Thursday, 21 January 2010
11:47:00 AM (GMT)
Macy woke up chained to a bed with a hot guy. Weird. Not the hot guy part, that was
perfectly fine of course. And not the chained part either, that, too, was perfectly
fine to her. Nor was it the fact she was in the bed with him. So, wait, why did she
think it was weird?
She didn’t worry over it too much. She looked at the walls. It was her room,
she was sure. At least, it had been her room until a couple weeks ago when she gotten
thrown out by her mom for something that was, in a way, totally out her control. It
wasn’t her fault that her mom’s boyfriend was a rapist, murderer, and more.
She shook her head out. Now, to see what she was wearing. Years of training had
taught her to know where she was and to know her surroundings if she couldn’t
figure out where she was. By the smell, it wasn’t her lavender-smelling room. She
hated the smell actually, but it was permanently in her room. Excuse her, her old
The room smelled like blood. She sat up, trying to maneuver her way around the
rope. How the hell did she even get in these? And with him! Who was he? Wait, more
pressing matters. Where was she? And was she in danger?
Wait, something on her wrist was slippery. She was bleeding. Crap. They made
things that much worse, and it gave her a feeling she was in danger. And this boy. He
was holding her down a lot. She could probably escape if not for his being tied to
her. Again, not that she minded that much.
She paused as he groaned a tiny bit. Okay, so he was alive. That made things
better. Unless he was too hurt to move. She sighed. Wonderful. She assessed her
situation before she tried to think of ways to escape.
She had no idea where she was, which wasn’t a plus. She was tied to some boy,
which she didn’t mind, but he was unconscious so that made chances of escape pretty
bad. And, she didn’t know whether or not she was in danger. Plus, she was wearing
her pajamas—a flimsy tank and a pair of booty shorts. Plus, she had no weapons
“Wonderful,” she muttered out loud, huffing slightly so that it blew up her
fluffy bangs. She twitched a little and felt a sharp stinging in her arm and wrist.
She had this pain before. She gritted her teeth and let out a little moan. She
probably had broken her arm. Her wrist was cut. Now where were her weapons?
The boy’s eyes flashed open at the sound of her voice. She was yanked up
quickly, her arm burning with the pain it brought. Again, wonderful. She was hurt to
add to the fact that she had no idea who she was tied to, where she was at, and
whether or not she was in danger.
The boy looked at there tied together wrist. “I never expected to wake up tied
to a girl who looked like she was in intense pain. Now there’s this important
question I need to ask. Did I cause this intense pain in any way?” His voice was
teasing and light.
Macie glared at him. “Of course not, you ass. I woke up tied her to you. I’m
hurt, literally. My arm’s broke and my wrist is cut. It’s pretty painful now that
I think about it. Not to mention I have no idea where we are and who you are.” Her
voice, on the other hand, was hard and angry.
He smiled, showing sharp, elongated fangs. “The ropes I can easily take care of
if I wanted too. And, I know this is another one of your concerns although you
didn’t voice this one, I can manifest some weapons for us if we need to fight. As
far as where we are, I believe I know. And who I am? Reminald. Call me Remi,
She glared at him. “You’re a freakin’ vampire?” she shrieked. Didn’t
this day get any better?
He chuckled. “Hell no. I fight those bloodsuckers,” he said. The ropes
disappeared, providing some comfort to her. She refused to move her arm, though, so
she settled on repositioning herself.
She smiled. “That’s good. What are you, though?” Even though she had an
idea, he couldn’t be Frey…but he could.
“Frey,” he answered in an off-hand way.
So it didn’t get any better. Well, she had better days. It was only assumed she
would have worse ones, too.
Her smile disappeared. “Now, Remi, can you tell me how to get out of here?”
“Tell you? Sweetie, I’m leavin’ an’ you don’t strike me as the type who
would appreciate my help anyway. So, no, I can’t tell you. Good bye darlin’!”
He disappeared without another word.
She sighed and looked out the window. She was a bit angry. How dare he! She
should’ve killed him when she had the chance. “Low down dirty…” She muttered
a few choice words that weren’t necessarily considered lady-like.
She got up tentatively. She sighed in relief. At least nothing else was broken.
She tapped into her Hunter senses. Silence. Nobody was here—wherever here was.
Well, if they were, they were being pretty quiet.
She didn’t have enough Power to heal herself like some other Hunters. But then
again, they were all Hunter. She was a half-human hybrid. Angry with her father for
sleeping with some human, she manifested the biggest weapon she could get—a knife.
It would do well in hand-to-hand battle, but as far as magic battles, she wouldn’t
last too long. She was already weak from her wounds.
She moved across the room quietly. She opened the door, knife poised for any
attack. None so far. Her heart racing, she stayed close to walls and was silent. She
was ready fro anything—vampires, shifters, evil Frey, Fray, and werewolves. In
truth, she only killed vampires. They tended to irk her nerves more.
She moved in a sun-lit room. Definitely not vampire. While the sun didn’t make
them burn, it gave them one hell of a headache. This was, she was just realizing, a
replica of her old house. It just lacked that lavender smell that clung to
everything. She walked into it, right into the middle. Hopefully, whatever had her
here was a Night thing.
Footsteps. She heard footsteps. She mentally groaned. Please don’t let it be
too strong. She moved closer to the sun. Her knife poised right in front of her, she
was ready to battle—broken arm and all.
A person stepped through the door. He gave her chills on sight. And caused her to
recede into the darkness, by the shadows. He was directly in the sunlight. He was one
of those Fray who stole their energy from the sun. The darkness killed them. They
shriveled up without it. And, from his demonic red eyes, he was evil.
He smiled evilly, exposing his teeth which weren’t fangs, but close to it.
They had the slightest point at the tip that made her want to scream. But she kept
her calm. She had plenty of training for this. Plenty of it.
He came forward; his feet were bare, showing the pale-white of them. She stayed
close to the wall. She was scared, she’d admit it.
“Ah, so you’re awake, little one,” he taunted, smiling at her. He
outstretched his palm. “C’mon, don’t be scared. I don’t want anything from
you—but your soul.”
His words were compelling, soft music that entered her body and soul. It made her
want to dance. Her fear was gone. She was a Hunter. She didn’t have to be afraid.
And this man, he was gentle and sweet. He just wanted to dance with her.
The words took over her mind and made her step out of the shadows, into the
sun-lit room. She twirled in the middle of the room, the sun beaming down her,
showing her hair that was streaked with so many colors. She called it autumn. Her
body moved gracefully, her movements precise and perfect. She was enchanting. And he
knew it. So he watched her.
And she wanted nothing but to dance for him. For him to watch her dance. Approval
and praise radiated off of him and she basked in it. He liked watching her dance. It
was beautiful, her dance. It was enchanting and bemusing, her body to the music of
his voice, to the sun beaming in from the window, and from the wind blowing through.
He couldn’t stand it anymore. Her soul was pure and as bright as the
sun—which was why he had picked her.
He knife slid out of her hand and she smiled at him, taunting him with her even
row of white teeth, her perfect body, and those sensuous curves. But the most
important part of her, her soul, was the only thing he wanted. The brightness of it
beckoned him. She had no dark sports. She was pure as pure could get.
He held her shoulders, still radiating that approval and praise as she stopped
dancing underneath his touch, but still, somehow, moving with the grace of a running
gazelle. Her breathing wasn’t even labored, yet, as he watched her, she had the
precision of a ballerina.
When his teeth sunk into her neck for the bite, she jerked under him. He pulled
away, also, his hand underneath her chin. “What is wrong, my sweet?” His voice
was still compelling, still musical.
But the music had changed. What was once a sweet song to Macie’s ears had
changed to that horror movie music right before the person gets their head whacked
off with a chainsaw.
What the hell was she doing? She ducked under him, sliding through his legs to get
her knife. She picked it up and was on him faster than he could turn around. Her
Hunter part, the part that made her swift and strong, hadn’t left. It was as strong
as other Hunters.
She held it to his throat. He froze. “My sweet, you don’t wish me to die do
you?” By his words, he was a couple hundred years old, which meant he was harder to
kill. But still, a simple beheading should do.
“Yes, I wish you to die,” she said in her southern twang, taking the music
from the words. She made them sound crazy, much like her. She giggled and whacked his
head off with the knife.
Beheading was never an easy job.
She watched his head roll from his body. He twitched one last time as his red
eyes stared at her with a ‘WTF?’ look. Although, the thought of him saying that
made her laugh. She channeled fire from inside of her and set him on fire. The only
way to actually kill him.
She smiled and left the house. If it burned down, who cared? If it didn’t, still
She then remembered she was in nothing but her pajamas. Oh well. At least they
Then she ran smack dab into someone who made her blood run cold as ice.