Decimandria: Fangs of Anger

Chapter 9: Reality

Sheraff couldn't move his body. He was frozen. He was commanding his legs to move but they wouldn't budge. It was like his entire body was paralyzed with absolute fear; a pray struck by a predator's gaze.  His eyes darted wildly around. He looked on the roof of his house and, to his despair, saw the figure of the powerful female vampress standing on the eave against the night sky. The moon shone brightly behind her, as her long armor blew in the wind. He looked on the other roofs and, with a sinking feeling in his heart, saw other vampires standing on them; alone or in pairs of two. All of them gazing at the entire pack assembled at their feet. He looked at his brother and saw that he was similarly frozen. Valentine had somehow managed to sneak in an entire cohort of his vampires without anyone of the pack even realizing anything.

The anger of being insulted again and the blinding fear he felt at standing with his back to Valentine finally made his body start to obey him again and he turned. Valentine stood there in black, flowing robes. His long hair caught the wind and moved, but his eyes, red and glowing were fixed on Sheraff. But something was different. The last time he had been here, there as an air of intimidating easiness about him. But, even then Sheraff had been able to sense that Valentine had been holding back. Right now, besides the anger in his countenance. Cold, calculated anger, there was something else. Fear. It was like Valentine was emitting pure fear. A deluge of black smoke engulfing everything. He was angry this time around...and he wasn't trying to hide it. The fear drowned the entire pack, the very air that they were breathing, making them feel like they were inhaling icicles. That expression scared Sheraff more than anything else Valentine had done before. 

"Lor-" Sheraff stopped himself. I will grovel no longer. There was fear all around; too much fear. His had boiled over. If death was staring in his eyes, he wouldn't bow to it anymore. Standing with his entire pack, his brother, Levet, Ranfred, people who'd die for him, his beloved wife, his child, he felt brave. "Valentine." he said. "You're here."

"Yes." said Valentine. He wasn't masking his voice anymore; it gravelly and ominous. Something completely inhuman. He stood there with his hands tied behind his back and just stared. The eyes piercing Sheraff. 

"Sneaking in wasn't very nice." said Sheraff, trying to steady his nerves. 

"Few things I do are." 

"Anyway, you're right on time." said Sheraff, a spark of hope suddenly glowing in his heart. The sooner I get them out of here the better. "We found the party responsible for the Led Orien massacre." He kicked Rorag. "It was this guy. Rorag, the Warlock; Alpha of the Deadtails pack." 

Valentine didn't say anything. He just stared right into Sheraff. Through all that anger and disdain, he sensed almost...pity. 

"It...it was Luim, our Arch Silverback who defeated him." stammered Sheraff a bit taken aback. "He beat him on his own. Kid's powerful." he added. 

Valentine took a step forward. Instinctively, the entire pack stepped back a little, but upon seeing Theraff not move an inch, they stopped. Valentine circled Luim from a distance. 

"Powerful." he muttered in his growling voice, scanning the lean werewolf. Luim just stared back. Somehow Valentine was making him uneasy. The calmness of the guy, the way his steps were perfectly calculated, his posture showing no openings to attack, the sheer amount of power he was exuding as he circled him. Luim started to feel...despair. Just despair. The fear that if Valentine were to attack him right now, Luim felt that he wouldn't be able to beat him. He'd never felt this way. No matter who or what he'd fought, even if he'd lose, he'd never felt insufficient like this. Valentine was sucking out any hope Luim had with every step he took.