“You can let go now.”
WHEN I’M HURT
YOU FEEL THE PAIN
Keegan MacIntyre & Rory Laurence
prompt: when innocence meets its death
Blood filled his mouth in a burst of hot copper and when his back hit the ground, it was with enough force to break his already cracked ribs, robbing him of what little breath was left in his lungs. With a strangled groan of pain, he arched up from the ground and rolled over onto his stomach, pulling himself awkwardly along by his arms, knowing he had to get his legs under him again. The soles of his boots scraped harshly against the asphalt as he struggled to get back to his feet. His enemy stalked towards him, drawing closer and closer, a low rattle of a snarl sounding from the back of their throat.
A foot pressed down against his back, but instinct had him twisting violently, lashing up and out with an elbow; luck saw it land against his opponent’s calf, knocking them away long enough for Keegan to roll over so he could look up at the threat looming over him. There was a blade in their hand, wickedly sharp and glinting in the light. In their other hand was a gun, the hammer cocked. The barrel moved, coming to rest in a steady aim over his stomach. Keegan felt his gut clench in tight and immediate fear. If the bullet in that gun was silver, a shot to the stomach would all but cripple him; the agony in and of itself would be enough to render him defenseless, and there would be no stopping the bleeding, or the spread of the infection.
Desperately he kicked out, but his feet went wide, the vampire easily stepping clear, keeping their aim level. The first hint of a smile touched his pale lips as he watched the wolf on the ground hunt for a weapon that was no longer in his possession. Curses fired through Keegan’s mind, each one as useless as the next, and he stared up at the creature standing over him, waiting for the inevitable crack of a gunshot.
When it came, Keegan tensed despite himself, his eyes closing in a reflex, his face turning away, but there was no pain. The roar of anger and agony was not his own, and his eyes flew open, turning up towards the vampire. He was reeling, eyes flooded red with rage and his fangs bared in full as he turned with a vicious snarl, blood that was too thick and too cold oozing from an ugly wound in his side. When the curse left his mouth, it was not in English, but a guttural, harsh language that might have been Russian.
In the instant before the vampire made to move and the sound of a shot filled the air once again, he heard breathing, shallow and rapid. His eyes were locked on the vampire as his body jerked, thrown forcefully back and off balance, but the creature managed to stay on its feet, more blood pulsing in an unsteady stream from both wounds. The breathing grew louder. Keegan heard a sound that might have been a whine, but before he could hunt out the source the vampire snarled savagely and made to surge forward.
A third shot fired, and then a fourth and a fifth. The vampire came to a complete stop, only to burst into a cloud of foul ash. The gun and the knife both clattered to the ground, harmless and abandoned.
Only then did Keegan’s eyes find the shooter.
Rory was shaking. From head to toe, he was trembling with fear and shock, the gun held in both hands, his arms extended in front of him. Keegan remembered teaching his little brother how to hold the weapon, how to balance his own weight so the force of the shot wouldn’t rock him backwards and right off his heels. The gun Rory held was the same weapon that had been knocked from Keegan’s hand only minutes before.
Despite the pain gripping his body and the taste of blood in his mouth, Keegan rolled himself over and hauled himself back to his feet. Rory’s wide eyes were still fixed on the same spot the vampire had been occupying, as if the young male expected him to pop back into existence at any moment. Keegan approached, free of fear but now overcome with concern as he took in the paleness of his brother’s face, the way his body continued to shake, the unmistakable light of stunned disbelief in his eyes. With one gloved hand, Keegan reached out and took hold of the gun, his fingers closing over the top of the chamber.
“You can let go now,” he told his little brother. Rory didn’t move. “Ror’,” he said gently, “you can let go.”
Rory blinked, coming out of his daze, his hands dropping away as he looked up at him as though seeing him for the first time. “I-” His voice caught. “I-I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You did the right thing,” Keegan assured him quickly, shoving the reclaimed gun back into its holster, making sure to hold his brother’s gaze all the while. “Rory,” he said, setting his hand on the younger male’s shoulder, “you saved my life. You did the right thing, okay?”
Even as Rory nodded, a shaky and rapid up and down motion, Keegan saw the doubt in his brother’s eyes, the shadow of uncertainty that would eat away at him, and perhaps even keep him awake at night. It made Keegan wish the vampire was still in one piece, so he could destroy it himself. Rory was not designed for this, even if he had meant well. Firing those shots, taking a life, even if it was a vampire’s, would weigh heavily on his conscience, and Keegan was beyond sorry for that.