jezebelinhell | Behind the Iron Curtain (Part II) [Draft]

This continues from here

Tunguska, Soviet Union (USSR), January 1961

Trailing behind his comrade, Vadim, a few feet, Vasili's hand wrapped around the worn grip of the cold black Tokarov pistol at his side. As they continued to shuffle through the darkened corridor, the threatening sound of the pistol's hammer pulling back made Vadim come to halt. Slowly, his muscle's tensed like a coiled spring and his head began to turn first, followed by his body and only then his steady eyes, peaking out from under the pileup of his black brows.
"Vasili? What are you doing?" He demanded with worry clearly etched in his weathered voice. His former comrade said nothing at first, tilting his head to the side as if he was trying to locate the direction that the direction of the words that only he could hear were coming from. Finally, his muddy brown eyes focused on Vadim. "I have my orders." He informed simply, nodding back toward the morgue. "Walk." When he didn't move he added with a roll of his eyes, "Walk or I shoot you and watch as you slowly bleed out. No one down here, my friend, can hear you scream. And, surely Vadim, it will probably only heighten the good doctor's enjoyment." With disgust and loathing painted on his face, Vadim stalked back into the lab. Eyes went wide, blinking rapidly, not understanding what they were not seeing. There was no body on the slab. Had the 'good' doctor taken her already? A heavy arm clamped onto his shoulder. His head whipped back to look at Vasili who looked spooked. "She thirsts." He whispered eerily, backing up against the wall a if he wished to dissolve into it.

What?" Vadim's surprise was short lived as the monstrous creature lunged at him from the other side. Her lifeless eyes were empty as if nothing could fill the void of whatever it was inside her that she had lost. She moved and yet, looked as hard as a statue, her marble coloured skin, sickly and pale, even stood out against her blue, white and pale blue camouflage jacket. And her grip. Painful and unyielding, like she had never touched anyone kindly. But it was those teeth. Fangs... which sunk violently into his neck.. Vasili watched transfixed as the body sunk to the floor. Catherine stood royally before him, shaking off the ice that had formed at the ends of her hair. This feeding hadn't been too taxing, considering his poor station in life. Only slightly did it churn nauseatingly in her innards. But the Beast--its thirst--always won when it scratched too close to the surface. It has not bias or predilection to the modern "aristocracy" like she did. It did nothing to satiate her anger, however, although she no longer winced at the sting of the unsightly stake hole healing in her chest. The bullet holes, were not unexpected. Vasili would prove to be useful.

KGB Lt. Vasili Rifkin watched as his mistress seemed to tower over the room itself. Cruel and brilliant, he could not decide which aspect he fancied more and, yet, he found her terrifying. As the new vitae revitalized her like a butterfly, her countenance began to change. Or rather, he noticed other things. Her graceful and yet determined stance, her lithe body and poised demeanor. As he looked at her again, he decided he was wrong about her eyes. They looked through your soul, were luminous, not empty. They also were an oddly exotic shade of turquoise or green, no, perhaps flecks of both?

"Are you going to stare at me all evening?" She cooed the night before at the ambassador's party when she caught him looking her. He tore his eyes away with difficulty, only to have them glued right back at her with a cocky smile. "Would it not be better to speak with me?" Her Russian was good, but it was clipped with an accent. "I do not care much for words." He answered with the confidence that a soldier's life instilled in him. "That is perfect. Follow me. I promise, these will be the last words I speak to you." Why he did, so readily, was something he did not question. Catherine glanced back at him over her shoulder once, with a sultry smile as her eyes sized him up. Leading him through the residence, they came upon the ambassador's sitting room. It did not take long for Vasili to return to the party with a sanguine addiction for her that surpassed the desire for even the strongest drug and invisible chains that only Catherine held the reigns to.

Just like Marc held Catherine's reigns thanks not to any half blood bond, but the loyalty he inspires within her still chest.

"Is everything ready?" Her Sire inquired under his breath, later, as he passed her a flute of champagne. Another prop, another way too keep up appearances. Marc looked Cossack. And for the little that he revealed to her about his origins, he might as well have been. His French was impeccable, but Catherine often wondered if he had not devised the greatest deception on them all, words she dared not voice in case they were true.
"Da." She answered with a slick red smile. "You will devise the explosion tomorrow night in front of The Chamber. I shall find my place in front of the wreckage and my petite Vasili will make sure that everything goes smoothly, that I am taken inside and not destroyed. From there, I descend to the laboratory. And according to you, I will know what to do when I see whatever it is you have been so cryptic about." Catherine narrowed her eyes as she widened her smile. Hushed voices didn't cover the anger in her voice. "You realize that I do not enjoy going in blind? It makes me feel like you are setting me up." She finished with honey coated words that stung with accusation.
Marc chuckled under his breath. "You are priceless." His acidic words conveyed a sarcasm that she didn't know whether affirmed her suspicions or her hopes to that the opposite were true.
"This spoken by a man who says that everyone has a price." Intentionally, she paused. "Am I yours?" Catherine bantered back, tongue in cheek and yet, wondering, if he would ever give her a genuine answer.

It is no wonder, then, that the next night his answer was just as cryptic. Her crystalline eyes broke into a hundred reflections of confusion as he plunged the stake through her flesh. That was unplanned. As she fell, he caught her easily, leaning into her ear "Désolé, ma belle."