Nosphorus: Part I - Act 1
Amphipolis, Greece, 357 B.C.E.
General Melitus raced up the steps to the infirmary. If this was what he feared, then all of Athens was in jeopardy. The phalanx was still assembling outside the city and was vulnerable to this sort of attack. The entire populace was vulnerable to it.
Melitus brushed past the two soldiers standing guard at the entrance. As he padded quickly down the broad corridor, lit now only by torchlight, he adjusted his cloak. Titus would be here, and Melias too. How long had the nosferus been in the city? Days? Zeus forbid... weeks?
Melias met him at the door, stopping the General with a soft hand. Melitus glanced down at the bronze attire worn by Melias and the others in the room. The gauntlet on each hand and collar which extended up from their lamellar armor made them appear as some sort of super soldier from an extremely tired army. But Melitus knew the purpose. Fangs could not pierce bronze.
“Where is it?” Melitus asked, sliding on a pair of gauntlets offered to him by the physician.
“The afflicted are in treatment...” the old man’s eyes darted to the left door from which came the most distant, yet terrible moans. “The carrier is there,” and he pointed to the center door. No sound came from within.
Melitus declined the collar and instead drew his sword. As light as the day was, the physicians had wisely waited for the General before allowing this nosferus to be destroyed. There were some questions that needed answering. Melitus marched through the center doorway and into the dimly lit holding chamber.
“A visitor,” the Macedonian smiled. “And here I was led to believe Athenians were heartless killers.” The creature came from the shadows and smiled a broad, hideous smile. His features were long and rat-like, a hooked nose and long, almost bat-like ears. His teeth were cruelly pointed and outwardly jutting. His voice, a wet hiss, was a mockery of human speech. “Have you come to sing me a song in my prison?”
The General lifted his sword tip menacingly. “Control your tongue, barbarian, or I’ll cut it out and feed it to the rats.”
The Macedonian laughed wickedly. “And I am a rat, aren’t I? A vermin to be sent into your city before battle... to cleanse you of your weak and elderly. To drink my fill and watch them fall to their knees before me. Before a rat.”
“Before I remove your head, rat,” Melitus said angrily, “there is one thing I would know.”
“To have my head is a great feat,” the creature said with a smile. “The mighty General of Athens... known for his great victory against the trapped and helpless rats of Macedon.”
“Then you do come from the North,” Melitus said sourly. “You come from Philip.”
“And he comes back to rescue me,” the creature said happily, “what wouldn’t one do for his own brother?” As he spoke, the carrier’s features changed into that of a young dark haired man, looking very confused and scared.
The General’s eyes widened. Before Persus could open his mouth, Melitus pulled on the cord hanging from the ceiling, opening the oculus in the ceiling to fill the room with sunlight.
Behind the thick iron bars of the infirmary’s quarantine chamber, Persus, prince of Macedon, exploded into dust and ashes.
Melitus sheathed his sword, stepping out of the now brightly lit room into the infirmary proper. Turning directly right, he entered the left door to the patients therein. The sight sickened him. Whichever Macedonian sorcerers had invented such a cruel and barbaric disease to begin with had not lacked enough imagination to outdo themselves with the cure. Those sorcerers, when caught, would most certainly be burned to cinders. That is, if Athens survived the next twelve hours.
Niki ducked the swing and laughed. “All I’m asking,” she twisted to avoid a kick and threw a punch, but missed, “is if you’ve seen any new faces–” her head snapped back as she caught a fist in the face, “–in town.” She ploughed her forehead into the vamp’s face, sending him stumbling back. The Slayer sighed. “Simple Q and A.”
The vampire snarled and charged, his attack met force with force as the two locked shoulders with arms and struggled in an awkward dance to no particular beat. The vamp tried to get enough leverage to toss the smaller, lighter Slayer, but her attempts to throw him kept them in deadlock.
“I just want to know,” she growled, her arms beginning to hurt from the uncustomary workout. “Newbies? Neophytes? Nosphorus...es?” She frowned as she drove her knee into his stomach. He fell to the ground and she drove the other knee into his jaw. “Nosphori?” He hissed as she drew her stake and poised it above him, her other hand on his shoulder. “Nosphorae?” The vamp took her momentary distraction to drive his fist into her shin, making her hop backwards on one leg. Her face contorted in pain and she dropped her stake. “Ow! You dick!”
The vamp jumped to his feet and laughed. “Yeah, there’s a sicky in town, but he hasn’t gotten to me yet,” he indicated his normal-looking game face. “And I wouldn’t want him to. Who’d want to be slaves to the Creep?”
Niki’s frown deepened. “The Creep?”
The vamp let out a snarl. “No more talk. Time to taste your heart, Slayer.” And he lunged.
Still wearing her frown, she sidestepped his lunge and took out his legs, snatching her stake from the filthy ground to drive it forward just as he made a second leap for her. With wide eyes, he dissolved with a hiss into ashes.
“The Creep?” She muttered, absently rubbing her shin. “I think we had a song about that.”
“The Creep,” Felix nodded, sliding Niki a cold beer for once. “The Man. Big Brother.” He nodded as he took the cash left on the bar by a Cherr’Yl demon who left hurriedly upon seeing the Slayer enter. “He’s a myth. The ever-present ‘Boogeyman’ to the underworld. If a newly hatched Gornatch does something wrong, one of its six parents will say ‘watch out or the Creep will get you.’” Felix’s smile changed motives. “He’s like... Communism.”
“And this Creep sent the Nosphorus?” Niki took a sip of her beer and let the novel taste swirl around in her mouth. It wasn’t Stuff, but it wasn’t bad.
Felix raised an amused eyebrow. “The Creep? No.” He kept his sardonic, condescending smile as he stuffed the cash under the bar. “The Creep isn’t real. He’s like the tooth fairy or the Easter bunny.”
“Or Santa Clause,” Niki nodded.
To this Felix did a double take. “Huh? What’s that about? Santa’s is real. Where are you getting your information?”
Niki ignored this and took another swig of beer. “Well someone seems to think the Nosphor... Nosphori serve this Creep.”
“It’s already plural,” Felix corrected with a smile. “Like moose.”
“So you’re saying,” Niki said with a frown, “there’s no way someone or something which might have been the originator of the Creep myth could have sent the... sicky?”
Felix held up a finger. “All I’m saying is that it’s just as likely that Tinkerbell sent it.”
Niki took on a curious look. “And she’s real, I suppose.”
Felix’s grin never wavered. “Just as real as Peter Pain.”
Niki sipped her beer absently. “Pan,” she corrected.
“What?” Felix’s smile became patronizing but Niki ignored him. “Anyway, if whatever sent the Nosphorus to New York wanted panic, he’s got it. Demons are staying away from vampires, vampires are becoming more and more isolated, rival gangs killing each other less and less in order to avoid possible contamination, while members of the same gangs are killing each other in paranoia. It’s chaos.”
“You sound concerned,” Niki said distantly. “You’ve got too much business invested in them. Demons would be the only ones safe from the Plague, wouldn’t they? Can’t catch it from vamps, aren’t afraid of humans.”
“They’re not afraid of getting sick,” Felix grin turned to a distant smile of regret. “They’re worried that whatever is going to purge the Earth of humans isn’t preparing the way for their kind... but for something worse.”
Niki glanced around the establishment skeptically. “Worse than... El Tootho over there?” She indicated the matador with the vicious fangs sitting in the corner. “Or Boris?” The large bull-like creature snorted at her glance as it sipped its drink across from the matador.
“Much worse,” Felix confirmed. “Pure bloods. The Terrible Ones, maybe, or worse even.” Felix’s eyes flitted to the door as it opened and the Nail Biter collectively held its breath. It was no understatement that the whole underworld was on edge.
Pearce shrugged innocently. “What?” The sigh was audible. The vampire strolled into the bar and took a seat just as Niki stood. “Where you off to?” he asked, almost offended.
The Slayer’s frown conveyed the contempt and annoyance she held pent up for the Little Vampire That Couldn’t. “Unlike vampires... most humans actually sleep at night.”
Pearce shrugged, indicating a bottle on the shelf behind Felix. “Suit yourself.” And he settled down to drink.
Niki strolled out in disgust. This Pearce was becoming quite annoying. She didn’t need any vampires hanging around, scaring off her contacts, not in times like these. Besides, she thought as she moved down the damp street, he was always following her. She frowned. It was kind of... creepy.
|
|
|
|
Rave
Barbie Girl (Becca)
biscuit07
Filmtheory (Jim)
Malice (Jess)
MebbtheScribe (MichaelB)
Reset (Allie)
Shay (Marrisa)
somnambulist29 (Shea)
Stephanie Loss
Wendyness (Wendy)
Questions?Contact Us
|
|
All stories on this site have been archived with the authors' consent. Do not copy these stories for your own uses without the express consent of the author themselves. Buffy the Vampire Slayer TM and Angel TM are © UPN, WB, Fox and its related entities. All photos on the site are © UPN, Fox, Warner Bros, and/or their respective owners. No profits are being made by use of these images.
Powered with the assitance of eFiction.
|
|
|
