[[PUBLIC]][[FIC]] Teeth - Chapter 2

[carriesagun]

I have had this half-finished for ages. Well, a week or so. Anywho, I've been planning this out in serious detail and have even got a big-huge explanation for the wolf-pack hierachy. Organisation; is srs bzns. YES.

Enough rambling; enjoy the chapter!

 

My first thought when I woke up was that my brain was almost certainly leaking out of the back of my head. I groaned and felt the backside of my skull, running my fingertips along a neatly stitched wound, around an inch and a half long. I counted four stitches, neatly tied at the end, and then turned my attention to the room around myself. When I had established that the world wasn't spinning and I didn't feel like I was about to be sick, so I considered myself able to sit up and stared at the room I was in. It was daylight outside, the bright sunshine winking through the flimsy curtains to dapple the pale blue walls and send pretty patterns all over the simple white bedspread. The room was sparsely furnished but comfortable, a small bathroom off of it where I washed my face and paid attention to what I looked like.

 

I had a graze on my cheek from being pressed up against that wall and a small bruise on the nape of my neck where I'd been pinned, but other than those two and the cut on the back of my head, I found myself reassuringly uninjured and went back into the bedroom with a small spring in my step. I felt slightly uneasy at the bruising on my neck; how hard had she been pinning me? I hadn't been aware enough to consider how tight her grip was at the time, but now I really was concerned.

 

Looking back around, I noticed a piece of paper folded on the bedside cabinet and opened it, reading the instructions on it with a frown that made my head thump with confusion. They were directions around the house, I assumed, but I felt a little apprehensive at actually leaving this little sanctuary and facing the world – a world without Melissa.

 

I sat on the bed and steadied myself, reading over the instructions again until I could have nearly recited them from memory. I had to face up to what had happened, and what might happen, and that would lead me to the other side of the door. Butterflies fluttered unhappily in my stomach and I tried to bat away the sick, nervous feeling I got as I read the directions one last time. I got up, walking to the door and opening it purposefully as though I had a plan. I went down two flights of stairs and met no one, taking the first hallway door and nearly toppling down a third flight of stairs that lead into a basement. I grabbed the railing and took them slowly, hating the way they made my head spin, and nearly kissed the concrete flooring that I found myself on when I'd reached the bottom.

 

“Oh, here he is! I was about to come up and see if you were dead.” I looked over at my rescuer, recognising her voice, who had got up and walked towards me, her hand outstretched, and for the first time I actually got to see what she looked like. Her face was plain, the sort you'd walk past without a second glance to double check her, but her eyes and hair made up for that. Her eyes were a bright crystal blue, a colour so unnatural I put it down to coloured contact lenses, and her hair was a stark blue-black in a colour I assumed came from a bottle.

 

“I'm still here, at least I think so,” I replied with a smile, rubbing the back of my head absently as I assessed the room with feigned interest. It was a large room with a ceiling that stood probably seven feet from the cold, concrete floor. The walls were covered by bookshelves which held books, VHS tapes and what looked like weapons boxes, though being a doctor, I couldn't have told you unless they were labelled what was in them. The centre space seemed divided by a small but long bookshelf; one half was taken up by three desks covered with sprawling computer equipment, while the other half was clear space with a sparring mat on the floor.

 

“Alex Davis,” she said, grabbing my hand and shaking it violently up and down while shaking her head and laughing. “No need to look quite so concerned,” she added with a laugh.

 

“Jack Mcdonald,” I told her, shaking myself from my reverie to return the pleasantries and smiling at her. I was pretending as hard as possible that last night hadn't happened, but it seemed that no matter how hard I tried, Melissa's face kept popping up in front of my mind's eye. She spotted the look on my face and instantly diverted my attention.

 

“This is Dante, and that girl over there is Amy,” she explained, indicating the people as she introduced them. Amy stalked towards me and I offered her a smile, instantly regretting it as I saw here eyeing me over like a wolf looks at a flock of sheep, almost licking her lips in a way that made my skin crawl, ants creeping all over me. She took my hand in hers and it was burning hot, enough to make me gasp and attempt to pull back from her, but her grip stayed strong and she held me in place. I was becoming concerned about the number of superiorly strong women in the room when Alex stepped between us and pulled Amy off of my arm. “Put your tits away and try and act with some decorum.” A growl trickled out of Amy and I nearly fell down dead then – it was such an animal noise, not something I'd ever heard come out of a human being before in my entire life. I gulped and, admittedly, took a small step so I was shielded behind Alex.

 

“Ladies, claws away.” Dante stood and pulled me back from the two women who were glaring at each other, hands gripping one another's arms tight enough that there was white rings appearing under their fingertips. “Now.” That word seemed to break the spell and the two stepped away from one another, still glaring but all tension gone from them both. “Don't mind them, they can't help themselves,” he explained with a smile, shaking my hand tightly. I was trying to place his accent and struggling, certain that my confusion was plain on my face, but Alex saved me.

 

“Want some tea?” she asked, walking past me with a smile on her face, heading for the stairs that had nearly tripped me over and walking up them quicker than I could have managed without tripping back down them. I followed her, gripping the handrail as tight as I could yet still maintaining forward motion, and was glad when we got to the door at the top of the stairs. She opened it and turned sharply right into a large, modern kitchen, gleaming chrome and white décor glaring at me and making my head thump sharply.

 

Once I had adjusted to the bright light, I spotted Alex filling a kettle from the sink that was directly opposite me. Also along that wall was a stable door that led into a large garden, a lot of open work surface and a large microwave sat on the dark marble top. To my right, against the wall that the door opened out of, was a built in double oven and a dishwasher. The other two sides of the room were considerably less tidy; they were covered in boxes with various labels, and one of the surfaces was over taken by a large, thick fleecey throw, covering something lumpy underneath. I glanced at Alex, who was scrubbing at a large saucepan furiously and humming to herself while the kettle boiled on the hob, before stepping towards the throw slowly and as quietly as I could. I was within reach of it, my hand extending, when-

 

“Don't touch.” I jumped and my brain gave an uncomfortable lurch as she barked the order at me. “It's very rude to snoop around your hosts house without their permission, you know,” she told me, not even looking up from her chore.

 

“Sorry,” I apologised sheepishly, stepping back from the throw and looking at it, desperate to know what was underneath. The kettle started to whistle, so she stopped scrubbing at the pan and poured the water into two cups, pointedly ignoring me until she was done.

 

“Milk, sugar, sweetener or powder-milk?” she asked sharply, her voice echoing in the stark room.

 

“One sugar and normal milk, please,” I replied, and she nodded, adding my requested items to the cup before turning and handing it to me. I wasn't really paying attention to her face until she turned around, when I saw she was smiling broadly.

 

“You can look, you know. I was only joking,” she teased, throwing the fleece blanket back to reveal a wide selection of vegetables that had been chopped roughly into large-ish pieces. “For Dante's deer herd,” she offered by way of explanation, as though everyone in London owned a herd of deer.

 

“Oh, I see,” was all I could think of to say, and sipped the tea gratefully, pleased of the distraction. We both stood there for a while, looking out of the huge window as a pair of squirrels tore through the snow on the branch of a tree, chasing one another enthusiastically. “Deer?”

 

“For hunting,” she said simply, and I instinctively knew that the conversation is over. “Where do you want us to bury Melissa?” My stomach knotted painfully again, and my eyes prickled with tears I hadn't yet shed.

 

“I... I don't know. Do I have to decide now?”

 

“No, you've got three days. If she doesn't come back as a vampire, we'll bury her for you.”

 

“And if she does wake up as a vampire?” Something dark crossed Alex's face and then she smiled.

 

“She'll get a stake through the heart and we'll be burning her.” My stomach rumbled and I had to run for the nearest bathroom, dropping the cup and hearing it smash as I ran, to silently and pointlessly wretch into the toilet basin. After I was certain that I was finished, I sat back against the wall, resting my sweaty forehead on my forearms, my knees up to my chest, and finally cried.