I'm not usually one for tears. I was raised on a farm. Every Spring I would fall in love with the lambs only to have them taken by a truck at the end of Summer to the slaughter house. When I was very young, my parents, my Aunt and Uncle actually, would make a story up, so I wouldn't know what was about to happen to them. But when I turned five, my Uncle decided I was old enough to know the truth. I cried that Summer, like I had never cried before, but it didn't stop them from herding up the lambs, from loading the truck and from the truck driving away to the abattoir. My Aunt cooked lamb for dinner that night. I don't think she was trying to be cruel, I think it was just what she had it in the freezer and that was what dinner was that night, but I didn't want to eat it. I swore I'd never eat lamb again.
But, then I smelt the roast from my bedroom, the succulent smell of rosemary and garlic, roast lamb and potatoes wafting toward my room. I'd been crying all afternoon, unable to face my Uncle, but the smell of that delicious meal pulled me out of my bedroom and into the dining room. My Aunt and Uncle didn't say anything when I sat down at the table and started eating my meal. They didn't apologise for taking the lambs away to be killed, they didn't ask if I was OK, they just nodded, as though I had done a brave thing and went on with their meal.
I learnt a valuable lesson that day. Some things you can change, some things you just can't and others you just have to accept for what they are. Tears didn't help. Reality doesn't answer to a sob. So, I try not to cry, whenever I'm faced with something that is too much to bear. I try not to, but sometimes there are some things you just have to cry over. And lately, I seemed to be having that issue more and more.
I felt the hot wet flow of tears down my cheeks into the dirt and dust of the underbrush beneath my face. My vision became blurry, my breathing more of a hiccup than a shallow gasp. I was still unable to move, the Taniwhas' power escalating to such a level that I felt frozen in time, but I could see everything. Although distorted, I could tell what I was looking at. Man on man, beast on beast, it's all the same when you're fighting to the death. Taniwhas are strong, even in their human form, they can rip a man's arm off, use their human teeth to tear flesh from bone. Their nails are not claws, but the marks left behind can be just as deadly.
Jerome fought for a while. I think it's instinct to fight back. You either give in to the flight response immediately, or you fight. He didn't have a choice to flee, he was only ever going to have to face this and not run, but initially he fought back. He landed a few blows, he made Rick's job harder, but then he settled into it, like an old familiar coat, he accepted its weight. And when Rick had least expected it, when he had resigned himself to a battle to the end, Jerome simply stepped forward at the right time, angled himself towards Rick's fist at the right moment and let physics take over.
He went down like a dead weight, because that's what he was.
I held my breath, just as those gathered held theirs and Rick slowly stepped forward and knelt by his mentor, his Alpha, his enemy, confirming he was dead with a howl from his thrown back head. Letting it carry away on the wind under the gaze of a Full Moon.
The rest of the Hapū began taking up the howl. At first so fierce and then so sad, like a lament on the night air, they mourned their leader, they cried through their howls and they said their goodbyes.
I still couldn't move. I knew the predicament I was in. If someone found me here, it would not be pretty. Not only had I witnessed a private sacred Hapū rite, I had witnessed murder and on top of that, they were about to change and nothing could stop them now.
I felt the power shift slightly around me, like a heatwave, shimmering in front of my eyes. Through the haze of power I saw Rick change; swift, smooth, nothing like they have you believe on TV. It's almost magical, something to marvel at, not be afraid of. But I knew I needed to be afraid, because as soon as they changed, they'd find me. In their Taniwha forms their sense of smell is so much greater and I'd been lying here for a while, sweating, crying, snivelling any number of smells they'd instantly home in on. I was a perfect prey to the predator awakening.
One by one the Hapū followed suit, like a set of dominoes, unable to stop the force that topples the next. Just going with the flow from that first dominant push, from their now new Alpha, they began to change. Scales and claws, jaws full of serrated teeth, greys and whites flashed throughout the clearing before me. Although all basically the same shape and colour combination, each one looking distinctly different in their Taniwha skin. No two humans are ever the same, likewise no two Taniwhas.
When the final member of the Hapū had changed I felt the power lift and I could move. The magic that had made them what they now were, dissipating into the night. I took a deep breath in, the first in over half an hour and I carefully sat myself up.
That shift of my body was enough. Heads swivelled to where I had been lying hidden, noses sniffed the air, muzzles drew back exposing impossibly long Taniwha fangs and a low growl came from the closest of the Hapū, flowing out towards the rest until it reached Rick. His eyes bore into me, even though I knew he couldn't really see me through the thick foliage I was behind, but he knew it was me.
I had a second to comprehend this. And then I ran.
I'm faster than Taniwhas, since I joined with my kindred vampire and matured at the age of 25, I have come into some nifty powers, speed being one of them. But, this was rough terrain and I didn't know it. I'd only ever driven right up to the clearing where the houses are at, along a dirt road, I had never gone for walkies in their woods. All of it was unfamiliar, but to them, it was their home, they knew it blind.
I fell over fallen logs, I scraped my knees on barely hidden rocks and smashed into low branches, scraping my cheeks, nearly piercing my eyes and still I could feel them on my heels. Their snapping and snarling and growling and baying to the moon. The hunt was on and I was the prey. My heart was in my throat, my breathing ragged. I'd been in tight situations before, some may even say I thrive on them, but having a Hapū of angry, hungry Taniwhas chasing you over rough and uneven, unfamiliar ground on the night of the Rākaunui is not my idea of a cup of tea.
I thought I was heading in the right direction, back to the car on the other side of the fence, where I had cut a very small gap in the chain-link there. If I was wrong, things were going to get bad. I only had a silver knife on me, my stakes were still in the car, but a knife against one Taniwha could be useful, they don't do silver well, but against fifty, maybe more? I wasn't hopeful.
I could tell they were flanking me, I could hear them fanning out around me, moving ahead and circling round. If they made a complete circle before I reached the fence, I was in trouble. I can't fly like a vampire, I can jump pretty high given the right circumstances, but not a 10 foot chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. Even I can't do that.
So, I just ran faster.
Faster meant more branches, more scratches, but strangely enough less tripping, less falling, somehow making me skim the undergrowth and hidden hazards, almost flying across the terrain. If I wasn't shit scared right now, I'd be revelling in this new found freedom. Speed, but more speed than I had ever used before in my life. I have had to run fast since joining and Bonding with Michel, but I'd never managed this type of speed before.
I made it to the fence before the Taniwhas, but not quite at the right spot. I recognised the area, so it wasn't far away. I had to scan quickly, slowing my speed a fraction, but I spotted the gap and made for it, closer to the Taniwhas coming from the right than I wanted. But I knew now, I could make it. I knew I could get there before them.
I slid to the ground, feet first towards the gap. Don't ask me why, I think most people would have thrown their arms forward and let their bodies follow, but I have skidded through tighter spots feet first before, so I knew it was a move I could pull off. My feet slid through the gap, followed by my body, then my head. I landed crouched down on the grass on the other side of the fence and turned my head in time to see a claw slice through the gap towa
rds me.
One of the most nifty new things to happen when I joined with my kindred, was an increase in reflex action. I thanked my luck stars tonight for that.
I rolled back from where I had been crouched, doing a complete reverse somersault away from that claw; head over back, feet flicking out behind and over, just managing to stay out of its reach. I landed with a thud against the Land Rover Discovery I'd driven tonight. One of Michel's pool vehicles, but mine to use when I needed it. At least I could be grateful it wasn't the BMW Series 1 Convertible Michel had presented me with. I gave that one back. This was our compromise. I borrowed the Discovery when I needed a car. That way Michel knew I was driving something suitably safe and I didn't feel like a kept woman. The Discovery never came home with me, it stayed at Michel's. I was adamant about that.
I sat there stunned, trying to catch my breath and make myself move, but unable to pull my gaze away from the muddy brown Taniwha eyes that watched me. I knew those eyes, even in Taniwha form, I still recognised them.
“Congratulations.” My voice was even, if just a little breathless. “On your promotion in the Hapū.”
He just growled, low and long.
We stared at each other for a moment. Him unable to get through the small gap, me catching my breath, then I stood shakily and opened the door to the Land Rover, slid in and turned the key.
I guess, at least, I knew where I stood.
Rick was Alpha of the Westside Hapū. And I was at the top of his shit list too.
Chapter 2
Laying Down The Law
I'd made it about a kilometre down the road. I knew the Taniwhas wouldn't leave their land in Taniwha form, too dangerous out in the country like this, they'd be shot on sight by some well meaning farmer who just happens to carry his shotgun in the back of his Ute. They couldn't risk discovery, even if I was the one that got away.
Despite that knowledge though, I was still pretty much a wreck. I had scrapes and bruises and cuts all over me, but that wasn't the worst of it. No, the worst was the image of Jerome falling to the ground. The worst was the knowledge that Rick had killed him. Rough, tough, gruff Jerome, who had a heart of gold and a bear hug to rival the best of them. He'd welcomed me on pack lands, he'd opened up his world to the lost Nosferatin and been there when I needed to call on old ties.
My depth of respect for Jerome was bottomless. And now he was dead, because of Rick. I stifled a sob and tried to brush the tears away so I could focus on the road. I really didn't want to pull over, I was still too close to Hapū land to feel entirely safe, so I was risking an accident just to get away, but it was getting harder and harder.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a figure appeared on the road ahead. I slammed on the brakes and made the four-by-four screech to a stop before hitting him. Thank God for ABS brakes. He was at my driver's side door in a flash, pulling it open and pulling me to him, crushing me to his chest.
“Ma douce, ma douce, what have you been doing now?”
I didn't reply, just let him hold me, just let his warm arms encase me and took shaking breath after shaking breath in, letting the clean smell of his scent wash over me, salty sea spray and freshly clean cut grass, washing away the images. I felt his gentle touch against my mind and automatically lowered my shields. His healing power rushed in and took away all the pain, healed the cuts and scrapes and bruises, but couldn't touch one ache. No amount of vampire Sanguis Vitam could fix that one. That one I'd wear in my heart for eternity.
Michel drove us back to Sensations, his club and daytime retreat. He didn't ask any questions, just let me cry silently in the passenger seat. He parked in the underground parking, it's only for his staff and vampires of his line, many of which stay on the premises too. Sensations is a large old brick building, Michel owns all of it, some he rents out as offices up above, but the club and living quarters and garage underneath are all his.
He sat silently next to me once he'd switched the car off and said nothing, just waited. I think I'd managed to cry myself out and now I just felt exhausted and frustrated and the beginnings of being really pissed off. Always a good sign, an indication I was getting me back and not some fragile weeping girl unable to hold her own against the baddies and monsters of the night.
I opened the door and turned to slide down to the ground. Land Rover Discovery's have a high wheel base and at 5'4” tall, it's a long way down for me. Michel had made it around the car to me before my feet had touched the concrete, offering me his hand. He's old school. Michel is 500 years old so it's not surprising, but the thought of a woman not requiring a hand out of a vehicle, or not have a door opened when they walked up to it, was just not his bag. I was having a hard time bringing him into the 21st century, but then again, I've never entirely been a women's libber anyway. I let him take my hand and help me out of the car.
He pulled me to him again and kissed my forehead.
“I felt your pull, your need tonight, ma douce. I felt the Bond call for some of my powers. It has never done that before. Will you tell me what happened?”
Well, that covered the faster speed than usual thing, didn't it? Here I was thinking I'd just received a ramp up in power levels, when it was actually just on loan from Michel. Bugger.
“Can I have a shower first, then let's talk.”
That received the obligatory raised eyebrows, head cocked to the side, smirky grin. You know the one, the one that says by all means, as long as I get to come too. I just smiled and shook my head. Even in emotional crises Michel could think of sex.
I turned towards the the door that led to the club and stopped. The BMW was back, sitting sleekly in the corner, shiny black exterior, red leather seats.
“I thought you got rid of that,” I said stiffly.
“I live in perpetual hope that you will see reason, ma douce.”
I just humphed and punched in the code to the internal door before Michel got to it. I could feel the weight of his gaze on my back. Michel wanted to look after me, hell he wanted me to be ensconced in his world without any chance of an independent thought or action. Sometimes, it was cute and sometimes, just so damn annoying. The man could smother. And yet, a part of me couldn't help feeling he had no right. I still had trouble forgetting Paris. Forgetting the images of him in another's embrace.
We didn't have to go into the club proper, the access from the garage led to part of the private quarters of the club. Michel had recently had to take on more vampires under his line. An accord with a master vampire named Jock, who had died fighting beside Michel, had led Michel to extend hospitality to those under his line. In a short amount of time, he had almost doubled his entourage. There were still some teething problems and he had settled many of them in Wellington, under the care of Jett, a level two master vampire from Jock's line. Serious sort of dude, lots of curly long black hair and a crooked nose that managed to add to his appeal, not detract. From the brief interactions I'd had with Jett, I liked him. He took his role seriously and despite only a new addition to Michel's line, I think Michel trusted him.
But, because the Iunctio had all but turfed Michel out of Wellington - there should only be one city per Master of the City - all of his vampires had to return. A new section of the club had been made over and plans were in motion to convert the rest of the building into accommodation as well. Just one big vampire Frat House, I guess. The garage came out into the newly renovated section, half way between Michel's private quarters and those of his existing line.
We took the right hand branch of the plushly carpeted hallway towards Michel's area. I walked straight past his office and into his chamber. It was extravagantly decorated. Michel liked to surround himself with beauty and more so here, in his private retreat, than anywhere else. Although Sensations, the club part of this building, was rather well done too, here in his chambers, you got to see a bit more of Michel.
Lush fabrics in rich colours, dark wood, solid modern furniture with an antique twist, comfort and design at its best. It had surpri
sed me the first time I had come here, no coffin, nothing like that, all elegance and extravagance and beautifully put together furnishings. It could have been a room out of a luxury resort, or a top notch hotel, The Ritz or The Regent Beverly Wilshire, but here and there was Michel. A sculpture in the corner from Italy, a small trinket on the bedside table from his childhood, books accumulated over centuries, mementoes and memories in little pockets around the room. It was, for all intents and purposes, his home. He owned other houses around Auckland and New Zealand, but this was where he lived.
I walked straight into the bathroom and flicked on the light. I had to admit, Michel's bathroom outshone mine to an alarming degree. I had a bath and a shower, everything a girl could need, but Michel had a rain shower with multi head massaging jets, big enough for a nest of vampires, not just the two of us, beautiful cream tiles and gold fixtures and a plethora of expensive shampoos and creams and soaps and smelly delights, all provided for me.
He was trying to entice me, to make me spend more and more time here, away from my small but convenient apartment. I think he thought, the more desirable things he dotted around the place, the more likely I was to capitulate. I, on the other hand, had picked up a thing or two from the master manipulator Michel and I was playing him, like a card shark; bring it on maestro, let's see how far you take it. Unfortunately, he'd gone for the BMW. I hadn't quite recovered from that one yet.
I turned the taps on in the shower and proceeded to strip. Michel had followed me in and was leaning against the vanity, arms folded over his chest, legs stretched out and crossed at his ankles. He was in his usual night time business wear. Made-to-measure Armani suit, Italian leather loafers, gold cuff links on his crisp white Pierre Cardin shirt and tonight, a sky blue silk tie. He'd long ago forgone other coloured ties, somehow picking up on the fact that I adored blue, the way it matched his eyes, complemented or enhanced the indigo swirls within.
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