And if Claire comes along, trailing one of hers, one of her favorites a tall, smooth man, charm and grace and beauty, well, no one would really be surprised to see her on the streets.
The two 'wolves -- one gray, one black -- trot up. The black one sits and considers Claire's companion, while the gray looks up at Claire, ears up, tail out.
Claire nods, says, "You found anything?" Like she's talking to Russ. But softer. Wolves have better ears and it's dark. It's the day after and people are still nervous.
Her guy eyes the wolf, assessingly. Not dismissive, never that, but not like he's looking to fight. It's why she chose him.
In reply, Russ turns and trots along the sidewalk, not bothering to see if she follows. The black wolf -- a female -- rises and follows him more slowly, keeping an eye on the vampires.
Claire jogs after to catch up. She hates some days that she'll never be able to do that. Then she remembers the benefits of being a vampire and just walks faster.
Behind her, her vamp moves like a shadow. She isn't in heels, but soft running shoes. Nearly silent.
He's following the scent of smoke and burnt material north, towards the original source of the fire. As they get closer, the smell of burnt, rotten flesh grows stronger.
Looks like whoever started this got what they were after, at least somewhat.
The guy she's with offers her a handkerchief and she takes it, wrapping it over her mouth and nose. It smells like her perfume and she looks at him, eyebrow up.
Claire follows and doesn't look at her guy. Discretion and not acknowledging that what he thinks is happening really is happening.
The streets are black from being burned, blacker than they were before, when they were dark solely because of shadows and the fear that something was going to jump out of the shadows and kill you.
Tonight, the four of them are what's about to kill you.
It's not a short run. Whoever set this fire spooked and tried to get far from the scene of the crime. They're at the waterfront before the 'wolves slow and stop.
The warehouses look emptied out, supplies stripped and doors left ajar. Still, she hears something and glances to see if the wolves do, too. It's a familiar sound.
Claire jerks her head at her guy and he vaguely nods. The sound of zombie moans is enough to set her on edge but, when they push the door to a warehouse all the way open.
Zombies, strung up like Christmas hogs, covered in paintballs, make her bear her teeth. She pulls out her gun and walks right up to the things before emptying a cartridge each into their brains.
Both of them are hunters the way that few are.
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Her guy eyes the wolf, assessingly. Not dismissive, never that, but not like he's looking to fight. It's why she chose him.
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Behind her, her vamp moves like a shadow. She isn't in heels, but soft running shoes. Nearly silent.
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Looks like whoever started this got what they were after, at least somewhat.
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She flicks open the holster, easier access, hand already hovering close to a knife.
Vampires may feed and hunt, but their weapons are always their charm and brains in those situations.
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He and the black wolf start to move slowly around the area, sniffing at the burnt and blackened ground.
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He shrugs. A present from X, then.
She goes back to watching Russ.
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He looks towards Claire with the very definition of a wolfish grin, and then takes off -- east, towards the lake.
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The streets are black from being burned, blacker than they were before, when they were dark solely because of shadows and the fear that something was going to jump out of the shadows and kill you.
Tonight, the four of them are what's about to kill you.
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Claire jerks her head at her guy and he vaguely nods. The sound of zombie moans is enough to set her on edge but, when they push the door to a warehouse all the way open.
Zombies, strung up like Christmas hogs, covered in paintballs, make her bear her teeth. She pulls out her gun and walks right up to the things before emptying a cartridge each into their brains.
"They're close?" she asks Russ.
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He shakes himself at her question and turns back to the sidewalk, sniffing at the sidewalk.
The scent of the sea and the zombies are almost overwhelming. He growls, frustrated.
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Hers, too, but that won't convince him to do anything.
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His tail comes up, and a second later, his head, looking down the street.
He's got it.
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