Dancing Dragon

by Nicola Claire

  I looked about the parlour - it definitely had that parlour feeling about it - taking in all of the vampires and singling out the Dark One, filing his position for future reference and then walked over to Michel who sat watching me on a sofa. Part of me thought he might play the dominant master of the line. I had no idea if all of these vampires were his own, one had called him master, but often when in the presence of other powerful vampires - and let's face it, these guys all reeked Sanguis Vitam to alarming degrees - he could be quite standoffish, quite distant, not my Michel at all. I was prepared for it, I'd hate it, but vampire politics are what they are and bitching and moaning about it right now would get me nowhere. I could always take it out on his hide later.

  Now there's an image I liked.

  The corner of Michel's lips curved in a smile and he reached his hand out to me as I approached, pulling me to him on the couch and whispering against my cheek as he kissed me, “I would be careful what images you fill your lovely head with, ma douce, Avery has a habit of plucking thoughts without permission.”

  I raised an eyebrow at Michel, but he just shrugged, his usual elegant movement of his shoulders that could mean anything, or nothing at all. I hastily erected shields around my mind - whoever the hell Avery was, he could kiss my vampire hunter arse. Michel gave me a reproachful look and then his eyes flicked to the vampires in the room and a shot of magenta flashed across them.

  Three of the four vampires immediately knelt before me and all intoned the pledge. You know, the one that pledges their undying allegiance to their master's kindred Nosferatin. All of Michel's vampires do it, when they meet me for the first time. It's weird, but I've got used to it. Kind of.

  I nodded in return - standard response I've been told - and then glared at the Dark One, who undoubtedly had to be Avery. He just looked like a thought plucking pervert. His lips quirked ever so slightly, one second there was a infinitesimal movement on the edges of his mouth, the next those ruby red lips were pursed in a thin line. Yep. Plucking pervert.

  Michel sighed next to me and ran a hand over his face. OK, so maybe I wasn't shielding as well as I could have, stuff it, it had been a tough month.

  “Lucinda, these are Alain, Christopher and Daniel, all of my line.” Michel indicated the vampires who had knelt and pledged, so that meant old Dark One was definitely Avery. And not of his line?

  “Avery Rousseau, my kindred Nosferatin, Lucinda Monk,” Michel continued.

  Avery inclined his head briefly and let his eyes trace over me slowly from head to toe. So, I returned the favour, if we're all going to be obviously leery, why not? He was your typical vampire male; tall, strong, broad shouldered, muscular, blah, blah, blah. Hazel eyes, framed with long sweeping dark lashes, chiselled cheek bones and dark brown, slightly auburn wavy hair tied back at the nape of his neck. He was dressed in the obligatory Nosferatu uniform, that's an expensive suit, super expensive shoes and absolutely ridiculously expensive watch and cuff links. He was perfectly presented, right down to his neatly, precisely, trimmed goatee. A well put-together vampire, if ever I saw one.

  Yep. Typical vampire hottie. Seen one, seen 'em all.

  “You're not even trying, ma douce. Please don't toy with him, he is not of my line and I would hate to kill him defending you. It would cause an unmitigated mess and I simply do not have the time.”

  Michel hadn't spoken quietly, he'd just chastised me in a conversational tone and then taken a large sip from his Scotch. I don't think I was making his day any brighter and looking at Avery, the Dark One, the Plucking Pervert, I hadn't made an outstanding impression there too.

  I sighed and refortified my shields, meticulously adding mortar to the bricks, reinforcing with metal plates and rivets, trying a bit of Selley's All Purpose Gap Filler for good measure and then wrapping the whole lot in chains and padlocks and mentally swallowing the key. When I looked back up at the room with what I hoped was a blank expression, Avery was watching me with a small smirk on his face. The bastard was amused.

  Christopher appeared at my side, stunning smile, dusky blue eyes, sandy blonde shoulder length hair and impeccably dressed in black trousers and a black dress shirt; Michel's standard Durand line wear. Making me think he was perhaps more of a servant, than a confidant, as the others appeared to be. He offered me a steaming cup of coffee and a plate of hot scones, dripping in butter, strawberry jam and topped with whipped cream. Where the hell had that come from? My mouth watered, my eyes bugged out and I all but snatched the offered tray from his grasp, mumbling a heartfelt thank you as I downed a gulp of perfectly brewed New Zealand style Flat White. Heaven in a cup, the elixir of life, my drug of choice, bliss. Could there be anything more precious than a well made cup of Java?

  “Is she always this easy to shut up, Michel?” Avery asked in a deep drawl.

  It's not like you have to read my mind, Plucking Per...

  “Lucinda.” One word. Nothing else and I was once again formally chastised. Michel sure as hell had a way about him.

  Fuck it. Coffee good, company bad. Who cares.

  “Yes, she is,” Michel finally answered Avery. I ignored him and bit into a scone, trying not to let the butter and cream drip down my chin. “So, what else have you uncovered, Alain?” Michel returned his attention to his vampires.

  “Boris was ambushed. It wasn't a coup from within, his forces were loyal, but all of them were obliterated in the take over. Whatever - and I use that term intentionally, not whoever - carried out the attack was swift, precise and successful. No one left to refute the new Master of the City, no one left to dispute it either.”

  Alain had a slight French accent, a bit like Michel's when he's angry or emotional for one reason or another. A nice lilt to his words. He was also not in the least bit hard on the eyes, but this time with blonde hair, tied back and a more casual chic look to his wardrobe. Italian loafers, caramel coloured pants and a cream cashmere jersey, he reeked understated elegance and oozed, surprisingly, level one Sanguis Vitam master. If he was still under Michel's line, he was probably the most powerful vampire of his I had yet seen. His blue, blue eyes sparkled as he spoke to Michel and although hard to believe, a look of devotion crossed his features when Michel addressed him too. Alain looked like a fallen angel and Michel was his god.

  “He fits the description.”

  This time Daniel spoke, shorter than the others, he also had a young boy look, late teens, ripped jeans, black T-Shirt with black leather jacket and boots, well muscled frame, but not over the top vampire physique. To a human, Daniel would fit in. The prodigal son, the black sheep of the family, the young college grad, the hard living motorbike riding young man who comes to take your daughter on a date. Daniel could be all of those things. Short black hair, unusual for a vampire, middle class English accent, smooth perfect cream skin and the innocent, yet exuberant blue eyes of a boy about to start out in life. He could fool anyone, almost. Not me, I smell vampires a mile off. He would have been about a level three Sanguis Vitam master, so don't let the appearance of his youthful age fool you, he packed a punch.

  “He is also very secretive,” Daniel went on. “He does not hold court, nor is he seen on the usual vampire night club scene, although he would have taken over Boris's business interests, he is not running them, a vamp by the name of Francis is. From what we can tell, loyal to Alastair, discreet and extremely private. Business is as usual, but the Master of the City is always waylaid. Unable to attend, otherwise engaged. Any manner of excuses, but no one has seen him.”

  I have, I thought. And he's not exactly tried to hide himself on those occasions.

  “When have you met Alastair?” Avery demanded, giving me a good dose of those piercing, yet captivating hazel eyes.

  “Get out of my head, Plucker!” I replied, not missing a beat.

  He simply turned his attention to Michel, ignoring my reply. “When did she meet Alastair, Michel?”

  Michel didn't say anything, just slowly took another sip of his drink.
>
  “If you are playing with me, Durand, be warned, I will not tolerate deception of any kind.” Avery practically oozed menace, his Dark engulfing his entire body, his shoulders hunched, fists held tightly at his hips. This guy needed to take a chill pill.

  Or a little Nosferatin Light.

  I threw a smidgeon towards him, just enough to tone the Dark down, nothing drastic, it was almost an afterthought. I studied his aura and felt satisfied I'd balanced him out a little. It wouldn't be permanent, for that I would have to blast him with Light and intend him to become one of my line. If I touched him, he'd be subject to me, like Samson. If I didn't, but the same intent was there, he would simply balance out his Dark with Light and then choose how to behave.

  Normally, I'd only do that to a Dark vampire who was breaking the rules, indiscriminately feeding from and/or killing innocents. Avery was not, or at least right now he wasn't. How was I to know if he didn't drain his meals dry like Alastair and leave the corpses to rot on the pavement in Knightsbridge.

  His hazel eyes flashed amber and he let a low growl out from the back of his throat. Some vampire growls can be sexy, some can be frightening and then some can be downright terrifying. I'd put Avery's in the latter category, easily.

  “What did you do?” he demanded of me. I flicked a glance at his aura, still shadowed in Dark, but my Light was definitely still holding in there. Stubborn, just like me.

  “You gave me Light? How dare you?”

  He took a step toward me, I jumped to my feet, tray of scones and empty coffee cup falling to the floor and silver stake in my hand well before Michel had moved. Shit. Even I didn't know I could move that quickly. Avery blinked at my new position, then pulled his teeth back and snarled.

  “Stay the fuck out of my head!” I glared at him and added in my mind, Oh Dark One, to see if I would get a response.

  He pounced, literally flew through the air toward me and met the solid wall of my kindred. Michel's hand went around his throat and he held him still, barely two feet away from my stake. I gave it a little shake in my fingers, letting the light from the room catch the silver. His eyes blazed a brilliant combination of amber, ochre and flashes of jade.

  “Get out of my wife's head, Avery,” Michel growled in a low voice.

  Avery continued to glare at me and then suddenly, as though a light switch had been flicked, all traces of anger disappeared. He was still cloaked in Dark, but his face relaxed, his body unclenched and his hands brushed the front of his suit flat, as though Michel wasn't still holding him captive by the throat. His eyes returned to hazel, his mouth curved in a beguiling smile and he said, with a deep, sensual drawl, “My apologies. It is an enchanting head, it is difficult to ignore.”

  Michel released his throat and visibly relaxed. “Be that as it may, if you trespass again, I shall remind you forcefully who needs whom in this accord, Rousseau.”

  “Of course, Michel. I cannot apologise enough.” He turned away from us both, took in his appearance in the mirror above the hearth and adjusted his tie, flicked a hand through his hair and then began stoking the fire.

  I looked at his back, then Michel's impassive face, then the very still, very tight lined faces of his vampires and then back to Avery's back. What the fuck just happened?

  Later, ma douce, Michel whispered in my mind and took a seat back on the sofa.

  Christopher came in and quietly picked up the pieces of my discarded supper off the floor, I bent to help him, but he flapped my hands away and smiled.

  “Unnecessary, mistress, please allow me.” He wouldn't take no for an answer, so I sat back down on the sofa feeling a little stunned, but as soon as Michel's arm came around my shoulder I couldn't help relaxing into the curve of his side and when his lips brushed my neck, my body simply gave up any fight and willingly succumbed to his influence.

  You're manipulating me through my body, Michel, I mentally chastised him.

  He didn't reply, just ran a tongue down my neck from my ear to my pulse point and all but had me purring. I knew what he was doing, he was disarming me, forcing me to relax, to forget what had just happened between Avery and me. And how Michel had simply stood down when Avery abruptly switched from Mr Hyde, back to Dr Jekyll. I knew this, but I also wasn't a fool. Whether Avery had stopped plucking my thoughts or not, this was not the time to have Michel on about his strange accord partner, nor to demand why he would have an accord with such a man. I told myself the only reason I let him continue to nuzzle me in front of his men, was simply because now was not the appropriate time to demand answers.

  I told myself that, but I think my body had different thoughts entirely.

  Finally, I managed to push back against his hold and gave him a decent glare. Down tiger! His eyes shot indigo and violet and he forced a chuckle back under control, releasing me from his grasp and allowing me sit back up on my own next to him, with just his hand on my thigh, stroking softly.

  Daniel was the first to break the silence, continuing on the conversation as though nothing had happened. That's vampires for you, great at ignoring the bleeding obvious when it suits. “There is absolutely no evidence that they are one and the same. Alastair simply appeared out of nowhere, but nothing I have uncovered to date would indicate he is more than he appears.”

  Alain chimed in. “He does wear the amulet though.”

  “Are you sure of this?” Avery turned his attention from the fire, which by now was blazing and roaring like a Guy Fawkes bonfire and fixed the French vampire a hazel and amber gaze.

  Alain nodded, unperturbed by the Darker vampire's attention. “Quite sure. One of my operatives did manage to infiltrate his boudoir. His lust for blood is not his only failing. He never removes it, not even to shower.”

  I was beginning to get a better picture of who was who in this room the longer the conversation continued. Alain was undoubtedly head of Michel's spy network and had been looking into the sudden appearance of Alastair in London and his claim to the Master of the City role. I was guessing that Daniel was not part of Alain's team, but another spy in amongst Michel's line. Perhaps a lone wolf who could achieve what others could not. And Christopher, well poor old Christopher was clearly Michel's trusted London based servant. Perhaps this was Michel's property after all, even though I shuddered at the thought that he'd own a house as bleak as this one.

  That left old Dark One. Not of Michel's line, but sharing an accord with him and trusted enough to spend the daylight hours in the same building as Michel and his men. Usually a business associate - and that's what accord partners normally are - would only be invited in during night time hours. Vampires are stronger in the dark, they also can retreat and withdraw to other locations if needed. The fact that Avery was here, when the vampires were in effect pinned down by the sun, was unusual.

  All of these thoughts had fluttered through my head in lightning quick succession, but by the time I had reached my incomplete conclusions about Avery, his eyes were back on me. Studying me, watching me, freaking me out just a little. Was he back inside my mind? I chose to ignore him, for now. Encouraging his interest seemed likely to be an act of defiance I would regret in due course.

  “If he wears the amulet, then that is our proof,” Daniel added, getting up to refill his drink at the intricately carved cabinet in the corner.

  “Not necessarily,” Michel answered. “Perhaps the amulet was discovered somewhere. Perhaps the return of the Fey has meant the return of the amulet and Alastair has just stumbled upon the relic by mistake. Can we even be sure it is the taufr?”

  Both Alain and Daniel shook their head, but Avery said, in a low voice, “I would be able to, if I was close enough.”

  Michel shot him a puzzled look. “How, pray tell, Avery, can you discern a fey relic?”

  “I have my skills, Michel, you would be wise to remember that.”

  A threat? I couldn't imagine Michel not bristling at that. But then, he didn't, he just nodded and took another sip of his Scotch. I let a little
breath out soundlessly at his response - or lack thereof - to Avery's outright challenge. Avery's eyes transferred slowly from Michel to me and he smiled. The sort of smile that made you squirm; possessive, controlling, in charge. Just what the hell did Avery have over Michel?

  Avery turned back to Michel and added, “How did you expect to get close to him, Michel? You have had little success so far. He has slipped through every net you have set, yet you have assured me, you can track him. I think it is time, old friend, to disclose whatever weapon you believe to possess.” His eyes flicked to me, briefly, then swiftly returned to Michel, who was now sitting very still beside me on the couch.

  Just how did Michel plan to track down Alastair if his spies had been unable to, save a visit to his boudoir, where I did not want to know what Alain's operative had had to endure? Alastair had not been seen on the night time club scene, according to Daniel, so how do you catch a Dark vampire who has control of the city and is doing whatever he damn well pleases?

  Oh shit. By using the Sanguis Vitam Cupitor, that's how.

  I turned to look at Michel and Avery started to laugh. A full bodied deep laugh, it bounced around the room, but far from leaving me enamoured, it left only cold desolation in its wake. He stopped only long enough to speak, his voice rich and deep and full of promise.

  “Well, well, well, Michel. This will be fun indeed.”

  Chapter 21

  Mind Games

  From the moment I came into the first of my Prophesied powers, namely the Sanguis Vitam Cupitor powers, I feared that Michel would find a way to use me. To use the power that I now possessed. I had at times felt like a tool in Michel's arsenal, something to be cherished, not just for the place I held in his heart, but because of what I could do for him.