So Shelby decided to violently throw a vamplings brick at us (here, suffer with me) I am aware of this while watching her but for this to be blatantly confirmed… idk part of me wish it ain’t true but yeah….
So, @comfy-whumpee put the idea into @0idril0 and I’s whumpy heads to do a collaborative project wayyyyy back when with Clint and Lucien, and we’ve finally gotten around to posting part one. That’s right, there’s more, so keep an eye out. :)
This is set prior to either one of our series.
Thanks @voidwhump for reading through this
Edit for Masterpost
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Lucien was growing soft in his old age.
He watched one of his young clumsily play with the human he had caught for him and all he felt was a swelling pride when the vampling stumbled and fell over his feet, not used to his new found speed. The human girl was no more than nineteen, pretty, with mousy hair and a bad knee. Someone easy for little Tristan’s first feeding.
Tristan’s eyes were a stone cold grey, not yet the ebony black they would be when he was finally blooded. The older vampire found that he liked the way Tristan’s hunger sparked in those eyes when he focused in on his prey. He licked his lips and leaned forward, eyes skating down the exposed muscle under Tristan’s shirt, at the messy blond hair that stood up over his forehead. A scream pierced through Lucien’s careful perusal of his newest nestmate.
The girl had fallen, her knee giving way when she turned to dash away from the reaching vampire. She hit hard, her hands slapping against the concrete. Flailing, she turned over and stared up with huge eyes, tear streaks standing out on her red cheeks. “Please, please, don’t-don’t do this!”
Lucien knew that, by now, Tristan was beyond caring about what his prey said, what she begged or promised him. The venom was pounding in his mouth, the instinct to rip into her throat overwhelming. He could see his hands shaking and an echoing growl rumbled up through the air. Tristan backed the girl up to the wall, and Lucien felt a swelling in his own mouth at the mewl of fear that tumbled from her mouth when her shoulders hit the cold stone.
Experience told him that Tristan would need help soon, and Lucien stood, stalking forward, to hover behind the trembling vampling. “Grab her, Tristan,” he murmured, coaxing. Tristan shuddered at the sound of his Elder’s voice and leaned back into Lucien with a whine. The older vampire chuckled, arms encircling his lean waist. “Do you want my help, love?”
Tristan nodded, his head laying back on Lucien’s shoulder. He could feel the want rolling off of the young man, and Lucien swallowed back an urge to bury his fangs into that pale throat. That wasn’t what they were here for so he pushed Tristan away to bend over their shaking prey.
“Please, please, no!” She held her arms over her head, and Lucien caught the foul smell of adrenaline and urine seeping from her. Lucien’s nose wrinkled, but he leaned down to grab her anyway, his hands encircling her wrists to pull her up. She was featherweight to his enhanced strength, and her inane struggles did nothing to his grip.
Lucien smiled, fangs pressing into his lower lip, when she tried to kick him. “That never works, darling.” His hand encircled both of her wrists, and he pulled her against his front, other arm wrapping around her back. She quivered, trying to pull away from him, whimpering and sobbing. He rested against the wall, turning them so that the girl’s back was to Tristan, and met his hunger dazed eyes. “Come here, love,” he ordered, his voice breaking through Tristan’s haze.
Tristan started forward, his fingers carding through the back of the girl’s hair in a disconcertingly gentle grip, his other hand stretching her shoulder. Lucien could feel her breath against his throat, quick puffs of terror, could hear the thundering beat of her heart. God, this was beautiful. His young’s first feeding.
Virgin fangs pierced into the girl’s unbroken flesh, a little too in the middle of her throat, but not off enough to cause any problems. The girl’s eyes flew open when the younger vampire started feeding, startlingly green eyes staring at him in horror, and a protesting cry dropped out of her mouth. Lucien could tell when Tristan released his venom, the girl twitching in his arms, bucking against the invasive feeling, eyes dazing in pain. Tristan gave a low groan, throat working, swallowing loudly. The seal wasn’t perfect, and Lucien watched scarlet droplets dripping down to the sweet girl’s collarbone.
He licked his own lips when the girl’s eyes fluttered, and he smiled at Tristen when he opened his eyes. They were coal black with no whites showing, glassy with pleasure, his mouth still suctioned on her neck. “Good job, love,” he crooned, “Well done.” Lucien took more of the girl’s weight as her legs collapsed, her heart galloped hollowly in her chest to Lucien’s sensitive ears, weak whimpers pushed out with every feeble breath.
Tristan bled the girl dry, her heart giving out moments before he drew his fangs out of her throat. Lucien leaned forward, licking the sweet beads of blood from the girl’s skin, before dropping her to the ground. The body fell gracelessly, sprawling between them. But Lucien didn’t pay it any mind when he pressed forward, stepping over the empty corpse to get into Tristan’s space, to grab him by the hips. “How was that, love?”
The vampling groaned, swaying into Lucien, nuzzling at his neck. “Oh my god, Lucien,” he said, “I didn’t—I had no idea—It was so-so. . .“
Lucien chuckled, “I think I understand.” He pulled the younger vampire to him, rutting their hips together. “Do you want to go home now?” Tristan bit his lip, nodding vigorously, black eyes still glassy. “Follow me then.”
The two vampire’s stumbled to leave, hands traveling up each other’s bodies. Leaving their prey on the concrete floor. Discarded.
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Clint walked into the police station already itching for a fight. Two hours. Two hours he’d been in the city. He’d nearly been run over on his motorcycle three times since he’d been in the city. If he got out of here, and his bike was gone, he was gonna be pissed.
Clint consciously suppressed a growl, squeezing his eyes shut to hide the yellow. “You’re in the middle of a group of people who would actively attack you if they think you’re dangerous. Get it together, numbskull.” He shook himself, looking around the station for his contact. The station stank, burnt coffee and homeless sweat permeating the air. That, combined with the click of keyboards and telephones..... he had a headache.
“Oí, perrito, over here.”
Clint groaned, grinning slightly as he turned toward the thickly accented voice. A small Latina was smirking at him from behind a cubical, and he felt some of his built up frustration ease at the sight of the familiar face. “Amada, my Latina Doll, I wish you wouldn’t call me that, you and every other woman seem to like comparing me to three pound fluff balls now.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t act like one, show a little fang every once and a while, maybe we’d be more respectful.” She winked at him, waving him towards her overflowing desk. Her partner’s desk was unoccupied and he was grateful, Steven didn’t particularly like him.
Scooping the thickly built woman up into a hug, he snorted. “I’m pretty sure I could eat a dear raw in front of Illyn and she’d still call me puppy.” He placed Amada down and spun her extra chair around so he was sitting backwards in it. “Now, can you please tell me why I drove sixteen hours up here, and stayed in a really shitty motel last night? I need a shower and a snack before I wolf out and one of your friends shoots me.”
She smacked him with a file before settling into her chair. “They’d have to beat me to it, I’ve been itching to shoot something since I got this case.” Amada muttered something else in Spanish before handing him the file.
“Nineteen year old female; Caucasian; lived just outside Canton, Ohio until last year.” Clint opened the file and the dimpled face of a rural charmer greeted him. Mousy blond locks framed her face and a frizzy braid had been pulled around one shoulder. “Per her parents, she developed an unhealthy obsession with tarot cards, and started trying to brew potions. Kid stuff. The coroner checked though, and she did have tracers for some latent magic; says her attacker probably didn’t even notice. So, obviously, the city is writing the death off as sup vs sup.” Amada’s face was drawn, all laughter forgotten as she laid out a crime scene photo of the victim.
Oh Sunshine... Clint cleared his throat as he picked up and examined the photo. The girl was splayed, clothing a mess on her tangled limbs. Her legs had twisted at awful angles underneath her, and her eyes were vacant and dead. “I was really hoping you would take the case so this wouldn’t happen again.”
Clint put the the picture down slowly, decision already made. “You still have the body?” Amada gave him a tight nod. “Good. We’ll stop there, then we can see what else we need.”
“We? You trying to steal my partner again?”
Clint huffed, rolling his eyes at Amada, before plastering a bright smile on his face to greet her partner. “Oh, ya know me Steven, I just can’t wait to do your job for you.”
The man glared at him before settling down at his desk, fighting his belly as he pulled himself to it. “We don’t need your help with anything. I told Amada not to call you, there’s no case.” The Latina cursed, spewing in Spanish. Steven ignored her, talking louder. “Local vamp probably got out of control when he tasted her magic. That’s it. No judge is going to prosecute, we don’t get involved with sup victims that’s just the way it is.”
Clint couldn’t help the sour growl that rumbled in his chest. “If a vamp got someone with magic, I can guarantee that this girl wouldn’t have died so quickly.” He pushed himself from the chair, jerking his head to Amada.
The heavy set man called after him, “There won’t be a finder’s fee with this one Clint, there’s not a case!”
Amada hurried to keep up with him as he walked, following his nose towards the morgue. “I’m sorry Clint, I didn’t even think of that.”
“Don’ worry about it, Doll. I bring a killer vamps head in for a bounty, I get paid either way.” It is what his boss paid him for after all, it was just a perk when the police paid him too.
When Clint stepped into the morgue, the smell of decay and disinfectant made him crinkle his nose. His sneeze echoed off the metallic surfaces of the room, and he shook himself. “Which one she in?”
Amada tugged him towards one of the farthest freezers and slid the slab out. Hackles rising, Clint approached and slid the zipper open. Death always put his wolf on edge, made it search for predators. It made him good at his job at least.
Clenching his jaw tightly, Clint pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves. Hi Sunshine... They’d removed her clothes, and he could see where they’d collected evidence. But other than that, the girl was untouched, black makeup streaked down her face, whorls of blood covering her pale throat. The brilliant green eyes were cloudy and half lidded. He closed her eyes, hiding her the best he could from his necessary voyeurism. The stench of urine and bloated bowels stung his nose, making his eyes water even as they flickered yellow.
“This wasn’t a ‘local vamp’ Amada.” Clint whispered, gently gripping the girl’s jaw and turning her head to view the punctures more closely. There was a crust around the edges of the wound, crystalline and hard. Rubbing a finger over it, he let more of his wolf surface. Amada took a shuddering breath and stepped back as his face cramped before elongating slightly, canines biting into his gums.
“Wha-“ There was a thick cough as Amada cleared her throat, regaining her composure. “What do you mean by that?”
Clint took a deep breath, mouth falling open slightly as he let the scent of venom flow over his tongue. He brought the glove, coated with the crystal substance, closer to his nose and snuffled. He grimaced at the stale scent, it wasn’t strong enough. Sighing, he stuck the finger in his mouth and swirled his tongue around the appendage, liquefying the crystals from the glove. He heard Amada gag, and Clint smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, lips wrinkled in disgust.
“Por qué?! That’s fucking evidence, perro estúpido, Dios mío!” Snatching up a stack of papers she struck at him, pushing him away from the body.
Clint snickered at her, baring a long fang in a grin. “Would you rather have waited another few weeks for someone to tell you that you’re dealin’ with more than one vamp’?” Clint batted his eyes at her, face returning to its pure human form. “I’m faster than your lab, especially because they don’t believe there’s a case here.”
Anger thrummed through the air, Amada’s fists rattling the papers as she clung to them. “That’s still disgusting, you practically licked a dead body.”
Clint shrugged, smirking again. “Werewolf.” Raising a thick brow, he nodded to the body in front of them. “Now that we’ve established I do some weird things, do you want to know what else there is?”
“Lick anything else, perrito, I’m out.” The Latina folded her arms, staring pointedly at the young girl in front of them.
“This vamp’s never fed before, or at least if it has, it’s still too young to know what it’s doing. I think this was an initiation feed.” Clint let the statement hang heavy in the air, watching as what he was suggesting crystallized in Amada’s mind. Her plush lips parted slowly, eyes squinting as she looked up from the body.
“What do you mean?” Her voice was skeptical, not experienced enough with the supernatural to see what he saw.
“I mean, this whole thing looks wrong. For one you’ve never had to call me for a vamp’ case in Chicago, it’s always some other sup. For two, you’ve seen a vamp’ case before, right?” Clint waited on her nod before continuing. “Look at the puncture marks. She was bitten in the wrong spot, an experienced vamp would have gone farther forward so they didn’t have to deal with the muscle. And what’s the other big part of vamp kills?”
Amada scrunched her nose, examining the puncture mark. “They don’t leave any blood behind.”
“Exactly!” Clint tilted on his toes, leaning on the slab. “Usually with a vamp kill there isn’t any blood, their saliva seals the injury off so there isn’t any clean up. But newbie vamps sometimes don’t do it right, they dribble like a fucking toddler, see the blood smears?” At Amada’s nod, he scraped a finger through the crystallized saliva again. “The saliva here is from two different vamps, one doing cleanup, zero waste, shit like that.”
Splaying playing his hands to emphasis the girl in front of him. “This is like a mother cat teaching her kittens to hunt, I can almost guarantee that the Elder was the one to lure her in. Little vamplings don’t have good control of their glamor yet, what I’ve seen with a vampling that gets made and abandoned is, let’s just say, gory.” Clint rolled the zipper of the body bag further down, examining the rest of her with careful hands. “I bet you she has some sort of deformity, or injury, that made it harder for her to run when the Elder let his glamour go to let the younger practice.”
Humming, Amada ruffled through the charts before pulling a slender folder from the stack she had snatched up. “Looks like she broke her right knee falling from a horse when she was a teenager, coroner’s report says she’s got a few metal rods in.”
Grunting, Clint examined her knees, black blood was crusted there, oozing from abrasions that hadn’t had a chance to heal. He picked up a strong wrist, feeling a small pull of sadness as he did. Her wrists were delicate, even though they wouldn’t be considered the traditional willowy. She shouldn’t have been an easy target, for any human she would have been able to put up some sort of fight. Dark bruises had bloomed on her wrists, the grip of slender, powerful hands forever cast onto pearly skin. He held her wrists up for Amada to inspect. “Vamps don’t need to do this, not unless they’re new or they have someone they can’t glamour.”
Amada’s skin turned a sickly yellow as she looked up to Clint, eyes wide as she searched his face for clarification. “But, we have several established nests in the city, they don’t do anything like this. They have contracts with blood donors, they’ve also made contracts with halfway houses.” At Clint’s questioning glance she clarified. “Apparently, the venom is like methadone, and it makes it easier to transition off of drugs. It’s also healthier if they can’t kick the habit. The vamps that have the contracts make sure they’re healthy.”
Clint nodded his head, brow quirked with understanding. “Another point in favor of what I’m saying. Your nests wouldn’t need to kill, and they definitely wouldn’t leave a body for anyone to find. There’s a new Elder vamp’ in town trying to push in on territory, and he’s finding converts. This is just the beginning, unless we find them first.”
Letting out a groan, Amada settled into a nearby chair and rubbed at her temple. “Mierda.”
Nodding, Clint passed a hand through the girls soft hair before gently zipping up the body bag. “Don’t worry Sunshine, I’ll find them.”
