Mixed Blessing (Mixed Blessing Mystery, Book 1)

by Nicola Claire

"You're not my master." There were other sentences in my head, but that's the one that broke free first.

  His eyes flashed crimson - I was thinking the same crimson I flashed when my Dark Shadow rose to the fore - and his fangs slammed down and out. He hissed at me, but didn't come closer.

  "You are mine, I feel my blood in your veins. I am your master." Unlike when my fangs are down and out, this guy didn't lisp at all.

  "The turning didn't work," I persisted.

  "It worked just fine."

  "I am not a normal vampire," I pushed.

  "I know, and that is why I bothered to return for you. You could be of some use."

  "Then why did you warn me off?" And OK, did I really care? Obviously I did, because my mouth was just running away with my thoughts, without any direction from me.

  "To test you. You passed, by the way."

  Great. I glared at him, he stared impassively back.

  "Your training will begin once we leave here. I have a few loose ends to tidy up and then we will go."

  "Where to? What loose ends?"

  His Sanguis Vitam hit me most unexpectedly. I didn't even feel it accumulate, no warning, no hint of what he was about to do. He was still sitting there impassively, his face a serene mask of indifference. But his Sanguis Vitam hurt like fuck.

  I couldn't stop the cry of pain slipping from my lips, the writhe of my body on the bed, the rattle of the frame as my bonds held tight against my arched back. He watched it all in apathy. Completely detached from what he was making me feel. I'm not sure if he switched off from the act of causing me immeasurable pain, but he certainly didn't much care about what was happening.

  When I started to whimper pathetically, he stopped.

  "You do not question my motives," he said in that deep purr, that somehow soothed away the lingering pain. "You do not demand anything from me. Your sole purpose is to serve. To please. To follow my instruction without hesitation. If I say jump, you jump. You don't ask how high, you already know. You predict my desires and perform them. You will learn what pleases me and what does not. And that lesson will be painful. I own you, vampire. I am your master and I can use you as I see fit. Should you disappoint, I can end you. I am stronger, older and more experienced than you. You have no hope in bettering me, your best chance is to please."

  I listened to every word. I took it all in, despite the circumstances, despite my current position which definitely did not give me the upper hand. I watched his lips move, I didn't blink or breathe, I focused on everything he said, every nuance he did or didn't portray on his face. I paid attention.

  But, unfortunately for him, he did not.

  "What part of I am not a normal vampire, did you not get?" I whispered into the space between us.

  And then I blasted him with every ounce of Light I possessed.

  Sure, he turned me, his blood runs in my veins. In some warped universe he is, I suppose, my Sire. But I am more than a vampire, more than what he made. Nut had a hand in my creation. She is a Goddess, and in my books, Goddess trumps Vamp any day.

  He flew backwards across the room and slammed into the concrete wall opposite, blue chips of paint flaking off where his body hit. A gush of air was forced from his lips in a grunt, the snap of a bone breaking as his wrist hit the wall in an effort to absorb the impact. The crunch of his skull as it slammed back in a whip-like motion against the unforgiving structure behind him.

  I had a moment to feel satisfaction and then, I don't know how he did it, he simply disappeared. My heart slammed into my throat, my mouth went dry, sweat broke out over my skin. Because I knew. I just knew. This wasn't over. My Sire was more than I had bargained for.

  He reappeared beside my bed a few moments later, the glint of something shiny in his hand was all the warning I got. Then my silver stake was thrust into my chest, directly into my heart, piercing it, damaging it. Destroying it from what I could tell from the excruciating pain that split my chest in two.

  I always knew silver couldn't harm me, but both Lucinda and I had suspected a stake to my heart would do the deed well enough on its own. I expected to feel my body disintegrate into dust around me. I wasn't sure if vampires were aware when they combusted upon final death, but I'd always envisaged a split second of knowledge, at the end. That somehow they knew. That I would know too. I may be half Nosferatin, but the part that counts, that burns in the sun, that would finally die if my head was detached from my body, was all Nosferatu.

  But Lucinda and I had been wrong. I had a stake sitting in my chest, in my heart, and I was still here. In pain, not breathing, not blinking, fangs out and eyes red. But I was still here.

  And so was my now totally and utterly pissed off Dark Shadow.

  She surged to the front of my mind, I had a moment to experience panic, to try to reason with her, even fight her advance off, because no matter what I thought about her being a part of me and me being a part of her, no one likes to lose this sort of control.

  And then she took over, completely and I simply ceased, for that moment, to exist.

  Chapter 32

  Red

  All I can see is red. I like red, red feels like home, feels comfortable and familiar. And red coating everything before my eyes right now, feels right. I have missed red. She doesn't see in red. She sees in rainbow. I prefer just red.

  I can't break the ropes, she tried and it was useless, but I can bend the metal of the bed. I have no knowledge of what the binds are made of, but it is irrelevant, the metal can bend. So I bend it.

  My Sire is down, he may have attacked, but he was not at full strength and he has lowered his guard. He thinks I am incapacitated. I am not. He thinks he can use this time to recuperate from her Light. But he is mistaken.

  The metal bends and fractures, my hands slip free. In an instant I have the binds at my feet removed and release my wrists in the next. He is still recovering on the floor to the side of the bed, I watch for a moment. He is my Sire. I am intrigued.

  Then I spring from the bed and wrap a hand around his throat, lift him from his feet and walk slowly back towards the far wall. His eyes have enlarged, his mouth is open in, I should think, a rare moment of surprise. My Sire is strong, but her Light has injured him and now I am here to finish this off.

  She is right. He may be my Sire, but he is not worthy. I sense his strength, but there is something rotten beneath it. I value strength, I do not value corruption, it weakens. He has been weakened by that which rots beneath his skin.

  I tip my head to the side, I should take a moment to savour this. He is my Sire, after all. Even though unworthy, he helped create what I now am. His blood does run through my veins.

  "What is your name?" I ask, my head still tilted.

  He gurgles. My hand is too tight at his throat, I release it slightly. I am no fool. Just like her, I can not be tricked easily into lowering my guard, so my hold is still firm.

  Although lately, I have questioned some of her actions.

  He blinks back at me. Stunned I think. I inhale and confirm the emotion. I have surprised him and he is... pleased.

  "Your name," I remind him.

  "Xavier," he replies, eyes still slightly widened.

  "Xavier." I repeat his name, taste it on my tongue. It is a good name, shame he is not worthy.

  "I am your Sire," he says, strength returning to his voice, his stance. Despite my continued hold of his throat.

  "I know," I answer.

  I should end this now, so I remove the stake from my chest. It hurts sliding out, I feel every millimetre of its path through muscle, tendon and flesh. I don't even blink. He does.

  "You will meet the final death, Xavier," I inform him.

  He attempts to shake his head in negation. I pause. He thinks to argue with me, this amuses.

  "You and I could accomplish so much together, you are more than I realised. You are impressive," he says, in what I assume is awe. I inhale and confirm the emotion.

  "I know," I reply.


  "I have plans," he tells me.

  My amusement is fading, I place the stake against his chest. He hurries on in a pitiful attempt to change my mind.

  "I have amassed a fortune," he says, licking his lips, "and have control over a product that is reaping rewards as we speak. It won't be long and we will be in a position of power. Already I have cornered the market here and plan to expand internationally. With this sort of backing we can rule the world."

  How trite. But something has caught my attention, something she would be interested in. It is irrelevant to me, but I like her. For her I will seek answers. It will please.

  "The drink," I say, resting the stake where it is, but not removing it. "Vive La Vodka." The drink's name sounds alien to my ears.

  He nods.

  "Why are you killing the test subjects?" I ask, because she would want me to.

  He stares wildly around the room, he does not wish to tell me. He is anxious. I inhale and confirm the emotion. Then I push the stake a centimetre in. His eyes return to mine.

  "Tell me," I instruct.

  He stares back, but when my weight shifts to further push the stake in his chest, he quickly divests himself of the answer.

  "They knew too much," he says and I cock my head and wait for more. "They knew who I was, they even worked out it was me who altered the formula. I don't know how they found out, but some of them did. The bitch was informed."

  "The bitch?" I ask, my voice neutral. I am not sure I like that word, but I do not show it.

  "Alison Danvers," he spits. He does not like this woman, but that is not why he killed her.

  "Go on," I prompt.

  "She confronted me about it. Wouldn't tell me which ones had figured it out, but that they knew I had tampered with it, that something was wrong with the drink. They were the first," he says, his eyes misting. He is remembering. "They were exposed to some of the earlier formulas, the results were at times unfortunate. For some the addiction was too much. They couldn't consume enough of the product to sate their thirst, so they cornered her. Forced her to approach me." His eyes focus back on my face. "She wouldn't have otherwise, I had her under control."

  The way he says that, I am sure he is trying to convey a message. I am not under his control. He does not like it. I smile.

  "And now she is dead," I offer. "You no longer have access to the brewery, what did you intend to do?"

  "There are other breweries, but Vive La Vodka is already a hit. The company won't stop producing it."

  I am sure she will see to that, her rainbow world does not include his outcome.

  "All this for money?" I ask, disgusted. What do we need money for, we are vampyre.

  "Money is power. I will have enough power to rule all Nosferatu."

  "You are not worthy," I state. He blinks back in reply, but does not voice his opinion.

  I have asked enough to satisfy her curiosity and more than enough to satisfy any of mine. Time to end this.

  "Goodbye, Sire," I say, as the stake slips further in.

  He braces, his Sanguis Vitam slams into my chest. He has recovered whilst I have sought her answers. I am not surprised, but a little put out. I had hoped her Light would incapacitate for longer, I have seen evidence that it can, but I had forgotten he is our Sire. He may not be worthy, but he is strong.

  We struggle, Sanguis Vitam to Sanguis Vitam. I have no access to her Light, although she can access all of that which makes me Nosferatu, I cannot access all that makes her Nosferatin. It is... unfair, but I have accepted it. She is the one normally in charge, even if she allows me these moments. Reluctant though she is, she is not unintelligent. She knows when I will effect a better outcome.

  Right now my Sanguis Vitam control is better than hers, I can match our Sire. But the struggle is intense. I feel blood flowing from my gaping chest wound, his hand has successfully dislodged the stake that had hovered for too long above his body. We tumble over the floor, jaws snapping, Sanguis Vitam crackling, bones breaking. His eyes are as red as mine. His determination as strong. He is a good match, but still unworthy.

  I reposition us, so I am on top, my legs holding his arms against his sides, my weight on his chest, but low enough so that I can gain access to his heart, through his ribs. The stake is back in position and I shift to slide it in.

  Then the doors burst open, the sound of wood fracturing, concrete disintegrating with the force of the entry. Now more Sanguis Vitam has joined the scene. It momentarily distracts me. I am annoyed and I forget that it is my Sire beneath my grasp.

  "Release me!" he commands and had I not been distracted by the entrance of several additional vampyres, I could have battled the command. But his blood runs in my veins, and always will. Not as strong as those successfully turned, but enough in this moment to work the command.

  I spring up and back off his body, allowing him the freedom he sought. He is quick, lightning fast, within a fraction of a second he is gone. The shadows in the room are not extensive, but his ability to use them is.

  Perhaps he is more worthy than I had considered.

  I realise he has escaped, so I move my attention to the immediate threat. Two vampyres I know, three I do not. I do not trust any of them completely, but I trust the two I know more than the strangers. I turn to face them and snarl. All three snarl back, so I blast them with my Sanguis Vitam, sending two of the three to their knees. The third I have in a headlock before he has managed to comprehend the threat I actually pose.

  They know of her, they do not know me. My move has surprised them, I smell wash-room bleach on the air. I take advantage of their astonishment and sink my fangs into his neck.

  Then I am removed from my prey and thrust against the wall in a move similar to that which I executed on my Sire. The long, black, curly haired vampyre with a crooked nose has me by the throat. I let him. He is worthy.

  "You three leave, she doesn't know you," he commands the three vampyres I have felled. They dutifully follow his command. I had expected little else. He is powerful. I like him.

  "Let her go," the other vampyre left in the room demands. I switch my gaze to him. He is beautiful, she likes him, though she denies it. I can see the appeal. Blond hair, handsome façade, and he is more than he appears. She is right. He is one to watch. He is worthy too.

  For now I will let her decide which one, but either would suit for our mate. And she must mate, she has weaknesses that we must hide. She needs a mate.

  "Georgia," black, curly hair says, his voice soft. I tilt my head at him.

  "Georgia is not here," I reply. He blinks.

  "Then who is?" he asks just as softly.

  "I am."

  "And who are you?"

  "Her vampyre," I reply and watch his face lose all evidence of emotion. I inhale. Bold grapefruit and lime. He is alarmed.

  "Don't be alarmed," I say and watch him blink. "She is fine, but she needed my assistance."

  "So," he says slowly, "you came out to help?"

  "Yes."

  "Can she come back now?" he asks, just as slowly as before.

  "Soon," I reply and tilt my head to the other side. "When I am sure it is safe." I also like looking at him, he looks better bathed in red.

  "It's safe," he offers, his lips twitching at the corners. My eyes focus on the movement and I inhale.

  "Sticky toffee," I say mesmerized by the motion.

  "What?" he asks and my eyes flick back up to his. So blue.

  "You are amused by me," I say as explanation.

  The blond vampyre clears his throat.

  "She may not thank you for showing this side of yourself," he says, now holding my gaze. So brown.

  "He already knows," I answer and watch his face fall. He is disappointed at that news. I inhale and confirm the emotion.

  For a moment no one talks. I look back at my black, curly haired vampyre.

  "Jett," I say, testing his name for the very first time. The other is called Samson. I don't voice it.

  "Ye
s," he says, allowing that twitch at the edges of his mouth free reign. A full smile meets my eyes. "What is your name?" he asks, watching me watching him.

  "She calls me her Dark Shadow. I do not have a name."

  "Dark Shadow," both vampyres say at the same time. I flick my gaze between the two.

  "Are you Dark?" Samson asks.

  "Yes," I reply without hesitation. But I am worthy of it.

  His responding smile surprises me. I blink.

  "We need Georgia back," Jett interrupts my gazing.

  "You will take care of her?" I ask, bringing my attention back to him.

  "Always," he replies instantly. Then I see a flash of azure in his eyes, a mischievous glint. "Do you not think I am worthy to be her mate?"

  Samson makes a sound off to the side, it is irritated. I don't need to inhale to confirm.

  "You both are," I reply, not without a fair amount of mischievousness myself. "For now I will let her decide."

  Jett nods his head slowly, then says, "I will endeavour to prove it then."

  "You do that," I say.

  We all stand quietly for a moment and let that request digest.

  "One more thing," I say, bringing Jett's focus back to my face. "Why is your scent at the scenes?" She will not thank me for this question, but she has avoided asking it for too long.

  "Do you want to know or does she?" he asks back. I like him. He plays the game well.

  "She does." It really is irrelevant to me, he is already worthy.

  "Then I shall give her the answer."

  I smile and watch as his face stills, his eyes flash that compelling azure and his mouth opens slightly.

  Oh, he is worthy. It is a shame she likes the other one so much, I would pick this one.

  But, for now, I will let her choose.

  Chapter 33

  Satiated

  It's hunger that woke me. I was having a beautiful dream, warm under the clean and crisp sheets, safe snuggled within my linen cocoon, enjoying the sunlight in my vision as it bathed my skin. Slow waves rolling over the sand, the lapping sound reaching my ears, but mingled with the squawk of nearby sea gulls. I rolled over to tan my front and that's when the hunger hit me.