If I could end this waking dream, escape through a scream and feel I'd won some way.

For the first time in over a week, I venture from the confines of my bedroom. My bare feet make little noise in the hallway as I creep down the stairs, following the sound of light orchestral music. Tommy is in the den, humming along with the stereo. His expression is one of pleased surprise as he sets eyes on me. He beckons me to him with open arms. "It's good to see you on your feet, little one." I glance nervously towards the shuttered windows, before crossing the room to embrace him. He kisses the top of my head and asks if I'm hungry. I say no, only slightly lying to him. If he disbelieves my reply, he doesn't let on to it as he releases me and moves into the kitchen.


I watch him for a moment, before turning my attention towards the door. Last time I walked through it, I was dying. Ignoring the shudder that passes through my body, I swing the front door open and step out onto the porch. The night is quiet, and so are the surrounding woods. The air is significantly cooler than even a week ago. Tentatively, I settle onto the splintered top step and stare up at the sky, my head feeling fractionally clearer. My heart still aches for Alex, and even as I think his name my hand creeps to my chest, picking lightly. I force my hands to my sides, pressing them flat on the step. No amount of pain, no suffering or wallowing will bring him back. Ignoring the tinge of red in my vision and the tremble in my lips, I think to my family, likely worrying themselves sick without word from me. Making up my mind to go over to the fort, I pause as I'm turning to call through the door to Tommy.


I hear a dull buzzing sound, and stiffen in panic, my mouth snapping shut like a trap. Turning my head to the side, I pray it was just my overactive imagination. The buzzing continues, and my fear grows at the faint sound of engines approaching. I smell them. I'd never forget their scent. It still seems to cling to long since healed wounds. My throat doesn't seem to work as I attempt to call out to Tommy, to warn him, to tell him to run. I reach my thoughts to his, sending a stream of pure terror as I see the headlights from the convoy bouncing between the trees. Tommy rushes out onto the porch. "Madelyn, what is it? What's the matter?"
With a shaking hand, I point towards the path, at the oncoming vehicles. "It's the hunters. Tommy...they've come back for me. You have to run..." I stand and push at his chest. "You have to run! They'll kill you...like Alex...Tommy, please!"
He stands his ground, his hands gesturing in the air. "I won't leave your side, little one." He begins chanting in Italian, and I shudder as several wraiths manifest in the yard. Tommy stands stalwart as the drone buzzes high about the roof and the cars approach.


Just by my heightened senses, I can tell there are many more of them than last time. My instincts tell me to flee with Tommy at my side, but instead I square my shoulders, grow my claws, and face the enemy with courage I don't feel. The cars pull into plain sight, and from my spot on the porch I hear a gruff voice from behind the dark windows of an SUV. "Kill the man. Capture the monster."
For a moment, all is silent and still. Then the doors begin to open and the bullets begin to fly. I leap in front of Tommy, taking a burning round of ammo in my shoulder. He shouts something at his wraiths, and they converge on the nearest group of hunters. Over the sound of screaming, I hear a shouted prayer. I clench my jaw, resisting an urge to run. The wraiths seem to shrink away from the praying individual, fleeing in separate directions. Tommy growls under his breath, and gestures towards the man. His body drops unconscious. More bullets fly out, and I let out an cry of rage as Tommy is hit. He pulls out his own gun, as I run full force off the porch, leaping onto one of the men and knocking the shotgun from his hands. My claws rip and tear, and I barely notice the several shots that hit their mark as the man's cohorts attempt to defend him. I hear Tommy's gun going off from his spot on the porch, and hear the thump as a body hits the dirt.


More blood is shed, and the offensive numbers don't seem to be thinning. Feeling my strength waning, I rip my teeth from a throat and push my thoughts to Tommy, imploring once more that he save himself. There's no response, and I turn towards the porch, my movement freezing. Tommy lay prone and torpid, two of the hunters training their rifles on him and watching me silently. "No!" I release the corpse in my grasp, panic overcoming me. As if by unspoken command, the men that are still standing step back, and I hear the gruff voice from inside one of the cars again.
"Stop fighting us, and we will not kill him. Let us take you, and the priest can live."
I keep my eyes on Tommy's unresponsive face, wanting his guidance and receiving none. I ache, both body and mind. I know that fighting further will just end up with the both of us as piles of ash. As if confirming my fears, one of the hunters cocks his gun. "Tick tock, vampire." Ignoring the hateful tear that traces down my cheek, I lower my hands, my claws retracting back into my fingertips. Several of the men surround me, guns at the ready. Two take my arms and without a moment's hesitation, a wooden stake is jammed into my chest. I'm frozen, subdued, and unable to do anything but scream inside my own head as the hunters on the porch fire at Tommy, reducing his body to dust. There's no fight or struggle as they throw me into the back of one of the SUVs. Facedown, I see nothing but the immaculately clean floor mats as the car begins moving. Unable to face the horror I've seen, and the horror that likely awaits me, I force myself into a defensive unconsciousness.


When I awaken, my expectations of a dark bedroom and Tommy's comfort are quickly quashed. The room reeks of antiseptic and sterility, the lights are painfully bright. I'm no longer staked or paralyzed, but I feel weak and low on blood. Moving gingerly, I touch the wall that my body is propped up against. It's solid, impossibly so. I get a vision of the rooms construction, and know that it was built to be inescapable, even by supernatural means. Through the chemical stink, I catch the scent of other Kindred. The north wall has a translucent stretch of thick glass. I strike my fist against it, and am greeting by nothing but pain. Through the glass, I see a corridor with similar rooms. In the one directly across from mine is a vampire with dusty, almost gray skin. Hairless and wide eyed, his thin lips pull back from his teeth in a fixed grimace. He meets my gaze with little interest, staring up at the wall of his own prison. In a cell next to the gray skinned man, a muscular, red haired woman lay face down on the tile. Her face is obscured, but I can see thick black claws and light scaling on one of her splayed out hands.


I back away from the glass with a whimper, settling into one of the room's corners and curling my knees to my chest. The feel of terror and desperation pull at me, and I fight to keep myself from floundering into a fugue. For the first time in a week, I reach out to Sailix's mind. Nothing. No denial. No response. It's just dead air. Whimpering, I clench my arms tight around my knees and try to reach Pyotr. Again, there's nothing. I face similar failure when I try to reach MacAllister, Troy...even Noah. It's as if my mind has been blocked off from any and all familiar links. I'm alone. Pressing my face down and rocking slightly, I wait, whispering to myself. "Oh god, please someone help me.." I wait. Either for death, for release, or for the end of another nightmare.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z5dVy4ikcbA