Chapter Twenty-Three

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Dante glanced down at Fionn as he felt that fog roll into his mind that meant his wolf had passed out. He picked up the pace, finally coming to a set of clear doors looking out into a lobby. Waving his hand, shadows shattered the glass and spread out into the room, seeking out any living beings to eradicate.

When he was sure there was no one there, Dante stepped through and jogged to the final set of doors that led outside. It looked as though they were in the middle of nowhere, with just a long road leading out to the right. The floor was covered with a thick layer of snow which Dante hadn't expected.

"You'll freeze, puppy," Dante murmured down to his sleeping companion, who was stark naked. If only he had stayed in his other form. Dante looked around the lobby area, catching sight of a convenient coat rack. He wrapped Fionn in a large winter coat, trying to cover as much of the wolf as possible before carrying him out into the cold.

Dante felt as though he walked for miles before he found any sort of civilisation. The bullet wound in his leg was severely impairing his speed, meaning he had to walk as though he was a human, which further irritated him. He tried to keep Fionn out of the icy winds but couldn't tell how cold the wolf was due to his tolerance to any form of heat.

If Dante's heart had been beating it would have skipped one at the sight of a small log cabin on the horizon. He tried to pick up his pace but his leg wouldn't allow it. By the time he managed to get to the front door, his leg had buckled twice and he had almost dropped Fionn three times.

He used shadows to knock on the door, barely able to move his hands as they stiffened with the cold. He opted to count to sixty before simply walking in, if the owners came home he would either give them a suitable explanation or just kill them. He needed the blood to heal anyway.

The door swung open to reveal a little old lady who gasped at the sight of Dante and Fionn. She was much shorter than the vampire, and didn't seem to have aged well. Her greying hair was tied back in a messy bun, with a few strands having escaped to sit on her hunched shoulders.

"Please help us," Dante begged, dropping to one knee as his leg finally gave out for good.

"Oh my," the woman exclaimed, "Martin! Martin, come quick!" she called behind her, doing her best to help Dante back onto his feet, though he refused to put down Fionn.

"Annabeth? What's wrong? Did you fall on the-" Dante looked up at the elderly man staring at him. His lips were parted, eyes wide and brows raised. Exactly how you would expect to be if you were looking at two bloodied men on your doorstep in the middle of the night.

"Martin, we need to get them inside, they must be freezing," the woman, Annabeth, took one of Dante's arms and Martin took the other, finally getting him back to his feet. He had to put a lot of weight onto the two humans to avoid his leg buckling again but they made it to the couch in their living room. Dante laid Fionn down and sat on the arm, grimacing.

"Thank you, I know this must seem very odd but your hospitality is greatly appreciated," Dante spoke through gritted teeth, the pain of the gash on his face suddenly flooding into him.

"Oh my dear, what happened to you both?" Annabeth inquired, her dull green eyes remaining on Dante's bloodied face.

"We were kidnapped and tortured. I can explain later, please, just help my boyfriend. He's been shot and I think he's lost a lot of blood," Martin bent down next to Fionn, opening the coat and examining his wounds.

"Get the first aid kit, dear, I'm going to have to stitch him up," Martin spoke firmly, unfazed by the situation or Fionn's lack of clothing, "I was an army medic, he's going to be right as rain. What's your name, son?" Dante repressed his flare of anger at the patronizing term, passing it off as a simple grimace.

"Dante. That's Fionn," Annabeth returned with a first aid kit and Martin began to remove the bullets from Fionn.

"I've not met many of your kind before," Annabeth spoke quietly, catching Dante's attention but not disturbing Martin.

"My kind?" Annabeth smiled faintly.

"You're a vampire, aren't you? You have fangs. Though I don't know why you have a golden eye," Dante cursed mentally, he had completely forgotten to retract his fangs.

"How do you know about me?"

"My son, Lyle, he is one of you. Or was. We don't really know if he is alive anymore. He used to visit us every year but he hasn't been back in fifteen years. We mourned him, but we're hopeful," Annabeth regarded Dante with watery eyes and a ghost of a smile.

"We were held in a facility probably about twenty miles up that road. I'm afraid your son was likely seen leaving here and taken by the same people who took me and Fi," Dante spoke in a gentle tone, not wanting to add to the woman's pain.

"It's likely, though we will remain hopeful until the day we die."

"It's a good mentality to have," Dante glanced down at Fionn, running his fingers through the wolf's hair, searching his mind for any sort of signs of waking.

"Is your boyfriend a vampire too?" Dante chuckled lightly, regretting it when pain spiked through his cheek.

"Fi? No, he's a wolf. Like a werewolf. An alpha actually," Martin rose to his feet carefully when he was done, laying a blanket over Fionn.

"He should wake up in a few hours, let me have a look at you," Martin, adorning a pair of glasses, examined Dante's gash across his face.

"I just need some blood and I'll start to heal. I don't suppose you have any?"

"Only the stuff in our veins, we can go out and get you some animal. If you don't mind us leaving the two of you here, my wife trusts you and you two seem like very nice people," Dante didn't bother to attempt another smile. He was not nice but he would behave.

"If it won't take you too much out of your way I would greatly appreciate it. I can't drink from Fi at the moment, he needs to heal himself," Dante lowered himself to the floor next to Fionn, wincing with every movement.

"Should we call the police about the place up the road?" Annabeth inquired.

"After we've left, we don't really want to be caught up in the explanation of what we left there."

"You killed then? Killed them all?" Martin was staring down at Dante with emotionless eyes.

"Yes."

"They died painfully?" Dante glanced from Martin to Annabeth but she didn't seem phased by his questions.

"Most likely," Martin sighed deeply, removing the glasses from his face.

"Good," he turned on his heel, picking up the first aid kit, "I'll get the coats, dear."

"The kitchen is through that door," Annabeth pointed to the door next to the fireplace, "if it gets cold feel free to light a fire, there is some wood behind the house. You can borrow some of my husband's clothes too, he won't mind," Annabeth thanked Martin as he helped her put on her coat.

"We should be about a few hours, maybe longer if there is traffic. Will you be OK for that long?"

"Yes, thank you for doing this, I apologise for waking the two of you and bringing all this inconvenience into your lives."

"Oh don't be sorry, my dear, you're hurt. We're happy to help," Dante attempted a smile as the two humans left but the second he heard the front door click shut he let a low, pained whine slip from his pursed lips. Every wound was burning, more so than usual. Lifting his shirt, Dante grimaced at the sight of his chest and stomach. Seven bullet holes littered his skin with blood oozing sullenly from them. Yet that wasn't what worried Dante.

The black blood was far more unsettling. 

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