Royalty

Master opera singer Er Ye ✳ Yixing in ‘The Mystic Nine’

It was a quiet, moonless night. A few stars materialized among the vast blackness, some flickering dull, others luminous. Lucy had just finished her shift at the bar, the heels of her boots clicking on the pavement as she made her way through a rather dingy alley, following a shapeshifter that had caught her attention at the bar. Right in front of her nose. Bold.

It had been a while since Lucy went actively hunting. The girl tried to keep a low profile, still hiding from her fellow nephilim and family. The shadowhunter was a little afraid that her skills got a bit rusty– her heart was pounding inside of her ribcage, threatening to burst- her stomach was in anxious knots but the adrenaline in her veins kept her going. Kill or get killed.

Lucy thought she’d seen a dark figure out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned her head to get a better look, there was nothing. She had allowed herself to get distracted and that one second was enough for the creature to get away.

“Fuck! Goddammit, I can’t believe I made a rookie mistake.” She definitely got rusty. A defeated sigh escaped her lips and the girl turned to head back as a familiar rotten stench filled the air, her fingers immediately went to tightly grip her weapon; the seraph blade. Lucy was yet again on high alert, her gaze scanning the area for threats. At least 10 if not more, Imps appeared in her path. Imps are common, small humanoid demons with the characteristics of typical Western devil with its horns and forked tail. They wouldn’t really be dangerous for Lucy but they seemed to appear in a swarm, which could cause her a problem. She was alone, after all.

The nephilim quickly unsheathed her blade and pierced it through the guts of the first demon that got too close for her comfort, not stopping to watch it burst into dust; she worked quickly and efficiently, almost graceful- killing six, seven and eight Imps– until she felt her back hit a wall. “Fuck!” she cursed under her breath, keeping the blade in front of her. As one of them went to strike, Lucy raised her blade and stabbed it right into the eyeball of the demon, but not quick enough. The second took it’s chance and pierced her right side with its long claws- a gasp left her lips and she almost dropped her weapon. Only out of sheer willpower did she manage to hold onto her blade and kill the beast with her remaining strength.

The pain in her side was searing, forcing her to drop on her hands and knees. At first there was nothing–no pain, just numbness. Her hand immediately went to push into the wound, sealing it shut. The adrenaline that had furiously pumped through her veins dwindled; and now the pain washed over her, almost swallowing her whole. Blood oozed out of the rather deep gash, soaking her shirt completely. Minutes passed as her mind waned in and out of awareness–she had no energy to move her leaden body. Her breathing became irregular and that was when the panic set in- was that really how she would die? Alone, in a dingy alley?

Lucy managed to get up in a sitting position, not ready to accept her fate. She would not die. Not today. Something- or rather someone- cleared their throat to get her attention. Great.

Against his better judgement the vampire steps forward, feet all but silent as they hit the slightly damp ground, blending into the dark shadows of the dirty alleyway. He is old fashioned at heart, this was no place for a young woman to die... however, things here had also caught his interest. As blood drenches the air with its heavy scent and the sound of laboured breathing fills his ears, it is difficult to not think death is a sure thing... and yet.  

Stepping forward into cast light from an overhead street lamp, the vampire’s eyebrow remains arched yet his face cast in shadow as he looks down at her, hands still resting in his pockets as his leather soles crunch the pavement. Despite her snappy tone he remains silent, mind calculating. He should not get involved, if she’s to die then she is to die... and yet.

     How long had it been since he’d started looking over his shoulder? Each new vessel was easily compromised because of what he was, what he had done. How could they have found him so easily though? How had he gotten into this mess with  them… this child beside him as he dragged the boy from their bed, half tempted to just toss them from the window. At least that would have solved some of his problems right? But knowing the hunters they would have found a way to resurrect them and then what? Ambrose would have found himself locked up and experimented upon, as was his fate, maybe he should have just stayed in Egypt and waited for the cattle of humans to repopulate it.

Following another few forceful tugs and pushes they were hurrying along the outside of the small love hotel, with his socks now damp and his hand furiously trying to tug his shirt closed, the art dealer glances around in uncomfortable suspense. What was this guy afraid of? Someone was following them, that was for sure, they moved quietly which only filled the mortal with a deeper feeling of apprehension. “What’s going o-aah-” Zhuangxiang gasps as he’s cut off mid-question and falls against the man as they tumble into the quiet, dark, small space.