Darkest Hours

Splitting up made sense strategy wise, but on this hunt, Alix was filled with trepidation the minute she broke away into the trees to the right of the track. Christian wasn’t the same man he’d been when she’d found him in the woods that first time, wasn’t the same hunter. He’d trained and he’d killed. He’d lost and grieved and that meant that this wasn’t just another vampire to stamp out before it could take another innocent life in this town. This was about finding justice for Sofia and all those that she’d killed, and she had promised that they would do that together. In a heartbeat, though, the thing had divided them.

She had the weapons. Barring the crossbow Christian had held onto the entire way there, and what he’d strapped on before they left. It might be enough, but the doubts nagged at her as she churned through the ankle-deep snow that had drifted up against the base of the trees that lined the track. Ten feet in it started to thin, the canopy above not at its summer fullest, but it was enough to have the snow turning patchy and her speed picking up.

Splitting her attention was dangerous – it was one of the first lessons she’d learned as a kid, with her dad knocking her on her ass every time her gaze had shifted from him to where Rohan was already decimating the targets that had been setting up in a shooting gallery – but Alix was tracking the flash of motion through the trees on the other side of the house all the same. The plan had been to cut it off no matter which it went, to split its attention and not her own. It was risky though, far more than it would’ve been if they’d been able to get to the house and do this nice and slow, a controlled kill of something that had signed its own death warrant the moment it had gone from stealing blood bags to taking a life.

That one act had snowballed, grief blinding Christian to what it had turned his wife into, perhaps blinding Sofia to the devastation she was causing. It was hard to see clearly when you had been hurt that badly. You tried, at least she did, but you ended up seeing everything through a different lens, using what happened as an excuse until suddenly the truth was right there in front of you.

She hadn’t been wrong about the danger of distractions. The thing was out of the building already as she looked back. Alix locked eyes with the vampire and breathed out a curse. All element of surprise was lost. The bag was off her shoulder in an instant, the weapon she’d held low at her side raised as she tried to back deeper into the woods for cover. In a heartbeat it was charging her, the blur through the trees met with a burst of her own speed as she scuttled back.

Alix stopped, drew in a breath, squeezed the trigger when the thing was less than six feet from her. It twisted in the air. No! The bullet grazed it, opening up a comet’s trail of blood across its chest that became visible as it twisted back – with a crossbow bolt bristling from its bicep. Christian had taken his shot and they’d both missed.

The thing hit her like a sledgehammer a second later, driving her back, down the short berm into a gulley that had rapidly filled with the drifting snow. A rush of freezing water soaked her hair, her back. She brought her knees up, got one between them as the thing’s forearm bore down across her throat, the shaft of the arrow used like a bar across her throat. There must have been a rill or creek running through the property in summer months, but now it was half frozen, icy water bubbling up from where they’d cracked through its surface. Dark dots danced across her vision, drops of blood raining down from the thing onto her face as she tried to twist away.

Water broke over her face. Alix fumbled at the thigh pocket of her pants, fingers closing around the stake she had packed there before leaving the warehouse. Almost free. The world was rapidly going grey as the water flooded her mouth. It lunged again, increasing the pressure until her head rested against the pebbled bottom of the creek and its fangs snapped at her throat. She swung with the stake, felt the first blow bite at its shoulder before it tore its way free. It hissed, its fangs dragging over her collarbone as it tore itself away, the last thrust of the arrow against her throat leaving that grey cloud rolling in entirely.

She didn’t how long as she drifted in it before she came to with a gasp of air. Alix rolled to her hands and knees, dragging herself back up the berm. The pain in her throat would ease, the bruises that should’ve bloomed vanishing before she would even get back to Christian, the wound on her collarbone stung for the moment but that too was already closing up. The cold seemed to have buried itself within her though, filling her bones with a marrow of ice. Snow clung to her knees, her elbows as she scrambled to her feet and started towards him.

He was already out on the track as she ran free of the trees, the vampire nowhere in sight. Alix bent, eyes scanning the woods around them, finding no sign of that thing before she looked back at her truck. ”Son of a bitch!” The words tore out of her more hoarsely than usual, the cold and the still healing damage to her larynx stealing the venom from it. Smoke drifted up on the cold air, dancing with the flakes that were coming down again. What was soft and lazy now would be thick as fog in a couple of hours. In a worst state than it had been when she’d torn the oil pan out in a dumb ruse the night she’d met Derek, listing drunkenly towards the tire that sprouted a fringe of rubber.

Christian ran towards it, like there was still something to be done for it. If her legs wouldn’t have snapped like brittle, frozen twigs, Alix might’ve dropped onto the track in resignation. She wavered there, watching Christian as she sucked in air that was even colder than what burned inside of her. Her brows drew together, concern biting deep. It had gotten to him before she’d got back here. Puffing the breath back out, Alix started to shake her head before she stopped and stared down at his ankle. He was limping.

Gripping his arm, she frowned down at it. ”I should be asking you. You’re injured. Is that all that’s hurt?” Green eyes swept up in twitchy sweeps, looking for blood stains spreading pink across damp fabric. They finally met his and Alix swallowed hard. ”I missed. He got me down … there’s a creek back there … choked me out before I could stake him. This … most of it’s not my b-blood …" What had been now stained the collar of her shirt, puffs of white kapok spilling out of the rip in her jacket. Snow continued to fall around them, a gust of wind whipping it between them.

Alix took a unsteady step back, looking around the two of them. Without the truck the only way out would be to walk miles back down the track to the gas station – easy usually, but with the storm intensifying even she would struggle and she wasn’t leaving him. ”We need to get the equipment and get out of this. The temperature’s d-dropping, you’re wet and h-h-hurt. We h-hunker down t-t-til the storm’s over. If that thing c-c-comes back...” They’d be waiting, but it would be somewhere out of the snow, out of the cold. In that thing’s lair.

Bile and regret flooded her throat as she slowly led the way back through the woods to the spot where she’d dropped their bag. All that they had believed they’d need to kill the thing, all they had to get through the night now. Unwilling to burden Christian further on an ankle that could’ve been sprained, could have been broken and already swelling hard against the confines of his boot. She could barely feel fingers in this, let alone try and draw the pain out of him. Fingers already white and bloodless gripped at his waist as she picked her way up the rotting stairs to the porch. The thing hadn’t exactly been houseproud. Alix opened the door, leading with the weapon she’d retrieved as she walked in. ”W-we should c-c-clear the p-place. D-don't know for sure h-he was h-h-here alone. Fuck.” The shiver bit hard, the water running from her hair down the back of her collar feeling as though it was in battle with the heat that was trying to rise in her, her system going wild as it fought all of this.

Tagged: CHRISTIAN CALLAWAY * Word Count: 1524

Panic ripped through her throat, as sharp as shards of glass, for a moment. She’d possibly spent minutes laying in the creek, the thing’s blood, her blood, slowly rinsing clear of clothes that were now stiffening in that cold wind, but the scent of blood was still rising and she couldn’t tell whose it was anymore. That thing had tried to tear out her subclavian artery when it couldn’t get to her throat. Christian was human, a tear in one of the major vessels wouldn’t heal, he’d bleed out, maybe without even noticing it was happening in this cold. She could draw the pain away from him, but she wasn’t like that thing, she didn’t have the power to both harm and to heal inside of her.

Her fingers tightened on his sleeves, although all she could feel was the solidity of him pressing against them, not the warmth, not the relief that rolled through the centre of her as his reassurance emerged. Relief tried to sweep in, but it couldn’t, not until she was able to peel away his clothes – wet through with snow – to see the damage inflicted. Alix pressed her lips together, nodding as she finally let out a tight, whistling breath. Think was going to have to do for now.

With the panic subsiding, she started to catalogue her own injuries. It should’ve been easy, a breezy smile, a promise she was fine – and she would be, once her body stopped fighting its own natural instincts to raise her temperature, to fight the bitter cold her wet clothes were leaching into her. Alix tilted her head, about to shake off his concern as he tensed – she wouldn’t die from hypothermia, somewhere in their heads, they both knew that – but Christian was stepping closer. The arms that had held onto her as he’d shattered emotionally, the ones that had held her through her own meltdown, wrapped around her, drawing her in to the safe harbour of his body. Warmer than hers, maybe, but still cold, still wet, a bad combination for someone whose body wouldn’t adjust as easily.

Alix slowly let go of his biceps, gingerly settling her hands at his hips – not his back, he’d mentioned it when she’d asked about injuries – her breath puffing out raggedly against his throat. She nodded slowly, her frown cutting deep. ”G-getting there. B-bite’s healed, throat … throat’s better. The c-cold’s … f-fighting it …” And while they were out here, it was going to be a losing battle for both of them. The truck would offer some protection, but with the storm rolling in heavier and the engine trashed, it was probably going to be sub-zero in there within hours. Sense said leave the truck, take what they could and wait for a break in the weather before they tried for anything else.

Christian’s arm slipped around her as they started to move, what body heat he had leaching into her, probably leaving him all the colder for it. Water rolled in frigid rivulets down her back as she moved, the heavy fabric of her hunting gear dragging at her, grating at cold skin until she wanted to tear it off out here just so her body could fight this without being hampered by the wet clothing. She clutched at the bag as they retrieved it, fingers biting into fabric that was dry at least, her other arm slipping around his waist as they reached the stairs and the difficult of walking became the difficulty of climbing. If there was one thing the cold was gonna be good for it was his ankle, keeping down the swelling. Inside she’d get his boot off, would draw what pain she could through fingers that would throb as her body tried to reheat them. There was nothing she could do for the pain of their failure tonight though.

She felt it on her shoulders as they reached the door, something in her chest twisting as they made a quick sweep of the house – why the fuck hadn’t the thing chosen a mansion? His arm tightened around her as she cursed and Alix went with it, the arm that had been extended, braced for the shot she might have had to take sagging already. When it finally came, the laugh was weary. Maybe fate didn’t have such a hard on for them after all. ”We w-w-wouldn’t have made it to the p-p-porch.” Each weakness would’ve been rapidly exploited, the heavy limp Christian couldn’t entirely hide making a target out of his ankle, her reactions slowed by the cold that still seemed to come in waves, driving the shivers ahead of them. They were weak, despite what she was, the training they’d both had and that thing should’ve known it.

Together – was she holding him up or was he her? – they picked their way around the house, each fresh doorway leaving her gun twitching up, the barrel trembling faintly with the shivers that wracked her. There were no stairs to fight their way up at least, just the one floor. Nowhere for anything to hide, not enough there for the two of them to even part. The thing had obviously been confining itself to its one little bolt hole – a single cot, a sheet that probably should’ve been burned, a fireplace. Thank God. ”We need t-t-to,” she said honestly as another shudder left a low groan rolling out through gritted teeth. He was pulling away, all that was holding the shivers at bay gone.

Hands curling into the front of her jacket, she tried to will warmth back into her fingers, but it was no good, no matter how hard her body fought to raise its temperature, all that heat was lost the moment it hit the frigid shell of the fabric. If the thing came back … green eyes, underscored by the purple shadows that cut across skin paler than it’s usual porcelain, rose, fixed on him. Christian’s mind was working at least, while her own stuttered uselessly. ”You’re g-g-gonna need s-something. How w-wet are y-you?” Oh, she’d be miserable if she pushed the blanket on him, but it would get better, if he ended up hypothermic maybe it wouldn’t and there was no question as to whether she’d let that happen.

Fuck. The word echoed through her again as he thumped down to the ground, the sharp inhalation leaving her shooting a look at him again. She wasn’t the only one being doctored here. Her hands continued to shake, but she fought with the buttons, cursed her way through the zips with little concern for how much of her he got to see. It wasn’t the first time. Then he’d been a perfect gentleman too, averting his eyes as he’d pressed the clothing he’d fetched for her into her hands, turning away to allow her to head to the bathroom. Now there wasn’t room for privacy, just the question of speed as she shucked her clothes, each layer dropped to the floor boards. Boots thumping down, combat pants dropped in a sodden pile, the grimace pulling at her face as she kicked her underwear with them. All too wet to act as any sort of decent shield between her skin and the blanket. Alix shuddered as she pulled it around herself, suddenly glad for the remaining numbness that left her skin impervious to the itch of it.

A little more cautiously than he had, she lowered herself to the floor at his side as the paper finally caught. The flames ate greedily at the paper, nibbled at the edges of the firewood that was probably half dust at this point. Thank God. Her eyes slipped shut at the brief brush of warmth for a moment, flicking open again as she started to move. ”I n-n-need to see.” One hand remained clutching the blanket in a knot in the centre of her chest, trembling hard enough that she pressed it into her sternum to stop it. The other found the small of his back, the strip of bare skin that had been exposed before they’d even made it in here. ”T-take this off, your b-b-boot too. There’s something I can d-do … if you’ll let m-m-me.” She couldn’t get the thermostat in her own brain to hit the sweet spot, but her hand was already flattening against the small of his back, her lips pursing into a thin bloodless line as she started to wick the pain away. Thin black lines crept over her skin, so dark against that waxy white, a whimper drawn out of her as the pain burned its way across her own skin.

Tagged: CHRISTIAN CALLAWAY * Word Count: 1444

Will be.

She would recover relatively quickly from the hypothermia that seemed to have short circuited her healing, but hypothermia could kill Christian. Hypothermia, a possibly broken ankle, whatever else the vampire had managed to do to him in the time they had been apart, they were all dangers they both should have been worrying about. Christian’s focus was on her though, the blanket that should’ve taken the place of his wet clothing pressed on her. Alix made a small sound of disagreement, her brows drawing together as though her concern alone would convince him to stop pushing aside his discomfort for her. Once the fire was started, she’d fight him on it and she would win.

Each tremor in his fingers had her mentally cursing. The concern went both ways – the shields she’d held onto with an iron grip to keep anybody from seeing too far into her life cast aside long ago that she was used to that need to protect him with them. He could hold his head up and keep striding forward as though he wasn’t carrying soul deep wounds, but he was and she wasn’t going to leave him to try and hold the ragged edges of them together on his own.

Warm first, then push at that edge of propriety until she could make sure he was warm and dry too, the pain drawn from an injury he likely wouldn’t want to let her see the full extent of – because that would mean he had to let someone take care of him for once.

It had been easier said than done, each flex of her fingers feeling as though it would snap them off like twigs. Bit by bit the sopping wet clothes that had almost become her shroud were tossed aside – anything close to the fire would likely dry overnight, even if it didn’t she could tolerate the wet tomorrow. The blanket would likely itch when she could finally feel the sandpaper drag of it against her damp skin. It covered her from neck to ankle at least – her height (or lack of it) a boon for once. There would be room for two beneath it, even if she had to wrestle Christian beneath its folds.

Heat reached the outer shield of it as she eased herself down on the gappy boards next to him. It felt like a sin to even think it given what the vampire had done – but couldn’t he have picked the swanky hotel in town to hide out in? A normal home would’ve done, somewhere that had glazing and heating, a place close enough to town that they wouldn’t have been cut off by the weather now. Her teeth gritted, biting down on the thought as Christian looked at her – obviously looking for some sign that this was more than just the shivers that still gripped her frequently.

Giving into the warmth, not wanting him to see the thought in her eyes, she let them slip shut. They couldn’t change anything about what had happened now, they just needed to get through this and back to town in the morning. This thing could bolt now, but it wouldn’t save its life in the end. He had been found once and they could do it again. When they were both fit for it.

Alix opened her eyes again, fighting against the shudders to ease closer. The blanket would do its job, she needed to do hers so he wouldn’t hiss in pain like that again. His judgment of fine shifted towards probably not dying in her head. ”Easy,” she breathed. A fist squeezed at her throat as she saw the reddened skin of his back. Snow could burn as easily as fire, biting at exposed skin. Thankfully not bad enough that the skin was blue, or worse, black. Pain was a good sign in this case, even if every hint of it in his movement had something in her chest clutching.

They had lived together for months, it wasn’t the first time she’d caught a glimpse of what was beneath the proper clothes he wore for work, or the hunter’s gear they’d both slipped into today. It wasn’t the first time she’d touched him, although like every time it had happened in the past, this was a matter of comfort. ”One of the b-b-b-benefits,” she whispered, the corners of her dusky lips rising for just a moment. She stared down at the skin she touched, careful not to press against the tender flesh, bit down on the sound that tore itself from her throat as the sting and ache of it transferred to her. The chill over her kidneys intensified for a moment, turning the shake of her head to deny the pain of it into a lie. ”Not m-much. G-gone in a …”

Too soon. Alix froze as he snatched her hand away from his skin, her frown back. Liar. The word stuck in her throat. He didn’t need it because it would mean pain for her. ”Your ankle,” she protested. Could she take him, hold him down to draw the pain if he continued to fight her on it? Maybe not, definitely in a few minutes. Determination gave you an added edge, but oh, she was sure she could out-stubborn a man who hadn’t shed his manners even now. ”The … p-pain’s only … tem-temporary. There h-has to be a c-c0st.” And she would have paid it for him if he hadn’t set her discomfort aside like he had her hand.

Relax. She huffed out her amusement at the order. Even now the please slipped out first, stuttering enough to have the momentary flicker of a smile settling. ”We’re b-b-both … gonna b-be feeling b-better soon.” A threat to push past his concern as much as anything else. He didn’t have to order her to do it, she stretched out on the floor under her own steam, curling like a prawn on a barbecue, beneath the blanket. Alix kept an eye on him though, her frown deepening as he shivered through laying out their clothes, the smile flickering back for a heartbeat as he seemed to hesitate over her underwear. That same hesitancy had seemed to flicker like an errant heartbeat between them since the night he’d turned up at her door, broken in a different way by what he’d done in the belief that he was doing good in the world.

She started to push herself up as he stood, her hand loosening its grip on the blanket as though she could stop him if the ankle gave way and sent him spilling to the ground. Alix only started to settle again as he sat down next to her. He was safe now that he was down, albeit still damp. ”If we n-need more wood later … I sh-should be able to g-get some.” The edge would be taken off the shivers eventually, the blanket and the fire doing what she needed them to do. Christian might argue again, but there was no way in hell she was letting him get up again until morning.

He laid down, at least, settling at her back. The blanket she’d cocooned herself in was between her bare skin and his soaked pants, but the chill of them bit through the rough fabric. Alix wriggled in his arms, turning around until she was facing him, propped up on one elbow. The blanket slid down off of her shoulder, clinging there as she worked the edge of it out from under herself. She flapped it out, careful not to have him pulling away again at the sight of bare flesh, covering him from knee to chest – preserving his modesty.

Finally the tips of her fingers were burning, a good sign even if it might not have seemed it. There was enough feeling back for her to reach for his waistband, the dexterity there to work the button out of its hole. ”Off,” she ordered. Before he could argue, she shook her head. ”They’ll k-keep us b-both wet and cold. There’s enough blanket for b-both. It’s survival wuh … 101. If you w-won’t let me t-take the p-pain, d-do this for me?” Survival 101 in a Hollywood movie perhaps, but not entirely untrue. The longer the sodden pants remained in place, the longer they’d take to dry off and warm up. With the blanket around them it would be that different to that first night. Comfort, understanding, healing – they were the important things, modesty could wait until they’d stopped shivering.

Tagged: CHRISTIAN CALLAWAY * Word Count: 1428

AKA he’d worry about that later. Selflessness, stubbornness, could turn him blue and that would be just peachy, as long as she was warm and safe. They’d butted heads before, but in those moments where something in one of them was giving out, the other usually gave. Rigidity melted away, the lines that had been carved in stone by a marriage that had ultimately been torn apart softening until it wasn’t as much a steel frame that held them up, but one another. Alix huffed out a breath, the argument against his brush off going with it.

If he wasn’t going to give this time, then she would. Warm just enough and she’d ease past all of Christian’s reservations. She’d be in the better position for arguing for it too. Strength returning, enough that he couldn’t pull her away from that need to make sure that he was safe, that he was taken care of. That same regard, the need to hold together the shattered pieces of a man broken by necessity and tragedy, that had left her opening up her home to him before leaving her outstubborning him now.

Alix waited for him to withdraw as she turned within his tenuous hold, for that fast, sharp nonono to roll out of him. The protest wouldn’t have gotten him far, not on that ankle, he’d likely have tried anyway though. Propriety, maybe guilt, certainly that soul deep caring nature said don’t do it, let him suffer while she reaped the benefits of what meagre scraps had been left behind. She said bullshit.

Cooler air whispered under the blanket as it was lifted, rippling her skin. Christian’s eyes snapped up from the motion, meeting her eyes, letting her see the echoed rippling out of his brows. Had he expected her to just lay there and not find some way to argue back that didn’t involve her stuttering out words he’d bat out of the air like bugs?

Without more than that momentary pause he was inching closer. Good. She’d heard the rapidity of his breathing, but with her fingertips on the flat plane of his stomach, she could feel them. The subtle, rhythmic – a ragged beat like her own heart – rise of chilled skin against her own. The inhalation that spoke of an argument about to spill out. Her lips pursed faintly around the please she would’ve employed if she had to. Green eyes fixing on his, looking almost as dark as them with the low light and fading shock leaving her pupils eating up the irises.

His name was there on his tongue, vanishing as she pressed her tongue briefly against the roof of her mouth. Her knuckles pressed against his stomach as she took a hold on the tab of his zipper. There was heat somewhere beneath the chill, radiating where the bony nubs dimpled his skin. ”Absolutely,” she breathed. ”It’s n-not gonna work if you’re still w-wet.” Like everything else between them the moisture would seep between them where they’d collide across those lines.

As he started to move again, her hand withdraw, carrying that feel of his skin with it. Her fingertips curled into the blanket, holding it out like a shield, although she knew there wouldn’t be much modesty left after this – not that she’d had as much as him before. He’d seen all of her and still hadn’t turned away. She would do the same. One corner of her mouth lifted as he questioned how far this was going. ”Everything,” Alix confirmed. There wouldn’t have been any point to keep that last barrier there when it cost him rather than gave any sort of protection.

If it wouldn’t have shattered this fragile agreement, she might have laughed as he sat up again to spread out his pants, his briefs. Nothing would sway him from that part of the plan. Alix watched as he settled back in, taking in every shift of muscle and now ruddy skin until she reached across him with the edge of the blanket, hiding it all and drawing him into that pocket of warmth he’d created for her.

She didn’t have to ask if it was better. After long minutes caught there in the bubble, feeling the exhaustion begin to seep in as her body finally focused on healing. Alix’s eyes closed, her body settling back into his without shame. Too much perhaps, but something in her – maybe that healing instinct – craved the contact. The press of his chest against her back, the curl of his legs behind hers, the … hmm, too much maybe, an intimacy there that would have sent the two of them flying apart under any other circumstances, but not with the lead blanket of the cold outside of this space.

A small sound slipped out of her as his hand settled at her waist – a complaint? An order that was slow in being taken. On the edge of sleep, caught on that precipice she could only slip over when she felt safe, she felt Christian shift again. His arm slipping around her waist, his other tucking beneath her head – another sign of that determination to take care of her.

Minutes later she had been out. She slept heavily, any dreams that might’ve come subdued, every ounce of strength in her at first given over to pushing the chill from her bones, lending warmth back to limbs that had gone pale and hard as marble with the bite of the snow and creek water. At some point it was enough, a healing sleep becoming something far less necessary. Alix turned in that pocket of warmth, nosing back in. Her head in the hollow of his shoulder, her face tucked against his chest, breath puffing softly in the notch of his collarbone. Settled, comfortable, slow to move as awkwardness crept back in with a little start.

”Mmm,” Alix mumbled. She shifted as he did, eyes heavy lidded from sleep opening just enough to see him looking around them. A trapped man looking for some sort of escape from the morning after awareness that had … come with other dawn gifts apparently.

Heat had brought suppleness back to her limbs, leaving no stiffness behind in her at least as she propped herself up on her elbow and shook her head at him. ”Sorry for making sure I didn’t freeze in the night?” she asked, although she knew that it wasn’t what he meant. Reaching for him in a silent reassurance that it was alright, she understood, felt as though it would be just as bad. ”It’s alright. We both needed this,” Alix assured him finally, a crooked smile pulling at her lips.

Another small sound rolled out of her as she shifted under the blanket – not touching, but easing herself back down in that pocket of warmth that remained beyond the dying of the fire, close enough to. ”Better. Far warmer. You?” Concern had her frowning as she watched him sit there like a cat on a hot tin roof, wondering how embarrassing it would be to jump and reveal itself. ”I know you’re not. No arguing anymore. I’m taking a look at your ankle, and your back before we even try and head out of here. We’re not making it back down that trail with you trying to grit your teeth through it. How is it?” Maybe her gaze lingered for a moment as she looked down the stretch of the blanket covering hm – shielding the both of them – but it found the lumps his legs made under the blanket in the end. She had the strength to fight him this time, to keep a hand on him long enough to draw out the pain that wasn’t the reason he was mentally squirming like an animal in a trap.

Tagged: CHRISTIAN CALLAWAY * Word Count: 1301