#tooth pulling

She fought against them, but even vampires have limits. After weeks without blood, she was finding hers. She only got a single bite in before they ripped her off her victim, the men pinning her down and attaching leads around her bound wrists and leashes to the collar they already forced on her.

She snarled as they got up. They merely laughed at her and pulled her along, four armed men handling the various leads on her and several more accompanying them. They weren't taking any chances.

They pulled her up the stairs and out of the cellar. She stopped struggling and planted her feet when she noticed it was daylight out.

"Oh ho, the little leech doesn't like the sunshine!" one of the men said, and the others roared in laughter. "Don't you worry none, darling; we aren't stringing you up outside."

"Yet," another man added.

"So we can do this the polite way, where you stop fighting us and we take you to our boss, no sunshine involved," the first man said.

"Or," said another, "you can keep fighting—uselessly, might I add—and we drag you to our boss anyway, but we take the long way around. It's a lovely day, and I'm sure we'd all appreciate some daylight right about now."

"What's it going to be?" asked the first.

Slowly, Celeste loosened her tense muscles and followed the men's lead. It chafed, following their orders, but she knew better than to let her pride get in the way of her survival.

"That's a good pet," a man said. She bit back another snarl and kept walking.

They brought her through a series of covered paths to the back entrance of a large house. Inside, they took her to a man.

He was average to the point of being completely unremarkable. That was until you looked into his eyes. In them, Celeste could see a cruel hunger that rivaled the worst clients she ever serviced at the blood house. He looked her and her captors over with a cool, dispassionate eye.

"Lyam," he said. "Is that from it?"

"Yes sir," another man, Lyam apparently, said. "She got one in before we got the leads attached."

The man, presumably their boss, clicked his tongue. "Sloppy," he admonished.

"You're the one who doesn't let us use muzzles," Lyam shot back.

Their boss raised one eyebrow, thoroughly unimpressed. "I would think that the premiere group of vampire catchers in France could manage one little leech without needing one." He sighed. "I suppose I was wrong. Get out of here; the smell of your blood will only make this harder."

"Yes, sir," Lyam said, then left.

Celeste swallowed down her instinct to lunge after him. His blood was far from the best she had tasted, like switching to stale beer after drinking the finest of champagne, but right then she was too hungry to care.

"So you do have some self-control after all," their boss mused, stepping closer to get a better look at her. "Good. That will make this easier."

"Make what easier?" she demanded. "What are you doing? Why am I here?"

He shook his head like a disappointed teacher. "That tone won't do at all," he said. Then, in a motion swift enough that even she had trouble tracking it, he backhanded her across the face.

She screamed as he made burning contact. That- that wasn't just a hand. He was wearing silver gloves.

"Be silent," he commanded.

Her mouth shut with a click of teeth.

He looked at her cheek, where she could still feel the burn the silver had left. "It seems she was right; you are beautiful when you're afraid."

Celeste's eyes widened and her stomach sank. He- no, that couldn't be. Who had told him that? No one else should know that. That was a private conversation.

She wouldn't. Madame- no, she wouldn't.

Would she?

"As for your questions... I am feeling generous today, so I will answer," he said. "I am about to begin training you. You are here because I am your new owner."

Celeste stared. He couldn't be serious.

A slow, sinister smile spread across his face. "I am the most prestigious trainer and provider of vampire pets in all of Europe. And you, little leech, have much learning to do."

He looked to one of the team of men who had brought her in, one who wasn't holding a lead. "Bring me that box over there."

The man hastened to obey.

The trainer opened the box and pulled out a pair of pliers. "We'll begin by teaching you the consequences of biting without permission, pet."

Celeste tried to get away. She put every scrap of strength she had left into escaping. Panic and terror lent her some power, but she was still far too weak, and the men were prepared for her struggles. The men easily opened her mouth and forced in a contraption that held it painfully wide, then pushed her to her knees.

The trainer approached at a leisurely pace, pliers held loosely in one hand. If her heart still beat, it would be pounding against her ribs with her terror. He threaded his free hand through her hair, pulling painfully tight and forcing her head back.

She closed her eyes as the pliers came down, but she couldn't stop her other senses. She couldn't help but hear the little clink of metal against enamel as he grasped one of her fangs with the pliers, and the sharp crack as he twisted and pulled. She couldn't help but feel the bright agony radiating through her mouth as her jawbone lost hold of the tooth, and she couldn't stop herself from tasting her own used, dead blood running from the socket where her fang should be.

She gasped and whined and shuddered, but the men held her fast. She opened her eyes to see the trainer holding her fang—her fang, he had her fang, that was hers and he couldn't have it, mon Dieu why was this happening—up to the light.

"A beautiful specimen," he said. The curved, needle-sharp tooth gleamed in the light, coated in saliva and blood. He pulled out a handkerchief and dropped the fang in, then wrapped it up and tucked it in a pocket.

"But it will be better with its twin," he said.

He lowered the pliers again.

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“Janiya?”  She nods and uncurls slightly.

“You’re hurt,” he says slowly, but despite his careful tone, she presses further into the corner, her eyes going wide.  She begins to shake her head, trembling, until Darin eases back another step.

“Okay,” he says, raising his hands, “I’m not going to touch you, Janiya, see?”  She watches him warily.  Gavin’s voice drops in tone, and so does Ivy’s. 

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asks.  She shakes her head no.  The movement causes blood to seep from one of the stitches and Darin has to breathe slowly to avoid losing his lunch.

“Can I take a look at –”

Janiya shakes her head violently and Darin sighs.  She refuses to let any of them close to her.  She refuses to let any of them touch her.  And the stitches crisscross across her face, jutting out from skin stretched taut and glistening red wherever the light strikes them.

“Janiya,” he says, trying a different tack, “You’re hurting.  I can help.”  She watches him like he’s a wolf trying to get closer to the fire.

“It’ll get infected if it stays in too long,” he warns, but she stays curled up, her eyes tracking him as a threat, and he straightens up to move away.  He’ll try again later.  Perhaps when they’re back at headquarters.  The wounds will get infected, but the damage will be worse if she fights him and giving her some time to calm down will help.

Unfortunately, they don’t have the time.

It’s Ash who speaks, slicing through the rest of the muttering with a terse, “They’re tracking us.” 

“What?” Ivy asks as Gavin demands, “How?”

“Give me a moment to trace it,” Ash mutters, fiddling with the device in his hands, but everyone in the room is already turning to stare at Janiya.

Her breaths grow fast and shallow and she presses back into the corner like if she tries hard enough, she’ll disappear.

“Janiya, did they tag you with a tracker?” Gavin asks.

She shakes her head violently, but her hands creep over her mouth.  Ash is moving towards her and he stops, pointing the sensor at her face.

“Janiya,” Darin says quietly.  She presses back further in the corner.  “Janiya, we need to get the tracker out.”

She keeps shaking her head, her eyes skittering around the room as she curls up further.

“We can’t lead them back to the base,” Ash says, and he half-turns to the door, “They’ll be here in five minutes.  Maybe less.”

Gavin’s face is a mask of stone.  Ivy is biting her lips.  Rita is watching Janiya, cool and still.

“Gavin…” Darin starts, unsure of what he’s going to say.

“We need to get rid of the tracker,” Ash says, his tone wavering between determined and hesitant. They’re all staring at Janiya now, who looks about three seconds away from hyperventilating.

“We can’t let them follow us,” Gavin says finally.  And everyone knows that leaves only two options.

They won’t leave Janiya behind to the very same people that did this to her.  Unfortunately, option number two isn’t much better. 

Janiya scrabbles further into the corner, but there’s nowhere to go.  Her breaths are too high and too fast.  Darin approaches slowly.

“Janiya, we need to get the stitches out so we can remove the tracker,” Darin says, hands out, voice calm, “I’m going to do it as fast as possible, okay?”

Janiya shakes her head no.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Darin says, because she needs to calm down, he needs her to calm down.  “Please, Janiya, we need to get it out.”

Janiya is definitely hyperventilating now, her face is pale and her eyes are wide and she’s shaking, her gaze darting all over the room, her hands covering her face.

“Three minutes,” Ash says unhelpfully.  Kai is at the window, watching for hostiles.

“Darin,” Gavin says, his voice low.

Darin knows.  His stomach twists, but they’re out of time.

“Ash,” he says softly, “Ivy.”  They both come to his side.  Janiya stares at him, her eyes glittering.  Fresh blood has begun to leak from her wounds.

“Grab her arms,” he says.

Janiya’s eyes widen – she tries to fight, but Ash and Ivy drag her out of the corner.  She struggles violently until they push her to the floor.  Darin straddles her, pinning her down to get the best access to her mouth.

She’s shuddering, trying desperately to yank her arms out of Ash and Ivy’s grip, trying to buck him off, slamming her head violently out of the way of his hands.  Her eyes are blown wide in panic and she’s no longer listening – Darin can’t keep ahold of her jaw and cut the threads out at the same time.

“Gavin,” he calls, and their leader comes to kneel at Janiya’s head.  He grasps her face carefully, thumbs curling high on her cheekbones and fingers splaying down her cheeks, holding her in place. 

Janiya stares at him in deep, betrayed terror.

Darin works fast – because they don’t have any time, because he can feel the nausea rising with every stifled whimper, because Janiya struggles fiercely and almost tears out the stitches as he works.

He works fast, but he’s still careful.  Each thread is clipped precisely, freeing up her lips bit by bit.  He doesn’t bother to remove the threads, they don’t have time for that and Janiya’s hysteria has welled over into straight-out terror.

Three-fourths of the way through, she stops struggling.  She stares blankly at the ceiling, tears dripping down her face in tune to shallow breaths.

Gavin’s face looks like it’s been carved from stone.  Ivy is looking away, unable to watch, but Ash is staring like it’s a punishment.

Darin finishes cutting through the stitches and jams his fingers into her mouth before she can bite down.  He has no time to be gentle, so he grabs the phone Ash hands him and shines a flashlight into Janiya’s mouth.

Something is attached to the last tooth on the back left.  Darin attempts to get it out by himself as Janiya chokes underneath him.

He tilts the flashlight to get a better look.

“I can see them,” Kai calls out, “About thirty seconds out.”

Darin breathes in, slow and deep, and out, steady and firm.  It’s a wisdom tooth.

Ash wordlessly hands him the pliers.  Gavin’s face has gone bloodless.  Ivy looks like she’s going to be sick.

Janiya takes one look at the tool in his hand before something shutters behind her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Darin breathes out, and holds her mouth open as wide as it’ll go.  She starts struggling again, incomprehensible pleas coming out gargled and strangled. 

Darin squeezes the pliers around the last tooth –

Takes a breath –

And pulls.

Janiya screams.

“We need to leave now,” Kai yells as the gunfire starts.

Darin throws the bloody tooth-and-tracker at Ash, who exchanges it for a wad of cloth that Darin presses to the gaping hole at the back of Janiya’s mouth.  “Bite down,” he instructs as he gets off, fervently hoping she doesn’t swallow it.

Gavin jumps to the door to exchange fire and Ivy pulls Janiya to her feet.  She is still crying – eyes wide and red, face pale and blotchy, black thread and blood shining around her lips – and she stumbles after Ivy with a face blank with shock.

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