Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed Part Three. Appreciate it. And now for the conclusion of this story, Part Four. Hope it's satisfactory, and watch in the future for a continuation of this potential pre-movie series. Thanks!
Winchester held tightly and reassuringly in his hand, Tom followed Huck to where the bats had vanished. The building appeared abandoned, which had them on high alert at once. There was a high possibility this was a trap, and that intimidated the two men. After all, the odds seemed even… but they were in fact very much in their enemy's favour. Two vampires against two spies was hardly fair, regardless of weapons.
"We don't have a choice," Huck whispered to his partner at the doorway, as the two stared into the gloom and shadow. They could make out faint outlines of an old lobby, with dusty, web-ridden furniture, and even candles and lamps. There were some blankets in the corners, as if people had been sheltering in the old building… until very recently. There was a liquor bottle, still with liquid inside. They had fled, whoever they had been.
Fled, or been killed.
Hesitantly, the two spies entered the scene, pulling their hats from their heads so they had a better visual of the place, and gazed around warily, their guns poised and fingers at the triggers readily should they need to act quickly.
Tom, for one, felt his heart racing like a steam engine in his chest. He swallowed dryly, feeling the difficulty he had in doing so. They could be in the shadows at that very moment, waiting to pounce. All it would take was a moment, and they would be ambushed. Russoff and Amy were here somewhere… and they had never seen the former before.
Tom recalled how Amy had simply been standing at that doorway, as if she had been wary to enter, red eyes like pools of blood, simply staring intently, the tips of fangs just visible behind crimson lips. Her skin had been pale but wet with rain, and her hair had been hanging limply around her face, soaked with the weather. Her dress had been thinned by the moisture that had clung to it, but it was her gaze Tom had noticed more than anything; the way it had bored into him. It had made his blood run cold, and calmed his heart at the same time. He knew now that she had been trying to trance him, and he was grateful to whatever had caused him to run to tell Huck. Perhaps it had been the landlady's scream that had alarmed the two of them, and startled them out of their staring.
Whatever it was, he couldn't help but feel that those eyes were never far away, watching him and trying to capture him again.
There was a slight rustling at the edge of the room, where a dark doorway could be made out by its frame. As they watched, a trail of white flittered in and out of view, followed by an icy and whispery laugh. The end of the skirts disappeared like the hands of a ghost, and the two spies warily followed, weapons primed and ready.
Tom and Huck shivered from the cold more than anything else, soaked through to the skin, and even their hair was wet. Their hats had only been away from their heads as they had stepped out of the church, but it had been enough to drench them. Tom shook his bangs subconsciously from his eyes as he moved, the rain dripping down his face in small rivers that toppled from his chin to the floor.
When he first heard the whisper, it was so quiet and cold that he shuddered, as if an icy hand had trailed up his spine. He nearly gasped, but refrained, hearing it again.
She was calling his name… how did she know his name?
"Tom… come to me, Tom… I'm waiting for you…"
Tom closed his eyes, trying to shut out the voice, even as Huck said quietly, "We're an easy target together… we should split up and try to tackle one each." With a pat on his friend's shoulder, he added, "If you need help, just yell, and I'll do the same." Gazing to his partner, he emphasised his continuation, "Good luck."
No, don't leave, dammit, Tom thought in a panic as Huck drew away into the darkness, the shadows enveloping him and swallowing him from view. In a heartbeat, he was gone, and Tom was alone. He wished he had spoken his demand aloud, and looked around, whirling at the slightest noise and cursing his racing heart and wild fear all of a sudden, feeling very much the cornered animal in a hunt.
Forcing his hands to steady as they levelled the rifle around the next corner, he saw a spectral outline of a figure, and saw the glow of her red eyes, a sharp and fearsome contrast to the innocent white of her dress. She had been ready for her own funeral, he knew… when they had left Lancaster's office, he had said her family were hurrying into preparations for her farewell from the world.
She stood there, staring at him, and he paced closer to her, seeing her darkly beautiful and pale features illuminated in a flash of lightning that sent the whole corridor into a false day for just a few seconds. She smiled at him seductively, a harsh perversion of sweetness and youth.
"Tom…" she whispered without moving her mouth, something that caused him to shudder slightly. "Come to me, Tom… I've been waiting for you." Her voice traced down the corridor like a breeze, and brushed over him as if it were ice, chilling him for a moment before he felt very warm. With another dry swallow, he eyed her carefully, trying not to meet her gaze directly lest she trap him as she had minorly before. This time, when alone with her in such confined spaces, it could cost him not only his life, but his soul.
"Come to me…"
Don't do it… don't listen to her. Stay back. Stay away from her.
Regardless of his thoughts, he found his feet slowly and steadily carrying his body towards her, though his weapon was still trained on her. There was a slight tremor to his hold now, and the weapon rattled very lightly in his hands. He cursed the action, and he looked to her, her voice reverberating like ominous music through his body.
He looked into her eyes…
"Come to me…"
As he closed the distance between the two of them, her hand snaked out slowly and gracefully, with the dramatic gesture of a dancer, and touched to the barrel of the rifle… pushing it gently downwards, and away from her body, no longer a danger. Tom tried to fight her, finding himself unable, and screamed inside, wishing Huck hadn't left him like he had. He prayed he would come back… come back in time to do something. His limbs wouldn't respond like he wanted them to, and he only gave a slight whimper as she loosened his hand from around the rifle altogether.
It clattered to the ground, the noise drowned out by a boom of thunder like cannon fire, and a flash of lightning showed her eyes were no longer red… they were an earthly brown, soothing and almost compassionate as she turned him gently to the wall, pushing him against it carefully and leaning against him, her face always close to his. No breath issued from her lips, making her death all the more painfully obviously, and he knew there to be no heartbeat in her chest.
All of a sudden, he didn't care. Though deep down inside of his mind, he screamed to get away, he simply stood there, with her in front of him, lightly pinning him to the wall behind them.
Her eyes traced over his face, and she purred lightly. Tom stared right back at her, that small corner of his mind that was free of shadow trying to force his eyes away, with little success.
No… this is wrong.
She leaned into him, pressing her lips to his in a deep and hungry kiss, cold and deadly. He couldn't pull away.
This is wrong!
Suddenly, he seemed to emerge from under the fog that had claimed his mind, almost as if he were rising from deep water and taking that deep breath that filled the lungs, and with a growl of disgust, he forced her viciously away, making her almost stumble. Her grace kept her upright, and she snarled as he collapsed against the wall a little way, panting and avoiding her gaze.
"I know what you're doing," he said to her hurriedly, even as she started to pace seductively forwards.
"Really now," she hissed, "resisting me is pointless… and pathetic." She laughed eerily, the sound echoing around the walls and assaulting his ears. "But amusing nonetheless."
She stood before him, as if waiting for him to lift his eyes so she could entrance him again… only to be disappointed.
Clearly she didn't like losing, and with a ferocious snarl becoming a lion, grabbed him by the scruff of his jacket and heaved him from the wall and ground, hurling him through the air. He gave a yell, and braced himself for impact, slamming into the far wall and smashing down on a table. Wincing, he started to lift himself shakily from the ground, back and head stinging and throbbing from the impact into the two surfaces, even as a hand came down around his throat under his jaw, and lifted him effortlessly from the ground. He was thrust against the wall, and he gasped as she tightened her grip somewhat.
"What I would give you is eternal life," she growled. "But instead you fight me… you do not understand the great gift I can share with you."
He tried to tell her his – none too polite – opinion, only to find his voice wasn't working. Her grip had tightened again. She pulled him closer to her and angled his head slightly, even as he winced and closed his eyes so tight that colours danced behind them. He made a small noise which turned into a full groan of displeasure as she licked blood from the side of his head where he had hit the table, sending a shiver of nausea through his body.
"I will make you understand," she hissed down his ear before giving a snarl, and Tom whimpered, feeling fangs brush his throat, before a deafening crack of gunfire resonated through the corridor, and she screamed. Tom felt the impact in her body and gave a yell as she released him, hitting the wall behind him for stability more than anything else, even as another shot slammed into Amy's vampiric body, making her wail and try to scramble away.
Someone charged into her, barrelling her bodily to the ground as she snarled, and Tom vaguely saw something rammed into her chest with the force of a hammer. She screamed long and hard, a bloodcurdling sound, and her eyes widened, losing their red hue. Tom stared down at her in horror as she bared her fangs, and then started to decay, her human pallor returning to her, but in its deathly shade. Her lips paled again, and her eyes clouded over with true death.
Huck stood from the ground, panting and looking rather shocked at what he had just done, and gasped out, "Well… seems those stories were more accurate than I thought." He laughed dryly and in surprise, the wooden stake protruding from Amy Fletcher's chest. His eyes turned to Tom, who regained some of his composure long enough to blink in shock.
"Took you long enough," he breathed after a while, and Huck grinned.
"I had to make sure she was distracted before I made my move."
"Made… made your move?" Tom's eyes narrowed in understanding. "You were close the whole time, weren't you?"
"You bet I was," Huck said sternly, picking up the two Winchesters and holding them carefully. "Damn lucky I was too, or you'd be joinin' her, I'll bet. What the hell were you thinkin'?"
Tom shook his head, using the sleeve of his coat to wipe the blood from his brow and temple as he took his gun back from Huck. "I wasn't. I couldn't." Sighing, he shrugged. "Thanks."
Huck nodded and patted Tom on the arm, and together, with one last glance back at the dead vampire, they started off to look for their main adversary.
Knowing how close they had come to failure, Huck and Tom stayed close. Though the older spy was glad his idea had worked in ridding them of the female, he had watched the whole ordeal with a knot in his stomach. Tom had truly been helpless against her, especially when she had had him hypnotised like she had. He had complied so easily… that had terrified Huck. Seeing his best friend and partner so near to a terrible fate had turned his insides to ice, and he had waited impatiently and worriedly for his chance to kill her.
Though he still felt disgusted at driving a stake through her still heart, thus destroying her, he knew Amy Fletcher had found some kind of peace after that. He hoped she would be able to rest now that she had been released from her hell.
He's got to be around here somewhere… watching us, no doubt. Waiting for the right moment to stri–
Huck's thoughts were cut short as he was hauled from the ground and tossed like a rag doll across the room, smashing through a glass door and out into the ruined garden of the building, shards raining with water down around him as he hit the ground with Tom's cry for accompaniment.
When he hit the hard ground, he rolled once, and then lay still.
Tom turned at once, raising the Winchester and letting off a shot that barely missed its target before he too was hurled an unbelievable distance and with shocking ease. The rifle fell from his hand as he was flung through the air, and he covered his head as he hit an old armchair and toppled it over as he crashed to the ground, rolling to a messy stop some five feet afterwards, with a groan.
He could hear the echoing footsteps as the enemy approached, and forced his eyes to focus as he lifted them from the ground, staring up into the face of the vampire; Russoff.
He had a dark, almost tanned complexion, though it carried its own deathly pallor, especially around the lips and eyes, the latter of which were so dark brown they were almost black. They flickered red as he slowly approached the fallen spy. Falling around his brow like feathers from wings, so graceful and almost innocent, were wispy and straight locks of brown hair, simple in their style, and covering his entire head like a shroud. The face itself was handsome, and carrying an appearance of a man of some forty years, with a light facial hair around the jaw, defining the strong lines of his features, and the sharp angle of his nose. His heavy brow shaded his eyes in a frightening manner, and he clenched one powerful fist as he approached like a predator upon prey. His clothes were black in the entirety, and all but his hands and face blended eerily with the shadows all around, save for when lightning flared outside, where Tom could still see Huck lying prone on the dead grass, his back to them.
Tom moved to rise, but Russoff moved forward and slammed his boot into the American's stomach, lifting him up off the floor, and across the floor a little more until he lightly collided with a table. The items atop it clattered, and a vase fell to the floor, smashing mere inches from Tom's legs. Pained, with narrowed eyes, Tom looked up, catching his breath.
"You're Russoff," he managed in a gasp, holding a hand to his stomach.
"Correct," the man snapped abruptly, his accented voice speaking of intelligence and experience, as well as travel and perhaps wealth. He had a noble sound to his words as he continued, "And your kind have done nothing but pester me since I arrived, with your weapons and your curiosity."
Growling, with another moment of glowing red eyes, he showed his fangs. "It ends here tonight… as I crush the life from you and your little friend."
Tom returned with a growl of his own, and as fast as he could manage, he tore a pistol from his waist and fired it into Russoff's chest, shoving the man back with the impact, even as he righted his body in such a way as to pull the second gun free and fire that as well.
Every other bullet hit the vampire, and made him wail in an otherworldly pitch, before he vanished in bat form, swarming around the room before flocking to the ceiling, which was covered in shadow. All fell still, and Tom winced, knowing he had little bullets left in the Colts.
"We know what you are…" Tom began as confidently as he could manage, rising to his feet a little unsteadily.
"And you think you know how to destroy me…" Russoff's laugh carried like wind around the room, making Tom turn in all directions to try and locate the owner of the voice. His pistols found two different angles, and he kept them wide for better coverage of the area around him as he kept moving. "You are all the same. So weak and so arrogant." Another chuckle rattled from everywhere overhead. "Especially you Americans…"
Tom pulled a face at that, and moved to look to Huck out the broken door, in which he heard Russoff say, "He's not going anywhere."
A hand grabbed him from behind, spinning him around before a sharp backhand landed across the side of Tom's face, stunning him long enough for Russoff to jerk one of the spy's arms to make him yell and drop the gun to save his arm from being broken like a twig. A foot kicked the other one free; before a hand latched in the lapels of Tom's jacket and shirt, whirling him around again with enough force to make him dizzy, before tripping him to the floor.
Tom landed hard on his back with a gasp, and Russoff pinned him with ease. The masculine features were close to his own, and another growl rattled from deep in his throat as the fangs were shown in startling clarity as lightning flashed anew.
"And neither are you…"
The words were more a vicious hiss than anything else, and one of Russoff's large hands grabbed around Tom's throat, pushing down to grip fiercely, as the other grabbed at the collar of his shirt, tearing it to the side and ripping the fabric to expose the throat more fully. Tom tried to struggle; working up to forcing his body into Russoff to shove him off… before he heard the deep snarl of disgust and felt the hand tug away from his throat like it had been burned.
"Hey!" a voice yelled weakly from the doorway as Russoff recoiled slightly, still pinning Tom for the most part, and looking to the door, Huck was revealed to be leaning against it with one hand, drenched with rain and somewhat muddy. "I've got somethin' for you, you bastard."
And then, with one powerful thrust of his other arm, Huck sent a glass bottle hurtling towards the already startled Russoff, who was hit full on in the chest with the container. It shattered with the impact, and he hissed and wailed, writhing, even as Tom took the opportunity to pull something from within his coat and thrust it up between himself and the still-pinning vampire as the holy water burned him.
He snarled at the cross aimed at him, and moved to bat at it, before Tom gave a growl of his own, and smashed it into Russoff's face with a blinding impact, feeling him topple away. He scrambled as far away from the struggling and infuriated vampire as he could, and managed to practically fall upright, landing against the wall near Huck, where he was leaning in recuperation after being hurled through the door.
Tom nodded. "I'll be fine." Touching a hand to his partially-exposed chest, he felt what had frightened and disgusted Russoff in the first place. The small golden crucifix glinted brightly in the light for a moment, and Tom smiled wanly, reassured by its light weight and powerful presence, despite its size.
"Should we get the son of a bitch?"
"Oh hell, yes," Huck grumbled, and he and Tom threw themselves back into action even as Russoff reclaimed his footing, looking every part the rampaging animal. His hair was wild and spiked at the tips, like blades, and his fangs were more prominent than ever, his eyes blazing like the very fires of hell.
Huck had grabbed his Winchester from near the doorway, and cocked it one-handed, letting off a shot that grazed Russoff's shoulder near his neck, causing a slight spray of blood that made the vampire hiss in distaste and concentrate on the shorter agent. He started to advance, when a large book hit him in the side of the head, thrown by Tom, and Russoff stumbled, looking down at a heavy copy of The Bible, which had assaulted him. Tom flashed him a cheeky grin, before bracing himself, even as the bats swarmed towards him, exploding out of Russoff's body like ammunition.
Huck fired another shot into Russoff, slamming him in the main fleshy part of his shoulder near his chest, making his recoil. A number of his bats faltered before the rest collided with Tom forcefully, nearly downing him. He gave a cry, and swatted at them as they tried to scratch and bite at his flesh or his eyes, which he kept shaded with one arm. One latched onto his flailing hand viciously, and he winced at the pain, before slamming it into the table nearby, ignoring the soon-to-be-bruise that would form from the impact against his own fist. With his brief freedom, he tore his own bottle of holy water from his jacket, and pulled it open, sloshing the liquid up into the air, and into the bats, which screamed in agony as they were burned, being – essentially – part of the vampire himself.
Russoff gave a screech like a banshee, and recalled the bats. They flocked back to him, abandoning Tom, who stumbled, and nearly toppled over the table he had impacted not long ago. His hand throbbed impressively, and he had a few scratches down one side of his face from the claws, as well as on his knuckles from the bat that had gripped. But they didn't faze him, and he surged forward as Huck fired another measured shot into Russoff's stomach, throwing him back but not down. Blood spilled briefly from the wound, and the vampire went into a rage, his coat billowing out from around him seemingly of its own accord as the storm broke out into a furious tempest. Rain and wind buffeted the house fiercely, and thunder rumbled deafeningly in an almost constant crescendo. Lightning flashed like non-stop flares from above, and illuminated the combat for seconds at a time.
Russoff looked very much like a giant bat with his coat swarming around him as it was, and he opened his mouth to growl loudly, fangs revealed in their monstrous length and ferocity.
Huck was running out of bullets, and even as he fired another, clipping Russoff in the left leg, Tom darted past unnoticed, making for his own weapon, only to have the vampire move so quickly it was as if in the blink of an eye. He knocked Tom's weapon aside, and threw him back. Huck refrained from firing until Tom was clear, and his next shot slammed Russoff square in the centre of his chest, throwing him back a little into the wall with a dull thud.
Tom landed painfully, slamming into and through the table where he had knocked over the vase earlier, cutting the cry short that came with the impact, and forcing himself to his feet awkwardly. He stumbled and shook his head, and looked over at Russoff, who was advancing on Huck, who had apparently run dry on rifle ammunition. He was moving to reload as the vampire closed in on him with a cackle, and Tom grimaced angrily.
Looking down, he nearly cried out in triumph, before he claimed his prize and started forward.
The storm continued to rage as Russoff latched onto Huck's hair, yanking his head back so hard that the breath was stolen from the spy, and the vampire literally ripped the weapon from his hands. He cast it aside nonchalantly, almost hitting Tom in the process, who ducked the flying weapon, which subsequently landed on the downed armchair safely.
Huck tried to fight, but Russoff landed a stunning blow on him that made him fall frighteningly quiet, his chest heaving with the force of struggled breathing.
Giving a growl of his own as Russoff bowed over to feed from his partner, Tom brought his weapon over his head and jumped onto the vampire, tearing him free before he plunged the weapon down into his back.
Immediately Russoff gave a howl of agony, and dropped Huck heavily to the floor as he writhed, trying to grab the assaulting weapon from his back. Managing to flip Tom off him in the process with a jerk of his arm, he twisted this way and that, trying to grab at the large splinter of the table Tom had destroyed. It had dug into his back, but still protruded.
Tom and Huck scrambled upright, and together, they drove the vampire back with twin yells, watching as he crashed into the wall with enough force to stab the makeshift stake clean through his body, piercing his chest and stabbing out his body a little at the tip, for them to see. They stared as he fell quiet, Russoff's eyes staring down at the object that had pierced his heart so savagely, driven into his back by the taller spy. He looked to his two combatants, eyeing them almost with surprise and a flicker of respect before he craned his head back with a strangled cry, his fangs bared.
In a flash of lightning and an almighty crack of thunder, his body started to decay, trickling away in streams of ghastly ash, before he literally exploded in a cloud of it, only to be torn about by the suddenly-dying breeze.
Even as the stake fell with a clatter to the floor, Tom and Huck blinked, the storm starting to retreat somewhat. They stared down at the grainy remains of their adversary, and then to each other.
For a long while, there was silence, before Huck chuckled in disbelief. Wavering a little on his feet, he grabbed onto Tom and looked him in the eye. "Our very first vampire… not bad, huh?" Then he broke into triumphant laughter, and Tom joined him, collapsing into a dilapidated chair next to him, slouching in it in exhaustion and pulling in deep breaths to recover from the fight.
No one would ever believe this back home…
It was the morning of the day following the battle, and the sun was high in the sky over New York. The horses stamped their feet impatiently, four of the large animals snorting and tossing their dark manes as they stood with their carriage behind them.
Tom and Huck emerged from their hotel, having settled up details with the landlord for the reimbursement as to the window, and they had their bags over their shoulders, and their hats in their hands.
The driver hopped down from the carriage cheerily, and greeted them. "Lovely day, ain't it?"
Tom chuckled and nodded. "Sure is." They handed their bags over to the man, who made about storing them for the agents, and Huck and Tom looked around in admiration of the city. Somehow, it seemed purer today. They looked to each other with a smile, and then around at the ignorant crowds who were unaware as to what had happened the previous night.
"What'll we tell them in our reports?" Huck was asking as they climbed into the carriage. They had cleared up with the police the previous night, giving them the address where they had fought Russoff. They had given the man's name, and nothing more, leaving the officers to come to whatever conclusions they would. After all, if they wanted to jump to the suspicion that Huck and Tom were to blame, there was the small issue of the murders prior to their arrival to contend with. Whatever happened, they would find a way to explain it.
"We'll figure somethin' out," Tom assured him, sitting in his seat and slouching slightly. He was more than a little sore, and some sleep on the journey back to Washington wouldn't go unappreciated. Huck was very much the same, though with less physical evidence. Whereas his injuries were more bruises and battered bones, Tom had the cuts and gash to his head to pain him as well. Nevertheless, they were comforted. They could rest assured that Russoff was gone. No murders of the same nature would be happening in the area again… at least not for some time.
As the driver climbed back into his seat, he whipped the horses into a trot and on their way. The rocking motion of the carriage was somehow comforting to the two tired spies, and before long, they were both asleep in their respective seats.
Needless to say, it would be a case that would stay in their memories for some time.
Of course, not that they thought they'd ever see a vampire again…
The report was going to be interesting to say the least.