Bad Influence // Mikhail

[Emily Chase]

Chase was pleased with the way the previous week had unfolded. She’d found a job waiting tables at a pub on the marina, and with her first paycheck, she decided to buy some new, more on-trend clothes for herself and for Mikhail. Not that she objected to his robes made from their curtains, but it made him something of an easy target if any of Chase's old crowd were to show up. Not that she expected them to, not anymore. It had been several months since Chase had last seen any of the bounty hunters with whom she used to run, and she had finally stopped looking over her shoulder every time she went out.

She had wandered into a discount store (not unlike a WalMart), thinking that she might find some practical clothes as well as be able to pick up some groceries and practical items (she had run out of crappy shampoo a week ago and wanted something that didn't smell like feet), and had just finished a jaunt down the produce aisle when she heard a familiar voice behind her. Turning to look over her shoulder, a mask of fear on her face, she saw no one but other shoppers, a mother and her toddler among them.

Must've imagined it, she thought. But the voice had sounded so much like Ben's... Ben, who had been the de facto ringleader of her former clique, was an imposing figure who would have stood out in this crowd. Standing at six feet and four inches and weighing in at a svelte three-hundred pounds, Chase wouldn't have been able to miss him. But that voice...

Chase was suddenly on the alert, although her rational self knew it was absurd to be frightened after all this time. But as she picked up a carton of eggs thirty minutes later, she could have sworn she heard the voice of another of the street scum for whom she used to work.

This time, her fear was well-founded. A short, rail-thin man in a black canvas vest decked out with spikes and chains stood over in the bakery, not a hundred feet away. This was Henry, a rat-faced lackey without enough brains to fill an eggcup. But he was mean as all hell, and when he met Chase's eyes, he wiggled his fingers at her to acknowledge that yes, he'd seen her, and yes, she was in serious trouble.

Chase dropped the carton of eggs she was holding, abandoned her shopping basket, and made to run to the nearest door. But when she turned on her heel to run, she turned smack into Ben's refrigerator-sized chest and fell flat on her ass in the middle of the floor.

"Let me outta here, Ben," Chase said warily. "I don't want to borrow any of your trouble." She stood up and brushed the dust off her secondhand jeans. She felt for the knife she kept tucked in her back pocket, but of course, it was laying six feet away, knocked from her pocket when she fell.

Ben laughed, his cruel face split by a sneering smile.

"Oh, Miss Emily, you have more trouble on your hands than you can imagine. Step outside with me, won't you?" Ben grasped Chase's arm just above the elbow, not tightly enough to elicit a sound from Chase, but tight enough to steer her out of the store without protest.

"Whadd'ya want, Ben?" Chase's voice was level, but wary. "I just want to get my things and-"

"I think not," Ben said, his grin having been replaced by a serious expression. Henry had crept up behind Chase and had tangled his grimy fingers in her hair at the nape of her neck, with a grip strong enough to ensure that she wasn't going anywhere fast.

"We've seen your friend," Henry sneered in her ear. "We're pretty damn sure he ain't whatcha call human. 'S'matter o' fact, a little birdie told us you ain't quite as human as you'd like us to think." Henry stroked one long-nailed finger down Chase's cheek, and she recoiled from his touch.

"Just leave us alone," she said, the bravado in her voice hiding a very real fear for her safety.

"Actually, I have a better plan," said Ben, who was now joined by three other thugs that Chase had never seen before, but they were all big and mean and probably dumb enough to follow Ben's orders without asking questions.

"Y'see, I think that if we take you to our place for a little party, your pretty Vamp friend will eventually come looking for you. Then, when he does, we'll stake 'im and burn 'im to a cinder. Then we'll do the same to you. It's our charge as Vampire Hunters, as you might remember."

Chase was really and truly frightened at this point, her veneer of bravery beginning to slip like butter in a warm pan. Just as she opened her mouth to beg Ben and his cronies to leave Mikhail out of this, a ham-sized fist closed around the back of her neck, and she felt a thumb jab her shoulder, and everything went black.

When Chase woke up, she was in a filthy bedroom, one wrist and one ankle each manacled to a post on a twin bed. She could just sit up, though doing so made her head swim. The room was poorly lit by a single lamp on a table across the room, and the dull throb in her neck told her she'd been handled none too gently since her arrival.

Just as she was assessing her surroundings, the door to the bedroom creaked open and Henry the Rat shuffled in with a nasty sneer on his face.

"Good, you're awake. Took you long enough." He checked the cuffs binding Chase and left again without another word. Chase wondered how long she'd been out, and wondered if Mikhail was okay. She hoped he'd be smart enough not to go looking for her, but she also knew that he wasn't likely to let her go without a fight. Damn his chivalrous attitude.

A moment later, Ben came in, accompanied by two of his apish sidekicks, who stood mutely by the door.

"I'm going to let you loose, but don't try to get away, because my boys over there have very few qualms about getting blood on their clothes," Ben said, and he produced a tiny key which he used to free her of her manacles.

"What do you really want, Ben?" Chase asked, too weary to move from the bed just yet. "I understand your battle with me, but just leave Mikhail out of it, okay? Please." Like being polite would help.

"What I want, Chasey," he said, assuming a big brother sort of air, "is to avenge you. That monster bastard changed you, and what kind of Vampire Hunters would we be if we didn't go after the bloodsucker who attacked one of our own?" He spread his arms wide in a gesture of benevolence. "We're just looking out for you, Chasey," he said with a disturbing smile.

Ben approached Chase where she sat on the edge of the twin bed. He took her small jaw in his meaty hand and turned her face from side to side as though inspecting her for damage, like a prize at an auction. Without warning, his other hand came crashing against her cheek with the force of a thrown shovel.

Chase didn't make a sound, but she could taste blood welling up on her lips. She didn't wipe it away.

"We'll have another chat soon," Ben said, turning toward the door. "I'll come back once you're feeling more conversational." And with a wave, he motioned his men from the room and locked the door behind him.

[Mikhail Vakhteiar Iul'ian]

Mikhail had been at the dingy apartment for the whole day, out in the tiny, crammed patio that had been one of the 'amenities' of the place. Well, it was better than nothing, and, despite the cold, Mikhail had been sitting outside for the last few hours, busy with whatever he was tinkering with. He was surrounded by fresh planks of wood (of questionable origin, especially considering as earlier that week he had procured his own Christmas tree), a few of which had been constructed into planter boxes. These had been filled with soil dug up from near the lake, and now he was busy planting little shrubs in rows.

He was wearing one of his robes again; Chase had insisted that he wear 'normal' clothes when they go out, something he ruefully acquiesced to, but at home he was content in his simple robes, particularly as he found the blue trousers that Chase always wore rather uncomfortable.

Happy with his work so far, he decided to leave the rest for later, and after carefully stacking his tools and materials in one corner of the patio, he brushed the dirt off of his robe and then headed back in the house. The Christmas tree was still sitting in the corner, the lights off, and so Mikhail wandered over to it to play with the magical switch that activated and deactivated the candles.

After a bit of that, he left it on and then took a prompt seat on the futon, running a brush through his hair. Just as he was pondering on when Chase would return (for she had been out for the whole day, and it was already dark), a sudden burst of pain surged through his head like an oncoming migraine, and he grunted in distress, dropping his brush and burying his face in his hands.

"Quare?" he whimpered aloud, half melting onto the futon as he tipped over onto his side with his face still nested in his hands. Another burst followed the first, not as strong, and then another in an uneven rhythm. "Quare?" he repeated in a sputter, his eyes shut tight.

Then he heard a voice, gruff and malevolent, though he couldn't make out the words. He saw a brief glimpse of a room, dark and decaying, and his wrists felt burned, if only for a moment.

Mikhail didn't understand what was happening. He had had vague dreams before, compulsions that guided him to certain places, like that which had led him to this land in the first place. But he had never seen anything this vivid; he could even smell the place in his visions.

Then instinct suddenly snapped into place, and he stood up straight, his gaze distant as if seeing something that wasn't in the room.

"Emily!" he whispered to himself, shaking his head rapidly to throw off his daze, before he bolted for the door at once, only remembering to lock it when he was halfway down the path.

Dressed in only his boots and cowled robe, Mikhail pulled the hood over his head and hurried down the path from the apartments, starting in some random direction. "Dirige me," he murmured quietly, anxiously clasping his hands together as he allowed his feet to steer him in what he hoped was the right direction.

By the time he began to slow, his toes were numb, but he paid that no mind. He paused for breath, leaning against a cement post, before he realized that he was standing at the entrance to an apartment complex - a different one, across the pier. This one, unlike their own, was an indoor complex with a few stories, all of an imposing cement and glass build that did not appeal to the eye at all.

Frowning up at the building, he continued to murmur to himself as he shouldered his way through the door.

The halls smelled of mold, and the carpet was stained, unwashed for God knew how long. There were a few stragglers heading to or from their rooms, but at Mikhail's presence they scurried away like rats.

Mikhail tried to gather the attention of one.

"Please sir. See young woman? Tall this much?" he held up his hand to indicate Chase's height. "Hair brown. Pretty. Bright eyes," he finished, hopeful.

The man just scoffed at him. "If I found something like that I sure as hell wouldn't give her back to yeh," he snorted, before hobbling off.

Mikhail's brow knit in confusion, and he clutched at the crucifix around his neck out of habit, the familiar charm easing his anxiety somewhat.

But then, down the hall, two hulking figures came lumbering towards him, their stride purposeful. Each was easily a head taller than Mikhail (and Mikhail was already just over six feet), and perhaps thrice as wide. Mikhail eyed them anxiously, or, more specifically, their weaponry. Even he knew men this day and age did not go walking around like that. One carried a crossbow of similar complexity to the one Chase had tried to shoot him with on their first meeting; the other, a double-sided battleaxe, not unlike the one Mikhail had used to favor during his own hunting days.

"Hey look who's just in time," lackey number one guffawed.

Mikhail remained frozen to the spot, though he raised his hands slowly as a conductor might when readying the orchestra.

"See, boss knew it'd work," lackey number two chortled.

They were still several paces away, and Mikhail had time to escape. But as they neared him, he began to back down the hall.

"Leave in peace! Not wish hurt," he implored, his hands still raised.

"Nice try bloodsucker. Boss'll pay nice for your pretty head," the first man laughed. Then suddenly he raised the ax and charged, swinging the massive weapon at Mikhail. At that range, it should have easily lopped his head off, but Mikhail was quick, sweeping a hand up in a manner that was still characteristically graceful despite the situation.

"Tenebrae nostrae illuminentur!" the vampire cried. A flash of blinding white light shot through the room, followed by the sizzle of energy. The man's ax went careening off in a random direction with him still holding onto it, as if he had struck stone.

"Not want hurt," Mikhail insisted again, still backing away while the second man advanced.

[Emily Chase]

Chase had lain on the tiny bed for a while after Ben's visit, slipping in and out of an uneasy sleep. Her cheek was smarting where Ben had hit it, and she was becoming increasingly worried about Mikhail. Surely he'd noticed her absence by now, though she had no idea just how long she'd actually been gone.

It was dark out now, Chase could see through the tiny, grimy window set high up on the wall. She was hungry, and she briefly entertained the thought of attacking her next visitor to make a meal, but she quickly deduced that, knowing Ben and his team, they'd probably laced their blood with poison of some sort. Unfortunate, as Chase would have dearly loved to rip them apart.

She sat up on the edge of the bed and stretched her limbs, stiff from the cold of the apartment. She had just popped her neck when the door opened again and Ben entered once more, still flanked by two thuggish cronies.

"Glad to see you're properly awake," Ben drawled. "Still no sign of your friend, but the night is young." It was a taunt, and Chase knew she shouldn't rise to it, but it took all her strength not to react.

"Ooh, the she-Vampire is displeased," Ben said, his face breaking into a look of mock surprise. "If I didn't know better, I'd venture that our sweet, innocent little Chase harbors feelings for the monster!" He advanced on her and grabbed her roughly by the throat, his other hand stroking gently, almost obscenely so, at her bruised cheek.

"Don't touch me," Chase growled. "I swear to God, if you hurt him, I'll rip you apart!" She was letting Ben get under her skin, which she knew was unwise, but she was brutally terrified for Mikhail.

"Tut, tut," Ben lamented, shaking his head like a disappointed parent. "See how violent Vampirism has already made you. Well, Chasey, I don't like your attitude. I think it could use a little... adjusting." He mashed down a nerve in her neck with his thumb, and she immediately cried out as pain surged through her head. The second it abated, she slashed at him with her nails, drawing blood from his arm.

"Now, now," he tutted, "you need to be a good girl, or we'll make you watch when we butcher your boyfriend."

Chase leaped to her feet, but almost immediately fell to the ground on her knees, hindered by the steel cuff around her ankle. Ben must have reattached it while she was sleeping.

She looked up into Ben's black eyes and felt a sense of complete and utter hatred, accompanied by a gripping fear for herself and for Mikhail.

"Now," her captor said, as though settling down to talk over an important business matter. "I'm not unreasonable, so I'm willing to make a deal with you. You can either wait here for your Vampire to come for you, in which case we will wait patiently for his arrival and kill him when he comes, or- my personal preference- you could just ... give him up. Tell us where he is, Chasey. It won't make any difference for him, really, because we'll stake him and light him up like a Christmas fireplace, but if you cooperate, we won't make you watch. I think that's fair, don't you?"

But Chase had stopped listening. She had heard a sound from the hall, and she thought she recognized one of the voices she heard. He came, she realized with mingling gratitude and frustration. Now they were both in trouble.

With a blast of blinding white light, the door to the bedroom where Chase and Ben were blew off its hinges and one of the guards from outside came hurling into the room, followed by what could only be described as a battle ax. Mikhail stood in the hallway, one arm raised as though he'd pushed the man himself.

Chase scrambled ungracefully to her feet. The second guard was advancing on Mikhail, but Ben called him off.

"It would appear the Vampire has come for his pet," Ben said, his voice amused. "Come in, come in. Make yourself at home." Chase shook her head almost imperceptibly, willing Mikhail to stay as far from Ben as was possible.

[Mikhail Vakhteiar Iul'ian]

The moment that the first man hit the ground, the second one had aimed his crossbow and fired, and Mikhail, momentarily blinded by his own evocation, didn't see it coming. Fortunately it didn't hit anywhere vital, just barely glancing his side, and he stumbled with a grunt of pain. The man was about to take another shot, and Mikhail raised a hand again, beginning to murmur more verses, but then the man paused.

Mikhail balked, confused, but took the opportunity to wrench the bolt from his side, pressing his palm to the wound, the area glowing a dull white-blue, much like when he had healed Chase in the past. The wound was gone, and he stood up straight, frowning and watching as the man backed into a room nearby, one whose door was now missing (had that been his fault?).

He heard a voice calling to him, and Mikhail recognized it as the voice in his earlier vision. Blinking rapidly, his sight clearing finally (and his eyes fading from solid white back to a normal color), he murmured a quiet, "Exstingui nesciat, mihi ardeat," to himself as he gingerly approached the doorway. He didn't enter, however, remaining lingering just in the frame of the door.

His gaze darted to the ax-wielding man on the ground, then to the giant man standing in the middle of the room, then finally to Chase, who was shackled to the bed.

"Pet? No pet, friend," he corrected the man, understanding his teasing behind his words. "Why take friend? I think friend to you also. Before. Part of ... brotherhood. For hunting," he frowned, flexing his long fingers. "Why betray friend? Not do harm." The frown remained, though it was more of a scowl, as he began to piece together the scenario which, he realized after a few moments, was hauntingly similar to the one that had been the cause of his centuries-long slumber.

"Not wish hurt for any. Please return friend," he implored earnestly, cupping his hands over his chest.

The man, Ben, simply guffawed at the sight of the optimistic vampire.

"That can be done, I think," he chuckled, roughly clapping a hand on Chase's shoulder. "A trade! One for one. You take your little pet's place, and we let her go free!"

Mikhail took a tentative step forward, but then glowered at the man. "Not stupid. Only fool trust captor - "

"Well sounds like we have our answer boys," the man sneered, gesturing to his lackeys, who made as if to grab Chase.

"Subsisto! Wait, agree. Chase free, take Mikhail instead," he insisted, offering both hands out, open palmed.

[Emily Chase]

Chase was relieved that Mikhail didn't enter the room, for if he had, they might both be trapped there.

"Pet? No pet, friend," Mikhail said calmly to Ben. "Why take friend? I think friend to you also. Before. Part of ... brotherhood. For hunting." Then Mikhail pleaded earnestly for her release.

Chase gritted her teeth, and found she could not meet Mikhail's eyes for some reason.

"Mikhail, just get out of here, just go," she begged, trying to keep her voice steady as she stared resolutely at the floor. But Ben, seemingly amused by Mikhail's request, cut her off.

"That can be done, I think," he chuckled, roughly clapping a hand on Chase's shoulder and making her wince. "A trade! One for one. You take your little pet's place, and we let her go free!"

Chase and Mikhail began talking at once.

"Mikhail, go! Please, go-"

"Not stupid, only fool trust captor-"

But then Ben spoke over both of them, silencing them both.

"Well, sounds like we have our answer, boys," the man barked triumphantly as he tossed Chase across to two of the thugs in the corner. Henry, who had been lurking, ratlike, in the shadows, stroked her face with an almost obscene tenderness and fingered a lock of her brown hair.

"I think we'll have a little play date before we torch you," Henry hissed into her ear. His breath was foul, smelling of stale cigarettes and sour milk. Chase struggled, but a sudden sharp prod in the small of her back with the crossbow stilled her.

"Subsisto! Wait, agree. Chase free, take Mikhail instead!" He stepped into the room with his hands outstretched in a gesture of surrender.

"Excellent!" Ben cheered at this happy development. He nodded at the other lackeys in the room -Jesus, were they multiplying as time passed?- and two of them grabbed Mikhail, forcing his wrists behind his back.

"Ben, don't do this, please," Chase implored, her voice coming out in a raw, raspy parody of its usual clarity.

Ben remained silent, but nodded at Henry, who shoved Chase forward, free of the grip of the two henchmen who had held her. She stumbled, but caught herself before she fell. She immediately went to Mikhail and took his face in her shaking hands.

"What were you thinking? Why did you come? Oh god, oh, Mikhail, I'm sorry-" She was speaking in a rush, her voice panicked and her thoughts scattered. How were they going to get out of this?

Ben's voice cut through her tangled thoughts. "It would seem our girl is reluctant to leave her 'friend,'" he sneered, arms crossed over his barrel chest. He stepped forward and slipped an arm around Chase's waist from behind, almost like a lover would. He bent low to speak in her ear, his lips brushing her skin and making her shiver with barely-suppressed rage and fear.

"How do Vampires feel about fire, Chasey?" He muttered in her ear. He brought his free hand up to her face, a sliver lighter in his palm, and flicked it open to reveal a flickering orange flame. Chase began to struggle, but it was all but useless. Ben drew the lighter across her cheek, leaving an angry red weal in its path as Chase gasped and yelped with pain.

[Mikhail Vakhteiar Iul'ian]

It seemed Ben had accepted Mikhail's offer, as two of the servants immediately took hold of the frail vampire's wrists, pinning them behind his back. Unlike Chase, Mikhail didn't struggle, watching hawk-like as the lanky henchman shoved Chase forward. When she crossed over to Mikhail, cradling his face, he tilted his head at her words.

"Not be sorry. Not Chase's fault," Mikhail insisted, unwavering, with a shake of his head. "Always reason for everything." Despite the grim situation, strangely, he sounded unafraid, only frustrated.

Looking back to Ben as he grabbed Chase away, Mikhail frowned again, his eyes narrowing. Anger was something that was very rarely seen in the disposition of the gentle vampire, but to go back on one's word was, to him, one of the worst violations possible.

"Promised let go! Filthy liar!" he shouted, immediately trying to lunge at Ben, though the henchmen held him back, maintaining a hold on his thin wrists.

"We did let her go, but she obviously wanted to stay," Ben taunted as the lighter burst into flame. And Mikhail knew it wasn't one of those fire-less candles, like the ones that decorated the Christmas tree.

His anger had already been building, but the unnecessary display of sadism had tipped him over the edge, and with a sudden outburst of, "Apage!" that sounded more like a command than a yelp of surprise, the flame of the lighter in Ben's hand suddenly flared up, lashing out at the man as if it had a mind of its own.

Ben yelled in surprise, reflexively dropping the lighter ... and Chase. Caught off guard, Mikhail was able to loosen his wrists from his confused captors, his hand deftly slipping to the man's belt to yank his hunting knife from his holster.

"Concede mihi gratiam tuam!" he implored as, with both hands, he plunged the knife into the back of the man's neck, letting go and leaving it embedded in his spine as the man stumbled to the ground, slack, and yelling in pain.

The second henchman stood shocked at the display. The fire had, for a few moments, completely enveloped Ben's body, though it did not appear to be burning him; his clothes and skin were intact, but he still yelled in pain as if the sensation of being burned still existed. Then the fire dissipated as quickly as it had come, and Mikhail now lunged for the dropped battleaxe, just as the second henchman did.

Henry had grabbed the crossbow and fired at Mikhail, but Mikhail hissed another verse, and the bolt ricocheted off harmlessly, before firing right back at its original owner. It passed right through Henry's shoulder, forcing him to stumble back a few steps.

Mikhail's hands closed on the grip of the ax, and he swept it around, bringing it down on the second henchman's back with a sickening thunk - needless to say, the man was done for. Then, wrenching it out again, he hoisted it over his shoulder and threw a hand out towards Ben and Henry, who were just moving in to sneak an attack at Chase.

"Silete!" he yelled, and both men fell rather unceremoniously onto their rears as if physically shoved.

Scooping up the ax with both hands, Mikhail advanced, standing over them, the weapon readied.

"Special place in hell for men like you," Mikhail hissed. "I have brothers, much like you. But their cause was good. I see now, you and comrades are selfish. No good in heart. Only evil." He readjusted his grip on the ax, and both men flinched, but Mikhail didn't attack.

"Not my place to decide fate," he breathed. "Chase must. Her decision. Perhaps good thing. Or else Mikhail be butcher tonight." The jest was oddly morbid for him, but probably true as well.

With another huff, he looked to Chase, still grasping onto the weapon with one hand, but with the other he reached for her to press his fingertips to her cheek, a familiar soothing sensation washing over her skin as he healed the burn mark. Certainly there were plenty of other places that needed repair, but the gesture was as affectionate as it was practical.

[Emily Chase]

Chase almost forgot the pain in her face as Mikhail suddenly seemed to fly into action, taking out every person in the room. Chase was certain that most of them were dead before they knew what had hit them, but Mikhail had left Ben and Henry alive, though badly wounded. As Mikhail swung the ax with practiced precision, Chase had to admit for a second that she was frightened of him, even though she knew he would never do anything to harm her.

"Not my place to decide fate," he breathed. "Chase must. Her decision. Perhaps good thing. Or else Mikhail be butcher tonight."

"Mikhail, stop," she whispered from her place on the floor, where she shivered from cold or stress or maybe both. She had one hand cupped over the burn on her cheek, where she could feel blisters erupting under her fingers. She tried to take a few deep, calming breaths, but the stress of the last few minutes seemed to crush her under a sudden and impossible weight, and she just couldn't stop shaking.

Mikhail, still holding the huge ax in one hand, reached out for Chase on the floor. She winced and whimpered at the initial brush of his fingers against the burn on her face, but within a second or two his touch became soothing, and she turned her face into his hand. Her hand came to rest of top of his, and she pressed a kiss into his palm- a gesture that was rapidly becoming something of a signature for her.

"Leave them here," she said, he voice more sure now. "I just want to go home. Please, please let's just go home."

In the few short moments that it took for this to happen, Henry's hand had inched toward his crossbow, and finding their mark, his fingers wrapped silently around the trigger. With a fluid movement that Chase would never have thought possible from Henry, he flicked the release on the weapon and fired a missile directly at Mikhail's turned back.

Chase, who was positioned in just the right place to notice a flicker of movement from the two ringleaders, lunged from her place on the floor and took Mikhail down around his knees. Unfortunately, she'd moved just a little to far into Henry's range, because the airborne offensive nailed Chase in the wrist, going in through the underside, piercing through the gap in the bone, and out through the top.

A screamed oath tore itself from her throat, and she clutched her bleeding wrist to her middle. Practically blinded by the rage brought on by Henry's typically underhanded move, surged to her feet and attacked Henry with her bare hands.

Once she had him flat on his back, she positioned one foot over his tenderest of places, and with the other she masterfully kicked his crossbow into her own hand and leveled it between his eyes. Her pierced wrist dangled uselessly at her side, and it was, perhaps, the searing waves of pain that fueled her fury as much as her anger at his failed attempt on Mikhail's life.

"You have five seconds to give me a reason not to drill a hole in your skull," she hissed, "One." She was surprised at how steady her hand was on the bow, considering. "Two." Why was she even giving him a chance? She should just plug the bastard now and have done with it. "Three." Did this make her as bad as Ben? "Four." Her finger tightened on the trigger. Could she live with herself if she took someone's life, even as revenge?

[Mikhail Vakhteiar Iul'ian]

"Luceat aeterna," Mikhail had begun to murmur, his hand still glowing from his healing magic as his fingers automatically went to the next set of abrasions - these ones on Chase's wrists - to try to repair them as well. He was so focused on his work that he didn't see Henry's move for his crossbow until it was too late.

With a grunt as Chase shoved him out of the way, Mikhail hit the ground, wincing more from Chase's scream of pain than from his surprise. He scrabbled back to his feet, reflexively scooping up the ax again, but it all had happened so fast that he didn't have much time to put it together until he saw Chase on top of Henry with the crossbow leveled at his head.

He smelled the bleeding wrist before he spotted it, and when he did he understood. Frowning, his eyes narrowed as his icy blue gaze darted between them. And despite all that had come to pass, he knew he couldn't just stand there and let it happen.

"No, Chase. Wait," he interrupted her, just before she counted to five. His hand grasped gently but firmly at her forearm, tugging to coax her to lower the weapon.

"Much evil, yes. But is not worth it. Will regret later. Revenge, always regret later," he insisted, his tone hushed, but his expression laced with a hint of sorrow, as if he understood this not from contemplation but from experience. He did know it was necessary to be the messenger, to exact justice even if that justice came in the form of death. But on a personal level, revenge was a hollow victory.

"Come, must leave. You said wishing to go home," he reminded her, giving her arm another tug. Crouched on the floor beside her, he held her gaze, his own expectant.

Henry shifted anxiously, and even Ben was frozen, not knowing what to make of this.

Mikhail's gaze turned back to them, however, and he scowled as he released Chase's arm, standing up.

"Not escape too easy," he warned them. His glare turned to Henry. "Only coward strike back of enemy. Even Golden Horde not attack behind." Still scowling, he looked around the room before looking between them.

"Selfish men have much money. Give Chase and Mikhail money, and let you free."

"Or what?" Henry had the nerve to ask.

Mikhail simply dragged the blade of the ax across the ground as he picked it back up.

Ben remained resolutely silent. Of course it was Henry who spilled the beans.

"Okay! Okay it's in the safe! Behind the picture frame on the wall there!" he babbled, his eyes never leaving the weapon in Mikhail's hands.

Mikhail didn't know what a safe was, so he looked to Chase for clarification, hoping that she could handle it. Once it seemed she knew what to do though, Mikhail turned back to the two men.

"Can go free. Not liar, like you," Mikhail growled. "But if come back next time, I dig grave for you myself."

And with that, Mikhail cracked Ben over the head with the flat of the ax blade. Henry, wide-eyed, shut his eyes, expecting the same treatment, but Mikhail hoisted the ax, his eyes still narrowed.

"You, much like rat. Need reminder." And with a heavy swipe of the ax, he unblinkingly sliced Henry's dominant hand right off. "Now not sneak with crossbow," Mikhail explained over Henry's shrill cry.

Mikhail now took the time to unfasten the ax's baldrics from the dead henchman's back, strapping them onto his own back so that he could secure the weapon.

"Take money and go. Enough to leave city," Mikhail mumbled, offering Chase an arm, while eyeballing her wrist. "Fix arm later. Use much energy already," he sighed, trying to pull her up.