Shadow Waltz

[kittymayhem]

Title: Shadow Waltz
Fandom: DC/ DCAU/ Timmverse
Pairings: Bruce/Clark, Bruce/Lois (one sided), Clark/Lois (recent past); others to follow
Characters: Bruce Wayne/Batman; Clark Kent/Superman: Lois Lane; Alfred Pennyworth; Tim Drake/Robin; Dick Grayson/Nightwing; Barbara Gordon/Oracle; Jason Blood/Etrigan; OC
Word Count: 3,806
Rating: PG-15
Warnings: Violence, Language, Angst, Romance, Alternate Universe
Synopsis:

She sucked in a deep breath, and tried not to scream again when a young looking child found her way to the window, clawing playfully at the clear surface. She couldn’t have been more than ten, her white hair pulled in spiraling ponytails that fell alongside her head and rested against her shoulders. Her wide red eyes stared at them blankly, a small smirk pulling at her pink stained lips. There was a trickle of red at the corner of her mouth; smeared when she wiped at it and tapped at the window again.

( Chapter 8: Blood Driven Moon )

Latest Chapter:


Chapter 9: Democratic Tyranny

“So…vampires…are real,” Lois said, slowly so she wouldn’t misunderstand herself, or think that she was insane. Barbara nodded, shifting on the bedding she was placed upon. The dagger she’d kept in her hand was glimmering in the soft lighting of the night from the open windows. Dick had gone about the room snatching all the curtains off of the windows, aiming to see before something could sneak up upon them. Tim had gone around the room setting up wards, slapping them to the door and ceils of the windows. When he started scribbling things, muttering under his breath, it was Barbara’s task to enlighten Lois.

Lois was not taking it as well as they thought. “So…you expect me to believe…that Vampires…are actually real? And that tonight,” she stressed that word, pointed downward and shaking as she repeated what she’d been told, “The clans of the forgotten races are coming here to parlay for their right to rule humanity?! Okay…where’s the camera? Joke over!”

“It’s not a joke,” Barbara said. “Believe me, I thought it was a joke once too…until I stumbled onto some stuff I shouldn’t have…”

“Lois, if aliens can exist, what makes you think that vampires, werewolves, and demons don’t?” Dick asked.  He turned his head from the window, having seen enough of the rolling fogs for him to be properly uncomfortable. “I mean…you’ve been in the mix of some pretty strange stuff yourself.”

“That and this are WAY different! Aliens can be wiped out by the superhero…Demons being exorcised requires faith and the hope that God isn’t laughing at us! Oh dear lord,” she murmured, thinking about what she’d seen the other night. How pale that one man was, and how those people were screaming that their friend started biting people, fangs and all. She hadn’t stayed, thinking they were all high on something other than life. That part of town wasn’t a noble place to have honor or a reliable word of mouth…but they were telling the truth! “Oh…oh god…those calls were real!”

“They tend to be when a lot of people start saying the same thing,” Barbara reasoned. “The Gotham P.D. was getting a lot of reports about people falling over from blood loss, others screaming that they were bitten on the neck and swearing to god that there were honest to god vampires running around the streets. It wasn’t serious…until drained bodies started showing up…and people started disappearing.”

She hadn’t thought to look at the police reports back in Metropolis. Lois had shoved it off as some strange phenomenon in celebration of Halloween. She cursed herself and her lack of initiative. She never let something like this slip from her fingers this badly, no matter what the circumstances.

Lois hated to admit it, but a lot of it had to do with her anticipation of seeing a certain Billionaire tonight.

“Shit,” she muttered, covering her mouth in frustration. “This isn’t good.”

“We’re safe as long as we stay here,” Tim said. “We’ve warded the place against those who aren’t invited…”

“That whole invitation thing works?!”

“Yes. It does…and it can save you or kill you.”

Lois felt he blood drain from her face. “Oh god…you’re not kidding. Wait! We left Bruce and Clark down there!!” She got up and blindly headed for the door, steps from reaching the doorknob when Dick grabbed her and hauled her back. She flinched as the door rattled on its own, scrambling away from it when something started to scratch at the wooden surface. More scratches followed; the silent wail and purr for permission to enter staining the air with something foul. Barbara clenched her dagger a little harder, shivering as Lois was deposited back on the bed to sit aside her.

“Remember when I said you’re not to talk to Mr. Darcy or Elizabeth looking people?” Dick asked. Lois nodded numbly, clenching the fabric of her skirt rhythmically. “Well, those people were Vamps…enjoying the festivities upon an open invitation from Bruce.”

“He invited those things here?!”

There was more scratching, this time at the window. Lois didn’t dare look the first time, but the second time she couldn’t quite help it.

She screamed, the sound loud and piercing as the fanged ones floating outside of the window grinned evilly at her.

Tim clamped her mouth shut with his hands, shushing her as best he could. “Lois! They can’t get in! You’ll be fine, I promise! Pops wouldn’t let any of them get near you anyhow.”

She sucked in a deep breath, and tried not to scream again when a young looking child found her way to the window, clawing playfully at the clear surface. She couldn’t have been more than ten, her white hair pulled in spiraling ponytails that fell alongside her head and rested against her shoulders. Her wide red eyes stared at them blankly, a small smirk pulling at her pink stained lips. There was a trickle of red at the corner of her mouth; smeared when she wiped at it and tapped at the window again.

Blood Driven moon...

High oh so high…

“Is she singing??”

“Don’t listen!” Dick shouted. “Cover your ears!”

Paint me a ribbon of life

Across the night ridden sky…

Sing me a lullaby….

Place the sheep to slumber tonight

To sleep within my arms

On this red ethereal night…

“Oh dear god,” Lois whimpered. She curled herself into a ball, holding her ears and willing herself not to think about the banging on the door, or the singing girl outside the window hungrily licking her fangs. She wanted to wake up, to realize she’d fallen asleep during a really bad movie. She’d never watch it again, and she could forget about what she was listening to now.

Barbara pressed something into her hands. Lois looked, and paled further as she realized what it meant.

A trembling hand wrapped itself around the stake made of a sweet smelling wood.

She held it to her chest…and prayed that these things wouldn’t get into the room.

“Isabel is here…”

“Hmm? Bruce?”

Bruce opened his eyes a bit from where he still lay against Clark. His body protested the movement, but his ears heard what he didn’t want to acknowledge. His tired glare fell on Dorian, lying on the floor semi-unconscious. The glare was half-heartedly given back, a small smirk of triumph pulling at his pale lips. Bruce was tempted to tell Curtis to stake the waking bastard.

“Master Bruce…” Alfred, still youthful even after the toll of midnight had come and gone, knelt down at his side with a glass in hand. Bruce eyed it and stifled a long suffering moan, not wanting to do this in front of Clark. He had little choice. Alfred wasn’t about to let him sit here and suffer until he could find somewhere private to indulge the other part of himself that didn’t need mentioning…again. “Drink.”

“Yes, Brucie…Drink,” Dorian teased, half wheezing through his laughter. He managed to roll over a bit, somehow righting himself up with his left hand clenched tightly over his right arm. The pain was dimming, as was the urge to vomit, but the damned cowboy was waiting with another in case he tried something else. This probably wasn’t the best tactic he could have come up with, but it didn’t stop him from egging Bruce on, thoroughly enjoying the unease in his cousin’s glowering eyes.

“If you don’t shut up I will stake you myself!” Alfred warned.

“Oh, please don’t,” Jason grinned at the vampire. “I’m really looking forward to seeing that.”

Dorian rolled his eyes painfully. “Demons…all the same.”

Bruce couldn’t remark on that. Alfred was too busy shoving the glass at his lips, pouring the viscous red liquid down his throat. He made sure all of it went down, clamping Bruce’s mouth shut the moment everything was gone out of the glass. Bruce grimaced, struggling violently until the pain was outdone by itself times five.

He roared, clutching his arm as it set itself on its own, rapidly healing the bone with a searing fire that could knock the best of them out. Bruce came close, almost fainting when that fire finally stopped and left him gasping, sore, and wanting something more than a warm body holding him through the “healing” process.

He clamped down that side of him, flexing his hand and his arm weakly. He was okay, but that was going to smart in the morning.

“Well damn…” Curtis whistled softly to himself. “Blood does do a body good.”

“….shut up Curtis,” Bruce spat tiredly. He managed to lift his head a bit and look at Clark staring down at him worriedly. He placed his uninjured hand on his cheek. “I’m fine…but you need to get to…the others…”

“Something’s wrong?”

“Yes…”

“Come on lad,” Jason said. He patted Clark on the shoulder, urging him to follow. “We’ve intruders who should not be here. The Blood Driven moon makes them thirst, and they cannot attack the frozen bodies around us. The Manor protects them, for the moment.”

“Bruce…”

Bruce gave him a small fanged smile and shoved himself out of Clark’s arms. Alfred took hold of him, supporting him as he motioned for them to hurry up. “Follow the singing…but don’t LISTEN!” he warned. “Hurry! The longer Isabel sings, the weaker everyone gets…”

Clark could hear someone singing in the distance, but he tuned it out much like he tended to tune out most of what he heard on a daily basis. He’d learned early on that not everything he heard was worth listening to, and in this case, he had a very distinct feeling of Deja-vu from another lifetime. He reluctantly got to his feet, joining Jason as he marched across the ballroom to the closed doors were the others had vanished. Curtis followed, slipping his hands into the inside of his vest and pulling out a silver stake that looked wickedly sharper than the dagger strapped to his hip.

Clark gave Bruce a final look. “Bruce…don’t do anything stupid. We still have to talk…right?”

The man gone demon slowly nodded his head, and watched as the costumed Justice Lord vanished through the doors that were ripped open by Curtis’s urgent hands. The three of them vanished, and the doors slammed themselves closed once more, this time with a wave of Alfred’s hand.

“It’s alright Master Bruce…I think he’s gone far enough.”

“About bleeding time too,” Dorian snarled. “I was getting tired of sitting here!”

Bruce paid Dorian no mind. He was too focused on the burning pain of his backside, ripping at his flesh and the fabric of his shirt. He clawed at it, growling harshly as the burn intensified. This was the part of him he hated the most…the part he wished on no one, and wished for no one to see. It was the sole reason behind the mask sitting in the caves below, and why he didn’t like to be called on what was in his blood. Dorian was right. No circle accepted him…because he was neither one nor the other.

Dorian got up in time to throw himself ten feet away from the brimming fires that spread like wildfire. It was nothing more than a quick flash of heat and flames, but those flames were of the demonic blood and could scorch anything that wasn’t protected from it. The floor was blackened as proof of that, and the smell of brimstone was stronger than the bloodlust of those who walked the grounds outside. The frozen guests didn’t have the luxury of seeing such a display, or to watch as their delightful host take on the stance of the frozen woman upon the fountain outside.

It was only when those wings spread themselves, and the soft horns upon his head grew to a moderate length did the front doors open with a gust of ill favored wind.

Bruce gathered himself and stood, turning to face the five Elders he knew would come this night.

“And so the parley for humanity begins,” Dorian said unnecessarily. He looked at Bruce sideways. “Do you honestly think that these people’s souls will grant humanity another century or so? I hardly think it’s enough myself.”

The demon hung his head tiredly, as the elders drifted within the room.  The scent of brimstone joined with brusque smell of earth, the soft musk of fur, the light airy scent of magic, and the dark smell of blood and death. Lust mingled within the different smells, as did the raving hunger that drove most vampires mad with the desire to feed this night. He felt it himself, but his body was honed for the one he’d tried to keep away from the darkness for quite some time. Tasting it as he had only endangered him as well as himself…and now he had two jobs to do.

“I bid thee welcome to my home…” he greeted somberly. “I approach thee in full garb, my blood running freely and unquestioned.”

He had to keep them busy…and he had to save everyone…without getting himself killed. Much.

“Raise your head half-breed and greet us properly this night…you may live another moment,” someone hissed. “Prove your intentions, and we may include you within this parley.”

“May?” another snapped. “Fool, don’t be daft. He is the reason we are here! Do not disrespect him! This Manor will find reason to kill you this night, as she does belong to Thomas Wayne.”

“Mmm…It’s been quite a long time since his name was law,” a familiar voice said quietly. Bruce’s pointed ears pricked themselves softly. He knew that voice, but it couldn’t be who he thought it to be. “His boy has done him justice…and he deserves the respect owed despite his mixed blood.”

“Blasphemy!” the first voice spat. “He is of neither and will never belong to us or them! He should not even exist! If not for the blood wards of the fae, he surely would have died long before now!”

“However you see it,” a fourth, deeper, and slightly put upon voice muttered none too kindly to the first voice hissing his way, “his death would not be looked upon kindly…and I sincerely doubt the vampire clans would like to spark the wrath of the hells.”

The fifth voice quieted the other four with no more than a boney hand drifting from the depths of his gray mottled cloak. “Judgement is at hand…” he whispered. His voice carried like the weight of ice upon stiff shoulders, forcing Dorian, and Alfred down to their knees. Bruce remained standing, unsure of what it meant but not willing to do anything he wasn’t forced into. It wasn’t in his nature. The cloaked figure seemed to assess this, and waved it off as nothing major.

“Raise your head, Son of Wayne,” he instructed softly. “Show us what few of your blood have…and keep.”

When finally he looked up, he really wasn’t expecting to see one familiar face out of the five he expected.  He held his tongue and his face, wondering violently why he was looking upon the gruff features of John Stewart with glittering gold eyes.

“Quick lesson on Vampire killin’” Curtis grunted. “One…don’t let the fuckers get within fifteen feet of you.”

Jason and Clark watched as Curtis rounded the corner of the upper floors, charging into the hissing brood that was lurking within the darkened halls. The man was a walking armory. Clark didn’t even hear the clicks of two guns slipping loose from under that vest, and almost missed the spray of bullets that ripped at the vampires lunging for them. High caliber guns like the ones in Curtis’s hands were not cheap, and did their job well if maintained. The human bound Demon and the Kryptonian didn’t have to do much. Curtis was doing it all with quick fingers, a spray of obscenities leaving his mouth with every part shot off. There weren’t but eight vampires in the hall, and two of them had enough sense to move faster than those bullets.

“Two! If the fuckers do manage to get within fifteen feet of you…”

The guns in his hands were flipped to the side and tossed of their empty cartridges. The two whom hadn’t been filled with holes dove from above, their faces morphing into the bizarre figures that could haunt the most docile of dreams. Curtis moved like lightning, hands in and out of his vest, grabbing the dagger at his side and swinging in time to slice its jaw across the face. The blooded howl of anguish ripping through the air didn’t spare it mercy. Curtis shoved himself into its personal space alongside his fist, bones and cartilage crushed from the single blow to its face. The force of that blow sent it into the wall, crumpled into a heap of twitching limbs.

The other vampire, a female, raked her talon-like fingers across his chest. Curtis leapt back, twisting on his right foot to swing with the left.

Blood flew high into the air…and her head rolled to land quietly near the convulsing body of another.

“…Knives…are your fucking friend,” Curtis breathed.

“I wondered if you were of the old sects,” Jason mused lightly. “Now I know…A Slayer is the only one that carries a knife in their shoe like that.”

“Slayer?” Clark asked.

Curtis adjusted his hat. “Too right. It’s what I am ‘til the day I pass…or go down swinging. Your boy Brucie has got some tales to tell you…if he lives long enough to tell it.”

“What are you talking about?!”

“Never you mind that!” Jason shouted. “The witch draws near!”

The Demon within buried its claws within his heart. It was time. The normal poem would not help them.

Jason closed his eyes.

Curtis felt the heat before he saw the source of it. Clark grabbed him, twisting their bodies away from the abrupt flare of hellfire that burned everything within its path. The glowing eyes of Jason were all they saw before he too was immersed in the fires swimming in the vortex around him.

Yarva Demonicus Etrigan.
Change, change the form of man.
Free the prince forever damned.
Free the might from fleshy mire.
Boil the blood in heart of fire.
Gone, gone the form of man,
Rise the demon Etrigan!

There was a final flare of heat, one that surely melted the soles of Curtis’s boots. Or at least it felt like it. He found he was standing on the melted gook of something that had to be valuable at one point or another, but now was basically melted junk. He didn’t think to ask what it was. Bruce would know, and kill them for it…if he was alive.

Clark tossed his cape from over them, glad he’d thought to actually grab the actual reinforced costume rather than the cheap copy he’d wanted to wear. Jason was no longer there standing the charred circle that was beneath him. The hunched form of the demon he released grunted, growling as he stood up to stretch himself out.

That was not the normal Etrigan Clark had seen before.

This demon was still similar, but the muted horns upon its head that were once points were now larger, curled around the fanned out ears that shook as it took to listening around it. They soon darkened in color, blacker than the ash upon the floor. The narrowed eyes of red glowed with a fine mist of power; the black kohl around his eyes twisting into intricate patterns that lined either side of his face. The markings glowed in time with his breathing; a sign of his unshielded power as he snarled hell’s mists into the air. He was a bit taller, and no longer wearing the normal garb of red and blue that he was known to wear. He was dressed in what appeared to be the garb of demonic royalty, dawning Black where the blue tattered cape once resided trimmed with gold. The red of his suit was the color of deep blood, marked in the front with the sign of his house, wherever or however that came to be. He stood tall rather than hunched over, shoulders tensed and ready for something they couldn’t see just yet.

The jagged form of his shark like sneer could put off the bravest of men.

“Okay…that is one bad assed demon,” Curtis breathed.

Etrigan arched a single marked brow in his direction. “You clearly mark what I am, A bad assed demon indeed.  Of your skills, I am in need.”

“…and he rhymes. Okay…weird.”

“Not weird little man of knives and gun: just a means for me to have more fun.” He threw his clawed hand forward, thrusting something into the air. There was a large crack of power, and the vision of the invisible hall shimmered until something came into their sights. Etrigan growled again, stepping forward. “I hope you know magic’s ways little slayer, because if you don’t we will lose a player.”

“Magic?”

Clark groaned inwardly. “I’m not fond of it myself…”

“Fond or not, this child will not let us pass. Not until she has met death’s hands at long last.”

Soft girlish laughter fell from the slender lips of the girl that hadn’t been standing there before.  Her bright red eyes seemed to widen a little as she leaned her head to the side ever so slightly, taking in the sight of them. She smiled, fangs bright and gleaming and stained with blood she’d recently devoured. The little girl couldn’t have been more than ten from a distance, wrapped in a soft velvet dress of green trimmed with white lace along the edges of her sleeves and collar. Her legs were covered in pale white stockings, and her feet were dressed in laced up boots of black that didn’t quite touch the floor.

She fingered a curl from her pale white locks done up in two ponytails on either side of her head. “Oh…so the demon comes to play this night,” she purred. “The actual prince and not the stunted form of man and demon forced together by clumsy hands of angered magic…still…” She paused long enough to look past the demon, smiling a little wider at Clark as he stared at her in silent disbelief. “I believe this will be a fun game…I have a new toy to play with after all.”

She merely twitched a finger at her side.

Clark watched in horror as he saw another female come to her side, her delicate gloved hands holding something warm and green, and spiked against her chest.

Lois started at him blankly, never hearing the twisted laughter of the girl who’d managed to shatter the glass of the window only moments ago.

I really should write more of this. The Halloween fics cometh.