C13 Seeking Help

'These guys hit harder than they look!' Veronica grimaced as she blocked with her forearms a punch that sent her skidding backwards. The change in her position had left her weakened bodyguards unprotected and one of the skinwalkers moved to capitalize on the opportunity. His hand was still raised in the air when suddenly it flew away from the rest of his arm. Veronica blurred in front of him and launched him back with a kick to its abdomen. Her hands and feet were covered in a swirling layer of thick red liquid that moved continuously as if alive.

It was not only for their speed and strength that vampires were so well respected in the supernatural world. They were the only race that was able to use a type of magic that was said to possess the most versatility and latent potential of all magics. Blood Magic was what had allowed the undead creatures to rise to the upper echelons of their world. The ability to manipulate one's own blood in any manner, Blood Magic could be used to do nearly anything imaginable.

But such a powerful ability was not without its drawbacks. No other race could use this unique magic as it relied on the user's own life force to fuel its usage. Overuse of the power would eventually kill the practitioner. Vampires overcame this drawback by virtue of their nonliving status, but even as undead they needed blood to feed. Thus while overuse of Blood Magic would not outright kill a vampire, he or she would be incredibly weakened afterward, not to mention incredibly hungry.

The fact that this art was amazingly difficult to even learn let alone master made it so that not many of her kind could use it. Even lesser were the number that could use it the way she could in battle. Right now, she was coating her fists and feet with blood for increased damage dealing as well as better defense. While she was loath to use her family's prestigious gift against creatures like skinwalkers, there was no way she was about to let Aiden and Caen die tonight.

The other two evil witchdoctors looked at their injured comrade's limb and snarled at her before lunging at her together. Her eyes glowed crimson as she moved faster than both of them. Displacing the hand of the nearest one, she hardened the blood on her hand and landed a right hook that had the man eating dirt on the ground. The second skinwalker caught her other wrist and she made the blood there solidify into spikes that perforated the man's hand. He reared back in pain and she threw out a kick at his side.

The skinwalker managed to catch her attack and attempted to break her leg at the knee. Veronica batted away his raised fist and pushed herself off the ground. With one foot on the man's broad chest, she kicked off him, freeing her other foot in the process and landing several meters away. As soon as her feet touched down, her enhanced senses helped her detect the incoming attack and she immediately pivoted out of the way. The skinwalker she had wounded crashed a fist into the spot she had been less than a second ago, shattering the concrete there. His hand had regenerated completely but he was totally livid that he had been wounded in the first place.

A moment of distraction left Veronica open and another one of them slammed a punch into her stomach harshly. She folded over his hand as her breath rushed out of her and he joined both hands together above in an attack that would have surely broken her spine had she not leapt away at the last second.

Returning back to where her guards lay poisoned and dying slowly, Veronica frowned at the feeling of her broken ribs fixing themselves again for the umpteenth time that night. Despite her pride in her abilities, Veronica was painfully aware that only her speed and instincts had kept her alive so far. She knew she was strong enough to beat any of these men in a one-on-one fight, but all three of them at once was severely pushing her luck. And she had already pushed it as far as it could go. Playing keep-away with herself as the ball did not feel nice.

As she looked at the scowling faces of the three men, she could not help but think her situation was about to get worse. The men exchanged looks and nodded to each other then turned to glare at her. The animal pelts in their backs began to meld with their skin to spread all over their bodies. Coarse fur sprouted on their forms and their clothes were torn by their rapidly enlarging forms. Within seconds, the men had completed their transformations.

The ones on the left and right looked distinctly canine in appearance. Their pointed snouts and patterned fur gave them away as werecoyotes. Both of then gave off oppressive auras but neither matched the sheer danger the one in the middle radiated. His beast form was definitely feline and from the color of his coat and his facial features, he had turned into a humanoid mountain lion-like beast. His pitch black eyes stared down at her and she felt the cold grasp of fear grip her heart like a vice, locking her in place.

The werepanther moved and appeared in front of her in an instant, a massive clawed hand bearing down toward her head. Her senses blared with danger signals and shook her out of her stupor barely in time for her to raise a shield of hardened blood in defence. The beast shattered the shield in one strike and sent her barreling away deeper into the alley. Her back collided with a large dumpster and dented it severely. Her momentum ceased, Veronica had to grit her teeth to stop herself from screaming in pain. The force behind that hit had destroyed nearly every bone in her arm. The damage would heal of course but it was still incredibly painful.

Getting back to her feet gingerly, Veronica regarded the creatures with new found hatred. Having experienced their new strength firsthand, literally, she knew she could not afford to take too many hits like that. As a vampire, she could regenerate from nearly every wound sustainable given time and a source of blood. But an attack like would undoubtedly remove her head if it connected. There was no regenerating from something like that. From here on out, she would have to give everything she had in this fight.

There was already little chance of her surviving as it was.

*********

New York was a busy city in the fall. Corporate workers hastened along the streets in a hurry to get to their work place to finish projects before winter set in. Stores had multiple sales to clear out goods that had been sitting on the shelves all year long. Even normal people were pulled in to hustle and bustle of the city.

At night, the buzz of activity died down to some extent. No city was without its own nightlife and New York's was quite lively. Nevertheless, dusk was much welcome in these parts by all who lived in it.

A man clad in a long overcoat walked on the sidewalk of a half empty street. His pitch black hair was unusually long for a male and it was tucked in underneath the collar of the coat. In his left hand was a brown paper bag containing groceries as indicated by the asparagus tips poking over the top. His strides were long and steady to match his well built frame. When he stopped to drop a few money notes for a homeless guy on the street, the street lamp shed some light on his face, revealing strong Amerind features.

The beggar thanked his benefactor who nodded and continued on his way. There was a faraway look on his face as he crossed the road. He had been feeling strange all day, as if something was coming for him. What annoyed him most was the fact that he had no idea exactly what that thing was. But he had a feeling he would not like it.

The man stopped in front of a small duplex that had been painted colors that allowed it to blend in with the other buildings on the block. When his foot touched the stairs leading up to the front door, he froze for a few seconds. The lights were in the house were not on, but he knew there was someone in there. Someone with a very powerful presence that seemed familiar for some reason.

Taking care not to make much noise, he ascended the stairs and inserted the key into the door. In a single move, he pushed it open and his arm shot to the part of the wall where he knew the light switch was. The bulb above instantly lit up, illuminating the smiling face of a young man with auburn brown hair sitting at the kitchen table.

"I should've known you were the one coming," the man huffed at the person in front of him, his cautiousness replaced by clear exasperation. "Maybe I wouldn't have come home today."

"Nice to see you too, Dan."

"What do you want Michael?"

Michael chuckled at the man's directness. "That's not a good way to treat an old friend."

Dan scoffed at him. "The only thing true about that statement is the word old."

"Ouch."

The dark haired man simply ignored him and went about preparing his dinner. He knew something was up. There had to be a reason Michael was here. Having known the Hunter for as long as he had, Dan knew that Michael was a very straightforward person. It was not like him to skirt around a topic like this.