The Darkest Hour

The Darkest Hour: Part 2

Shocked

Sandra was, to say the least, shocked to see Morgead acting as such. Morgead wasn’t known for his good humor but he’d never attacked anyone out of thin air. But now, he stood, crouching down and glaring John Quinn as if he was the bane of his existence.

Sandra stepped in between and put her hands on each of their shoulders, trying to push them apart. But the boys weren’t budging; they ignored her as if she were a fly, which made her angry.

“Guys,” she said reprimanding, but her voice was ignored as they hissed on. “GUYS!”

That captured their attention.  The awful hissing stopped and they stared at her for a minute or so, before noticing her hands and stepping away from each. Both of them looked properly abashed and they avoided her eyes when she asked. “What the hell is going on here?”

Morgead, ever so impulsive, was first to answer. “This,” he said scathingly, not even glancing at the subject of his hate. “Vampire abandoned us during the Apocalypse. Coward, rotten guy.”

Quinn didn’t seem too bothered, but he narrowed his eyes. “It wouldn’t be prudent, Morgead, to make accusations before hearing my side of the story,” his eyes narrowed more and his mouth curled maliciously. "Though, I can’t remember a time when you were prudent."

“Better imprudent than a coward,” Morgead said, unwaveringly.

Sandra furrowed her eyebrows. “Wait, you two know each other?”

Quinn gave her a very tired glance. “No. We just have an awful habit of attacking strangers.”

Ignoring his sarcasm, she looked at Morgead inquiringly, who shrugged. “We knew each other during the war, see. We were on the same side.”

“We still are,” said John Quinn dryly but not very sarcastically.

 Morgead carried on. “But after his Soulmate died. He thought he’d have a change of heart.”

“I was only keeping myself alive,” said Quinn defiantly, but he looked away when Morgead met his eyes and muttered. “I’m not very proud of it.”

Morgead surprised her just then; he walked over to her and took her hands, pushing her back. “Now,” he began when she was a safe distance away from them. “I’m going to kill him.”

He lunged towards Quinn who, expecting the attack, moved out of his way in less than a second. Morgead yelled in frustration and charged further at Quinn. Quinn had his compact body in a graceful arch and was meeting Morgead punch for punch and kick for kick, blocking out all of the angered boy’s moves. He never used any aggressive stances or attacks and only fought to defend himself.

Sandra knew better than to step between them as they fought, aware she would be ripped to pieces if she did.  But she cried, gasped and cringed, hating the fact that she was helpless to stop them. As she watched them wrestling on the ground like wild boars, she caught the sight of a blond head inside the bushes.

Recognizing him, she called out. “Come on! Stop them.”

The quiet blond boy soon came out of the bushes. He was standing grimly, a frown on his face. His eyes reflected a darkness behind them that made her shiver. However, he was very good at stopping idiotic boys fight, as soon as the word left his lips, her friends stopped struggling on the ground. “Stop.”

Morgead looked up and, after seeing who it was, stood up without complaining. Quinn soon followed his moves and looked at the blond boy cheerfully, even though his eyes hid a world of grimness behind. “Thierry Descouedres, Lord of the Night World,” he said, taking a bow. “Good evening.”