Kiss of the Dragon

by Nicola Claire

  Natalyia wrapped an arm around my shoulder and hugged me close. I was aware that Sergei stood at attention before me. Protection while I showed weakness. That thought made me angry. I was not a weak person. I was a hardened warrior, a hunter with immeasurable experiences and skills. Yet, right in this second, I was acting more like an immature Nosferatin than Sophie did. Hell more than my scaredy cat ex-protégée, Marie, ever did as well. And that was saying something.

  I needed to get control of myself. I sucked in a ragged breath and forced all superfluous emotions down. Denial is bliss. Or is that ignorance? It didn't matter, I'd feign ignorance by denying I'd just had an emotional breakdown. It all worked.

  Silence met my ears after the last hitched breath was contained. I really didn't want to lift my head and face any of them. But cowardice was not something I tolerated. I wiped my eyes and nose on my jacket - gross I know, but no one handed me a tissue, so I didn't have much of a choice - then sucked in a deep breath and sat up straighter, head held high...ish.

  "Are you done, child?" the Ambrosia asked calmly.

  I swallowed the sigh before it escaped my mouth.

  "Yes, quite. Thank you," I said instead, somewhat proud of my steady voice.

  "It was a wasted effort, I fear," the Ambrosia advised, mysteriously.

  OK, I'll bite. "Wasted?"

  "Yes. I believe your concern rests around the requirement for power and Light in order to come back using your Twin Soul." I didn't bother to confirm his assessment, he'd been inside my mind, no doubt, through it all. He knew exactly what had led to me breaking down. "This is correct, of course. Otherwise I wouldn't have mentioned it. But, you did not allow me to finish before you presumed the worst."

  I bit my bottom lip. Now I felt like a kid being reprimanded by a parent. You jumped to a conclusion! You shouldn't have interrupted! Bad, bad, girl!

  "It also takes something that tethers your Twin Soul to this realm," he said after a pause, which I was thinking was designed to allow me to catch my breath. Or allow me time chastise myself further in my mind.

  My eyes found Nero's. He wasn't looking at Sophie anymore. He was looking directly at me. And there was a type of longing there. Not exactly the same as the longing I'd seen on his face when Sophie walked in the room. This one was poignant, not desperate and full of hunger. It was bitter-sweet. Beautiful in its own way. Precious. And quite benign.

  Nero and I had had been very close - hence Michel's concerns I suppose - but that closeness had always been platonic. At least for me it had. Centred around my role as the Prophesied and Nero's as the Prophecy’s Herald: the Nosferatin designed to recognise all the components of the Prophesy and call the Sanguis Vitam Cupitor forth. Without his participation, the Prophesy would not have ignited. Once he recognised that I was the Sanguis Vitam Cupitor, the first part of the Prophesy, it all began.

  But although the Prophesy had only ever been made up of three individual Nosferatins before, this time there was just one. Me. So the bond that tied Nero, the Herald, to each individual component - or Nosferatin that made up the Prophesy - was all concentrated on me. That made for a mighty decent connection and I was thinking, an unbreakable tether to this realm when he died.

  "He came back because of me," I surmised, my eyes still holding the copper, cinnamon and gold flecked gaze before me.

  "Yes... and no," the Ambrosia said in his soft voice. "The connection you share allowed for this possibility, but the final decision to let Nero live his Twin Soul's life will always lay at Nut's feet. She decided, for whatever reasons a Goddess may have, that his return to this realm was warranted. There is a reason why you, Lucinda Monk, are the Prophesied. And there is a reason why Nero has returned."

  "Like pieces on a chessboard. She moves us where she needs us to be in order to win." I'm not sure why I said that aloud, let alone why I thought it. But sometimes, being at the beck and call of a Goddess, having your destiny mapped out for you with little control, left me feeling rebellious. I was never very happy about losing control.

  "We are all pawns in the gods' game," the Ambrosia said matter-of-factly. The fact that he mentioned gods, in plural, didn't go missed by me or anyone else, but I was so exhausted, and emotionally spent. I just didn't have it in me to ask the questions that sprang to mind at his words.

  "So," the Ambrosia said, standing fluidly. It took me a few seconds to realise I needed to stand because he was preparing to leave. It took a few more for me to actually do it. He waited that entire length of time before going on. "Nero Al-Suyuti is back. An independent Master Vampyre with considerable power and Light." His attention was solely on Nero now, who stood tall under the ancient vampire's gaze. "Honour this second chance, Master. For the Goddess can take away even faster than she gives."

  I didn't like the sound of that, but I understood the sentiment. The Ambrosia was warning Nero to not waste this chance. To do the right thing. I just hoped the right thing was joining forces with the Champion and providing us a powerful ally.

  "This has been a most entertaining evening," the Ambrosia announced, all smiles again now that his message had been made. "I have enjoyed myself immensely." He turned for the door, his long cape swirling in his wake as he glided across the white marble. "Do let me know how you are getting on, Prophesied," he threw over his shoulder towards me. "Things will progress much faster than anticipated. Light is potent when it creates."

  With that cryptic parting statement he simply disappeared. Not as though he'd flashed through the doorway and out of sight, but like a fairy. He stepped through a rip in space and vanished from sight.

  Ancient and powerful. There was no other vampire like him and for a moment I thanked the Goddess he was on our side.

  We all stood silently for a few seconds and then I turned to look at Nero. My breath left me as the realisation again hit. Nero was back from the dead. My friend and Nosferatin confidant was alive and well.

  I threw myself into his waiting arms.

  Not a day has gone by that I have not thought about him. Most days those memories now are all of the good times and wonderful experiences we shared. But I would be lying to say I had forgotten how he died. How he looked as he bled out on the concrete before me, clinging to his Dream Walk in order to remain at my side. One arm almost completely severed, a gash in his torso that without the aid of his kindred to heal meant sure death.

  I railed at him to return to Nafrini to heal. I asked why he didn't go back to his body to save his life. He tried to tell me something. Something that was so important to him that he faced death in a Dream Walk, rather than the possibility of life at his kindred's side. His death meant Nafrini's death. I never fully understood why he didn't leave me and go back to her.

  And the last thing I said to my friend was, just shut up and go!

  Oh, how I have wished for a chance to change that last sentence. To go back in time, if not to prevent his death, than at least to say something else. I have had to live with not only the guilt of his death being on my hands - he had died defending me - but also that I had not been big enough to tell him what he needed to hear, in order to make him leave. Had I said those words, would he have returned to Nafrini and lived? That question has been a constant since that fate filled day.

  But I did not love Nero as he had loved me. And so I didn't say those words.

  But here he was, in my embrace again. And I had a chance to say them. To tell him, that although I did not love him the way he wanted me to, I loved him all the same.

  "Nero," I said with wonder. Then because I still couldn't say the words, I just repeated his name, again and again and again.

  I try to be courageous in all that I do. But the thought of telling Nero I loved him, in any capacity, turned me into a yellow streaked coward. What was so hard about those words that I couldn't voice them? Why did I always hold back with him?

  There was only ever one answer to that. Michel. I didn't want to hurt Michel. And most definitely, I didn't want to belittle the
love I felt for my kindred either.

  But a lot has happened since then. Michel and I were still getting to know each other at the time of Nero's death. Trust was still being made. We were kindred. We were Bonded. I wore his Sigillum, although he did not wear mine. But it wasn't until I became his vampire mate that our souls were truly aligned. Despite everything we had been through. Separations. Reversed joinings. Me being joined to someone else. Being Michel's vampire mate has been constant. Unbreakable. Untouchable. It has survived all else.

  I realised I could say those words without jeopardising my relationship with Michel now. Even if Michel still felt the odd twinge of jealousy from time to time, he knew I was his and no one else's. Just as he was mine.

  "I have missed you," I said, pulling back from Nero finally. His hands came up to cup my face, but he was lost for words. Gold flashed in brilliant flecks across his coffee coloured eyes. He looked beautiful. Sophie was going to be a lucky girl. I smiled at that thought. "You know," I said still smiling. "You left before I got a chance to tell you how much you meant to me. I was angry with you for a time." He looked infinitely sad at that. "And then miserable with guilt." He started to shake his head, but my hands came up and braced either side to still the motion. "Let me finish." He hesitated and then nodded stiffly in my tight grasp. I eased up on my grip slightly. "I may not have loved you the way you wished at the time," - his eyes closed as if in remembered pain - "but I loved you like a brother and always will. That is not a love to be mocked." His eyes opened again and I saw understanding there. "Nut has said we all have our destinies mapped out for us. I know you believe this too. It helped me to accept your death in the end. I hope it helps you to understand you were never meant for me. There is someone else for you."

  Nero's eyes automatically sought Sophie over my shoulder. They flared a brilliant gold, then settled to a burnished copper. I heard her suck in an audible gasp.

  I leaned forward to brush my lips across his cheek and whispered in his ear, "If you don't claim this Nosferatin, brother, I will kill you myself."

  I pulled back and smiled brilliantly. The vampires would have heard my whispered words, but Sophie as an immature Nosferatin, had not yet come into her enhanced senses. My instruction and threat would have been lost on her.

  Nero chuckled. It was sweet music to my ears.

  "Kiwi, how long do you think I have?"

  "Twenty-four hours. Give or take. I hand her back to her Parisian family as soon as I leave London then. If I were you, I'd spend every second convincing her, securing her hand, until that moment. Once she's back in Paris she will be cloistered."

  "Cloistered?" he asked. We were speaking at normal volume, Sophie would be hearing every word. She was intelligent. She'd no doubt be putting two and two together and coming up with 'matchmaker', but time was not on our side.

  I gave Nero a purposeful look, hoping this part of the conversation would go unvoiced. Sophie didn't need to know I was letting Nero in on her grave circumstances. And I wasn't betraying a trust, as I was only hinting and not saying anything aloud.

  Nero's eyes flashed gold again. He understood. He'd always been on the same page as me.

  "Now, Master of the City. We have much business to discuss. But I'm famished. I don't suppose you've got any orange chocolate chip ice cream lying about the place?"

  Nero looked at me strangely for a second and then flicked his gaze to one of his vampire guards. The vampire disappeared out of the door and within a few seconds returned. I'd only managed a couple of steps away from Nero to take a seat back on the white couch, when the guard flashed back in the room. Tall tub of orange chocolate chip ice cream in one hand and long handled spoon in the other. He leaned down and presented me with my prize.

  I snatched it up with a mumbled thank you and dug directly into the tub. Orangey chocolate goodness coated my tongue before I realised everyone in the room was watching me avidly.

  "What?" I said, mouth full of delicious ice cream. "Choc-lit," I added, then dug right back in.

  Sergei shook his head, dumbfounded, but wisely none commented.

  "So," I said after three quarters of the tub was gone and I was starting to wonder if I'd been over zealous. I pushed the tub away on a low lying table and leaned back in my seat to get comfortable. "Seen any rogue armies lately?"

  Matthias started chuckling in the background, but my eyes were on Nero. He looked guilty, shifting his weight from side to side. I felt a pang of hurt, ridiculously, that he knew of something related to the army coming against Michel and the Iunctio. It was an unfounded hurt, because Nero would have been Amun at the time any alliances were made. And on top of that, he would have been under the influence of the crazy, mind manipulator, Viktor Davydov. Which only proved, that Viktor was indeed behind all of this.

  I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees and sighed. Nero lifted his head to look me directly in the eyes. Blatant regret lay etched on his face.

  I rolled my head from side to side to ease the tension. I could so do with a Michel back rub, but we weren't due to meet at the Château for at least another day and night. Even though we had reinforced our joining with the Dream Walk, neither Michel nor myself could wait longer than that to be back in each other's arms - properly.

  "All right," I said, having made a decision. "Are you or are you not my friend?"

  It seemed a stupid question. He was Nero now, Nero was always my friend. But words to vampires mean something and saying this aloud to Nero the Vampire, meant more than any assumptions or previous dynamics we may have had.

  "I pledge my loyalty to you," he said without pause. Tension seeped out of my frame.

  "Your pledge is accepted. I propose an alliance that would be mutually beneficial."

  "I would be honoured to enter an alliance with the Prophesied and kindred of the Champion," Nero replied and bowed low, hand fisted over heart.

  I had a tentative alliance with Aliath, King of the Dökkálfa, which was backed now by a formal alliance between Michel and himself. But I had never made a formal alliance with anyone before. I had allies, who I could trust to a certain degree. Pete, the head of the Auckland Ghouls, was one of those people. I could trust Pete to a point, as long as I played by his rules. It was good to have allies, but alliances were a whole other thing.

  There a varying degrees of alliances, the most formal and restrictive was called an Accord. They were unbreakable. The Nosferatin people of New Zealand had an alliance with the Taniwhas. But that alliance had been shot to hell now that I had killed their new Alpha and almost decimated their Hapū in the process. He'd been trying to kill me, but that was neither here nor there. The alliance shattered upon his death by my hand.

  Fair enough.

  But Nero was an old friend. A beloved brother Nosferatin in a former life. He was also powerful and full of Light. And the Master of London City. An alliance wasn't going to cut it.

  I stood up smoothly and held out my hand to Natalyia. Without saying a word she offered me her Russian hunting knife. I have my silver dagger, but to make an accord both palms of the parties must be sliced. I could hardly ask Nero the vampire to slice his palm with silver.

  I crossed the short distance to Nero and looked him in the eye.

  "Are you willing to back those words with a binding accord?"

  I knew I was putting him on the spot, but strategically, and personally, I could not let this alliance escape. It would mean I would forever be bound to help him in his hour of need, as he would be bound to help me. But it would also mean he could not purposefully harm me, by betraying me to an enemy such as Viktor. Likewise, he would be protected from the Champion's wrath. Well, at least, for most things.

  Nero only paused for a brief moment, the action more to lay weight to his next words than due to any discomfort.

  "I agree wholeheartedly to an accord with the Prophesied, kindred to the Champion of the Iunctio." Gotta love being called by your titles. At least he hadn't listed each prophesied tit
le individually and just lumped them all under 'the Prophesied' in one heap.

  "Super!" I announced, trying to downplay the pressure of formalities here.

  I quickly sliced my palm and handed him the knife. Nero sliced his own palm and held it out to me, open and waiting for mine. Had I been an unjoined Nosferatin like Sophie, this would have been problematic. I could have been a compatible kindred to him. But now we'd never know. He couldn't test that compatibility nor act on it if it existed. Because I was joined to Michel and there was no way sharing Nero's blood now could affect that.

  I grasped his palm and said the words of my side to the accord. Promising loyalty and support when needed, cementing our friendship and alliance in the simply spoken phrases of an accord. Nero repeated his side and a weight came down on our shoulders, confirming the magic had taken hold. It had all been very civilised, and for once in my life, nothing supernaturally unexpected happened. Things were definitely looking up.

  Nero's relief was almost tangible. Although magical weight had landed on his shoulders, psychological weight had been lifted in exchange. If he was still fearful of Viktor Davydov, I wouldn't know, he wasn't showing it. But the relief I felt left me feeling he wasn't taking the Russian lightly either. And neither would I. But now we could work together against Viktor's machinations. And hopefully prevent unnecessary war. The Iunctio was precariously placed right now, we didn't need an upstart Russian mafia-style mobster, stirring up the shit.

  I stepped away from my old - and new - friend and felt my vampires all relax a smidgen too. This was heavy stuff. I'd always hated politics for the hoops it often made you jump through. But tonight I just hated it because it added to the exhaustion and made me want to puke from the over tiredness racking my body right now.

  "So," I said again, trying to hide the weariness from my voice. I mustn't have succeeded, because Sergei stiffened and Natalyia took a step closer to my side. "How about those armies?"