DARK SHADOWS

 

CHAPTER XIII

 

 

What could be taking her so long? Ash thought to himself wearily. He and Brock still were overpowered by the darkness of the night, thus they could not assist Misty, or find her. The two men were “slaves to the night” as it was often said. Then again, there had to be something they could do. Misty was one woman, only just barely escaping her rebellious teenage years; quite a wry thought for Ash. Here his best friend was, Misty Kasumi Waterflower, a twenty-year-old woman, expected to fight a war by herself? Impossible.

 

“Where in the hell is she?” Brock whispered aggressively making his whisper sound more like a raw hiss from a Seviper. They had their orders from Misty, who was temporarily serving as team leader and she gave direct orders to stay put.

 

“I don’t know but I’m getting worried.” Ash replied solemnly.

 

In his boredom Brock kicked around at the littered floor. His foot came in contact with more objects than he had thought. “What did the Werewolves do? This building is completed trashed.” The young, spiky-brown-haired boy uttered breathlessly.

 

Ash shook his head, trying to stop the images from cycling through his mind again. That night was indeed one he would never forget. The things he saw were supposed to be impossible, fictional-then again, so was this goddamned war. “Trust me, Brocko, you don’t want to know.”

 

“Actually,” Brock began intrigued, “I do. The Werewolves didn’t do this by use of their own bare hands.” The young man gazed up at the massive cavity in the ceiling. Through it he could see the full moon that had just recently been partially shrouded by a single cloud. What little light journeyed through sliced through the darkness of the night and provided retreat from the shadows in the museum. “Hey Ash, take a look at this.”

 

If it had not been for the weak beacon of light pouring through the cavity in the roof Ash never would have made his way to Brock’s side. But the light proved helpful as he crossed flawlessly over the clutter and broken artifacts. “What is it?”

 

Brock pointed his index finger passed the ceiling...at the moon. “You can see the outline of the moon through the cloud.” He said with a rasp voice. He sounded...scared.

 

“Yeah, so?” He didn’t seem all too surprised by this discovery, if you could call it that.

 

“Ash, ever since the night this war started, ever since the Werewolves broke through the Underworld, the moon has never moved. Every night it’s in the same location. Every night it’s full. It never gets closer and it never moves further away.”

 

“I have noticed that, Brock. We all have.”

 

“But did you ever ask why?”

 

Oh so typical Ash. He didn’t even have to reply yet Brock knew the answer. Of course he hadn’t! There was no direct assumption. The mortals held no Werewolf records, history, or folklore. How could they know? But Ash had an idea that Brock did.

 

“What’s your idea?”

 

“According to the little information that we have on the Werewolves, it is a fact that they require the presence of a full moon to change from human form to wolf form. In their wolf form they have superhuman strength, agility; they can heal their bodies at a catastrophic level. Without the full moon they wouldn’t have that upper hand. So, I believe that the Elder Werewolves have put a curse upon the moon, holding it in place until they win this war.”

 

After Brock’s spiel had ended, Ash stared silently up at the moon, considering what he had just heard. Could the moon be cursed? Did the Werewolves even possess magical powers? The more he stared at it the more Brock’s idea seemed wrong. There was just something different, something Ash couldn’t put his finger on. Whenever he looked up at the moon he felt awkward, as if it held inhuman powers itself-

 

“No!” Ash shouted louder than he intended.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Your theory is wrong, Brock. The moon isn’t cursed.”

 

“Well, what’s your explanation? “ The older man crossed his arms across his chest and waited impatiently. The expression on Ash’s dimly lit face was quite blank for a brilliant breakthrough.

 

“That night, the night that I snuck away from the base and ended up being chased by the Werewolves, I saw something.”

 

“What did you see?”

 

Ash took a moment to recollect his memory from the horrific night that he almost lost his life to. “First, I saw Misty.”

 

“Are you sure?” Brock asked perplexed.

 

Ash simply nodded. “But she wasn’t hunting down Werewolves. She was watching over me.” A small smile crept across the teenager’s lips but then suddenly faced just as fast as it appeared. “Then, I saw a group of men break into the museum. First they blew through the front with explosives and then I heard a howl...like a wolf howls at the moon.

 

“After that, all the clouds that were hiding the moon were whisked away and there was another howl and I could have sworn I saw the outline of a Werewolf in the moon’s face. The howl was louder than anything I had ever heard before. But just when I thought I had seen everything I saw a bright light shoot from the moon and blast this hole in the roof.

 

“That’s when I saw the men leave the museum holding a book...” Oh no. Like an opponent caught in a Lapras’ ice beam attack Ash was frozen stiff. For a moment Brock could have sworn he saw his friend’s eyes glaze over and his face features flush.

 

“What’s the problem?” the older man pried. “What about the book they had?”

 

Could it be the same book, Ash thought. It has to be! “How long until sunrise?”

 

“Forty seven minutes.”

 

“We need to get moving. This is a wild goose chase.”

 

“Why?”

 

“The Lycans already have the Book of the Dark Shadows.” A powerful female voice interjected. The source was a dark silhouette standing at the opening of the cavity in the ceiling. The two men, and Pikachu, immediately knew what the woman was...a Vampire. She had the muffled speech due to her fangs, she wore the attire: a long dark purple trench coat that gleamed in the moonlight, and finally her eyes that glowed a deep ocean blue.

 

“Don’t be alarmed. My name is Mercedes and I’m here to find Misty and bring her to safety.” The female said genuinely.

 

But Ash wouldn’t have it. He swiftly reached down to his leg holsters and thrust the pistols in the direction of the woman. “Over my dead body!”

 

“Pika!” the yellow rodent agreed.

 

“You don’t understand, Ash,” How does she know my name? “Misty is weak and dying. If she doesn’t get fresh blood in her system soon she won’t survive.”

 

“No! She was forced out of the Tower! You were sent to kill her!” the teen accused aggressively. Mercedes could tell this kid really loved her vampire accomplice, but she also knew that she couldn’t let him stand in her way.

 

“I don’t have time for this-“

 

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

 

What is that? Ash searched the face of his friend and noticed the same blank expression. To him, it sounded like thunder. Perhaps it meant the same to Brock, or to Pikachu, who was curling itself into a ball on Ash’s shoulder.

 

“Shit.”

 

Shit? The vampire must have known what that hellacious sound was. And it wasn’t just her words that gave her away, but also her actions. She was becoming quite antsy, fiddling with her pistols’ triggers and tapping her boots on the roof while looking for the source of the commotion.

 

“You know what that is.”

 

“I do, Tristan. He’s for Misty too, and probably you, Ash.”

 

“How do you know my name?” the boy was getting frustrated. The concept of the vampires having records on him sent shivers down his spine.

 

“That girl, wasting away somewhere in this museum, told me.”

 

Misty.

 

“Please. You have to trust me.”

 

“What about us?” Brock inquired. He too was sliding his pistols from his holsters, ready for any strike. “Are we just supposed to run?”

 

“I’m sorry but I wasn’t prepared for more than Misty. If you leave now you can make it.”

 

The moment of truth. Mercedes is right. Misty is dying. If she stays with us she’ll revert back to her natural instincts. But if we let her go with Mercedes who knows if we’ll ever see her again. Finally, Ash decided, let her go. At least this way she has a chance.

 

“Where is she, Ash?”

 

**********

 

“Enlighten me once more and tell me why in God’s name we are going out tonight?” Saleen commanded annoyed. She was in the process of slinging a large silver assault rifle over her shoulders and holstering her two favorite pistols. Dressed in her purple and black camouflaged pants, purple tank top, and black combat boots, she was suited up for a night of running, screaming, and killing. Her long, dark brown hair was tied into a ponytail.

 

“I’m finding Ash and bringing him home. He belongs with us; not a frickin’ vampire.” Hailen replied just as annoyed. Likewise, Hailen was prepared for any run-ins with either the vampire or werewolf clans. She looked over herself in the mirror and admired the black jeans with various tears and slits throughout the legs, her black and pink tank top that stopped above her stomach and the various weapons and ammo clips attached to her loose hanging web belt.

 

“Jealous are we?” chimed Abigail jokingly. The light brunette wandered into her friend’s private quarters and set her primary weapon down on the neatly made bed. She was already dressed and ready for action. Unlike Hailen and Saleen, Abigail had a set outfit for hunting immortals: reddish-brown leather pants, a red and blue t-shirt, and a reddish-brown leather jacket.

 

“Jealous of a vampire?” Hailen chuckled. “You must be joking.”

 

“No,” the woman replied without a tinge of sarcasm, “correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t she save your life a few nights back?”

 

Hailen slapped her hands on her hips and let out a long sigh. She paced around the room various times and finally set her eyes on the prized possession of Abigail’s. “Why do you have a bow for a primary weapon? Pistols are more accurate.”

 

“In my hands that bow is more accurate than your pistols. And don’t change the subject.”

 

“Why do you care anyway?”

 

“Because I find no reason in killing someone who saved your life as well as Ash and Brock’s.” With that she slung the silver archery weapon over her shoulder and dashed out of the room, making sure to slam the door behind her.

 

The blond woman found herself at a loss for words. With her fiery eyes fixated on the door she clenched her fists and threw a powerful punch through the wall. Immediately she found her friend scamper to her side and examined her bruised and cut up fist. Fragments of stiff drywall hooked themselves in between her knuckles and blood dripped down to her pink fingernails.

 

“What’s her deal?” the angry blond screamed at the top of her lungs, the same time that she pulled away her fist from her friend’s gaze. Her fist drawn back for another blow but then she retracted her pistols with a swift action and slapped an ultraviolet clip in the butt and cocked the slide back. “I’m giving Misty what’s coming to her!”

 

“Hailen, no!” Saleen rebuked. “Abigail is right. Why must you consider Misty your enemy? It looks to me like she holds the same position as you. Her ultimate goal seems to be protecting Ash and Brock.”

 

“I don’t care if she is protecting Ash. She doesn’t deserve to be loved by him.” The once limp tongues of fire in Hailen’s eyes had now grown tenfold into wild flames.

 

“Sorry Hail, but from the looks of the photograph I’d say she had him first.” The brunette Shadow Hunter turned on her half-inch heels and trotted toward the door, twirling a silver blade in her left hand. Just before her exit she stopped in the doorway and glanced over her shoulder with a solemn expression. “In the event that Ash chooses Misty I’ll watch their backs.”

 

Hailen spat at that remark and flailed her arms in the air in her utter frustration. “God dammit, Saleen, Misty is a fucking Vampire! You were present when the Council announced that-“

 

“There shall be no interaction with any immortal. Yes, I was there. But you know what? Misty has been a vampire for four years. In other words: fuck the Council’s decision. And since when has it been your style to abide by their wishes? If I remember right you thought that there was no purpose for the Council.”

 

“Well maybe they’re finally right about something.” Replied Hailen, harshly.

 

“And maybe you’re just a stuck-up bitch.” And with that Saleen took her leave.

 

Hailen was left all alone. It seemed her life was falling apart. First she lost her mother when she was only four, then her father just a few years back. Her heart and soul went through hell when her father passed on and she never thought she’d be able to smile...until that day that she saved Ash Ketchum...

 

 

 

Obviously all the Shadow Hunters had heard about what went on, or at least noticed that Abigail and Saleen weren’t in a social mood so they figured likewise of Hailen. There was complete silence in the garage, but the Lavender Town princess could sense it was fresh. The instance she pushed the two steel doors open all talk had faded and the cliques slit up into the far corners of the wide open space. One swift glance around the premise and she spotted her two friends already waiting by a black pickup truck. I thought they had abandoned me Hailen thought.

 

“Hey, are you going to stand there or are we getting our boys back?” inquired Abigail, now with a full arrow bag attached to her back. It appeared as if she had taken Hailen up on her suggestion. Resting on the brunette’s slender legs were two Sig Sauer P226 pistols.

 

“I thought you were mad at me” the blonde stated with her arms folded across her chest as she walked boldly toward her pickup truck. Her loose hair was bouncing over her shoulders and upper back.

 

“Upset, yes. Mad, no.” replied Saleen with a warm smile. “We’re in this with you to the end.”

 

“Yeah.” Agreed Abby.

 

**********

 

Jesus Christ, please, where in the hell is she? I don’t have time for this! The time clock before sunrise was ticking and the sand in the glass was running dry. In a matter of minutes the orange rays would be breaching the horizon and soon the deadly yellow ball in the sky would turn herself, and Misty, into dust. But that couldn’t happen. With Mercedes it wouldn’t. “Goddammit, Misty, where in the hell are you!” Perhaps screaming out loud wasn’t the best idea and Mercedes immediately kicked herself for it.

 

Already the crisp night air was becoming heated by the rising rays far beyond the east horizon. A warm and gentle breeze blew through the massive cavities in the museum and felt like pricks upon her skin. Anything that reminded her of the vampires’ most feared enemy panged her body.

 

“Come on, girl, talk to me.” The desperate vampire pleaded as she kicked over fallen relics, piles of charred lumber, and shattered masterpieces. Ash had told her in which direction Misty had headed but now she was beginning to believe that perhaps Misty took a detour. Time was dwindling and she had covered nearly every square inch of the level-

 

There! A black leather trench coat!

 

“Misty!” the orange haired vampires was passed out on the cold, stone floor. Her position informed Mercedes that Misty didn’t just lie down, but rather fell unwillingly; no doubt a sign that the heroine was in more danger than anticipated. Tiny glass shards trickled down the creases in the midnight blue trench coat and ticked as they bounced off the solid flooring. Along with the shards dripped thin, light red blood, thin as water. Oh, no. Please, God.

 

A dire sign that a vampire was dying was the steady flow of extremely thin blood. The fluid was drying up within the host’s body and soon would be completely gone, leaving the body to flake away. At this stage there weren’t many procedures that could be done, other than get fresh blood in the host’s stream. The only reason Mercedes failed to attempt this was because Misty needed more blood than Mercedes could offer. McLaren was her only hope.

 

But the sun was breaching the horizon.

 

It was too late!

 

“Fuck!” the brunette vampires hissed aloud as she backed away into a wall and covered her face with her leather clad hands. As long as the sun didn’t touch her skin she wouldn’t burn. But this was only the beginning of “watching the sunrise.” What of Tristan and the Death Dealers? Remembering that time was of the essence; Mercedes brushed the concept away and scooped up Misty’s lip figure in her leather clad arms. There had to be someplace where the two could go. Then again that wasn’t the dilemma. Where was Misty going to get a fair ration of blood?

 

Mercedes moved through the ruins of the massive structure like a lost child. Everywhere she seemed to look there would be a dead end glaring back at her. Each passing second the sun was rising higher and her’s and Misty’s fate was being sealed. She thought back to her centuries of training and calmed herself down. There must be a way out she told herself endless times. But one solid glance around the proximity told her otherwise. The amount of cavities was endless; in the ceiling, floor, and walls.

 

Just then, something began to crack.

 

The floor gave way below Mercedes’ feet...and they fell into the comforting darkness.

 

**********

 

It was the right thing to do. No. He was looking out for her well-being. I shouldn’t have left her. She would be safe now. What have I done? The nineteen year old Shadow Hunter dropped to his knees hard. The yellow rodent perched on his trainer’s shoulder leapt off just before impact and snarled at its trainer. Ash, however, didn’t even notice his upset Pokemon. Misty was the only concept on his mind.

 

“Ash?” asked the Shadow Hunter, slash former breeder, softly. He had turned around the moment he heard Ash fall to the ground. In no time he had his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Come on, we need to keep moving. Tristan might be after us.”

 

From the look of his partner, it didn’t seem like Ash was taking in any information. His expression was lacking, well, and expression. If he were pink and not tanned he could pass for a Ditto.

 

“You go on ahead. I’m going back for-“

 

“No!” Brock interjected. “Leave Misty with Mercedes. There isn’t anything you can do for her now.”

 

“I have too.”

 

“Ash, look to the east. The sun is rising.” He stated firmly, but gently. He was very concerned for Ash. It was obvious how much he loved that woman? In all fairness she’s still a woman in my eyes.

 

“What if they don’t make it? What if the sun rises before they can reach the Tower?” Ash never spoke that negatively. It was his nature to always look at the brighter side of everything. He changed, however, over the past four years. A half of a decade does a lot to a person. It was apparent that Ash was no longer the caring, innocent, gleeful little boy he used to be. At nineteen he was all grown up, but still caring, but not innocent.

 

“Don’t worry,” Brock replied positive as always, “Misty is with Mercedes. She’ll be fine. Then, we’ll be together again. Friends forever, man-“

 

Suddenly, a howl echoed through the crisp, dawn air.

 

It couldn’t be.

 

Never had Ash or Brock encountered werewolves during the day, not even when the sun was still in the process of rising. Thought werewolves weren’t barred by the sun, they chose to use the daylight hours to rest and plot.

 

But why change that now?

 

“Shit.” Brock mumbled. He hastily fumbled for his left handed pistol and one of his Pokemon. “It can’t be-“

 

“What else could it be, Brocko?” Ash replied, also removing his pistols. A swift twirling action followed and he locked the handles of the weapons in his firm grasps. His hazel eyes darted around through the town’s thick morning dew that seemed to settle like soot from a forest fire. The air was cool, dank, hazy, thick, and wet. By far it was one of the worst conditions to be in.

 

**********

 

The black pickup truck barreled through the lifeless streets. The roar emitted from the twin four-inch chrome-tipped exhaust pipes echoed off the stone walls and cobblestone street, even shaking the rarely seen unbroken window. A light source posed no problem to the three occupants as a truck light bar was installed, with four lights just peaking over the roof; as well as two lights mounted on the truck’s brush bar. Steel headache racks were also installed over the rear windshield, as were taillight guards.

 

As the daughter of Lavender Town’s Mayor, Hailen had access near limitless money. Most of the expenses went to funding the Shadow Hunters’ weapons, ammunition, training, supplies, and food. She had only purchased two personal items: her Lexus IS 350 and Chevrolet Silverado 1500 SS. As of a few nights ago her Lexus was completely totaled, leaving her with her pickup that surely wouldn’t suffer the same fate.

 

“Damn. We got excited for nothing.” Abigail murmured groggily. Her bow and arrow bag wobbled in the empty back seat, making the brunette reach over at the last minute to stop her arrows from spilling. “It’s going to be a walk in the park.”

 

The front seat passenger let out a long and arduous sigh. “Thanks, Abby,” Saleen chimed sarcastically, “you just jinxed us. Now we’re going top end up in a heated battle with the werewolves where we all suffer near death experiences and leave battered and bruised.”

 

“Oh please,” replied the backseat passenger. “There is no such thing as a jinx. You’re either fucked when you leave or fucked down the road.”

 

“Bullshit! Every frickin’ time you say ‘nothing will happen. It’s going to be a walk in the park’, we end up getting our asses handed to us on a silver-substituted platter. Honestly girl I think those werewolves have a voice recorder on you or something. Their existence is based on proving you wrong.”

 

“Did you think that maybe I wanted to jinx us so we would have an encounter?” Abigail shot back more aggressively than intended.

 

“Sorry sweetie, but you can’t play a jinx like that. If anything the jinx plays you. But now that you mentioned it, is ‘the box’ in the bed of the truck?”

 

“You brought ‘the box!?” shouted Hailen. “Do you know how much it costs to use that thing?”

 

Both women were silently in deep thought until Saleen shot back with, “as much as it costs Bush to fund a war?”

 

 

 

**********

 

Still, the streets were totally deserted. Old wooden shutters banged against stony walls and a harsh breeze whistled through the three pedestrians’ ears. They walked side-by-side down the middle of the street, with Pikachu perched atop Ash’s head. Guns were drawn and chambers were loaded. If any werewolf leapt from one of the darker alleyways they would have silver nitrate coursing through their blood streams.

 

With the morning dew gone it was much easier to see; though the aftermath remained. The cobblestone pavement squeaked with every step one of the men took and the soles of their boots lost all traction if moved fast enough-

 

“Gah!” A hard smack followed and Brock found himself dashing to aid his friend in standing back up to his feet. Ash’s clothing was damp after coming into direct contact with the soaked pavement.

 

“Are you alright?” Ash simply nodded. “Be more careful, man. I have a feeling we’re already being hunted.”

 

“Then we can’t go back to the base.” Ash whispered in reply. “What if the werewolves follow us?”

 

“We can’t let them, but I don’t know how we can escape. Let’s keep moving.”

 

With that Ash and Brock began their aimless hike through Lavender Town...only they didn’t realize the slightly elevated manhole mere feet behind them-

 

There was something different about Ash. It took Brock one quick glance to notice the overly determined look Ash’s eyes. He looked like he was walking toward the battle of his life. “What’s going on?”

 

“No werewolf is going to tear me apart, or Turn me today.” He said through gritted teeth. “If I die I’ll never see Misty again. I won’t let that happen.”

 

**********

 

A true advantage of being a vampire was the uncanny ability to see in the dark. As a vampire you weren’t barred from certain locations where darkness was an obstacle. But deep down in the darkness beneath Lavender Town Museum, darkness was a blessing.

 

Where am I? How did I get here? Mercedes sat up straight, cupping her face in her palms and sighing. Her temples were pulsing furiously. Blood was circulating swifter in her veins and her vampire instincts automatically kicked in. Her white fangs extended over her bottom lip, her eyes illuminated into a brilliantly bright blue, and her strength was at a maximum. Oh, now I remember. The fall.

 

“Misty?” Passing the pulsing temples and automated vampire instincts aside, Mercedes sprang up to her feet with an impossible kip up that flung her five feet in the air. Resting motionless at her feet was “the someone” she was searching for. “Please hold on. I’ll get blood into your system.” But first I need to find a way out of here.

 

The area looked like a cave, with dark brown, stone surroundings, stone and dirt floors, and several tunnels carved in the stone. Oddly enough as Mercedes gazed up through the hole she fell through there was no sign of light or a beginning. How far down are we? Things were getting complicated. Misty was dying of blood loss, Tristan and his Death Dealers were after her, and they were stranded deep in a cave. The brunette vampire hoped that a deep breath would calm her immortal nerves-

 

What’s this? Right in front of her glowing blue eyes she spotted gray smoke disappear into the air. I can see my breath. Unlike mortals, vampires were cold blooded creatures. The cold never bothered them because their body heat would adapt to the perfect accommodations for the environment. But, being able to see her breath told her one thing...We’re too deep.

 

“What in the Hell am I going to do?” the vampire began pacing around the barren surroundings, kicking her feet at the stone and hissing in raw frustration. “Misty needs blood or she’ll die. She’s already been without it for several days. How much longer can she go for?” One answer circulated through her subconscious: not long.

 

They had to find an exit. Mercedes trekked through the century-old caverns with Misty slung over her shoulder. The black and red-headed vampire’s hair dangled lifelessly down to her carrier’s waist. Her arms dangled also, like vines in a rainforest. The cold of the cavern was increasing as Mercedes’ breath became more visible. Each footstep echoed like a gun shot; even the rare droplets of water dripping from the stalagmites and stalactites echoed tenfold.

 

Suddenly Mercedes found herself inside a massive dome-like area. The stone walls followed upward and curved to meet at the top. From end to end the chamber had to be an estimated one hundred yards. In the chamber, every sound could be heard as if it were being transmitted via a loudspeaker. Each breath, each tap of her boots’ soles against the stone, and each flutter of her leather trench coat.

 

The chamber however was not vacant. Directly in the center was a massive statue of an Arcanine standing on its hind legs and howling toward the sky. It was almost exactly like the statue outside of the Museum. That’s no Arcanine. Over the centuries Mercedes commanded more than one thousand Pokemon, including nine Arcanines and this statue was not an Arcanine. Of course for a beginning the identity could be mistaken. It’s an atrocity.

 

It was uncanny how much she hated the statue, and yet she wanted to learn more about it. The way it resembled a legendary Pokemon, and yet looked like a new creation provoked her to move closer. It can’t be. Situated around the statue was a gray stone altar, and between the two stone creations was a stream of crimson liquid that continued to flow though nothing was added to it. The eyes of the abomination glared down at the two vampires.

 

Mercedes immediately leapt twenty feet back and hissed bitterly, drawing her pistol and aiming it at the monster-

 

HOWL!

 

 

A/U: Well, I finally got around to writing chapter 13. Sorry it took so long. I have just been really busy setting up another fic and getting ready to re-write one of my old ones. Like I mentioned at the end of my previous chapter, there is going to be a lot more action and course language in the following chapters, as well as more gore. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, check back because I’m going to try and get chapter 14 posted ASAP. R&R please.

 

-Shelby GT500