Ooh. So today I saw the beginning of a movie called The Transporter. It was cool; the guy was all assassinaty and spyish and I greatly admire him and his utter awesomeness. I'm thinking that my novel-thingy will be action and have cool stuff like that. Bang bang, dead. The whole shebang.
Lawrence was furious.
He paced back in forth in the living room of his mansion, huffing out of impatience. Finally, a werewolf came bursting through the door, clearly out of breath but appearing to have something important to say. Lawrence focused all of his attention to him; whatever news this minion had, he needed to know it right away.
"Sir, I'm terribly sorry - " the werewolf panted. Lawrence immediately hissed in anger; these were the exact words he didn't want to be hearing right now. He needed good news.
" - but we have no traces on Chase or Foster. They seemed to disappear without a trace."
"And are you doing anything about that?" Lawrence growled, his eyes flashing a dangerously bright shade of silver.
"T-There are dispatches of vampires and werewolves searching for them r-right as we speak," stuttered the werewolf, suddenly aware of the foul mood Lawrence was in. "They've been searching all over the forest, every square foot, but nothing has come up yet."
"That means they've been found," Lawrence snarled, "by someone else. It's just how those survivor Agents got away - somehow, they managed to cover up their footsteps completely. If the brat and her dog managed to meet up with the Agents..."
Suddenly a wave of fury hit Lawrence and, no longer able to control his temper, he swung at the table and threw it across the room. The crash of wood shattering muffled out the curses he was yelling in his demonic language. He used the same curse words any normal person uses; however, in this particular language it was much worse. The sound of the words were like nails on a chalkboard; so terrible that the werewolf covered his ears with his hands.
"Leave!" Lawrence roared at the now quivering wolf. The wolf immediately obliged; on his way out, Lawrence shouted after him: "And get Rustan and Marti!"
The two named came to the living room not even two minutes later (they both knew it wouldn't be wise to keep him waiting). Marti was fidgeting nervously, for she wasn't used to the angry Lawrence. Rustan, however, was as he always was; straight-faced and emotionless.
"They must be with the other Agents," Lawrence informed them. "There's no other way they can be avoiding us. The Organizations were destroyed, but the survivors managed to take some of the technology and gadgets. Now they can hide from us, and they probably helped the two runaways do that same - Damn it!" he yelled again in his native tongue.
Marti flinched at his outburst despite the fact that she was used to speaking in the demon language. Rustan remained standing there, unflinchingly.
"If only they had all been killed - " Lawrence continued, and shot Rustan a hateful glare. Rustan had been one of the leaders during the "crusade" to destroy the Organizations and thus it was partially his fault that some Agents had escaped. But Lawrence knew that Rustan wasn't going to apologize for it. Even now, he didn't look sorry; his expression was completely blank. This actually got Lawrence even more frustrated, because he hated when he couldn't read others' emotions.
"Is there anything else you'd like us to do?" Rustan asked coolly after a moment.
"Find her," Lawrence snapped in reply. "And if you have any intention of keeping her safe I suggest that you find her before I do. Because if I'm the first that gets my hands on her..." Lawrence continued his sentence in the other language, but Rustan stopped listening because he didn't want to picture such a grotesque scene.
When Lawrence was finished speaking, Rustan nodded. "As you command."
After listening to Lawrence scream and yell and cry like a spoiled brat who didn't get his way, Marti decided she had finally had enough. Once he was done with his rant she retreated back into her room. She pretended to be doing some work by trying to find a way to track down Chase and Foster, but in reality she was merely loafing around.
"Hmph," she mumbled aloud, flopping on to her bed.
"I need sex," she decided. Sex was her distraction, her haven, her medicine. She felt a paing of disappointment as she realized that that wouldn't be happening tonight; Lawrence was in too much of a bad mood. Rustan, on the other hand...well, he was being weird. When Chase had first come to the house he acted like he wanted Marti, and she very much enjoyed the attention. But once Chase ran away, he had been distant (well, more distant than usual), and he repeatedly refused her.
She pouted as she though about this, and she felt so confused. Was it because he didn't want her anymore? 'No,' she reasoned with herself, 'that's definitely not true.' Every man wanted Marti. She was beautiful, thin, and, well, amazing in bed. What, she was a succubus; it was her purpose.
Was it because Rustan actually liked Chase? She pondered on the thought. It would all make sense...besides the fact that Rustan had betrayed her completely. If Rustan really did love the human, then why would he ever do that? Marti couldn't figure it out, which was weird, because she was an expert on this whole love thing. Succubae were [in]famous for moving from man to man, but that didn't mean that they couldn't love. In fact, it was their emotional capacity - their capability of feeling love - that separated them from the other demons. Most of the time it made them be looked down upon and laughed at. For demons, the less emotions, the better.
Marti sighed in frustration and rolled over onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows. She lifted her heels up in the air and swung them slightly like a young girl. She was so bored. And Lawrence was being a mean jerk. Lately the only time he ever talked to her was when he wanted something from her (in bed). She was growing weary of it; she felt so used, and she didn't like it. Well, she didn't like the feeling, but she also didn't like feeling that feeling. She hated these emotions - it prevented her from being as good (or bad, whichever way you look at it) of a demon as she knew she could be. And she didn't like being less than her best.
But nonetheless, this used feeling was really getting to her. It was like a stab to her stomach, but with a dull knife; and the feeling left over was a bitter pain in her gut. She couldn't help but hold a grudge towards Lawrence. This was a dilemma; grudges, in her eyes, were pitiful and unacceptable. Men should be like toys - she would have plenty of fun with them, and once she got bored she would move on and get a new toy. But toys weren't supposed to hurt you.
Marti was wallowing in self-pity now. She realized this with distaste and her upper lip involuntarily curled up into a snarl. She suddenly decided she was done with feeling sorry for herself. She stood up from her bed in a hurry, ready to move on and do something else - but much to her dismay she realized she didn't have anything else to do.
She heard the ruffle of clothing from the other side of the wall, and she suddenly remembered that Rustan was in the room right next door. Curiously, she pressed her ear up against the wall and tried to listen to what he was doing; if she didn't know any better, she'd say that he was packing to go somewhere.
Rustan was briskly walking around his room, grabbing random clothes from the drawers and stuffing them in a bag. He supposed he could technically call this packing, because he was planning on leaving, but he really wasn't thinking about what he was bringing. He had too many other things on his mind at the moment to worry about what clothes he wanted to wear. He suddenly heard the rustle of movement from the other room; he began to pack faster. Rustan was in a hurry; he had to move quickly before he noticed anything.
Rustan was going to go out and look for Chase himself - at least, that's what he was planning on telling Lawrence. He would pretend that if he went out alone, then the search would be more effective. He could say that he would find Chase and convince her that he was "good," and then lure her back to the mansion. He'd be able to keep Chase alive and safe, and if Foster got in the way Rustan could easily kill him - he was of no importance to Lawrence, anyway. By claiming to do this, Rustan was sure he'd persuade Lawrence to let him go.
The only problem was, Lawrence wasn't very trusting of him. Rustan was sure that as soon as he proposed the idea of going out alone, suspicions would immediately arise and Lawrence would be hesitant of letting Rustan out of his sight. Lawrence was the type of demon that liked to keep his friends close, and his enemies closer (thus the reason of kidnapping Chase in the first place); but he wasn't sure if Rustan was an enemy or a friend, and so he kept him on an even tighter leash. If Rustan wasn't as loyal as he claimed to be, then by letting Rustan leave, he could possibly be letting Rustan free. And Lawrence had already lost Chase and Foster - he wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
Rustan knew all of this, so he had to act fast. He knew that despite his suspiciousness, Lawrence would initially say yes to his proposal; Lawrence was desperate now, and he needed to get Chase back, no matter the cost. But if Rustan gave him any extra time to think about this decision he would surely change his mind.
What Rustan's true intentions were...well, he wasn't even sure himself. He wasn't used to this whole emotion thing, so he could never know exactly what he felt. He was unable to explain why he acted so differently whenever Chase was around, and he didn't like that. That's why he constantly pushed her away; her mere presence caused him to feel so confused. But once she was gone, he felt empty - well, at least emptier. He didn't know whether vampires really had souls or not, and he always used to believe that they didn't...until Chase came along. Now he wasn't so sure.
During the one hundred and twenty-two years of his vampire life, he had gotten used to feeling so cold all of the time and his lack of a heartbeat. When he first met Chase (actually, it only happened after he met Chase; it took a while to get to know her) he felt different. He didn't feel all warm and happy and rainbows on the inside, that's for certain; just different. He didn't know exactly how he felt because, as stated before, he wasn't familiar with emotions. He had only been a human for nineteen years before he was turned, and his memories of being alive had long since faded.
He had learned things the hard way. It was only after Chase was gone when he realized he missed the feeling he got when she was around, whatever that feeling was. He wanted it back. He wanted her back.
That's where he was going now, he supposed. He was going to find her, as he promised Lawrence; but he wasn't going to bring her back. He was following a whim here - there was a lot of danger and his life was at risk, but he was going to do it anyway.
Because he felt so uncomfortable with his emotions, he had decided long ago just to do whatever his instincts told him to, despite the fact that it was impulsive and reckless and completely out of character for him. If he wanted to tease Chase - god knows why he ever had the urge to do such an immature thing, it was so boyish to try to gain attention that way - then he'd do it. If he wanted to kiss Chase, he ignored the little voice inside his head that told him not to; he went ahead and kissed her anyway. He didn't think about the consequences of his actions, he just did it. That's why he was caught so unprepared when Chase asked him to run away. He didn't know what to do, so...he just said no. That was probably one of the biggest regrets he had.
Following his instincts was exactly what he was doing now. He felt compelled to find Chase, to keep her protected (though he knew that she didn't need any protection, and even if she did, she would never admit it). And so, without any hesitation, he ignored everything else in his head and began packing.
He was tired of listening to his mind, to logic; every time he did that he always ended up feeling a momentous amount of regret. The first time he listened to reason, he teamed up with Lawrence and became his second-in-command. He knew that doing this would be beneficial; there was no way the humans could win against an army of immortals, and if he didn't join now then he'd regret it later. But that resulted in betraying Chase; mistake number one. The second time he followed logic was when he rejected Chase and refused to run away with her. He knew Lawrence would catch both of them and they'd be dead within minutes; he was just keeping her safe. But Chase did end up leaving, and to make matters worse she had left with Foster. There must have been something between them now, and although Rustan hated to admit it, he couldn't deny it. He couldn't blame Chase for moving on after what he had done to her and all of the shit he put her through. Rustan let Chase slip right through his fingers, he had let her go; mistake number two.
'But there will be no more mistakes,' he decided resolutely. He would fix all of the problems he had caused.
Suddenly, the door to his room burst open. He stopped packing and turned to look at the intruder and - much to his surprise - it was Marti.
"What are you doing?" she asked in her silky voice, and Rustan couldn't tell whether she was curious or just being nosy.
"Packing," he replied shortly.
"Going somewhere?" she asked, raising both eyebrows.
"Yes." He wasn't keen on releasing too much information to her; chances are she'd go and tattle on him to Lawrence. Wait! That was a brilliant idea.
"Tell Lawrence I'm going to search for Chase," he told Marti. If she was the one to tell Lawrence, then there was no way he could stop Rustan - he'd have already left by then.
"Alone," he added for good measure.
At that, he grabbed his things and pushed past the succubus. He began to walk hastily towards the door of the mansion, eager to get out of this hellhole, but -
"Wait," Marti called after him. Letting out a sigh, he turned around to face her. He expected her to stop him, or to threaten him somehow (they both knew that this was somehow going against Lawrence's wishes), but instead she was looking at him with a pleading look on her face. Her blue-gray eyes bore into his, not angrily, but hopefully.
"Take me with you," she begged.
He stared at her. She wanted to come? He thought she loved Lawrence - well, as much as a demon could love, anyway - and leaving him would be the last thing she would do. Unless he had hurt her in some way, or rejected or used her, then Rustan couldn't figure out why she would ever want to do this. Nonetheless, he somehow found himself nodding.
Marti's face lit up immediately.
Why did he just say yes to her? He did it without thinking, and in the back of his mind he noted that his rashness was turning out to be a new habit for him. But his instincts were telling him that Marti's intentions were, for the first time, good.
"Go get your things," he said coolly, "because we're not coming back."
