Night's Omen

PROMPT LIST

• Sin
• Destroy
• Drown
• Roses
• Fall
• Ghost
• Drugs
• Dreams
• Hate
• Beach

There weren't many things that James Sutherland held sacred, but among them were those he considered family - his brother and his wife and children, and the team that James was a part of were essentially it, though with the team disbanded and James under some kind of guild job that kept 'Desmond Stark' from keeping the distant watch he liked to maintain, he was kind of on his own.  That his little brother was out of touch was a bit worrisome, but it wasn't until a bit of time had passed that James took up a flat down the street from Antoine's house so that he could keep an eye on Lily, little James and Nora. 

It wasn't long after that the shit hit the fan.

His wards went off outside Lily's home in the middle of the day, when he was napping and the kids should have just been getting up from their own naps (when you were up most of the night like he was, sometimes naps were just as good for adults as children), and he snapped awake and out of the building in record time, but it still wasn't fast enough.  Her house had been hit like a tornado, windows smashed and the entire place trashed, and he arrived on scene just fast enough to hear them all screaming, bust through the front door and take a surprise elbow to the face.  It was a vampire, so the blow was enough to stun him, but would have put a human on his ass.  He heard Lily scream his name, surprised and still desperate, and he swung out of the way of a fist attached to the owner of the elbow.  It was on. 

James had his Heckler and Koch P2000 in hand and was firing on nearby threats to his family even as he danced around the vampire coming at him.  As soon as he had the spare second, he drew a knife to conserve bullets and deal with the vampire up close and personal, but it was impossible to deal with the more aggressive threat while also trying to keep others off Lily and the children.  The bastards just kept getting up, and if one stayed down, the others were still just too quick.  James was a very dangerous individual, so it was a little frightening that he couldn't hold this hoard back properly - it meant very bad things.  This was much more firepower aimed at a housewife and two small children, so either they were planning on him showing up to defend them, or they were deliberately going for overkill, but the latter made much less sense once the vampire he kept trying to devote attention to revealed his hand.

"This is wasted effort, Jimmy, you're all dead already, you just don't know it!"

For that, James popped him in the mouth with the hilt of his knife and then slashed sideways, bringing on a scream, but he had to get Lily and the children out of there.  "Lily darling, don't take this the wrong way because you're a ---" he halted long enough to fire off a few rounds, then went back to urging her towards the back of the house with a cheeky smirk, "-- very beautiful woman, but I need you to go to the bedroom."

He was trying for reassuring with the humor, but for all of the brilliant disguises and training, it didn't reach his eyes because he was silently hoping that area of the house was clear; so far, all of the attackers were coming from the opposite end, driving them back.  She went, Nora crying against her shoulder in one arm and the fireplace poker in the other (he admired Antoine's choice in women) and he scooped little James up as he followed, covering their steps and trying to hold the bastard vampire off as he came at him again.  The bastard would have a scar that even vampire powers couldn't heal from that knife, but that wouldn't save them, would it? 

It wouldn't, but apparently, neither would the bedroom.  There was a high shriek out of Nora that brought James' attention to the woman behind him, unable to make a sound past the hand around her throat while the bastard wrenched the poker out of her hand, and James twisted around to fire upon the new vampires who must have come in yet another window at the same time that the poker flew through the air and barely missed little James.  What it didn't miss was big James, who choked, but made no other sound past the iron piercing his shoulder a bare inch away from the child that he was struggling not to drop too harshly.  He still had to let little James slide down the side of his body, the strength evaporating quickly from that side of his entire torso, nevermind his arm, and he was slowing down.  He took a blow to the side of the head, but it barely registered past the agonizing burn spreading through him and taking his breath away, and he shouted as he caught sight from his knees of one of their attackers scooping little James up.  He couldn't even see where Nora and Lily were, but he also couldn't hear them any longer, and that wasn't good. 

The problem was that he couldn't focus on them past the iron, especially when his new best friend grabbed it and twisted, drawing a long, harsh scream from his throat.  He grabbed it with both hands to try to stop the twisting, but just the contact with the metal seared his skin so badly that he released it almost instantly.  It was unlikely the vampire knew what exactly was happening, but he was willing to push his advantage with a bit more twisting that was threatening very quickly to make the fae black out before he made his mistake - he yanked the poker out.  It was horrifically painful, and that alone caused James to drop and lose a few seconds of time, but with the metal no longer in contact with his skin, the wound was dulled down to a constant agony instead of mind-numbing hell, and he could somewhat think through it.  It was just enough that he saw the swing of the poker in time to jerk back and avoid being completely wrecked by it - it caught him on the browbone above his right eye, and he certainly saw stars, but it gave him some distance.

No, he wouldn't be proud to admit it later, but he took that distance and slight reprieve to zap himself out of there.  He didn't get far, not with a gaping iron-induced hole in his chest and the headache to go with it, but it gave him a second to work with before they'd be on him again.  He also wouldn't be proud to tell anyone who might think highly of him that he grabbed a poor man walking his dog, dazed him and essentially traded faces, putting as much effort into superimposing his own image and mental signature over the other man as he could possibly spare at that moment, and then he stumbled off with the dog in tow.  He was about a hundred yards closer to safety when he heard the commotion, and didn't glance back at a strangled scream and then silence.  They were gone, he knew that because he couldn't feel them anymore, but he didn't dare look.  He kept walking, and when he didn't think he could walk any longer, he stole the man's car, and then he collected his things, bandaged up as much as he could, and caught a flight. 

Only when he was in another country did he stop to hide himself away, heal, and grieve.