Rhiannon Lee (rhiannon_lee) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2021-01-28 17:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | npc, rhiannon lee |
Old Wounds
Who: Rhiannon, NPC Nina
What: This is Your Courtesy Call
When: Present, Early Morning
Where: Searchlight, NV
Warnings: Gore, Disturbing Imagery, Language
Rhiannon was dreaming.
She was younger, twenty years old, and the blunt tips of her bob haircut had stuck to an open cut on her chin. She was riding in the back of a Chevy with the head and torso of a teenage boy stretched across her lap. The wadded up cloth in her right hand was supposed to keep the pressure, but she’d stopped a half mile back because he was going to die. She could hear two hunters yelling in the front seat as the SUV raced up an unpaved road outside the Red Lake Reservation, kicking up dust and rocks. The tires bounced when they cut onto the highway and her head struck the window. The engine roared on. The job was in northern Minnesota, too far from a hospital and a long way from home. No one saw it when Rhiannon stuck her fingers into the bite and held them up, staring at the slick mixture of blood and saliva.
The boy twitched.
When she woke up, she was disoriented. A quick flip of the phone on her nightstand told Rhiannon that it was 6:13 a.m. and still dark outside. Rhiannon rubbed her eyes to get her bearings. She was alone in bed in Searchlight: no Chevy, no body, no blood. Even so, her mind wouldn’t let go of the memory it dredged up in the dream, and if she strained, she could hear a throaty engine, as though it was traveling northbound on Montana Street and then west on Indian Street, right up to her trailer.
A ‘95 Chevy Blazer stopped at the foot of her dirt driveway and honked its horn, two fast, loud blurts. A moment passed, and a third, longer blurt shook Rhiannon out of her stupor. She threw the covers off her legs, grabbed a sweatshirt, and rushed up the narrow hallway of her trailer. The hunter’s head poked through the neck hole as she flicked open the blinds.
What she saw was real. It was a large vehicle with an exhaust pipe coughing out fumes. The driver’s side door opened. A small, black-haired figure hopped out of the seat and walked around. She opened up the back, hooked her arms around a bulky object, and dragged it onto the ground. Even in the red haze of tail lights, it was easy to see it was a body with a broadhead arrow sticking out of his heart.
“No. No, no, no.” Rhiannon stepped into her shoes and knelt by her trunk to grab a handgun. She checked the chamber, then burst through the door. The cold air chilled her bare legs. “Get out of here, Nina,” she called to the other woman, coming across the yard. Rhiannon was doing mental calculations: how long until the neighbors got up and moving? How many faces were already peeking around curtains? What were the chances Cian would get up early and show up with coffee? Did Nina know where he lived?
The other hunter looked up and caught sight of Rhiannon looking like she’d just rolled out of bed. “Good morning, sunshine.” Nina stood next to the after-market hitch she had installed on the Blazer and held a length of rope. She raised her eyebrows at the gun Rhiannon was toting. “Last I checked, those don’t work on vamps. I was just gonna take him for a ride. You want to come with?”
“Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you?” Rhiannon eyed the way Nina had lined up the body, feet together and pointing toward the bumper. “You’re not doing that here.” She switched off the safety and pointed the gun at the other hunter. “I’m serious. I will shoot you in the face, I don’t care.”
“You’re gonna shoot me?” Nina looked around them, up and down the residential street. “You’re not even worried your neighbors will hear, are you?” The coiled rope in her hands kept moving. “Wow, maybe your uncle was right about this place, and you.” She tossed it back in the Chevy and took out a hatchet. “At least I know how it is now.”
“Yeah. So do I,” Rhiannon said. “You need to leave.”
“Rhi, we’re not even here yet.” Nina hefted the hatchet and chopped off the vampire’s head. She grabbed the head by the hair and tossed it onto a roll of tarp in the back of the Chevy, right next to her weapon. That was number one.
Rhiannon watched her get in the SUV and put it in gear. Sand spun up from the tires when it took off and made a U-turn up Indian Street. She looked down at the headless mess on the pavement, the arrow still sticking straight up in the air.
“Shit.”