Possession

by Missy Maxim

  Chapter 4

  Week Two…

  Catherine’s eyes widened in terror at the announcement of week two’s new focus--Julian wanted her to learn how to dance.

  She didn’t dance. Bobbed her head while sitting at a table, yeah, but no dancing.

  “Put your eyes back in your sockets, girl, it’s just two waltzes.” He smiled devilishly. “The real challenge for this week will be learning how to fight.”

  Okay, she took back everything she’d thought about him being not so bad.

  Julian was positively evil. Couldn’t he tell she had two left feet? Apparently, he didn’t care, since a set of dancewear and heels were on her bed the next time she was sent back to her room.

  Catherine seconded the “evil” assumption when she put on the new clothes, a tank top and leggings that left little to the imagination. She tied a hoodie around her waist, just in case the room was cold.

  Another surprise of the house was that it contained an actual small dance studio, complete with a mirrored wall and ballet barre. Catherine walked into the room in her heeled dance shoes and saw Julian waiting for her--then jumped when she noticed he didn’t have a reflection.

  “A perk for vampires. We don’t show up in mirrors,” he stated, then shrugged. “Something about being soulless or dead… You’ll get used to it.” He walked over to a stereo system and turned on a piece of classical music. “Come all the way in, girl, you’re wasting time! Now, the waltz is the simplest and easiest of the ballroom dances. It runs on three-quarter time. One-two-three, one-two-three…”

  She nodded her head in time to the beat of the music, earning a small approving smile. He walked over to her and started positioning her arms.

  “Your arms are to be held high, like this, but with your shoulders still down and back. Now, you will always place them this way with your partner.” Julian placed her left hand on his shoulder and clasped her right out to the side. “This hand, that’s out from the body, always points in the direction you’ll go, so to start, you will step your right foot to the side, then bring your left to meet it, and take a tiny step with the right again. This puts your left foot ready to repeat the process. All to the one-two-three. Your partner will either start you to the side, or lead you forward. It’s important to match your partner’s steps so you don’t mash anyone’s toes. Now, let’s begin.”

  Catherine tried remembering what he said while watching his feet.

  “Head up! Look at me, or over my shoulder, but never down at the floor.” Julian tapped the bottom of her chin with the command.

  She immediately obeyed, and got caught in his intense blue eyes. Uh-oh…

  Catherine kicked his boot with the tow of her shoe.

  “Oi! Watch the leather!”

  “Sorry!” So, she stepped on his other foot.

  Julian changed tactics. “Relax, pet. Focus on how I’m moving as I lead you. You can feel where I want you to go.”

  She nodded and took a breath. “Okay…”

  She relaxed her arms so she wasn’t fighting him with her stiffness, and focused on the points they were connected--her hand on his shoulder, his hand on her waist, their hands entwined…

  He was right. The gentle pressure he used told her exactly when he was moving, and she should move, and let her absorb the music as part of it, too. Step, step, step… Step, step, step…

  “Now, you’ve got the hang of it. You notice how the rhythm naturally encourages you to step on the ball of your foot, not heel-toe. That’s where your weight should be for every dance, like you’re stepping on clouds.” he instructed. “Ready for a twirl?” he teased.

  “Not just yet! How does the dance end?”

  His eyes were twinkling at her as he replied, “With the twirl.”

  “Oh… You mentioned before, another kind of dance?”

  “The Viennese Waltz, but you don’t want to do that, yet.”

  “I don’t?”

  “It’s double the speed of this one, with turns,” he replied, grinning, then laughed when her eyes bugged out in horror.

  He actually has a nice laugh.

  “We’ll get to that tomorrow. I’m going to show you the turn, now.”

  By the end of the hour, she found she was enjoying herself, and Julian wasn’t a bad teacher. The butterflies in her stomach took flight again, however, when he announced that fight training was her next station.

  ***

  “Harder!”

  “I’m trying!”

  “What was that?” he growled.

  “Yes, sir!” Catherine said, realizing she’d slipped out of her role.

  Julian was making her punch a padded dummy over and over with boxing gloves on. It felt funny, and she wasn’t the violent type. She didn’t want to hit anybody.

  He seemed to read her mind.

  “It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to hit anything, Miss Mitchell. The day will come when you have to. Now, commit!”

  “Dance Instructor Julian” had now been replaced by “Drill Sergeant Julian”. She didn’t like him very much.

  “Stop, stop! I have an idea.” She waited while he left the room and came back a minute later. He taped a piece of paper to the bag. It was a crudely drawn face, in black marker.

  Catherine recognized exactly who it was supposed to be.

  “Go ahead, love. It’ll be our little secret. God knows, I haven’t slugged ‘im nearly as much as I’ve wanted to,” Julian cajoled.

  She hit the face and made the bag sway ever so slightly.

  “Good! Harder!”

  Right, right, and a left! Once she got started, it felt good to keep hitting that image, giving the pretend-Lorcan punishment for every demeaning word and touch he’d subjected her to.

  “There’s where you’ve been hiding your fire…” Julian said. “Over to the mat, now. Let’s work on somethin’ different.” He pulled the gloves off Catherine’s hands, then handed her a big foam-covered stick.

  She quirked her brow.

  “Bo staff. Easier to start with than a sword.” He held one identical to it. “Show me what ya got.”

  “Huh?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Follow your instincts. Come at me.”

  “Sir…”

  “Attack me, Miss Mitchell, or you’ll be cleaning the kitchen floor with your tongue.”

  She gulped, then edged forward to hesitantly tap his arm with the stick. Julian looked at the staff, then at her, arching his brow. He extended one arm with a lightning-fast movement, knocking her down with the end of his staff.

  “Take this seriously, will you?” he asked.

  Catherine got up, rubbing her arm, and sulking.

  “Aww, does poor little Cate have a bruise?” he taunted.

  “Don’t call me that,” she muttered.

  “You say something, Catie?”

  “No, sir.” She kept her eyes on the floor as he circled her like the predator he was.

  “I think you did, little Cate… You gonna hit me, or stare at your bloody toes all day?”

  Don’t let him get to you; don’t let him get to you…

  It was one thing to learn how to throw a punch, another to actually use a weapon on another being. Her parents had always taught her to resolve conflicts with words, and if she had to, run.

  Julian started poking her with the Bo as he walked around her, just enough to be annoying. “Hit me, hit me, hit me, hit me…”

  “No,” she ground out.

  “No? You don’t get to say ‘no’ to anythin’, sweetheart. Well, I’m sure you’ll say it plenty to Lorcan when he rips into your sweet cunny, but--”

  That’s it!

  Catherine pivoted and brought the staff up between his legs as hard as she could, her eyes wide as saucers a second later. Julian groaned in pain and doubled over, but didn’t fall. He limped around the room while she kept a wide berth between them. She was deathly afraid of what he’d do once he could straighten up.

  “Good hit,” Julian wheeze
d.

  “I…”

  “One, I told you to hit me, and two, always fight dirty if it lets you live another day. Some punk on the street isn’t going to stick to official boxing rules, and neither will a demon. Continue, Miss Mitchell.”

  “Are you…?”

  She waved her hand in the direction of his body, not believing he wanted to go again so soon. Wasn’t he still in pain?

  Julian nodded encouragingly. “Three, learn to fight through the pain. It’s hardly the worst hit I’ve ever gotten. Come on, now. We’ll do somethin’ easy. I swing this way, you block it.”

  She could do that, like playing patty-cake with the sticks. He pivoted the staff slowly at different angles, so she could meet them.

  Soon, Catherine got into the rhythm of it and didn’t realize the speed was steadily increasing. The game stopped when she managed to get through his defenses and bop him on the nose.

  “Oh! Sorry!”

  He sniffed, but kept going. “Don’ worry ‘bout it. No blood, no foul. It proves you’re getting better at reading,” he said with a grin.

  Catherine smiled back

  ***

  Wow, she actually is a pretty little thing, the vampire noted. We might make a good companion out of her, yet.

  ***

  A chocolate truffle was on her pillow that night when she turned in for bed, accompanied by a note.

  Have to respect a woman that goes for the family jewels.

  Julian

  Catherine giggled and popped the truffle in her mouth. Mmm, bittersweet…

  It seemed like forever since she’d had any chocolate.

  ***

  Waking up to find it was her time of the month was inconvenient, but luckily, she had supplies in one of her boxes.

  Catherine went about her day as normal, though it might have seemed at lunch that the demons noticed her more than usual.

  I’m sure I imagined it, she thought, walking to class.

  As she rounded the corner, someone pushed her into the wall from behind. A female someone, judging by the breasts pressing into her back.

  “Nothing personal, mon amie, but I’ve been on bagged blood for a month, and you smell so good.”

  The redhead French vampire, then. Colette.

  She pushed Catherine’s head to the side and licked the skin over the jugular.

  “If you are quiet, I’ll even make it good for you, hmm?” she whispered, then plunged her fangs into Catherine’s neck.

  At least it isn’t Lorcan, she thought, already feeling woozy. She made her peace with death just as the arms around her disappeared in a cloud of dust. She fainted as a pair of strong, pale arms caught her.

  ***

  Julian brought Catherine into the infirmary, Alana jogging behind.

  “By god, what happened?”

  “That French whore we took in a month ago got hungry. I don’t think she took too much, but the girl passed out anyway.” He laid her on a bed. “Buggerin’ hell… Lorcan is going to be fit to be tied when he sees fang marks on her neck that aren’t his! This is why I don’t. Take. Humans!”

  “So have them magicked away. It’s not that hard. It’s not like she was claimed, so he’ll never know,” she reasoned. Her partner could be so volatile.

  “I’ll deal with it later. Get someone to bring some juice and bread while I try to wake her up.”

  Alana teleported away.

  Julian pressed a gauze pad against the bite marks on the girl’s neck. His mouth was watering at the scent of fresh blood in the air. It’d been a long time since he’d fed from a live source, rarely leaving the mansion to hunt. They didn’t need that kind of attention.

  Catherine’s eyes fluttered open. “What…?”

  “Stay still. You’ve lost a bit of blood.”

  “She bit me…”

  “She’s dead. Catherine…how long does your…?”

  Her brow scrunched in confusion. “Huh?”

  “How long does your cycle last?”

  “Three or four days,” she murmured absently, her eyes closed. She felt like she was between sleep and waking.

  “You’re going to be kept away from the others, then, for your safety.”

  “Okay… Julian?”

  It was the first time she’d addressed him by his name. “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  Alana came bustling back in with her arms loaded with sugary foods. Julian rolled his eyes at her and left the half-demon to get the girl back on her feet. He needed to go have a talk with the other demons.

  Chapter 5

  Week 3…

  By week three, Catherine had mastered the waltz, the Viennese version was passable, and she could carry out a decent tango. Alana taught her the tango.

  The day of the incident, Julian ordered her to bed with her books, and wouldn’t let her get back to fight training without having the wound healed by a bit of magic.

  “How does it look?” she asked, once the witch was done.

  He tilted her head to the side to put her neck in the light, running his fingertips over the formerly blemished skin.

  “Good as new.”

  She shivered, in a not-entirely-unpleasant way.

  To Julian’s credit, he didn’t seem the least bit tempted to make her a meal by her…female issue. But, she was worth money to him, an asset waiting for a client. He had to deliver her in perfect condition.

  So far, she could also walk gracefully in various heights of heels, even on stairs, identify a hundred different types of demons by picture, carry out perfect table manners, write the perfect thank you note, and run five miles with only being slightly winded.

  Mrs. Crumb deemed her previous knowledge in history and literature suitable for conversation. Alana was satisfied with her ability to run figures. The half-demon drilled Investing 101 into her brain. And the sex ed was…enlightening.

  They were just wrapping up another class, now.

  “Here,” Alana said, presenting her with an unmarked brown box.

  “What is it?”

  Alana smirked. “Something to help with your homework. See you tomorrow!”

  Catherine peeked in the box, blushed, and ran up to her room to slide it under her bed. At least Alana hadn’t gone into a lecture on the wonders of said product and its myriad uses!

  She liked the woman, she really did, but Alana had little tact, and even less modesty. Apparently, when you’re several centuries old, you stopped thinking of such things.

  It wasn’t that Catherine had never experimented with her…lady parts. She’d even looked at them in a mirror before, but…well, her mother died before getting past the “where babies come from” lecture, and her grandmother certainly wasn’t going to share any tips. Her questions were left to be solved by answer columns in magazines like Glamour and Cosmo.

  Typical for most young women. You fumbled about with boyfriend after boyfriend until you figured out what worked for you, unless you happened to find that one magical guy who could read you like a book.

  Alana also had another motive for sharing as much as she did. “Things will be different once he turns you,” she’d said. “But you still have to know how to take care of yourself.” Then, her voice dropped to an intimate murmur. “If you know yourself, you can be prepared for the pain.” And then she’d slipped Catherine a note with a summoning incantation written on it, “just in case”.

  Halfway through her training, now, she was acutely aware that time was rapidly slipping away. Just three more weeks until Lorcan came back to get the progress report from Julian.

  ***

  Julian brought in a new book for her to study. Well, it was an old book, like all the rest, but new to her. The History of One of the Most Feared Vampire Clans of All Time.

  “This is the most accurate version in written form.”

  “Alright…” She wasn’t making the connection why that was important.

  “It’s the clan you’ll be born into, Catherine.” He’d taken
to using her first name since she’d been bitten. She hadn’t asked why.

  Her mouth formed an “o” as the light bulb turned on above her head. “Lorcan is in here?” she asked, patting the book.

  “Among many others. You’ll get the same stories from him, although they’ll be a lot more colorful than the truth, the pompous git.”

  She nodded. “Will there be a test?”

  Julian shook his head, a little smile playing at his lips. “Nah, this one’s just for your own good. You should, uh…you should have the truth.”

  “Okay,” Catherine replied. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Julian. You’ve been here long enough, and you’re more respectful than Alana. It’s Julian.” He turned away and selected a Bo off the wall. “So, you ready to earn today’s bruises?”

  “If you’re ready to earn yours,” she countered.

  He laughed. “Just as long as you stay away from the knackers, love.”

  She picked up the book to read after dinner, in her room. The front two pages were a family tree in tiny print, the page number recorded next to each name. Glasses on, her finger skimmed down the line as she looked for Lorcan’s name.

  Lorcan--sired James, Peter, and Celia.

  The notation under Celia’s name caught her eye: Julian, Killer of Demon Hunters. Lorcan’s mention of “family” now made sense.

  Skipping ahead to Julian’s pages, Catherine’s eyes poured over the book. The account described his exploits in gruesome detail, up until he and Celia parted ways in Santa Barbara, CA. Celia followed her sire in one direction, and Julian went elsewhere.

  The book seemed to stop for every vampire in 1998, so she guessed another volume was being written somewhere at this minute.

  Was Julian really so distraught over Celia dumping him that he retreated from the world in this house from then on? Alana had already mentioned it was a modern business, but Catherine hadn’t guessed it was less than ten years old.

  Two things had stuck out in his biography--his zest for a challenge, and his devotion to his sire. Had they been entwined? Just ways to prove himself to her? Julian was still an enigma.