Boom—Boom—Boom—Boom—
Lights flashed in rhythm with pounding music, each beat striking like a second heartbeat inside a vast hall where a sea of bodies swayed and writhed together, shouts and laughter rising from the crowd, tangled up in the relentless throb of the bass.
But this was no nightclub, nor was this some frenzied party reaching its wildest hour. Anyone who mistakes it for one and goes through its doors, chances are they won't be coming back out, because the bodies occupying that dance floor weren't human in the first place.
They were vampires. Creatures wearing the guise of men and women, it goes without saying what exactly would be happening inside a den full of them.
Just the slightest observation would be enough to reveal the darkness, most notably the colour crimson standing out in stark contrast against everything else.
It was everywhere. On the floor, slick and gleaming beneath the flashing lights. On the dancers' clothes, soaked clean through in patches. On their faces, streaked and smeared, some of it fresh, some already dried dark. And yet, there was no sign of panic.
Hiss!
At a random spot in the crowd, in what looked like just another random scene playing out across the floor, a woman suddenly lunged forward and sank her teeth into the throat of the man dancing beside her. Blood welled up at once, spilling down the curve of his neck in a dark, glistening stream, but still, there was no cry of pain or even a hint of panic.
If anything, the man looked as though he was enjoying it. His head tipped back, his eyes fluttering half-shut and an expression of pure euphoria crossed his face.
Similar scenes were repeating throughout the hall. Some were even carrying glasses, dipping them beneath the wounds of their partners and catching what spilled and drinking it down in long, unhurried swallows.
This was hardly a celebration in the usual sense. But a feast, with blood serving as both food and drink.
Or perhaps, a celebration.
At the innermost edge of the dance floor stood a luxurious arrangement of sofas gathered around a low table, and seated comfortably at its centre was the very reason for everything that was happening.
She was a gorgeously dressed woman, elegant enough that seemed almost out of place amid the chaos happening in front of her. In one hand she held a goblet filled near to the brim of what looked, at a glance, like red wine.
She swirled it slowly, watching the crimson liquid cling to the sides of the glass, a satisfied smile curling at her lips. Her gaze drifted once more across the scene before her, taking in every movement with the indulgent pleasure of someone watching a show staged entirely for her own benefit.
In fact, it was.
A row of men in black suits were standing in line behind her, each one was carrying what looked to be a semi-automatic weapon, watching the crowd with hawklike eyes. More of them and similarly armed were also scattered throughout the hall, some were stationed near the entrances and others along the edges of the dance floor.
Music, drugs, pleasure and security filled the hall, creating an atmosphere that felt all sorts of wrong, but then at the same time, as though nothing could possibly go wrong.
Zyummm—
It happened all of a sudden, accompanied by the crackle of failing speakers, the pounding music stopped dead.
"What the hell is going on?"
"Get the music back on!"
The hypnotic lights sweeping across the hall flickered out at the same time, plunging the room into complete darkness drawing a chorus of dissatisfied complaints and curses.
But it lasted only a few seconds before the lights flickered back on again. Only this time, it wasn't the vibrant flashes of blue, violet, and green. Instead, the ceiling lights came on in full, illuminating every corner of the vast hall and finally revealing the grotesque scene that had been hiding beneath the illusion.
Men and women, women with women, and even men with men stood together in pairs, but there was something deeply unnatural about them, something that could be seen at a single glance. With each pair, one partner appeared utterly intoxicated, clothes and skin drenched in blood, swaying and struggling even to remain on their feet. On the other hand, the latter looked perfectly unperturbed, appearing completely unaffected by whatever reduced their partner to such a miserable state.
The floor where they stood was smeared with crimson, blood pooled and streaked across the surface, a few bodies even lay out cold near the walls discarded there like nothing more than rubbish.
Anyone else would have felt their stomach turn at the sight, but not a single voice rose at the gore. The only thing that seemed to concern them was the interruption.
The gorgeously dressed woman was also wearing a cold expression, her face seemed set with obvious displeasure at this sudden disturbance to her evening.
"Lady Amelia…" One of the guards bent down and whispered something into her ear. "Something seems to have gone wrong with the…"
Her brows creased even further as she listened.
"Utterly useless!" she scoffed, though it wasn't quite clear who it was that just earned her generous compliment.
"Have my car ready," she instructed coldly in the same breath, then rose from her seat. But then halfway through, she collapsed, collapsed hard right back onto the same spot.
The cold, indifferent expression vanished from her face, and something closer to pure terror appeared in its place.
It happened in an instant. Her eyes widened, and reflected in the mirror of her pupils were the cause of her sudden change. Two figures, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere as though they had been there from the beginning.
Ordinarily, any intruder suddenly approaching her would have been met with the barrels of several semi-automatics, but her guards seemed just as frozen as she was.
In fact, it was the entire hall. One moment the floor buzzed with curses and complaints, and the next, as though a switch had cut the volume entirely, there was nothing but pin-drop silence now.
The only things still moving were the eyes, every last pair of them, converging toward a single direction.
Mavrick didn't bother with any ceremony this time. The moment his magical sense caught sight of the disgusting scene unfolding here, he took action; first, killed the music and lights, then Apparated directly inside.
He looked around, eyes sweeping across the frozen sea of… creatures. No, he could sense a dozen or so actual humans among them as well, but every one of them seem to be under the effects of some very heavy intoxication, with barely any sign of life, bitten all over, cuts covering their bodies, some showing no sign of life at all.
Better off dead than alive, even his overpowered senses could detect only the faintest threads clinging to the husks that were once their bodies. Unfortunately, beyond saving.
However, he didn't put them out of their misery just yet. Depending on how long they could still hold on, or whether it was possible to turn them back...
After completing a full circle, his attention returned to the woman. With a thought, he raised her rigidly into the air, her arms and legs stretched straight, then yanked her across the low table before forcing her down onto both knees with enough force there echoed a faint crack of something breaking.
"What happens to those people after you scum bite and infect them?"
He released the hold on her tongue, and immediately, a long gasp escaped her lungs. Those once cruel and sadistic eyes now looked every bit ordinary, like those of someone forced to swallow their pain, tears welling in them and threatening to spill over.
The corner of Snape's mouth twitched. His eyes caught briefly her knees, which were practically half buried in the concrete, blood spreading around them and forming a small pool. That must have hurt like a bitch.
Gasp!
The vampire rasped heavily.
"Wizard—Aaaarrrrrrhhhhhh…"
Just one word, and then her head snapped up all of a sudden, a high-pitched, wailing scream tearing from her throat as though she were being subjected to something unspeakable.
"Wrong answer…"
Like the gong of some terrifying bell, two syllables rang inside her head at the same time.
The pain then disappeared just as quickly as it came, leaving her to take more long and ragged breaths.
Though it lasted only for a moment she swore she had never felt such pain that seemed to reach all the way down to the marrow of her bones. It was as though her very consciousness had been submerged in a lake of boiling lava, in all her long, long life, this was the first time she had ever been subjected to such torture.
Snape, meanwhile, was left observing without uttering a single word or change in his expression. But his nerves couldn't help but tightened as well when he heard that grotesque scream. Although he wasn't the one on the other end feeling whatever it was, he could tell that the pain wouldn't lose to the agony of the Cruciatus Curse.
"Last time…" Mavrick's cold, indifferent voice rang through the hall once again. "What will happen to these people?"
"Vampires—"
'Wrong answer,' accompanied by the agonising feeling of pure pain, that warning was still ringing inside her head, so there wasn't a shred of hesitation this time.
She spilled everything, like the words were legs she was using to run for her life.
"—the infection spreads immediately… whoever survives, we force them to complete the ceremony… they must drink a vampire's blood to complete the siring… if they don't, they die..."
Mavrick creased his brows and turned to Snape inquiringly.
Snape got the cue, then rummaged through his head, thinking through what he knew of this particular race of vampires. After a while, he nodded. "I recall having read about the Corvinus clan of vampires, and their… peculiar ceremony of siring."
"…it's the truth! wizard—"
A single glance and she swallowed the rest, watching as Mavrick's expression turned thoughtful.
He recalled, Amelia... it should be the name of one of the elder vampires.
He looked down at the terrified-looking woman. To be honest, she looked nothing like some big-shot vampire elder in his impression. Big breasts and no muscle, not an ounce of intimidating presence...
Of course compared to a warlock-rank wizard it wouldn't make any difference whether she was a common bat or a vampire elder. But that little detail seems to have slipped from his head.
"Do you know if there's a cure for the virus…" On second thought, why ask when he could see it for himself? Between his words his hand rose slowly, and his index finger pointed towards the centre of her brows.
Amelia tried to shake her head, but apart from her eyes, not a single muscle in her body seemed willing to obey her.
"—Legilimence!"
Turns out she wasn't lying. Once they were bitten, if the siring ceremony wasn't completed, death was indeed the only outcome.
Might as well inquire about the other matter, then.
"The leader of the Lycans, Lucian. Do you know his current whereabouts?"
Only the sounds of Mavrick speaking echoed for a while inside the frozen hall which went on for some ten minutes.
Just Snape was aware of what was happening, oh, and of course, the victim herself.
By feeding her information like prompts beforehand, Mavrick gathered everything he needed very quickly. This was a thousand-year-old relic, after all. There was no way he could otherwise sift through her long span of memories.
Most importantly, she did indeed know the current whereabouts of the Lycan leader.
Gasp! Haaa! Haaa!
When Mavrick finally stopped rummaging through her mind, another long gasp escaped her lungs, and the way she looked at him now revealed an even greater terror than before.
Then, perhaps realising she was nothing more than an ant before him, she tried to reason taking a different approach.
"I… I am an elder of the Corvinus clan. My sire is Marcus, the Progenitor himself. Killing me and you will incur the wrath of my entire race…"
Looking down at the terrified and calculating eyes of this so-called bigshot, a mocking smirk curled at the corner of Mavrick's lips.
"Is that a threat?"
"No…" She frantically shook her head. "I… I'm merely advising… the circumstances, Lord Mage." She was choosing her words carefully as to make her message clear, but also not to piss off the calamity before her.
"Do you know who I am, then, vampire?"
She nodded quickly. "I'd be a fool not to recognise your lordship. Archmage Caesar. You can kill them all, but spare me. I shall never set foot on this continent ever again, I swear—"
"Lady Death, is your only destination, vampire." Cutting her off mercilessly, he delivered the verdict that would be her fate. He couldn't care less whether she was an elder or some thousand-year-old hag.
"No!"
Ignoring her frantic plea, Mavrick lifted his hand and opened his palm. A small raven, no bigger than a finger and made entirely of black flames sparked to life then began flapping its wings.
From the looks of it, it looked harmless, almost cute, if not for the temperature in the room suddenly rising several degrees enough to make anyone sweat.
"Stop! Wait!" She didn't know what the little creature was or what its purpose might be, only that it was dangerous to her kind no less than the sun itself.
Her mind began working overtime, searching for something, anything she could use as leverage, until finally, a conversation from who knows how long ago flashed through her mind.
"You cannot kill me wizard! We have a covenant! Our god, the master of the undead has a covenant with your Supreme Mage!"
Her eyes turned frantic as she grasped at the last straw. In fact, she wasn't even sure whether what she was saying was true herself. It was somethings she had overheard one time during a conversation between Marcus and Victor and she just happened to be there, and now she could only hope it was enough to save her life.
"You cannot break it! So long as we do not feed upon your kind, you are bound to leave us alone! You have to let me go!"
Mavrick's actions paused, his brows arching slightly.
"Interesting…"
The little raven also returned to his palm, landing softly before folding its wings.
Nearby, Snape also grew thoughtful at the sudden and rather inexplicable lore dump. Blood God? Supreme Mage? The Master of the Undead? Are they some fancy titles for just another one of these so-called elders?
Huff. Huff.
Amelia's expression showed, at last, the faintest tinge of relief. Just a tinge, seeing Maverick's actions pause, at least what she had just blurted out had turned out to be relevant.
"No wait!"
Or was it?
She once again saw that dreadful hand rise, that dreadful finger pointing towards her forehead.
"Stop! I can tell you… I can just tell you— ummmfff… Ummm… Ummm."
The handy curse of forcing its way into one's mind hit her like a train once again. Mavrick showed not the slightest bit of pity, and this time, he was very much looking forward to seeing exactly what it was she knew.
And interesting it was indeed.
Lord of the Vampires. Varnae, some ancient old thing also known as the Master of the Undead.
As well as... Vlad Tepes, Count Dracula.
This day keeps throwing one mystery after another.
The two most ancient vampires, and both seemed to be tied to sorcery as well. Mavrick knew of Dracula from the fragments of Marvel lore he remembered from his previous life, but this entity called Varnae was completely unfamiliar to him.
Could it be a being standing equal to Merlin and the Ancient One? He very much doubted it. From the woman's memories, he went through the entire sequence but unfortunately, it was only that particular one, and she was nothing more than a bystander there.
And really... it didn't matter. At least this old hag and her death weren't enough to warrant some ancient thing coming for his head. Apart from the lore dump he just witnessed from her mind, he also understood that the woman was only bluffing, trying to scare him or something into letting her go.
Although, he still made a mental note to visit the Ancient One for a few… inquiries.
As for the woman herself...
"Vampire. Elder…"
He released his hold on her mind, but with her tongue still tied, she remained mute and couldn't so much as beg. Only muffled sounds escaped her throat shaking her head frantically.
Each word sounded colder than the last, ringing through her ears like a countdown to her death, especially the final one, delivered with such cold contempt that it was both humiliating:
"…insects."
A terrifying, more ominous sense of dread then seized her thousand-year-old heart. She couldn't remember, no, this was the first time it was warning her this frantically.
Die. She was about to die.
"Unfortunately for you, my feathery little pet here neither has the time nor a reason to care which particular ant it burns."
"Ummffhh… Ummmm… Ummmfff…"
The small, almost adorable little raven then flapped its wings once more and flew straight towards her horrified face, which was desperately trying to say something, beg, protest, perhaps all three, but failing miserably.
Before it even made contact, her skin began smoking, just like it would when her kind were exposed to the rays of the sun.
She died, burned alive, and the last words she heard were those cruel comparisons. She, a dignified elder of the proud Corvinus clan, a vampire who had lived for over a millennium, reduced to nothing more than a mere bug.
Hiss!
There wasn't even ash left in the aftermath.
Snape tried to keep his calm, but his pupils wouldn't stop trembling, watching the scene. Fiendfyre, under such absolute control, it was unheard of. Yet this… boy, was wielding it like it was just any other spell.
The rest followed next, all the bodies vanishing into nothingness without a scream or even a wisp of smoke. Some of them may have been human, but they were no more. If there had been a cure, Maverick might have decided otherwise, but there was none.
Moreover, they were in such a miserable state that they might as well have been wishing for death.
Sweat was running freely down Snape's forehead by the time Mavrick finished with everything.
It was the heat, Snape kept telling himself. He had always known Mavrick was dangerous, that the face he wore every day was nothing but a mask, and perhaps this, right here, was his true self.
On this little journey to get a mere sample of blood, he couldn't help wondering whether stumbling upon this cult of vampires was really a coincidence. He had been left to watch everything that happened, so was it a warning… or a message?
Then again, he was also aware, more or less, that Maverick was rather good to his own people.
He, Snape, should count as one now, right?
On second thought, Snape's mind continued wandering from one thought to another. It had only been a day since he boarded this pirate ship, and he couldn't really tell which was which, what to assume, or which one was actually right.
Maverick had no idea what strange thoughts were running through the old bat's head. After getting rid of the bodies, he took out his phone and sent a message to his reliable thug back at S.H.I.E.L.D., briefly relaying the situation. They could take care of the rest.
"Come, Severus..." He summoned the familiar portal and beckoned Snape to follow. "Our target apparently isn't that far from here."
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