Forbidden Drink

by Nicola Claire

  I decided on trying a delaying tactic instead and ran my fingers up Michel's arm, letting my hand rest above his pulse in his neck. A vampire finds that spot very intimate and Michel's eyes flashed a small amount of amethyst at my suggestion. He swallowed and I watched his Adam's apple bob up and down, then shifted my gaze to his mouth.

  “You are not playing fair, ma douce.” He licked his lips.

  “I never said I'd play fair, Michel.”

  He chuckled. “But, you are trying to distract me, I think.”

  I just shrugged, he knew me well.

  “It will not work.” I raised my eyebrows at that. Since when did Michel turn down an offer like this?

  “Your training is too important to me. Besides, once Erika has worn you down, you will be that much more compliant to my desires.”

  “Is that how you like me, Michel? Docile, compliant, cooperative?” I said it with a hint of a smile. I knew Michel pretty well too.

  He growled softly. “This will have to wait, as much as it pains me, but be assured, my dear, there will come a time when the tables are turned and that will be my reward for such control now.” I didn't doubt him, he would now make sure I paid for this momentary distraction and slight on his commands.

  “Bring it,” I said smiling more broadly.

  He couldn't resist forever and the challenge was enough to make his eyes sparkle a brief flash of magenta and then his mouth was on mine, his arms around me, pulling me up off the bed and into his lap. He kissed me like a man possessed, all teeth and tongue and lips and hands, eating me, climbing inside me, taking my breath away, making my heartbeat stutter and my fingers dig into his shirt, pulling him closer and giving as good as I got. I felt him harden beneath me and knew I had him. He couldn't fight this, neither of us could, so I moved against him, encouraging him and moaned a demand against his lips.

  He laughed, registering my desire and need, knowing he had me at the point of no return, begging with my body, my hands, my mouth and tongue. Begging with the little whimpers of need spilling from my lips and then he simply slid me off his lap and stood up with a smile as he walked away.

  “Hey!” I shouted at him.

  He stopped at the door and looked over his shoulder, a satisfied smile playing on his face. His eyes raked over my naked body, from the flush on my face, to the pout on my lips, to the taut tight readiness of my nipples.

  “Round one to me, ma douce. Now get dressed, you'll have an audience, my kin are very keen to see Erika kick your butt, as you say.” And then he walked from the room without a second glance.

  Son of a bitch!

  I heard that, he replied in my mind letting his laughter fill my head as he walked down the hall outside and away from me.

  Damn, but if the man couldn't play the game well.

  I got myself dressed and resigned to the fact that I couldn't get out of this, so within twenty minutes - no way was I not showering after last night's escapades - I was on my way via the fully functional kitchen belonging to the bar, swiping a sandwich Michel's human day staff had sitting waiting for me at the ready. And after a brief thanks and a wave, set out to face just what Erika the Sword had in store for me today. It couldn't be that bad, could it? I was, after all, her master's kindred Nosferatin.

  I was not at all prepared for what faced me. The rec room had been transformed into a legitimate sparring room. All evidence of the casual day resting place of Michel's vampires was gone, instead a padded floor area had been prepared for sparring and various paraphernalia relating, no doubt to sword fighting, dotted the room. Erika had shifted in.

  But, that wasn't the worst of it. Some twenty of Michel's vampires were dotted around the room in various forms of relaxing poses, on chairs and stools and bean bags, waiting for the show to start. I knew most of them too. Bruno smiled at me with a shake of his head, it said everything: you're in deep shit girlie. Shane Smith was there, he's one of Michel's lesser vampires, only 30 vampire years old, or there about, no master status and never would have, but he was usually on my side. Plus Jett, the highest ranking master to join from Jock's line. Dillon Malone was too, Michel's roaming level two master that I think he used as some sort of spy across the country, tracking any of his vampires who travel and those of other lines that frequent our land. Even Doug the barman was here, handing out bottles of beer to the crowd like a bloody drinks vendor at a rugby match. They were certainly gearing up for a spectacle, weren't they?

  I paused on the threshold of the room, mouth full of uneaten sandwich, as I took in the scene before me. I slowly chewed my meal and swallowed, not at all liking the feel of it sliding down my suddenly dry throat. Hmm. This required some serious Nosferatin guts and moxie. Never show fear. Never give an inch. Always stay on guard.

  “So, anyone for poker?”

  I few of the vamps laughed, the rest just shook their heads.

  “No takers, huh? I guess we'd better just get on with this then.”

  I turned to Erika, who was already kneeling on the floor of the padded mat, two swords lying out in front of her.

  “You're late, Nosferatin. That will cost you dearly.”

  Oh great, Erika was one of those task masters then. Just flippin' great.

  “Kind of got held up by the master. You know how he is....” I let that trail off, it also provided a few more knowing chuckles around the room. Maybe I could at least dazzle them with my wit. It was my usual fall back when uncomfortable.

  Erika just looked me up and down, taking in my tight fitting yoga pants and tight fitting T-Shirt. I really thought she'd have little to complain about, you could definitely see my muscles move in this outfit, so I had to force myself not to bite when she finished assessing my outfit and said, “Take the top off, leave the pants, but I need to see your arms, your abdomen, your back. I can't with the T-Shirt on.” Her tone brokered no argument, it was a command, one I think she had used on others she had trained in the past. I was getting the feeling that Erika was a warrior first and foremost, a well trained, highly experienced and highly ranked warrior. I would not show fear.

  I had a sports bra on underneath, that covered me quite adequately, so much to the surprise of several vamps nearby I just did what she asked, without complaint. They all knew me better. Had Michel demanded, I would have thrown a hissy fit. Erika just smiled and it wasn't a knowing smile, just a you go girl smile. We may have been still sizing each other up, but I think Erika might just have had a little respect for me already, like I did her.

  I came and knelt down next to her on the mat, mirroring her stance.

  “We will use bokken when we spar each other, but for starters I want you to practice the Weapon Dance, so as we won't be sparring off against each other, the real deal will do.”

  “Weapon Dance?” It sounded something like a performance, not too hands on at all. That I could handle.

  “We are using traditional Swedish style swords, but a combination of Swedish fighting methods and Japanese kendo moves. When practised repeatedly, your body begins to memorise the muscles needed, the motions required, to carry out the actions of brandishing a sword. Eventually, they will become second nature, you will not even have to think of the action itself when fighting, just follow your muscles' memories to combat your enemy.”

  OK, so pretend moves repeated. How bad could it be?

  I will never ask that question again in my entire long eternal life. Erika had me practising the same moves over and over and over again for more than four hours straight. She barely let me take a breather to rehydrate, only allowing a marathon runner swig from a bottle between one set move and the next. My muscles ached, still not having been healed by Michel since yesterday, my limbs were fatigued, my head pounded and still she kept shouting, “Again!”

  Most of the vampires had given up after an hour or so, some of the more staunch supporters - or sadists, I'm not sure which - stuck around a lot longer. Shane Smith offering me sips from water bottles every now and then, bless him. And Bruno
playing poker with Jett and a couple of others quietly in the corner. Occasionally slipping a glance my way. I guessed he was there on Michel's orders, making sure Erika toed the line.

  When I thought I couldn't possibly last another second she called a halt to the proceeding and took away the sword. Re-sheathing it while I stood shaking and swaying on the mat. I was so relieved I could almost have cried. Finally I could go take a soak in the bath.

  I went to walk off the mat and she growled. Vampire growl.

  “Not yet, Lucinda.” I almost went to say, you can call me Luce, but I am so, so glad I held my tongue, because this woman did not deserve to call me by my nick name. “Now, we spar.”

  Oh fuck!

  Chapter 8

  Never Give An Inch

  “I don't think I have it in me, Erika.” I couldn't deny it any longer, I could almost feel myself sinking into sleep.

  She grinned menacingly. “You giving up on me, Nosferatin?”

  I didn't want to agree with her, but I was knackered, and that's KNACKERED in capital letters. But just then, out to the side of the room, in a gap left by the recently deserting vampires, a flicker of light started and then within seconds the form of my other trainer, - the Nosferatin one - Nero, appeared. Nero can Dream Walk, that's how he trains me from all the way over in Cairo where he lives.

  He took a slow look around the room, taking in the training arena, the few vamps sitting wearily in the corner and the sight of my sweat soaked, slowly swaying self on the centre of the mat and smiled.

  Nero's gorgeous. He's my trainer and I have a completely professional relationship with him, but I still can't help noticing his thick short black hair, the fine lines on his chiselled face, his deep golden brown skin flashing from beneath his cream coloured linen top, his well-toned muscles under his rolled up sleeves and long, lithe physique. But best of all, Nero's eyes shine like a vampires, with coffee coloured swirls and cinnamon flecks in a deep brown well of sheer brilliance. He's the only other human, well half human-half Nosferatin, who has eyes like a vampire. It could be to do with the fact that he is as old as Michel. Immortality must have its perks after 500 years or so.

  He didn't say a word, just took a seat and crossed his legs at his ankles, put his hands behind his head - the usual Nero comfortable sitting position - and inclined his head. So, here's the thing. I could quite possibly have let Erika get the better of me and caved due to fatigue, but with Nero now watching. Not a bloody chance.

  I rolled my shoulders and shook out my limbs, limbering up as best I could.

  “All right, Blondie, bring it on!”

  I think she was momentarily surprised. I think she really thought she had me, but she recovered quickly enough and went and got what I guessed were the bokken; two wooden swords in the same shape as the Svante replicas we had been using for the Weapon Dance and when I hefted one, about the same weight too. I did a few of the practice moves and was surprised at how realistic it felt. So similar, but not quite as deadly. I'm sure though, that a well placed whack from one of these wooden ones would still smart. Here's hoping I could avoid that.

  Of course, I wasn't as smooth as Erika and I was quite sure she was holding back, letting me get the feel of sword on sword, but I kind of held my own. The dance moves she had instilled in me over the past four hours had actually sunk in. Possibly not to the point of intrinsic movements, but, with a focused determination, I could pull them off when needed. Changing my way of thought from repetitive movements, to utilising the strokes I had practised on the fly. Choosing the best action to counter whatever move Erika made.

  She started out making a move and instructing me at the same time on what Weapon Dance action was needed to counter it, but within twenty minutes, she had stopped directing and just let me get on with it. Somehow, I was a natural. I have never picked up a sword before in my life, this was my first training session with a blade or bokken, but it felt like I had done this for years, decades even. I was a bit jerky to start with and the aches were distracting, but I found my groove, I sunk into the rhythm and I began to move with more and more grace. Our combined speed increased with each minute that passed and I vaguely realised that more and more vampires were returning to the room to watch.

  I couldn't better her, there was no chance of that right now, but I knew, just knew, with practice that was not going to always be the case. I'm not sure if this new found skill with a blade was a natural balance, sporting confidence or hard fought from fitness. Or if it was just because of genetics, my Nosferatin fighting skills, blending with those of the traditional Nosferatu. I could tell Erika was surprised, but she was also holding back and when the room was back to capacity, she'd had enough of entertaining me. Quite frankly, I'm amazed she lasted that long. Vampires don't like being shown up. They are natural predators, they crave confrontation and they are always ready to fight.

  She started landing the odd whack of the wooden blade against my side and when that didn't deter me or slow me, she began to jab me with its point. I, on the other hand, hadn't landed a single blow, just managed to stave off most of the attacks, holding my own and no doubt looking good for the part, but not actually closing the deal. The more whacks Erika got in, the more determined she was to make me beg for release, to beg to stop the spectacle it was becoming.

  I noticed Nero now standing at the edge of the mat, I could tell he wasn't happy. I've fought a lot with Nero, side by side against the bad guys of the night and together sparring like I was right now with Erika. And I can tell a lot by the way he holds himself. His arms were now crossed over his chest, his legs spread shoulder length apart, his gaze intense and following every move Erika made. He was sizing her up, looking for a weakness and not impressed she was pushing me to this level. Not impressed at all, that she was using the opportunity to beat me to a pulp.

  For me, there was no going back. I had committed to this to the end. I was not going to show fear. I was not going to give an inch. I would fight this to the bitter conclusion, which I was becoming more and more aware, was going to be me unconscious on the mat.

  Finally, Nero must have had enough, because I caught the glint of his silver stake as it appeared in his hand and watched out of the corner of my eyes as he stepped onto the mat.

  “No,” I breathed out between clenched teeth. “Stand down.”

  Erika cocked her head. “Stand down? Why would I do that, Nosferatin, when I am winning?” Of course, she couldn't see Nero Dream Walking, she had no idea who I was talking to. I just shook my head and kept focusing on warding off her blows. Nero had heard though and reluctantly nodded his head and stepped back off the mat. This was my battle, he would let me fight it how I saw fit.

  He did however make sure I could see him from where I was battling across the mat and he raised an eyebrow and mouthed, “Spin.”

  I had been battling this like a vampire, using strength and speed, agility and endurance as my only weapons. I had not even considered calling on my Nosferatin powers to aid in the battle, it had somehow felt like cheating. But now I realised that that was not the case. Erika had been a swordsman for centuries, I'd had five or six hours training, there was no way I could win a battle against her with that limited amount of experience, so what was I doing? Holding my own, just, but content to let her wear me down until she won and I capitulated in a heap of jelly-like mess on the floor? I don't think so. I never enter a fight unless I intend on winning. What would be the point of that?

  It took me several more minutes to centre myself sufficiently to attempt the move, in the meantime Erika had managed a few more choice bruises to my shins - and fuck doesn't that hurt? - and back. And Michel had decided to join the show. He did not look impressed at all. I have no idea if that was because I was failing miserably and I didn't have time to consider the ramifications of that thought just then, because I'd found my zone. Erika came at me with an overhead swing, which I anticipated might have been her killing, or at least knocking unconscious, move and I spun. />
  I danced up in my Nosferatin spin away from her bokken, away from the bruising glance of her strike, around the back of her and landed with the sword at her neck, coming in from an angle, showing the intent was clear: a decapitation with one blow.

  “Bang, bang, you're dead.” Wrong weapon, but hell I was spent.

  A round of raucous applause and hoots and cries of Well done, Luce! Knew you could do it! Yeah right, on that last one. And Erika dropped her sword in defeat.

  I slowly sunk to my knees in utter exhaustion and glanced up at Nero to mouth, “Thank you”. He smiled, nodded his head and flickered out of sight. My hero, come to add support and guidance even when I didn't realise I needed him. Nero and I are connected, not like Michel and I, or even Gregor and I, Nero is my Nosferatin Herald. He is part of the Prophesy I am also part of. I am the Sanguis Vitam Cupitor, the first key to the Prophesy and he is the one to unlock it, pulling all the relevant parts together to complete its task. So far, I'm the only one to appear, we're still waiting on the rest of them, but in the meantime, he comes when I call, even if I don't realise I've called.

  “Well, you took your time, Lucinda.” Erika said turning to look at me. She was breathless and covered in as much sweat as me, but she was smiling. “I wondered when you'd realise you had more in your arsenal than just guts.”

  Bugger me! Even Erika had expected me to use my Nosferatin skills. I was still trying to catch my breath, so it took a couple of efforts before I could counter her statement.

  “I was trying to go easy on you.”

  She laughed and stepped forward to hold out her hand. I took it and we shook. Hers firm and commanding, but not so firm she was trying to make a point. She leaned in and said, “You are amazing, you know?” Then winked.