Nephalim

Chapter 6: Miguel

My tongue flicked outwards, tasting the air, trying to find the scent. Cain had been gone for 5 hours, and I was beginning to worry. Lorr'ane was no help, constantly questioning me, and threatening to execute me. It did, however, concede to the fact that we had to find Cain.

And that's how we found ourselves outside the run down looking dive bar know as the Juggler. A vampire blood bar. I had seen it a few times before, and knew they also served non-vampiric drinks, but I never once dared to go inside.

"So," said Lorr'an, "your senses are telling you that Cain is within this... establishment?" It said the last word with more venom than what is within my fangs.

"Yeah," I said.

"And, pray tell, are your senses ever wrong?"

"No. Well one time it was, but that's only because the orc I was tracking was a twin."

"I see," Lorr'an responded, making his way to the entrance. I followed close behind, my eyes scanning everywhere for any hint of Cain.

The inside of the Juggler was vastly different than the outside. Sure, some barstools were damaged, and some of the upholstery was stained with blood. However, for the most part, it was clean and tidy.

Few patrons were around this time of night. Which did not strike either of us as odd, as for night dwellers, such as Vampires and the like, this would be late morning, early afternoon.

Most of the patrons had visible tells of vampirism, the eloganted ears, sharp incisors, common themes amongst them. There were a few, older generation I presume, that had bat like wings, folded neatly on their backs. However in the corner of the bar, sat a tall Orc and a rather drunk looking dwarf. What was odd about the dwarf though, wasn't him being drunk, no, it was that the air around him did not taste of booze.

"Borinn? Orsha?" Lorr'an said, approaching the odd pair. "I did not expect to see either of you in such a place."

"Lorr'an," said Orsha, "such could be said about you, fae-blood."

"Orsha!" exclaimed Borrin, feigning drunkeness still. "Now that'sh no way to shpeak to a elf! Even an ugly one such as ol' Lorr'an! An' whos'h this little fella, eh?"

"Hi," I said timidly. "I'm Miguel."

The dwarf and the orc looked at each other. The dwarf then looked at me and leaned across the table. When next he spoke, the facade of drunkeness disappeared:

"I take it ya looking for our mutual friend? A half-breed."

I nodded.

"So are we, friend," said Orsha, her demeanor grim. "The bartender said he hadn't seem anyone like 'our friend', all night. So we assumed he is still on his way."

I tasted the air again, trying to pick up the scent of Cain. The air tasted of lavender and sulphur. The same it tasted when I first met the Nephalim.

"He's here," I said lowly.

They looked towards the front door of the bar. It did not open, or rattle. They stared back at me incredulously.

"Mayhaps your senses are finally wrong," the elf said with a smirk on his face.

"They are never wrong... He has to be-"

My sentence was cut off as the burly fist of the bartender slammed onto the table.

"We don' serve yer kind 'ere, lycan," he said, his eyes glowing a faint red. Behind him, the other patrons of the bar stared our way. "An' I 'eard your little conversation. We sure as 'ell neva seen no Nephalim!"

Orsha smirked and sipped her drink before placing it calmy on the table. "We never said we were looking for a Nephalim."

The bartender snarled and reached for Orsha, but before he could even touch her, Lorr'an drew it's wand.

"Los'inda kerœl!" It exclaimed, as a faint blue light burst forth from it's wand, sending the burly bartender soaring through the air, and slamming into the bar with a loud crack, rendering him unconscious.

The other vampires snarled and rose from their seats snarling. Orsha smiled and finished her beer before standing next too Lorr'an, assuming a fighting stance. I stood behind them.

Borin, jumping onto the table, and brandishing a small silver dagger, shouted, "Come on ya leeches! Borin may be old, but he has some fight let in 'im!"

All was still for a moment, before one of the elders flew towards us, followed by the rest.

Lorr'an spoke too fast for it's words to be understandable, but magic flowed through it's ebony wand as quickly as bullets from a tommy-gun. Orsha was wrestling, and winning against a lesser vampire, whilst Borin was ducking beneath his much taller adversaries deftly, slashing them with his dagger.

My hackles started to rise, and I turned to see a tall lean elder vampire smirking at me. I screamed as it reached for me... Pain started to irradiate from every nerve of my body... I started to change... Then... Darkness...

* * * * *

I came to about an hour or so after the battle of the Juggler. I was naked, and surrounded by five or so disseminated corpses. I approached them tentatively and inspected each one. I sighed with releif that none were my companions.

I looked around the now destroyed pub. Tables and chairs were strewn about, in various forms of disrepair. Black, coagulated blood splattered the walls, and the taste of death was in the air. Off in the corner of the bar, were my companions, interrogating the bartender. I approached them.

"Alright! Alright! I'll tell ya what I know! Just tell that elf to stop probin' me mind!" He screamed in pain.

Orsha nodded, and Lorr'an put it's wand away.

"Through that door, ova there," he said gesturing towards a door behind the bar. "It's the feral pit. We chucked em in there with that fat pig detective. Probably just a pile of corpses now..."

"Thank you," Orsha said, "Borin?"

Borin nodded and slit the bartender's throat. He swore in dwarvish and cleaned his dagger before turning to me. "Argh, ya finally woke up. Take some pants from that fella over there and cover up lad."

I nodded, and obeyed, removing the pants from one of the dead vampires, giving him a swift kick in the head, just to be sure.

After covering my shame, I approached the group, as they opened the door. I tasted the air. Death... Decay... But also a strong hint of lavender and sulphur.

"He's down there," I said confidently. "But it's a long way down..."

Lorr'an drew it's wand and said, "Allow me a moment, and I shall cast a spell to slow our fall."

"Fuck that elf! Cain needs our help!" he declared as he lept into the dark abyss.