Mixed Blessing (Mixed Blessing Mystery, Book 1)

by Nicola Claire

  He wanted me to capitulate, he wanted me to give up. But he didn't know me well. If I had been a quitter, I would have found a way to end my life once I had been turned. But I hadn't. I had kept going, resenting what I had become, hating the life I now had to live. But never, ever, giving in to it. And I wouldn't give in now.

  I growled low, hissed through my lips and bared my fangs. And all I could hear was his laughter. Which made me realise he'd either stopped feeding off the human or was laughing in my head. I hoped it was the first, the human saved at least for now, but I had a terrible feeling it was the second. He was already controlling me, having made me drop my stake, laughing in my head would have been a breeze.

  I felt the coolness of the pavement against my cheek, making me acknowledge I was now on my side, no longer upright. I could feel little pebbles or grit against my skin. Smell the tar-like scent of the nearby roadway, the dirt and decay at the edges of the street. Street cleaners don't get everything, there is always something to rot left behind when they sweep the streets. I could smell it all and its death heralded mine.

  I felt a coolness against the skin on my chest, a bubble of fear filling the cavity inside just as chilling as the night air on my naked flesh. He'd ripped my top, maybe even removed it, I couldn't tell. It had been a while since I had felt this kind of fear, a human fear of being harmed in such a way. I felt it the night the Rogue attacked me, at the time I had thought he'd intended me a different kind of harm. Since becoming a vampire there has been little that has made me fear that same way. Oh, I have feared, but that fear has been of death or the threat of it. This was an altogether different type of fear, one I had thought lost to me when I became so strong.

  What did he intend to do? He was a vampire, so my death was obvious, but how long it took to get there and what he did on the way, were not.

  The first stab of pain hit me mid chest, on my sternum, between my breasts. In my fuzzy, fear-filled brain I thought he'd staked me, but I could still see the silver of my stake from the gutter's edge where it lay. Perhaps he had one of his own. It wouldn't be silver, not that that would kill me, but it felt sharp.

  But that first stab of pain was quickly followed by another. This time slightly higher and to the right hand side. The two spots felt like molten liquid boring through me. I was sure a hole would appear at my back, directly beneath each one. But he didn't stop there. Another stab of pain slightly lower, further to the right, then another lower still, but closer to the centre. Four stabs, four sharp spikes of intense agony. Four lava filled holes boring right through my chest.

  Tears had started to run down my cheeks, but no sound came from my opened mouth. I knew I was screaming, but the noise was contained within my mind, my ears picked up only the distant sounds of the city and the discarded human's pathetic attempts to flee.

  I thought momentarily that the Rogue had stopped, relief coursed through me, but was quickly swallowed by further stabs of pain. Three more in quick succession. On the left side of my chest. Something was familiar about the placement of each horrendous stab of pain, but my brain was short circuiting and couldn't puzzle through the idea that this should all make some sort of sense.

  I heard him shuffle beside me, his shadow adding to the dimness encroaching the sides of my vision. The pain was all consuming now, a raging inferno of agony that burned as brightly as a naked flame. Right across my upper torso. The lance of pain in my head he'd initially inflicted was minuscule in comparison to what he'd done to my chest.

  "Now, little one," his voice was a purr at the side of my head, his hot breath washing over my ear. I was surprised he sounded so calm and obviously lucid. Most Rogues are slavering idiots, barely able to form a word, let alone a sentence. "Let this be a reminder to you. I know everything there is about you. I own you. And if I choose, I can end you. Don't get in my way again."

  I couldn't comprehend his words, they were a jumble inside my skull, but felt like a branding. I knew I would not forget them, even as I couldn't quite decipher them clearly through the fog of agony in my body and mind. They meant something, but their meaning was just out of my reach. The darkness of unconsciousness was closing in, his laughter replacing all other sounds on the street we were on.

  I thought perhaps he'd end this now, having delivered whatever message it was. But nothing else happened. Just the continued agony of the wounds he'd inflicted on my chest and the grip of pain he held my mind with. Maybe he'd torture me again, he seemed sadistic enough. Maybe he'd just go back to his meal and drain the human dry at my side, tempt me with smell of more spilled blood.

  I didn't know what to expect and the longer it took for him to do something, anything, the further from consciousness I went. I did not want to let go, even if I had no hope of defending myself, I would not give in. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of my capitulation, my acceptance of the end.

  I growled again, low in the back of my throat as I clung to my surroundings. His laughter retreated, deep and dark chuckles as though this was all a most entertaining show. I was the entertainment and from the jovial tone of his mirth, I had been amusing.

  I could feel the closeness of dawn. I could feel how near exhaustion I was. I could also feel his retreat as though he was still connected to me. Maybe he still held on to my mind, maybe he still held me immobile by his Sanguis Vitam, but whatever it was I could feel him getting further and further away.

  And I felt bereft at that loss. Another thing I had no hope of puzzling through. My mind was a confused and abused mess. My body shutting down now the pain had existed for so long. I hadn't been anything other than vampire for the past few minutes. There was nothing human left inside me now. My senses would have been on full alert, if they had not been so damaged or distracted by pain.

  As it was, it took longer than it should have for me to realise I was no longer alone. That warm hands were assessing me, frantic words were being uttered and Sanguis Vitam was filling the air. Not the Rogue's, but someone else's. And it too was familiar.

  I fought it, I really did, but I was running out of strength. It was only when I heard the soft, low words - again washing hot breaths across the sensitive skin of my ear - and recognised them, that I relaxed and allowed the vampire who tended to me access through my shields.

  The last thing I heard, repeated softly again and again inside my mind, before I lost hold of consciousness, was, "Kitten."

  Chapter 21

  Rage

  I had expected Jett to be at my side when I awoke, but he wasn't. It took a moment for me to understand my surroundings, to put the décor and furnishings of the room I was in, in their rightful place in my mind. I wasn't at home at my apartment, I was at Sensations, in one of the Master of the City line's chambers. Autumnal hues in the bedspread, soft cream walls all around, nondescript fine art here and there. No windows, but lush surroundings that matched the level of décor in the club itself.

  I had no recollection of how I got here, but even I could work it out in my uncomfortable state. Which made me realise I wasn't nearly as sore as I should have been. Jett had healed me before he'd brought me here to rest. Flashes of memories of the night before crossed my mind, the pull, the alley, the dishevelled Rogue who had more power than a Rogue should ever have had. And who acted as though he was a master, not a mindless feeding and killing machine.

  Who the fuck was he? And what had he done to my chest?

  I sat up quickly, wincing as it became obvious I wasn't entirely healed and the movement had made my chest burn. I whipped my blankets off, stunned momentarily to see I was naked beneath the sheets, and inspected my chest.

  Seven round scab-covered circles, no more than a centimetre in diameter, marked my chest in a familiar pattern. I let a breath of air out in a rush. The same marks left on the corpses of the murder victims. The murderer was a vampire. Not Fey.

  The murderer was the Rogue.

  "It looks better than it was," came a low voice, laced in a distant growl, from the other s
ide of the room.

  I squeaked, most unattractively, and pulled my sheet up to cover my naked chest.

  "Samson?"

  He gave me a bitter smile, I could detect his fangs just poking out from beneath his lips. He was angry. Surprisingly, I could smell it, even though I hadn't made the effort to inhale, and it was Samson. Stringent ammonia has a way of seeping in through the pores, it can't be ignored. But I didn't know why he was so angry. Was he angry at me?

  "Why are you here?" I demanded, going for defensive as a response to the anger in the air.

  "Lucinda found you," he said in way of reply. I frowned. "She called Jett for assistance, she couldn't get you out of there on her own and she knew he was at the club. He brought you here, but wanted to look into something he found at the scene. We all thought it best if Lucinda didn't stay with you, you'd probably wake up and want to chomp on her neck." I grimaced, aware I was quite hungry. "So, I volunteered."

  Did he expect a thank you? I continued to frown.

  "Who was he?" he asked, anger still swirling on the air.

  "Why are you angry?" I asked in a low voice, my own growl turning the words into a threat. He bared his fangs back at me. His eyes shifting to chocolate and then taupe.

  "Answer the question!" he demanded and surprised me with a slap of his Sanguis Vitam to back up the command. I ignored it, but it friggin' hurt. Didn't he realise I was not up for a sparring match and why was he so damn angry?

  "What's got your knickers in a twist," I muttered instead of replying, he could spit the dummy all he liked, he was not my master. I did not answer to him. Of course, I hadn't even considered answering his question, it was ridiculous. How the hell should I know who the Rogue was?

  "You kept repeating, 'come back', when Lucinda found you. Even Jett said you were calling for the Rogue." He cocked his head at me when I just stared at him incredulously. I had no idea what he was saying. "Is this how it is now, Gigi?"

  I frowned at him, if he got any angrier, he'd explode. I could feel his Sanguis Vitam prickling against my skin and as much as it scared me, it called to me too. My own Sanguis Vitam rose to tangle with it, I fought every natural instinct I had not to let that happen.

  "Are you courting the final death?" Samson's voice was low and steady, his eyes - an amazingly hypnotic mix of chocolate and taupe - drilled into mine. I couldn't believe he'd ask me that, after everything I had been through and suffered, and survived, he'd consider me a coward.

  "Fuck you, Samson!" I threw at him as I wrapped a sheet around me and headed to the bathroom door.

  He was in front of me before I'd taken two steps, his speed making me jump back with a hiss and crouch ready for defence. I had never seen him move that fast before. I had never seen him so angry either. Quite frankly, I was beginning to wonder where my Samson had gone. The vampire before me sure as hell wasn't that compassionate and caring man.

  "What is wrong with you?" I demanded, returning to an upright position and holding my ground. He leaned in, his breath a hot shiver over my face - and growled.

  "I will not let you kill yourself. Do you understand? You think Elysium is better than the life you now live? You think you won't be missed?" He growled again and stalked a step towards me, my Dark Shadow reared her head and I flashed fang. He smiled, but it wasn't friendly. I think it was a challenge or an answer to mine.

  He walked around me, circling me as though I was his prey. I could feel his gaze, heavy and heated, all over me, as he finally came to rest at my back. He stepped within an inch of my body, not touching but close enough to feel and smell. I tried not to inhale that scent. Pine needles and musk, but like the ammonia of before, it somehow seeped past my defences - right into my soul.

  "I have given you space to come to terms with this new life," he said in a rough whisper at my ear. "I have allowed you time to understand it, to feel comfortable with it. I have backed off and let you find your own way. I thought this was for the best. I was obviously mistaken."

  I think I had stopped breathing, I had definitely stopped moving and although I was trying to comprehend what he was saying, my mind had turned to pathetically useless mush. I forced myself to breathe, to appear normal, to not let the effect he had over me show. Damn him for doing this now. I was hungry and still healing and confused by everything that had happened.

  I was scared.

  But I don't think it was just the mysterious Rogue who I was afraid of right at this second.

  "What do you want, Samson?" I had been trying for nonchalant. I failed miserably I realised, when I heard the breathlessness that accompanied those words.

  "You," he whispered without apology. "And I know you want me too."

  The vampire in me appreciated his approach; his forceful demand I comply, that I admit what he said was true. But the woman in me blanched. Neanderthal. Did he really think I'd fall for this macho crap?

  I spun around in a blur of white sheet and leaned in to his face, my own breath washing over his skin. His scent engulfed me, but I fought to block it out.

  "You are precariously close to being staked, my friend," I said, letting my eyes bleed to red. "I am hungry, pissed off and in no way in the mood to tangle with an overbearing, arrogant arsehole right now. I suggest you back the fuck off."

  He just smiled. The bastard actually smiled. And leaned in nose to nose, inhaling deeply. I wanted to step back, I wanted to retreat, run to the bathroom, lock myself away. But my Dark Shadow wouldn't let me. She held me firmly still, forcing me to match his stance.

  "Are you hungry, babe?" he asked in a sickly saccharine voice. "Want a vein to suck on?" He tilted his head to the side, holding my gaze. "Shame we don't have a donor to offer," he went on, the smile still taunting me, his eyes flashing and swirling almost making me fall forward and collapse against his broad chest. "I fed earlier," he whispered huskily. "I have plenty to share." He lifted his chin slowly, displaying the length of his neck and throat.

  I stilled. He stilled. Neither of us breathed.

  "Are you mad?" I whispered back, swallowing thickly. "I threaten to stake you and you expose your neck?" A vampire's neck is their most vulnerable spot. You never expose your neck.

  "You are mine, Gigi," he said softly. "I offer you my blood... freely. Take what is yours."

  Oh God, I was hungry and I knew how good he tasted, how rounded and full bodied and surprisingly replenishing drinking his blood could be. Not to mention alluring. I'd had one taste and dreamt of it ever since. What I wouldn't give to drink Samson's blood again.

  Well, I wouldn't give up me, that was for sure. And if I did this, he'd take it as a sign that I was his. Two months ago I wouldn't have argued that point. But a lot has happened in two months time.

  I took a slow step back and watched disbelief creep over his face.

  "I don't want you, Samson. You're wrong. You are not mine and I am not yours. That is your mistake."

  I held his gaze for a moment longer, seeing the anger creep back in. Then spun on my heel and flashed to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it soundly behind me. He could break the door down easily, it was a symbolic measure at best. I used a splash of Sanguis Vitam to turn the taps on in the shower, because there was no way I could move from my current position, back against the door, knees knocking. And I waited for him to leave.

  I could feel him on the other side of the door. He'd walked closer, not run away. I licked my lips, holding my breath, stilling my heart and allowing myself to sink further into the Dark Shadow's grasp. Not necessarily a good thing, she wanted to tangle with Samson. I closed my eyes, almost ready to admit defeat and open the damn door and let my vampire-within have her way. But Samson retreated, like a warm blanket being ripped away, I started to shiver with the cold his absence created.

  The click of the door from the bedroom to the hallway followed and I sunk down into a crouch, resting my back against the door frame. He'd listened, he'd accepted what I had said. He'd left and walked away. It was what
I had wanted, desperately wanted. But all I could do was cry.

  I don't know how long I stayed there, but eventually I did take that shower. When I came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, clean clothes were resting on the bed. I frowned at them. They were mine, same belt as previously, but definitely new clothes from those I had worn. So someone had retrieved them from my apartment. As I was guessing it was the middle of the day, that someone was probably Lucinda. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. But, it didn't stop me from dressing and sighing in relief when I found both my stakes inside the jacket pockets. Lucinda had somehow got my spare stake back off Jett. For that she at least was owed my thanks.

  Not that she'd get it.

  I was just tying my hair back when there was a soft knock on the door. I swung it open, already hearing the human heartbeat on the other side. Shane Smith stood beside a blonde girl, who smiled shyly up at me. I glanced from her sweet innocent looking face, to Shane's. Shane was one of Michel's vampires, young - less than fifty vampire years old - and not very powerful. With a shock of short curly white hair and pale skin he was almost as albino looking as me. I outstripped him in Sanguis Vitam, but somehow his colouring made me like the guy. I bet he got teased at school when he was younger too.

  "Shane," I said in greeting.

  "Hey, Georgia." He nodded and pushed the girl forward. "A gift from the Master of the City. He said, um.." he cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. "He said to be nice."

  "Or what?" My lips twitched at the edge with my need to laugh out loud.

  Shane's wide blue eyes flicked up to mine. "Or he'd spank you." The words were barely a whisper. The girl giggled, then tried to hide her reaction with a cough and started humming instead. I forced myself not to react and just reached forward to cup the girl's elbow and draw her into the room.