swung open to reveal her most precious possession. Her home.

_______________________________

Renaissance dismissively closed the door behind them both and quickly redressed the Loft in a couple of shielding spells that would grant the two of them complete anonymity. Who knew when the Hunter would awake from his hellish slumber and no doubt be determined to begin his pursuit of them when he finally remembered the chain of events.
The smell of Oud, leather and a hint of lavender wafted through the Loft. Candles were still burning, but barely, and the fireplace by the chaise lounge was mere embers glowering. The overhead vintage lamp pooled warm light over the leather sofas circled around the fireplace and Ren strode confidently to the kitchen.

“I’m going to boil the kettle,” she narrated, filling the old fashioned black cast iron kettle with water from the faucet. “And we’re going to a have a fresh mint tea from the garden.”
As promised, the Ancient Vampire fetched a fistful of mint sprigs from her beloved herb garden on the balcony and dropped them daintily into china cups. Ren eyeballed Lyselle cautiously, wondering what she was thinking. The bond had gone fairly quiet in the last couple moments and she could only sense the humans understandable apprehension of being in a Vampire Lair. As tasteful and elegant as the space was, it was still home to an ancient killing-machine. Trying to come off inviting, Ren gestured for Lyselle to take a seat on one of the leather sofas. She then narrowed her eyes in concentration at the fireplace and quickly restocked it with some dry logs and kindling. Grateful for food, the flames swallowed the wood hungrily and doubled in size as a consequence.

The kettle began to squeal shrilly and the vampire glided across the room with the grace of a swan, taking the kettle and adding boiling water to the china cups. The liquid bubbled as it collided with the fresh mint leaves and turned a pale shade of green, releasing the smell of mint into the room.

“Lyselle,” Ren prompted, outstretching her hand cradling the cup. “Take this, it’ll calm your nerves.”

Bloodbound & Broken

The stars winked mischievously from the midnight-blue sky overhead and the sound of a far away engine made Renaissance Le Sang, Ancient Vampire, eye the distance with alerted eyes. Her more human-like form resurfaced; Pupils shrinking, talon and fangs retracting, cheeks gaining a natural brush of blush. It was incredible how well-evolved the Vampires had become over the years. There was a time where blending in with humans was impossible, those distinguishable features a constant as opposed to disguisable. Nothing discreet about canines of a wolf and pupils of a blood-thirsty shark.

Lyselle struggled to find the words, the reality of what had just passed finally dawning on her. A twang of empathy played on the strings of Ren’s still heart. She watched the woman fumble with the many words she wanted to articulate, none of them coming to fruition.

“Lyselle…” Ren coaxed, her voice like a warm mug of cocoa on a cold day. She folded her arms across her corseted body, stroking her chin pensively with elegant digits. Her green and lilac eyes scanned the Huntress quizzically, trying to read every micro expression that passed over that beautiful face.

“He… must’ve… come looking for me when he realized I had left — looking for him,” she managed.
“I–… I didn’t mean for… this… whatever… this is… gods…”

Emotional turmoil came firing down their bond and Ren reeled at the IV of human emotion that was administered to her veins. As Lyselle began stammering about death and her mannerisms depicted real worry, Ren held up a hand abruptly. Signalling her to stop, the Ancient Vampiress used the last droplet of her blood magic and a quick murmur of an incantation to eradicate the last of the Repulsion Ward she’d cast earlier. With imperceptible speed, she closed the distance between the two of them.

Suddenly, their surroundings melted away and it was just them. Stood so close Ren could smell her blood type. She stared into her warm eyes, taking in every freckle, every crease in her skin. Each mark etched a story, a moment in time. The Ancient Vampire shook her head as if dismissing any more of Lyselle’s paranoid ramblings. This, she couldn’t abide. Still, the tether between them was flooded with anxiety. A rush of frantic concerns filled Ren’s mind and she imagined taking them all into the palm of her hand and squeezing them tight, crumbling them to dust. For a moment, which felt like an eternity, the vampire let the Huntress clog the bond with her fears. As if she were hearing them out, Ren let them come.

“the admiration,
the jealousy of her peers,
the quiet pride of being someone special,
the crushing weight of becoming a legend,
the lonely rooftops at sunrise and sunset —“

And then, after all of it had poured into her, Ren used her supernatural powers to envisage washing them all away like a spiritual cleanse.

“They will not kill you,” Ren said firmly, stating it as an absolute made it sound final. “And nor will I.” That second part came softer. The vampire let her reassurance caress Lyselle’s cheek, pinch the tip of her chin and lift it up. Slowly, like handling a mistreated animal, Ren lifted her hand and placed it on Lyselle’s toned shoulder.

“Come with me,” Ren whispered gently. “Let’s go someplace safe, just until we figure this ordeal out.”
Then, she reached out a hand down the mental bond and grasped at Lyselle the other end. This added layer of communication that had formed between them was like having a window into one another’s souls. Magical. Otherworldly. Fantastical. Like nothing the aged vampire had ever experienced before. Like nothing she’d ever seen, read or felt. And she’d been in love, once or twice. This was different. This was deeper than love, more consuming than hate. It was a need. A lifeline. Ren felt resurrected.

Bloodbound & Broken

Another bolt had been reloaded and shot, aiming straight for her. Feigning right, the Vampire knew she’d dodged it successfully. That was, until, the tip of the bolt broke away and an oversized net popped out with a satisfying click. Renaissance watched the net expand, its crosshatched silver material flying tauntingly through the air. The vampire had undoubtedly dodged the original arrow, but this? The net’s width would surely snag her wings and give her great difficulty keeping her height. The idea of the net ensnaring her, snuffing out her wings like a candle and causing her to topple to the ground made Ren let out a slow growl. She snarled at the realisation that this would mean almost-certain entrapment and escaping from a net like that would involve more power than she was willing to expend on the fury-riddled Hunter.

Like a religious intervention, a bright light suddenly appeared, casting warm white beams to shine down on Belle View. It was a sigil. And by the looks of Lyselle’s determined but panicked expression, she’d been the one to cast it. The symbol hung in the air for a moment or two, like a beacon. And when Ren’s eyes darted below, she saw the net crumpled on the ground like dirty laundry.

"What the fuck are you doing, Lyselle!? She’s a damn vampire! Kill her!!"

‘What the fuck indeed, Lyselle’ Ren mused internally, the three of them each shared varying degrees of surprise at the heroic intervention. Where had this young Huntress learnt to cast such a strong sigil? She’d formed the symbol so quickly with those agile fingertips, Ren hadn’t even had the chance to acknowledge it was happening. The Hunter’s horror at the betrayal of his kind was well-founded. And it was whilst his guard was dropped that Ren seized her moment. Thanks to Lyselle, a window of opportunity had opened and she wasn’t going to let it pass by her. The Hunter would recover from his shock at the betrayal fairly quickly, she was sure. So Ren chose the only route that was certain to grant her escape.

Blood Magic was a thing of controversy in the Vampire community. Not many fledglings and adolescents were even aware of it but Ancients had likely studied it at some point during their undead lifetimes. Notoriously poorly documented, it was only studied through determined searching for reading materials. Scriptures, scrolls and ancient tomes were the only known evidence of Vampire Blood Magic. Unless you were unfortunate to come across someone practicing it at your expense. Thanks to Ren’s obsession with studying, she’d managed to get her hands on a few volumes on the lost art form. Blood Magic required harnessing a large portion of inner power that was rarely acquired in the community. It was a skill so difficult to develop and the stakes were off-puttingly high, so it was mostly exclusively Ancient Beings that practiced it. Younger vampires had tried, sure. But it resulted in burn-out or worse, death. Creatures had literally imploded from the sheer volume of power required to complete a Blood Spell. Blood Magic was seemingly entirely intended for malicious acts; Curses, deception, harm, destruction. But there were some more intricate castings that were less ominous, these were what Ren dabbled in. She reserved the ultimate evil for when was absolutely necessary. She certainly wouldn’t waste such a large amount of energy on casting against this Hunter.

But when faced with a Hunter hell bent on her demise, Renaissance decided she’d tap into some preventative Blood Magic. The essence of the magic had no bias when it came to whose blood was spilled. It could be human. It could be otherwise. For potency, Ren used her own blood. For what held more power than Ancient Vampire blood? Whilst the Hunter remained stunned by Lyselle’s impressive distraction, Ren had quickly made an incision in her wrist with that deathly talon at the end of her finger. Whilst the puncture oozed, a black droplet of her blood formed and then ran down the inside of her naked arm. Whilst it trickled down her arm like a black stream, Ren began her incantation. It would be swift, it would be articulate and it would be effective.

“Please don’t kill him!” Lyselle plead. The vampiress, wings pulsing to keep her suspended in the air with a great vantage point for her attack, shot a withering look at Lyselle. The arched brow challenged her as if to say ‘And let him kill me instead? Never’
That look was all she had time for, she had to finish the incantation. Blood Magic could not be left half finished, it was hungry in its nature. Complete the spell or let that dark power roam free.

Ren finalised the spell, casting an extended finger to guide the energy towards the intended victim. This wouldn’t kill him, no. It would maim him. This particular ailment would only last long enough for Ren to disappear. She’d retreat back to her loft, where her Wards would grant her anonymity. All the while, the Hunter would awake from his nightmarish slumber disorientated and unsure of what had just happened. That should do it, shouldn’t it? And she’d grant Lyselle’s request to leave him alive.

As the dark energy trailed down her veins to the tips of her fingers, Ren continued to repeat the incantation, coaxing it out of her body. She saw the black smoke-like stream writhe down her veins and out into the air. The smoke entered the space before her and exhaled audibly, a sigh of relief to have been brought to life and a sigh of pleasure to have been put to work. The cloud dissipated and Ren knew it had, through osmosis, bonded molecularly with the air they were breathing. Soon enough, the Hunter would take a breath and slip into an uncomfortable sleep. His sleep would be littered with nightmares and leave him confused when he finally awoke.

Describing this now, it would be reasonable to assume casting Blood Magic was a lengthy process. However, Ren had drawn blood, chanted and cast with a slick professionalism that meant by the time the Hunter realised what was happening, the dark energy would be corrupting him already.
Renaissance, relaxing in the knowledge that she’d gained some time, turned to face Lyselle and lowered herself to the ground once more. She tossed her mane of dark hair over her shoulder and took a few quick strides towards the Huntress. There were many questions burning:

“Where on Earth did you learn to Sigil like that?”

“Why the hell did you protect me? I had it handled (ish)”

“Did you not want to mention you weren’t travelling alone?”

But more than all that, more than the technicalities, Red was dying to ask:

“Do you feel what I’m feeling?”
And by that she meant this channel of energy connecting the two of them, this sense of knowing. Surely she couldn’t be the only one that felt a gravitational pull tugging at her corrupted soul, dragging her toward Lyselle like a leash.
But Ren vocalised none of these questions. Instead she stood just out of arms reach from Lyselle, arms folded, waiting for her to explain who the hell she’d just put to sleep.

Bloodbound & Broken

Another bolt had been reloaded and shot, aiming straight for her. Feigning right, the Vampire knew she’d dodged it successfully. That was, until, the tip of the bolt broke away and an oversized net popped out with a satisfying click. Renaissance watched the net expand, its crosshatched silver material flying tauntingly through the air. The vampire had undoubtedly dodged the original arrow, but this? The net’s width would surely snag her wings and give her great difficulty keeping her height. The idea of the net ensnaring her, snuffing out her wings like a candle and causing her to topple to the ground made Ren let out a slow growl. She snarled at the realisation that this would mean almost-certain entrapment and escaping from a net like that would involve more power than she was willing to expend on the fury-riddled Hunter.

Like a religious intervention, a bright light suddenly appeared, casting warm white beams to shine down on Belle View. It was a sigil. And by the looks of Lyselle’s determined but panicked expression, she’d been the one to cast it. The symbol hung in the air for a moment or two, like a beacon. And when Ren’s eyes darted below, she saw the net crumpled on the ground like dirty laundry.

"What the fuck are you doing, Lyselle!? She’s a damn vampire! Kill her!!"

‘What the fuck indeed, Lyselle’ Ren mused internally, the three of them each shared varying degrees of surprise at the heroic intervention. Where had this young Huntress learnt to cast such a strong sigil? She’d formed the symbol so quickly with those agile fingertips, Ren hadn’t even had the chance to acknowledge it was happening. The Hunter’s horror at the betrayal of his kind was well-founded. And it was whilst his guard was dropped that Ren seized her moment. Thanks to Lyselle, a window of opportunity had opened and she wasn’t going to let it pass by her. The Hunter would recover from his shock at the betrayal fairly quickly, she was sure. So Ren chose the only route that was certain to grant her escape.

Blood Magic was a thing of controversy in the Vampire community. Not many fledglings and adolescents were even aware of it but Ancients had likely studied it at some point during their undead lifetimes. Notoriously poorly documented, it was only studied through determined searching for reading materials. Scriptures, scrolls and ancient tomes were the only known evidence of Vampire Blood Magic. Unless you were unfortunate to come across someone practicing it at your expense. Thanks to Ren’s obsession with studying, she’d managed to get her hands on a few volumes on the lost art form. Blood Magic required harnessing a large portion of inner power that was rarely acquired in the community. It was a skill so difficult to develop and the stakes were off-puttingly high, so it was mostly exclusively Ancient Beings that practiced it. Younger vampires had tried, sure. But it resulted in burn-out or worse, death. Creatures had literally imploded from the sheer volume of power required to complete a Blood Spell. Blood Magic was seemingly entirely intended for malicious acts; Curses, deception, harm, destruction. But there were some more intricate castings that were less ominous, these were what Ren dabbled in. She reserved the ultimate evil for when was absolutely necessary. She certainly wouldn’t waste such a large amount of energy on casting against this Hunter.

But when faced with a Hunter hell bent on her demise, Renaissance decided she’d tap into some preventative Blood Magic. The essence of the magic had no bias when it came to whose blood was spilled. It could be human. It could be otherwise. For potency, Ren used her own blood. For what held more power than Ancient Vampire blood? Whilst the Hunter remained stunned by Lyselle’s impressive distraction, Ren had quickly made an incision in her wrist with that deathly talon at the end of her finger. Whilst the puncture oozed, a black droplet of her blood formed and then ran down the inside of her naked arm. Whilst it trickled down her arm like a black stream, Ren began her incantation. It would be swift, it would be articulate and it would be effective.

“Please don’t kill him!” Lyselle plead. The vampiress, wings pulsing to keep her suspended in the air with a great vantage point for her attack, shot a withering look at Lyselle. The arched brow challenged her as if to say ‘And let him kill me instead? Never’
That look was all she had time for, she had to finish the incantation. Blood Magic could not be left half finished, it was hungry in its nature. Complete the spell or let that dark power roam free.

Ren finalised the spell, casting an extended finger to guide the energy towards the intended victim. This wouldn’t kill him, no. It would maim him. This particular ailment would only last long enough for Ren to disappear. She’d retreat back to her loft, where her Wards would grant her anonymity. All the while, the Hunter would awake from his nightmarish slumber disorientated and unsure of what had just happened. That should do it, shouldn’t it? And she’d grant Lyselle’s request to leave him alive.

As the dark energy trailed down her veins to the tips of her fingers, Ren continued to repeat the incantation, coaxing it out of her body. She saw the black smoke-like stream writhe down her veins and out into the air. The smoke entered the space before her and exhaled audibly, a sigh of relief to have been brought to life and a sigh of pleasure to have been put to work. The cloud dissipated and Ren knew it had, through osmosis, bonded molecularly with the air they were breathing. Soon enough, the Hunter would take a breath and slip into an uncomfortable sleep. His sleep would be littered with nightmares and leave him confused when he finally awoke.

Describing this now, it would be reasonable to assume casting Blood Magic was a lengthy process. However, Ren had drawn blood, chanted and cast with a slick professionalism that meant by the time the Hunter realised what was happening, the dark energy would be corrupting him already.
Renaissance, relaxing in the knowledge that she’d gained some time, turned to face Lyselle and lowered herself to the ground once more. She tossed her mane of dark hair over her shoulder and took a few quick strides towards the Huntress. There were many questions burning:

“Where on Earth did you learn to Sigil like that?”

“Why the hell did you protect me? I had it handled (ish)”

“Did you not want to mention you weren’t travelling alone?”

But more than all that, more than the technicalities, Red was dying to ask:

“Do you feel what I’m feeling?”
And by that she meant this channel of energy connecting the two of them, this sense of knowing. Surely she couldn’t be the only one that felt a gravitational pull tugging at her corrupted soul, dragging her toward Lyselle like a leash.
But Ren vocalised none of these questions. Instead she stood just out of arms reach from Lyselle, arms folded, waiting for her to explain who the hell she’d just put to sleep.

Bloodbound & Broken

Remorse fell over Lyselle’s face like a curtain being drawn. That sorrowful look was enough to make Ren extend her hand, an outstretched offering of condolence. She wanted to reassure her that she didn’t care for her offspring in that way, not like human mothers with their children. Rhyland’s death stirred nothing in Ren’s unbeating heart, she’d simply sought an answer to her question. Always thirsty for the truth, for knowledge.

“I-… I’m sorr—” Lyselle’s voice was soft as a whisper, each struggling syllable a mark of genuine apology. A Vampire Slayer? Apologising for slaying vampires? Ren shook her head in disbelief, her furrowed brows exposing her confusion and sheer bewilderment at what was happening between the two of them.

Then, a lightning bolt of primal warning struck Ren’s spine and her head shot to behind Lyselle where a raging man had appeared. He was dressed like her Huntress. Clad head to toe in protective fighting attire, lightweight but certainly a uniform of sorts. A crossbow. A sword. A belt full of assorted weaponry curated entirely for her demise.

“No, it was my doing!” he roared. The man was consumed with fury. Ren could smell the stench on him like rotten flesh. That was what anger did to humans, it festered within them. Decayed them, from the inside out. That was another beautiful quality of vampires; That kind of human emotion was expelled from their souls the minute they became corrupted with their own disease. A fury for blood, granted. But the elder vampires controlled themselves, their every flickering emotion, for that was what it took to survive.

Anger made humans clumsy and rash albeit strong at times. This was certainly the case with this man driven by his hatred for Ren’s kind. Her simple presence, her very existence, ignited such repulsion within him. It was etched in his face as he shot an arrow straight for her.

Like the very lightning above them, Renaissance moved with a speed you’d miss if you blinked.

“W-wait!” Lyselle cried. Ren, back lowered in a combative stance, whipped her head to face the Huntress and snarled. Her lethal fangs protruded, her razor-sharp talon unsheathed and midnight-black pupils corrupted those once chartreuse eyes.

“Let him come!” Ren roared, her voice shifting into something more animal, more beastly. A long, pronounced hiss erupted from her lips and Ren focused her knife-like gaze on her opponent. The arrow narrowly missed her, snagging the velvet cape still draping her shoulders. The vampiress leapt into the air, wings unfolding with a “CRACK” and she unfastened the button of her cloak. It slithered from her shoulders like an anaconda, and floated dramatically to the ground. Ren’s corseted torso now hovered in the air, her skirt billowing in the wind.

For Lyselle and Ren, time slowed. Each second crawled by, agonisingly slow, yet the fire that had been ignited in Ren’s stomach drove her on. This man would die tonight. All she had to do was lock away the flurry of emotions Lyselle had stirred in her in order to concentrate. And so she did.

Hanging in midair, darting artfully from side to side to ensure she was a moving target, Ren awaited the enraged Hunter’s next move. Advancing on him too quickly would end all her fun, and Ren didn’t much enjoy a quick demise. She was all about playing with her food before she ate it and this was no exception.

“Come, then!” the hauntingly unafraid Vampire bellowed. The trees around her moved with the breeze generated by her beating wings, making a satisfying rustle as their leaves brushed together. Ren outstretched her muscular arms, throwing her head back in submission. She would savour this. And then her and Lyselle would be alone again, able to continue this time uninterrupted with whatever magic was being created between them.

Bloodbound & Broken

Renaissance Le Sang, one of the oldest vampires to still be treading Earth, was inching closer to the Huntress with her hands still splayed in a sort-of surrender. Her sire would surely be turning in his grave if he knew she was succumbing to such human emotions. So irrational, so thoughtless. But she couldn’t help herself. Ren craved to be closer to this woman, to follow this magnetic pull tugging at her very being.

There was something different about this one. This lone Huntress, brave and honourable. This powerful woman so willing to fight such a skewed battle. She’d sensed her from so far, hadn’t she? She’d tossed a bottle of Holy Water yet still hadn’t drawn a crossbow, had she? There had been hundreds of opportunities for the two of them to launch into a fight to the death… And yet here they both stood. In the middle of Belle View beneath the moonlight. Both very much still alive.

“L-Lyselle…”

The croak of the Huntresses name held more power than with which she uttered it. A bolt of energy surged through Ren’s body and she took a sharp intake of breath. Her voice. Her name. Familiarity overcame the vampire and her perfectly preened brows knitted together with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

“Ll-y-sss-e-llll-e” the ancient vampiress repeated, enunciating every letter. It was a name she felt she’d heard before, buried at the very bottom of her subconscious. Her tongue knew it as she said it, her lips hummed like greeting a long-lost-friend. Renaissance nodded slowly, feigning understanding but disguising the sheer bafflement she felt. Still, Ren was keeping her eyes levelled with the Huntress’ as her heeled boots took slow, tiny steps. Onward and onward. The distance between them had begun to close and another chilling breeze churned the streets of Belle View. The air lifted Ren’s locks from her back, tossing them around her shoulders and framing her angular face. The vampire’s pupils were no longer dilated, revealing their true colour; A chartreuse with flecks of lilac like watercolour.

A thought had crossed Lyselle’s mind, one that echoed in the chamber of Ren’s own psyche. As Lyselle’s face told the story of her inner voice, Ren continued to watch her earnestly. This moment, right here, was completely and utterly unknown to her. Unchartered seas, forgotten territory. Never, in all her existence, had the Aged Vampire experienced this. She wasn’t even sure what “this” was…
But watching the thoughts that plagued the Huntress, the ones written all over her face, was like watching a secret broadcast. The memories Lyselle was analysing inwardly caused Ren to feel something comparable to extreme empathy. Lyselle the Huntress was thinking about something and clearly felt so strongly about it that the emotions were being sent down this tether between the two of them. A tether, a lifeline almost, that began with Lyselle and ended with Renaissance. Whatever extraordinary bond was forming between these ultimate foes was gaining form by the second. The longer they shared space together, the stronger it was becoming. Therefore, as Lyselle began to recall her own memories of Rhyland and the emotions attached to them, Ren was feeling a reflection of them. Like looking into a body of water, something was being refracted back at the vampire. All she had to do was tune in to understand.

It felt like a lifetime that Lyselle considered her own thoughts, but she was quick to smooth her expression back to neutral. Ren cocked her head, angling her gaze to deepen the inquisition. Her eyes aglow with curiosity, she lowered her hands to her sides and proceeded with exaggerated, slow movements towards the Vampire Slayer.

“It was you…” Ren purred, her voice like silk. “I felt one of my kin pass over tonight… It was your doing?” There was no malice in Ren’s tone, no anger to be seen. Just pure, unadulterated curiosity at what was unfolding. Time seemed to slow down, each second feeling drawn out and stretched until there was no knowing whether it had been minutes or hours that they’d been sharing this intense gaze.

Lyselle still gripped the shortsword of blessed silver in her hand, her knuckles white with the intensity of her grasp. Ren gestured to it with a soft point of her finger.

“Lower that,” she crooned “We won’t spill one another’s blood tonight.”

A dog barked in the distance and the blanket of cloud passed by the moon, letting it shine once more. A beam of moonlight spliced through the skies and cast its glimmer over Lyselle and Renaissance. There was a mere few metres between the two of them now and Ren could feel the force of the Repulsion Ward.

Magic like this was a strange sensation, one that could be felt mainly in the gut. The ward pushed back at Ren, like an invisible energetic force field. So she stopped walking. Remained still, unmoving. The two continued to analyse one another, watching the others every move. Ren found herself, once again, watching the rise and fall of Lyselle’s chest. She could hear her heart beating now, a little quicker than average, and if it were something physical the pair could see, she was sure they’d witness a string tied from Lyselle’s heart to the empty cavity where Ren’s once was.

Bloodbound & Broken

“I only need to stay here all night…”

Renaissance let the threat hang in the air for a moment, her eyes slowly scanning the Hunter from head to toe. She was analysing each minor detail, down to every rise and fall of the Hunter’s Chest. The way her lips shone slick with moisture after she’d run her tongue over them, the way her eyes were wide and alert staring right back at her… And Ren listened to that oh-so-human heart beating defiantly, pumping a stream of warm blood around the body.

There was a determination residing in this girl, a focus that set her apart from most other humans. How brave must she be to travel alone? To face an Ancient Vampire with no reinforcements, no small army to protect her from that ancient wrath that could rain upon her? In Renaissance’s younger years, she would’ve labelled this choice unwise. Arrogant and judgmental, younger Ren was not one to respect nobility. But after eternities of witnessing suffering, sacrifice and even slavery, this was a bravery that should be admired. And this woman was still so young! She couldn’t be older than her later 20s? So very young in comparison to Ren’s 1000s of years on this planet. Once upon a time, she too may have made a decision like this one. One that took a naive courage with seeming ignorance to the risk. Discarding everything at stake.
But this life wasn’t built for vampirism and a vampires existence depended entirely on their ability to blend in. The art of discretion. Which was exactly the opposite of what Ren was doing in this very moment. If a Belle View resident was to awake from their slumber and pull back their curtain, they’d see a gothic form of a woman hovering in midair with bat wings and ivory fangs. At the thought, Renaissance warily lowered herself right down to the ground. She felt her leather black heeled boots meet the concrete with a gentle “click” and she stood a good distance from The Hunter.

A shroud of clouds passed over the moon, temporarily darkening Belle View. Still, the street lamps glowed loyally but there was no longer the moon’s soft white luminosity.

“Come on, little one” Ren cajoled in her softened voice, she folded her bat wings beneath her shoulder blades where they belonged. “Let’s not engage in a messy battle just yet… Is it necessary to spill blood so early into our acquaintance?”
There were thoughts whirring through the Hunter’s head, Ren could tell. No doubt weighing up her options, debating whether to fight or flee. She saw the Hunters eyes flicker briefly in the direction of the nearby Church and Ren shook her head slowly. If she were to make a run for it, Ren would have to pursue. She was a mere vampire, after all, and there was nothing like a chase to make blood taste ever sweeter. Those primal instincts would kick in and it would be difficult to control the sheer power that would drive her to trail her prey.

“Come now,” Renaissance continued, taking one solitary step towards the Hunter. She held both hands out like calming a wild bear, gesturing for her to remain still. Remain calm.
“Why don’t you tell me your name?…”

Bloodbound & Broken

The bottle left the hunter’s palm and came throttling towards Ren at a healthy speed. The vile spun through the air, that lethal liquid shaking like a deathly cocktail beneath the cork. The vampiress resisted the urge to roll her eyes and kicked her legs, flipping her body backwards in an arc through the air. Tucking her wings, she rotated with the grace of a ballet dancer and dodged the bottle a little narrower than she’d have liked. She and Holy Water had a tricky relationship. She’d had many near-disasters with the stuff. In micro-doses, blessed water would simply burn and itch. But the balance between safe and sore was a tricky tightrope to traverse.
Renaissance watched as the miniature bottle lost momentum and began to plummet downward. Shooting forward with a “WHOOSH” of her wings, Ren narrowed her eyes and lifted her dainty hand far behind her head. The razor sharp talon that extended from her finger unsheathed with a ring and she brought it upward with a hefty swing. It didn’t cut like butter, not like it can slice through flesh. But it did collide with the body of the bottle, shattering the glass upon impact.

As if the two of them were playing some sick form of baseball, the bottle and her talon cosplaying as bat and ball, Renaissance watched the glass fragments rain down, tinkering like a wind chime when they met the empty road below. With a satisfying splash, Holy Water formed a new puddle on the tarmac. Ren watched it hiss, angry that it hadn’t made contact with it’s intended victim. Between Ren’s aerial acrobatics and this Huntress’ overarm… Were the two of them holding back?

Almost definitely. The ancient vampire was sure this brave young supernatural slayer had far more in her arsenal than the toss of a bottle. But it worked well as a threat. It said “There’s more where that came from” and that, Ren could respect.

This face-off was resulting in a manner of things. It was allowing the natural-born enemies to assess one another, to feel eachother out. Like burly men in a pub eyeing eachother up full of one too many pints; Who’ll throw the first punch? Except these two were not mere humans having a squabble. They were 2 opposing sides of the same coin. One dead, one alive. One good, one evil. And yet? Neither were going all in. Not one of them had unleashed their full power. It’s true, they were holding back.

Above them both, the starry sky and full moon set white fire to the skyline. A low rumble came from Mother Nature as a storm brewed angrily above their heads. Renaissance sighed. This meant her sky bound ventures were soon over. She’d navigated stormy skies before, of course. There wasn’t much more magical in the world than flight surrounded by forks of lightning, but it didn’t exactly make for a safe battleground. The ancient vampire’s sleek wings fanned out against the stormy, starry backdrop. Renaissances wild hair wrapped round her neck like a winter scarf, rippling in the breeze.

”Will we do this all night, little one?” Renaissance called out. Her voice forceful and oozing gravitas. A voice with a vocal fry and dripping honey. One that, when lowered, had a natural seduction and persuasiveness but when thrown across airborne metres of space, would have seemed leerily looming.

Ren and The Huntress had barely broken eye contact, this thread tying them together in a match of wits. Don’t blink. Don’t look away. Don’t take your eyes off of one another. The atmosphere was thick with challenge. She could so easily lose patience and eliminate instead. But this dance was one Ren enjoyed partaking in.

“Storm’s coming,” the vampiress sung, lifting her arms out wide to gesture at the backdrop behind her. “Lightning doesn’t agree with my wings… So I’ll be forced to come down there with you-“ Slowly, a mischievous smile began to spread across Ren’s face. She allowed her fangs to drop down, just hanging over her pillowed bottom lip. They glinted in the moonlight, winking at The Hunter below.
”Then all this foreplay will have to cease and we’ll have to get down to it, properly” Renaissance let her wings falter, her body lowering closer and closer to the ground. Still keeping her distance, but moving out of the firing line of the storm, Ren began to count the visible weapons and various other little treats the Slayer had in her belt. A quick count? Multiple blessed metals. More bottled Holy Water. Viles of Hallowed Powder.

‘That’s quite the kit she’s got…’ Ren marvelled internally. Hunters really did come prepared these days…

In a graceful, practiced movement, she slowly tucked a stray curl of dark hair behind her dainty, almost-elven ears. Revealing her sizeable diamond hoop earrings and the curvature of her elegant neck, Renaissance cocked her head curiously at this young but clearly ambitious Hunter. She found herself wondering what the next move would be…

Bloodbound & Broken

A cool breeze rushed through the alley, scattering fallen leaves and bustling litter through Belle View’s streets. There was a tired groan from the roadside trees as the foliage shimmered against the wind. The moonlight bathed the street in a warm white light, casting winding shadows with it. Belle View was so hauntingly deserted at this time of night. Not a car on the roads, not a pedestrian for hours at a time. Renaissance, still gripping the railing of her rooftop, focused her far-sight at the figure ahead. The image was clear despite being so far away. And there she was. A woman. Alone.

Ren’s velvet cape and silky mane plumed behind her, catching the winds and intertwining in a breezy dance. She felt her pupils dilate as they honed in on the lone woman, her nostrils flared when the scent of blood reached her. The hair on her arms prickled, standing to attention, warning her she’d been seen. Ren growled quietly to herself. She didn’t like to be spotted by humans before she chose to expose herself. That was her inane desire for control. She was unaccustomed to being deprived of that. This left her with 2 options: Disappear or approach. Then, her eyes caught sight of the glint of silver in the woman’s hand. She had the weapon readied, her grip steady. And that’s what made the decision for her, ultimately. An ancient vampire, raised through the ages of swordsmanship and the honourable rules of duelling could never turn down an invite so grimly appealing.

“Hmmm- a hunter…” Ren mused. She’d met many a “Vampire Slayer” in her lifetimes. Too many to count. Clearly, none had been successful. But that didn’t mean she was overly pleased about being faced with one again, especially one so quick to pull a weapon. Usually, there was at least a little play before they got to business. A chase, maybe? Not this time.

“I wonder how you sensed me already, little one…” the ancient vampire pondered. Hunters had a sense, an inkling, a primal feature they possessed as a warning as to when a supernatural presence was upon them. Ren knew this since she was middle aged after being rumbled by Hunters on numerous occasions. But rarely had she come across one so astute. This intrigued her.
Most of the trivia she knew about these humans was tortured out of them. As soon as Ren had established that Hunters had congregations, vigils they called them, she ascertained a necessity for more intel. There couldn’t be an organised body of people collectively aiming to wipe her species out without her awareness. Knowledge was power. So Ren made it her business to extract as much intel as possible from her Hunter victims. Some were easier to break than others, most crumbled when she pressed her fangs to their arteries. The threat of her making them her children was worse than death to Hunters. Stubborn breed. Too proud to at least die with the honour of secrets.

Renaissance took a beat to compile a plan. Her mind worked quickly, filtering through actions and outcomes. Her body had decided that this wasn’t a time for fleeing. The alternative to retreat was a little more aggressive and since it had been just over 24 hours since her last meal, Ren accepted that perhaps it was sensible to feed. She also made a mental note to see if she could establish just how the young hunter had sensed her so early… Were they getting stronger? More adaptable? The thirst for knowledge paired with the thirst for blood was a tantalising one. She bristled at the thought.

“Like a disease…” the vampiress muttered, the hint of a sneer tugging at her lips. Hunters were spreading, growing, learning. Multiplying! Like germs.

As if the young Hunter heard her, she sprinkled powder around her, creating a border between the two of them. Hallowed powder? Interesting approach. That would certainly slow Ren down… But she had a plan. That repulsion ward would work in that position, granted. It would prevent Ren from getting her hands on her, prevent her talon from gliding down her veins and letting the blood flood the pavement. But it wouldn’t prevent her from tempting her outside of the warded area, would it? No, if Ren could get her moving, she couldn’t remain in the repulsion ward all night.

So Renaissance released her grip on the rooftop railing. Her hands opened, the railing exiting her hold. The vampire threw herself back, off the edge of the 25 story building, free-falling. Her body elegantly plummeted towards the cold, hard ground. Cape flapping at the force of her fall, waist-length hair whipping in all directions… She imagined the sight was quite something. Windows shot past her as she descended, a blur as she let herself continue towards the pavement that was so far below her before.

Moments before her body would collide with the ground, Ren let her wings snap open with a “CRACK” and the force jolted her body upward. Narrowly grazing the ground, feeling her skirt brush the pavement, she felt the rush of adrenaline flow through her. Then, she launched her form into a barrel roll, midair. Her bat wings caught hold of the wind and she rode it, moving with the grace of a predatory bird in flight. The beat of her wings was so loud amongst the silence of Belle View but she let them move in sync, pushing her further and further into the night sky. Flying was an art form to her, she adored the feeling of submitting to the power of air. Gliding, dipping, diving, the vampire let her magestic midnight-black wings take her through the air. Taking the long way, she began to circle the Hunter overhead. Like a hawk circled on its prey before diving for the kill, the vampire gently pumped her wings to keep a cruisey pace round and round in the sky above.

Ren’s aerial dive had certainly closed some distance between her and the Huntress and now, she could get a clear view of her. Drinking her in, Ren registered the fabric of her clothes, the texture of her hair, the reddened nose from the cold. She could smell her soap, the fabric softener of her clothes, the ever-so-slight hint of sweat beneath those layers she adorned. Oh, and the blood… That sweet red liquid being pumped round her human body hummed to her like birdsong. Ren began to hover, stationary. She was far enough above that she was safe from that blessed silver shortsword. Though she had no doubt a quick fix of hand-to-hand combat would rid her of that protection. After all, hand-to-hand was Ren’s favourite. It felt like foreplay to her. Sometimes, she even let her opponent get ahead of her. Taking a few hits only made her victims more confident, sloppy. But something told Ren that this Hunter was different.

As her bat wings beat down with a steady beat, Renaissance asserted her gaze upon the Hunters. She forced eye contact, letting a small smile spread across her face. She gave the woman a knowing look as if to say “Come on, darling, we know what comes next”… And then she lifted a hand and beckoned with her taloned index finger. Wiggling it tauntingly, she gave the Hunter the universal signal of “Come here.”

Bloodbound & Broken

Renaissance Le Sang sat cross legged on the herringbone flooring of her loft apartment. Her dark, glossy hair splayed down her intricate back in a Hollywood-like wave. Face the picture of serenity, her eyes were closed gently shut, her feathered lashes fluttering slightly in concentration. Elegantly formed lips pouting with focus, the vampiress softly whispered the enchantments she knew so well. Like a song, Ren uttered those rehearsed words laden with power. Repeating certain phrases, accentuating particular syllables, the vampiress was building a spell layer by layer. With her taloned index finger dripping with thick tannic blood, she traced a circle directly onto the floorboards around her. So practiced, like an artist, she joined the circle from beginning to end. Then she daintily placed her finger, dripping with residual blood, directly between her lips. Tongue caressing that bloodied finger, Ren enjoyed a drop of her favourite beverage and uttered the final stanza of the enchantment. The oh-so-familiar taste of blood slid down her throat, warming her gently, and then headed directly to her stomach.

The ancient vampire had dressed accordingly for the ceremony; She wore a silk embroidered black corset top, laced so tightly her chest pooled over the top and her hips indented in a deep V shape. A tiered black skirt hugged Ren’s hips and pooled out around her, creating a little entourage of fabric. Slowly, seductively, her eye lids reopened and she glanced at the completed Blood Circle that surrounded her.

The decor of Ren’s loft was a museum of the tastes she’d accrued over many years of unborn life: A mixture of gothic, vintage and modernism. This space was one she’d acquired through questionable means about 60 years ago and was the longest stint she’d stayed in one fixed abode. She’d never committed to a home like she had with this one. The wise creature had always been travelling from one place to the next. Always covertly, forever in disguise, eternally on the run from discovery. But during these lifetimes of hiding, Ren had collected trinkets and pieces of furniture, full of history and memories. Most of what she had on display in her home had a heartfelt story. If only she had someone she could share these with…

A set of candelabras from her time in Paris, burning blood red tapered candles - A gift from a French duke who became obsessed with her in the 1700s.

A scarlet chaise lounge poised proudly on a rich moroccan rug, surrounded by modern black iron plant holders - Both sourced from a flea market in 1960s London. An array of ferns, ivy and monstera swarmed the plant holders like her own purpose-built forest. Herbology was a passion of hers. She swelled with pride at her herb garden on the balcony and the house plants that were dotted throughout every room.

Framing the open plan living space of her loft were endless bookshelves, filled with all varieties of prose. Literary classics, text books from her many educational feats… The list was a long one.
But more interestingly, buried between hardback literature and well-worn text books, were Renaissance’s notebooks. They were, of course, organised in chronological order dating from the 1600s to now. Ren couldn’t resist an opportunity to organise.
Some may accuse her of idiocy for keeping notebooks spanning her existence. Isn’t that clumsy? What if someone broke in? What if someone came across all of this written evidence that Ren was, in fact, an Ancient Vampire?
Well, that’s why she spent every few nights like she just had; Cross-legged, religiously reciting the protection enchantment with Blood Magic. The truth is, Ren’s loft had been sealed shut with a Blood Magic enchantment so often that only someone with sizeable power could break through. Another Ancient Vampire or a demon with immense evil. Ren had studied the ancient vampiric sorcery for some hundred years and was confident in her ability to lock her loft away in an impenetrable shielding spell. Still, she gave it a little charge every few days or so, just to be sure.

So, yes. This loft was untraceable. Which meant so long as Ren was home, she was safe. It was her haven, her kingdom, her peace.

As Renaissance dusted down her skirt, now standing proudly in the centre of her blood circle, she felt a familiar tingle begin in her palms.
This wasn’t residual power from practicing magic, this was a warning. Age had gifted Ren with many advantages. Her vampire strength and abilities only got better with age. Like a fine wine, the creatures powers became fuller, denser, greater with every year that passed. So Ren quickly acknowledged the tingling sensation as one she recognised. A sort-of premonition was incoming. Then, there it was.

An image flashed into her mind. It cascaded through the windows of her brain like a flood, bursting through every entrance. Only briefly, but enough for her to gather what had happened. As quickly as it arrived, the vision dissipated.

“Oh” Ren purred, nodding to herself knowingly. “One of my offspring has been murdered.”

__________________________

That cold night air filled Renaissance’s lungs as she stood atop her apartment building. She’d wrapped her favourite thick, velvet cloak around her slender shoulders. Spanning two arms lengths either side of her were her wings. Bat-like, they fluttered with the wind. There was no feeling like that of a breeze on her wings. Ren shuddered in pleasure.

Looking down at Belle View below was quite the sight at nighttime. Street lamps, empty roads, hauntingly quiet alleys. But something disturbed the peace. A change in vibration, a distant set of footsteps approached from afar. Ren’s hypersensitive hearing picked up the click of leather boots on the paving slabs. They were minutes away, long enough to flee, but Ren didn’t disappear into the Loft. Instead, she crouched down, getting to her knees. Her bat wings gracefully folded back and disappeared beneath her shoulder blades in preparation for discretion. Her violet eyes scanned the streets below, trying to place the sound.

"Delwyn - are you there?"

Ren sucked air through her teeth, hissing quietly. From her crouched position, she darted swiftly to the edge of the rooftop and gripped the railing. Swinging both legs over the rail in one grand swoop, Ren hung from the edge of the rooftop. Both her feet were planted against the outer wall of the building now, and she gripped the railing with both hands. Her sea of softly curled hair billowed out behind her, dancing and twirling in the wind. She hung there effortlessly, using it as a hidden vantage point to scope out who on earth was calling out at this time of night in Belle View.