An Unwanted Wish - Pt 5
(Part 1)
Synopsis: When the Hidden King demands Drifter make a wish after the Ritual, a single fleeting thought plunges the Cajun into his worst nightmare: Mortal life. Now powerless in a city in the clutches of villains and crime lords, Drifter will do whatever it takes to defy elder gods and rid himself of the curse of humanity.
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The homeless man’s hands tightened around the building’s wrought iron fencing. It was a wide, stone-built building resembling a manor more than the museum it pretended to be. Rows of old fine columns lining a full-length, fenced-in porch leading to a two story pair of double ornate doors locked shut for the night. The lights were all out, save for the single oil lamp near the signage announcing the building’s title: New Amsterdam Historical Society.
The Cruor lived here. They were the ones that sent that big long-haired bruiser after him. The only thing remarkable about that dope was his willingness to wear a white ruffle shirt straight from a romance novel cover to a fight. Sadly, fights are won with skill, not size. Still, that shirt looked much better on the dumb bastard when it was steeped deep with his own dull red blood.
They couldn’t have cared that much for an idiot’s life, right? Nah. Who would?
The man looked over the building again. The whole place was so dark you almost couldn’t see any of the windows if not for the white shutters outlining every single one. Where they… not home? The man shook his head. No, someone had to be, even if it was just Lord waiting for his thralls to bring back a victim.
He let go of the bars and headed to the gate. But it was so quiet. There couldn’t possibly be anyone there. And honestly, it didn’t even feel like a vampire hideout. Just an old, closed building. Yet, he passed this place by a few days before the ritual and he could feel the aura of his kind dwelling within. Was he wrong before? The man froze under a streetlight by the main gate. Or were humans just this blind to danger?
The squirming in his chest surged and plunged toward his stomach. This was a bad idea. A tingle drove up his nose, sending out a large loud sneeze that echoed in the night. Yup, this was bad. The man popped up the large red collar on his jacket and crossed the street with a quickened pace. He had to keep the squirming in his chest down. His life might depend on it.
The street light dimmed when the hobo hopped onto the sidewalk. He blew a hot breath into his hands before shoving them back in his jacket pockets. The weird feather helped somewhat but his legs and hands were still freezing; still felt rain dripping through the shoulder tear and running down his arm. The light shifting made him look up. One by one the street lights lining the road flickered before sinking down to a dim. The lamp at the end of the block flickered frantically before snuffing out completely.
“Aw, hell.” The hobo said under breath. His hands grabbed his chest. He could feel the pounding inside. Hell, he could hear that damn squirming rocking all the way up in his ears. He pressed his fist against his skin, trying to muffle its beat. It hurt, but if it didn’t stop, it’d be stopped for him.
Over the dull pattering of rain, the clacking of hard-sole dress shoes steadily came forward. Another man smoothly stepped into the lamp’s dim light that started flickering more intensely. It was a tall, trim man in a fitted black suit with matching umbrella and bowler hat. The man folded the umbrella up and tapped the tip to the ground like a cane. “Well, now… Aren’t you interesting.”
The hobo forced a grin as he shrugged. “Sorry, bahss.” The accent he put on was a pathetic blend of New Jersey and New York but most importantly, it wasn’t his own. “Don’t know what chas talkin’ bout.” The hobo gave a wave before turning around. “I’m as boring as a guy gets.”
The hatted man’s lips peeled back in a grin, revealing two elongated fangs. “No. You’re very interesting.”
Leave, now.
The hobo took a few steps back, involuntarily gulping down the tension in his throat, before turning around and briskly walking away. He turned a corner to find the streetlights dimmed there as well. The brightest lamp was across the street, gazing down on an older looking woman in a tight black dress with a wide brimmed hat trimmed with black lacing and a small bouquet of black roses. The woman slowly looked up. The only detail seen under the hat’s deep shadow were two, glowing red eyes.
“Shit.”
Why was he running? He could hear that beating in his chest. Deeply instilled memory made him imagine the smell of his warm living blood pumping furiously through him; the trail of red his life-force gave off, betraying him.
Hide.
That wouldn’t work, he knew. But a small alley between tightly packed houses drew him in against better judgment. It’d probably be a dead end, you idiot! A wave of cold ripped through the hobo’s body. He stopped instantly. Marked! An unnatural fog poured though his chest into the shadows of the night, solidifying into a very young woman in a long flowing black cloak, hood obscuring everything on her face but a wide fanged sneer.
“This is the bastard that killed Alfonzo?” The woman growl.
“So it would seem.” The bowler hat man materialized at the alley’s opening, with the older woman by his side.
“But he’s human.” The young woman leaned towards their prey. The hobo’s back hit the brick wall and the beating in his chest quickened. “This is really The Drifter?”
“Yes…” The man took a step closer, putting a hand to his chin. “How odd.”
He knew how to fight! He knew how to attack! For god’s sake, his fighting summoned a Patron! Yet here he was, hands trembling against a brick wall, without an impulse in his head but to stay still as if the trio would somehow get bored and leave. He hated this. He hated what he was. Maybe…?
“Well, ya know…” The hobo let his real accent back in. “Times are hard all ovah. So, if any of you fine folks would be willing to give a poor vampire down on his luck just a quick nibble ta get me back on mah feet, I’d very much appreciate it.”
Really...
The man and older woman gave a quick side-glance to each other. “No, no,” The man soon answered. “I’m afraid not. You’ve caused everyone far too much bother.”
The younger woman growled and a red wave of magic passed over her hands, lengthening her black claw-like nails. “Enough talk. I want him dead for what he did to my husband!”
Ok, fine. I’m coming.
“Constantine,” The older woman spoke up, looking at the man. “Lord Simon’s been looking for a way to endear himself to the new Viscount, you know.” She glanced at the human.
The hobo rolled his eyes with a huff.
“No!” The younger woman flashed her claws at the other woman. “Alfonzo deserves vengeance!”
“We could have a wonderful opportunity on our hands, Stephanie.” The older woman said sternly. “We mustn’t let emotions interfere with—”
“Oh, shut up, ya damn spinster!”
“Madams, please…” The man butted in.
“We owe it to the Master to help his social standing whenever we can.”
“He sent Alfonzo out all on his own!”
“The Master’s rise in rank will be a win for us all, you stupid child!”
The hobo put two fingers in his mouth and gave a sharp loud whistle. The trio of vampire’s all took a step back at the suddenness. “Look, Ah’mma make it easy for y’all; just kill me here ‘n now so Ah don’t gotta listen to yer damn politics!”
The hatted man shrugged and quickly plucked the white gloves off his hands and tucked them into his suit breast pocket. “If you insist.” A faint poof of red on his hands revealed short but very pointed claws on his fingertips. He looked at the older woman. “A body will be just as good as a living captive, I say.”
The hobo’s blunt frail nails dug into the concrete lining between brick, amount to nothing but pain for himself. You had a good run. Most of your kind barely outlived their natural lifespans. You had enough fun for several generations. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as the hooded woman hissed in his face. Don’t die giving them the joy of fear.
‘Cooooo’
A bright light sailed into the alley and crashing into the vampiress’ hood. The young woman let out a panicked scream before her body turned to smoke. As the dark shadow retreated, a glowing gold pigeon flipped in mid air and turned towards the other two vampires. With a proud flex of its wings, the bird gleamed slightly brighter.
“Oh, really now, Stephanie!” The suited man huffed. His cohort reformed, only to start stomping the ground childishly, squealing in disgust. “Control yourself.” He sighed and held up his folded umbrella, ready to swing. “They’re rats with wings.”
That’s what bats are, idiot.
The hobo looked away. Those wasn’t his thoughts.
The gold pigeon narrowly dodged a few swings of the umbrella before flashing brightly again. The man flinched away from the light and covered his eyes, growling. “Gah, bloody hell!” The pigeon fluttered upward with a triumphant purr, its light growing just a little bit more strongly. As the man stepped back, the bird flew closer and closer to his face.
The older woman sighed and grabbed the bird out of the air. As the animal thrashed in her hand, she watched the man slowly recover. “Thank you, Gertrude.” he sighed.
Let me go, ya dumb bitch!
The hobo looked at the bird again. Was… that where the voice was from? It sounded like a woman, although one that was an exceptional distance away.
“How typical.” The woman shook her head “I can’t trust you two to do anything on your own.” She sighed and watched the bird frantically peck at her hand. She glanced up just in time to see the younger woman shove past their prey and come in close.
Ok, dumbass, you asked for this!
A pure white fog started pooling around the pigeon’s chest.
“Oh, y’all are gonna wanna let that thing go right ‘bout now.” The hobo smirked.
“Shut up!” The young woman snapped.
“AGH!” The older woman pulled her hand back, a small trail of smoke following her. A significant hole was burned through her lacy glove and the skin beneath was now a cracked ashen color.
The bird fluttered upward and glowed even brighter. Shuddheekaran!
A pure blinding light that illuminated every crack and crevasse of the alley erupted from the animal. The hobo threw himself against the wall with a hiss, one arm covering his eyes, the other pathetically trying to shield the rest of his body. The air was heating up rapidly; rain soaked clothes were drying off in seconds. And yet… he wasn’t in pain. A horrified screech beside him made the hobo chance a glance at his surroundings.
The hooded vampire fall to the ground, screaming as her clothes burst into flames. Her wild thrashing against the light wavered as her skin turned into dark soot that flaked away. Muscles turned gray and withered into small strips of gray flesh. Quickly dying bones dropped to the filthy concrete and started crumbling like sand in the wind. When the light finally receded, nothing remained but part of a fanged skull and a couple loose ribs half buried in ash.
After a moment of silence, the hobo slowly lowered his arms and looked. Streetlights highlighted two figures screaming in the distance, billows of smoke trailing them as they fled down the road. He survived. Looking up there was nothing but the dim orange sky above. Where was the…
He looked down. Just barely visible on the ground near the alley’s entrance, a crumpled splayed bird body, motionless. The man grabbed the bird by the feet and looked it over. The only glow seemed to be a barely noticeable illumination from the sigil but nothing else. It didn’t seem to be breathing at all, but the body still made his hands warm. He could use that.
Wait, there was something he remembered vaguely about the living being close to dead bodies being a bad thing. He shrugged and stuffed the bird body in his pocket. Everything was bad for humans nowadays. Dead bodies? Bad. Asbestos? Bad. Lead based makeup? Bad. Lead based paint? Bad. Uranium based paint? Bad. Putting morphine in everything at the pharmacy? Bad. Putting cocaine in soft drinks? Bad.
He shook his head. Humans were so fragile and treated themselves like they were made of paper, keeping themselves even weaker. And here he was… trapped amongst their ranks, clinging to a dead bird for the smallest leg up in the world. He exited the alley and glanced at the street sign. His hideout was more than a few blocks away but he had nothing but time. And with the rain slowing down, he might just get there before his cold gets worse.
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(Part 4)
(Part 6)
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(AO3)
