Forbidden Drink

by Nicola Claire

  I drove us back to Sensations after we landed and although it was the first time I had driven the BMW, it felt like home. Michel had chosen well, the car fitted like a glove and brought out the inner hunter in me. I gunned it along the Southern Motorway, managing to avoid a speeding ticket and made it to the city in record time. I dropped Erika at the front of the club, a queue already lining the pavement.

  “You not coming in, chica?”

  “No, need some home time. Washing, you know, domestic crap.”

  She nodded, she knew I was avoiding Michel, but she didn't push.

  “You need anything, another True Blood fest, just call, OK?”

  I smiled and nodded in return and then pulled the car into the K Road traffic, heading towards St. Mary's Bay and my sanctuary. I couldn't wait to get home. It felt like an eternity since I had been alone there. I was craving a coffee, not only the taste of my current Arabica obsession, but the routine of filling the bean hopper, watching the beans grind and smelling the infusion of caffeine through the air as thick, dark, liquid gold poured into a cup. Then topping it with the fluffiest, whitest milk. Perfection awaited, so I didn't delay.

  I parked in a free parking space on the property. Our building was lucky, we had off-street car parking, but not garaging. I momentarily paused by my car, hoping my new baby would be safe out in the cold. I shook my head, I was becoming attached to a bloody car after only one drive.

  The place seemed quieter than usual, but it was fairly late, after midnight, so maybe my neighbours were all having early Sunday nights, back to work tomorrow, gotta be prepared.

  I had just made it past Mrs Cumberland's, her curtains drawn, light shining through from behind, but no T.V. to be heard, which was a little strange, when I sensed it. I don't know what, but the hair on the back of my neck lifted, like hackles and I immediately slipped my stake out of its pocket. It wasn't vampires, so the stake would probably be a waste of time, but it was something that set my internal warning bells off. And they were clanging.

  I glanced around at the bushes that bordered our property, but nothing seemed amiss. I even sniffed the air, which until recently had made me shiver in discomfort whenever I felt the urge to smell, but it didn't faze me now. Determining what was making me jumpy was more important. I couldn't tell what it was so I continued on to my apartment.

  I noticed the door first, it was hanging off its hinges, no lights were on inside, but the external sensor lights, which had flicked on as I approached, shone through the shattered windows illuminating the room within. I took a sharp breath in at the destruction and then was instantly surrounded by vampires.

  “It has only just happened,” Michel said quietly behind me. “Secure the building and land,” he commanded his vampires and they flashed to various places around the property. Bruno streaking inside my apartment to assess the threat.

  I stood still while the movement of the vampires swirled around the periphery, numbed by the violation to my home, my sanctuary, my refuge. Bruno came out and announced it was all clear and I shot inside to inspect the damage.

  Nothing was left to salvage. My cream sofa was a ripped-stuffing explosion of broken pieces, my dining suite just tinder. My coffee machine, oh hell, my Saeco Royal Professional cost-me-a-month's-salary coffee machine was in pieces on the bench, as though someone had taken delight in dismantling it and crushing each individual piece. I couldn't even cry. I turned numbly to my bedroom, noticing Michel was watching me quietly from the door, just inside the threshold, but not daring to come closer. My bedroom was just as bad, the bedding shredded, the frame destroyed and my laptop; little teeny tiny pieces of electronics scattered on the floor. Above my bedhead was a long series of slashes. Claw marks, definitely claw marks.

  The coffee machine had already given me a clue. Rick and I had enjoyed many coffees at that bench, savouring the perfect brew that it created, but this mark, this gash against my wall, sealed the deal. The shape shifter had left me a welcome home message. Bastard.

  “You can stay at Sensations, it will be safe there.” Michel was behind me, close, closer than I wanted him to be.

  I took a step further into my room and turned to face him, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “I don't want to stay at Sensations.” I hadn't said it petulantly, just an even flow of words.

  “You are not safe here, ma douce.”

  I looked around the mess, fractured glass from the windows littering the floor and letting in a late night breeze, swishing the torn curtains as it passed. There was nowhere to sleep or sit, he was right of course, but I would not stay at Sensations.

  “Can I stay at your house in St. Helier's?”

  Michel's eyes widened slightly, then returned to their normal neutral mask. “Of course. But you would be safer at Sensations.” He held a hand up as I opened my mouth to argue. “I would stay at the house and give you the chamber, if you would agree.”

  “I'm not turfing you out of your home, Michel. And I know Sensations is a home to you.”

  He looked at me for a while. “Would you allow Erika to stay with you at the house?”

  I really wanted to be alone for a while, I knew Erika would be quiet, but she'd relay everything that I did to Michel. I just couldn't face that type of scrutiny right now.

  “Maybe later, but not tonight. I need to be alone tonight. The house is well warded and Rick doesn't even know it exists, so I should be safe. You can...” I sighed, I guess I would have to meet him half way on this one. “...you can have some vampires guard it if you like, but not inside.”

  He smiled slowly. “Thank you... Lucinda.”

  I shook my head, we were reduced to formality. Shit.

  I walked over to the bed and tried to lift the frame, it was heavy, even with my Nosferatin strength, or I was tired and beaten. Definitely beaten. Michel was beside me in an instant lifting the frame away from my chest beneath. The chest had survived, thankfully. Obviously missed in the chaos that had reigned. I opened it up and took in the stash. Four perfect silver stakes, along with four brand new silver knives, all nestled safely in their fitted slots. I shut the lid and turned to my wardrobe.

  They hadn't missed in there, much to my disgust. My clothes were all ruined, even my Bank Teller uniform, but hidden in the back of the closest was another box. I hauled it out and checked to make sure my satellite phone was OK. All good. A gift from Nero and an occasional Nosferatin necessity. Sometimes you just need a means of communicating that can't be traced or overheard.

  I placed the satellite phone on the chest and looked around. I had some clothes and my toiletries already packed in my bag outside, there really was nothing else I needed.

  Bruno entered then and took the chest and box out, no doubt to my car. I didn't argue, Michel would have called him and I couldn't be naffed carrying the things anyway.

  Silence stretched between Michel and me, standing in the mess that was my room, a sure representation of my life. I wanted to say something, to apologise maybe, to ask him why? But I couldn't even do that, it was too soon and I was too tired. He noticed and just smiled, I think he was as tired as I.

  “I am pleased you are home, ma douce. I am pleased you are well.”

  Yeah, as far as welcome homes went, it pretty much sucked.

  Chapter 16

  Changes

  Michel walked me to my car and just stood there with his hands in his trouser pockets, his Armani jacket open and pushed back. I forced myself to look away from him, it hurt to just glance upon his face, his body, his beauty. What a fucking idiot I was.

  What a fucking idiot he was.

  I straightened my shoulders, refusing to address the issue. If I just kept it at bay, I could do what I needed to do and right now that was getting into the car and driving away from the man I loved and had hurt so much. From the man who kept hurting me.

  “I will arrange for the apartment to be refurbished," Michel said quietly, dark blue eyes watching me closely. "But, until this issue w
ith the Taniwhas has been resolved, it would not be safe for you to return. I cannot ward against shifters.”

  “I guess I'll have to let my landlord know.” I'd never spoken to my landlord, just dealt with a letting agency, the middle man. Michel hadn't said anything, so I chanced a glance at him. His smile was rueful. Oh shit. “You're my landlord, aren't you?”

  He shrugged, that elegant shift of his shoulders. “It seemed the best way to ensure your safety.”

  I took in a slow breath. “Have you owned it since I moved here?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you know I would choose this one?”

  “I had the real estate agent only show you my properties.”

  I laughed out loud at that. The man was simply incorrigible.

  Then a horrible thought dawned on me. “Did you arrange the transfer too?” My voice had gone whisper quiet. My transfer to Auckland from the BNZ bank in Cambridge had been a big coup for me. Country Bank Teller stepping into the Big Smoke worker's shoes. I lifted my head up to meet his eyes. I'd been looking at the ground as I asked that, too scared to see his reaction, but I needed to know this, I needed to know the truth.

  “Would it be better if I lied?”

  I didn't want to hear those words, I didn't want to know what I had already figured out in my head. I didn't want it. At all.

  Loss of control. Manipulation. I had only just begun to accept his recent actions to some degree, now I felt all the anger and frustration well up again as though no progress had been made on my part at all.

  My inner monologue whispered vampire is as vampire does. I told it to shut the fuck up and opened my car door to slide inside. Starting the engine in a flash and reversing out of the car park without a backward glance. Michel didn't try to stop me, he didn't say a word. And I didn't look back at him, as I sped down the street and away from the heart of my messed up, fucked up, totally screwed up, life.

  I made a brief stop at a supermarket along Quay Street to grab some food and supplies, I didn't want to brave the night again when I got to St. Helier's. It was further out of the city than I really would have liked, if I felt my evil-lurks-in-the-city pull, it would undoubtedly take me longer to get to the problem and neutralise it before damage was done, but I did have a fast car now. I was sure I could just manage to meet my previous on-foot speed, just.

  The lights were on at the house as I approached along the cliff top, that didn't surprise me, Michel would have sent some vampires ahead to make sure it was safe and probably make me feel welcome. I parked the car in the open garage, flicking the automatic door switch on the wall at the internal door and grabbing the remote to place in my car. I took my bags and chest and box in and dumped them on the floor in the kitchen.

  A quick glance around and I took in two things. One, there was a Royal Saeco Professional coffee machine on the bench that hadn't been there the last time I came here and two, there was a long wrapped item on the breakfast bar. A small card leaning against it. It never failed to amaze me at how quickly Michel could work. Part of me wondered if he had suspected, even engineered, me into moving in here, I wouldn't put it past him. But I pushed that thought aside. I had been the one to suggest it, he just has telepathic mojo and a multitude of vamps at his disposal to get the items he wanted, when he wanted, to the place he wanted them to be, with ease. Vampires.

  I walked over to the machine and switched it on. First things first. I needed coffee. It would take a couple of minutes for the behemoth coffee magic maker to stir to life, so I turned to the long item on the bench, picking up the card. In Michel's old-style flowing writing it read: I had hoped to present this to you in person, ma douce. Please honour me and accept this gift as it is intended. M.

  I stared at the card. He knew I wouldn't want to accept anything from him right now, I didn't deserve a gift, he didn't deserve to give me one, but asking me to honour him by accepting it, well that just made my rejection of it childish, didn't it? I sighed and unwrapped the parcel.

  As soon as I lifted it I knew what it would be. A shorter Svante sword, in a beautifully intricate scabbard, inlaid with with tiny bees and flowers, only noticeable when you ran your fingers over the leather. Perfectly made, precisely created, it was beautiful. I ran my hand over the sheath, noticing something else dropping out of the wrapping as I lifted it closer to my eyes. I glanced at what had fallen out, trying to figure out exactly what it is. Finally, I put the sword down to look at the strips of soft leather, almost suede and shook it out. It was a holder of some sort, designed to secure the blade and scabbard to me. I had seen Erika wearing something like this, it allowed the sword to hang down her back, under her jacket out of sight, the hilt covered by her hair. She had little difficulty removing the blade from its sheath when required. I looked at the contraption and realised I'd need to practice that move a bit before I was anywhere near her proficiency.

  I pushed that thought aside and returned my attention to the sword. The hilt was breathtaking. I'd practised with swords of Erika's, all of which seemed to be rudimentary, utilitarian in their ornaments. Plain bronze or copper wire surrounding the handle above a simple curved cross bar. But this, this was truly something else. The hilt was awash with different colours, woven together to make a pattern of sorts. At first I thought it was geometrical or just random, but then as I turned it slowly in the lights of the room I began to get a picture of what it was. A dancing dragon. The entire hilt was one colourful dancing dragon.

  I had seen this dragon before, at Michel's chamber in Sensations, on-board his private jet and now here. It meant something to him and he had now given me one too. I sat down in the stool next to the bench, unable to hold my own weight anymore. Of course, he'd had this commissioned before I was unfaithful, before I had pulled away. Perhaps he regretted it now, but then, he could have just not given it to me and had another made in its stead. He'd chosen to carry through with the gift, unchanged, despite what had happened.

  There was no denying, it was beautiful. I stood again and practised a few moves, a few Weapon Dance motions, getting the feel for the sword. It was perfect. Like the car, Michel had given me something that felt like home.

  I spent a few minutes just swinging the thing, but kitchens really aren't conducive to swordsmanship, so I re-sheathed it carefully and laid it down on the bench with reverence. A weapon like this deserved respect.

  I made quick work of my groceries, stacking them away, downed a well deserved and fantastic coffee and then switched all the downstairs lights off and headed to bed. I had stayed here once before, while recovering from the first time I had Dream Walked twice in one night. I was out cold for a week then and didn't stay much longer than that, so I spent a little time getting familiar with the layout. The room I had stayed in before was not the master, it was large enough and had a view of the sea, but I didn't fancy sleeping in there. I almost walked on past the master suite, thinking it just wouldn't be right, but something caught my eye from the door.

  The light was on in the ensuite bathroom and as I walked towards it, intending to switch it off and go in hunt of another place to sleep, I smelt it. Mandarins. I pushed the door open and swore softly. He'd run a bath for me, copious amounts of mandarin smelling bubbles waiting for my submission. I stood still at the door for a moment trying to decide, but tiredness and mandarins won, and within minutes I was soaking in the still warm luxury of an oversized jacuzzi tub, trying not to sigh.

  Once I exited the bath, after twenty minutes of sheer bliss, I was simply way too tired to venture elsewhere, so climbed between the crisp cotton sheets, not even bothering with a nightdress and fell instantly asleep.

  I slept soundly, the only dream I remembered was a dragon dancing around my bed.

  I headed in to work early the next morning after a wonderful coffee wake-up, not sure where I would park, but on the way along Tamaki Drive I noticed a parking permit on the dash of the car. I had no idea if it had been there before, but if it had, I just hadn't noticed. I pi
cked it up and registered it was for one of the parking garages in the CBD, not far from the bank. I was guessing it hadn't been there before. I could have just parked at Sensations for free, but that would have been too close for comfort. A little petty part of me was angry at Michel, angry that he was trying to think of everything to make this easier on me, to allow me to keep my distance but not be inconvenienced by exorbitant car parking prices in downtown Auckland. He was making my life too easy and I just didn't quite know how to deal with that. Damn him for being so reasonable and nice.

  I took in a deep breath and parked in the garage anyway. I'd have to spend my lunch hour shopping for clothes, I really wasn't in a position to be fussy about money saving gifts. Luckily, I had a spare uniform at work, so dressed appropriately, I put in a request for more supplies and started my day. There is just something about my daytime job that settles me. The repetition of counting coins soothes my soul. One morning of that routine and I was more clear headed than I had been in days. I zoomed around shops in my lunch hour, managing to spend a month's salary in one manic shopping spree, but believe me, with lingerie and necessities, as well as a few mix and match items, you'd be surprised at how much a closet full of clothes will cost you. If I wasn't already so pissed off at Rick about the whole killing Jerome and coming after me part, I would have killed the prick right then and there for destroying my wardrobe. You never go after a woman's clothes, never.

  The afternoon passed as swiftly and before I knew it, I was in rush hour traffic, crawling out of the CBD towards my new temporary home. I knew there was a reason I liked to live in St. Mary's Bay, fifteen minute walks home and no honking drivers getting pissed off at the expensive BMW cutting in front of them before the lane finished. Merge like a zip people!