Abandon The Night

Chapter Thirteen: Greener the Grass

Natasha had golden skin and golden hair, but she was not the golden one. Her eyes, dead. Her soul? Deader. The dhampir was barely a teenager in Anca's eyes, being only 2700 years old; or thereabouts. The woman was a mystery, for she knew and had slew her sire, her father. None other, to Anca's knowledge at the least, had done such a feat

Pures were mentally damaged creatures of the night (in Anca's opinion) with one thing on their mind: Make as many made and born vampires as possible and take over the world. The Pures that Anca had the displeasure of knowing would not speak of this, but Anca knew. Domineq was a chatterbox when he was alive and told her this in secrecy, and Anca never breathed a word. She, unlike Domineq, lived a life that didn't piss off the Pures (as much as possible, considering she was a dhampir). He got away with a lot, but her Domi was special in the eyes of the Pures and the ancient ones.

Natasha was not special. She was the ultimate thorn. For 2000 years, she reigned the vampire hunters with iron and steel. She trained them relentlessly and tortured those who failed.

The question on most people's minds would probably be, why did Anca go to two made vampires to find Natasha Zlomortem? Easy–Ryku and Fyfyer were charged with keeping track of her through the gangs they created throughout the centuries. The pair were rather good at their hand-picked job by the Pures. Anca didn't know why they were picked, just knew that they always could pinpoint where that elusive dhampir was. Having them afraid of her worked in her favor more often than not, and she used it to get her way this time.

Speaking of, Anca looked at the building where Natasha was supposedly in. It was rounded, purple-hued, and as bland as all get out. Nothing outrageous popped out and caught the eye and Anca just knew that she was in there. She had to be there or else Anca hadn't a clue what to do or where to go.

Tierney sat this death-defying trip out, electing to go run some errands for Anca instead. Which was probably a good thing. Natasha would pry kill Anca as look at her and Anca wouldn't put Tiery in the same fate.

The doorway was hollow wood and had a worn-out and dented spot in which Anca knocked. No need to be disrespectful when she was there to ask for help. It took all of three seconds for her to be surrounded. Out came the one she wasn't there to speak with, Kaiaryen. Kaiaryen smiled, fangs digging into her lip. "Ah, Anca darling. Whatever brings you here?"

The statuesque woman walked forward, her blonde locks stiff in the fashion of 16th century France. Kaiaryen was all about the era she was born in. She stopped in front of Anca, her gold-trimmed outfit (reminiscent of the Ladies in Waiting) glimmering in the dying sunlight. Anca took all of her in, from the green eyes mentioned before, the likeness to limes and all that, to her heeled feet.

With a smirk, Anca leered. "Lookin' sharp as ever Kaiaryen."

With an up-turned nose at the uncouth remark, Kaiaryen pivoted on her heel and stomped as ladylike as possible away. In a general huff, Anca followed.

Anca and her entourage of vampire hunters made their way into the rounded building. The seven or eight men and women blocked her from roaming her eyes over the finer details of the layout. They were good, not that Anca would ever say. The trek lasted longer than expected and once again, Kaiaryen was before Anca, this time with a toothless, grim smile. She spoke, her voice low and guttural. "Welcome to Hell." She rolled her eyes in response and stepped around the other dhampir and knocked on the door. This door, unlike the other, was flawless. Sparkly. Dangerous. It had aspen wood detailing and was soaked with mistletoe, pry nightly. The whole thing stung a tad bit when Anca knocked and Kaiaryen laughed darkly. "I wasn't kidding."