What to do? He reeked evil from every pore, it was like treacle, thick and viscous, sweet smelling, but slightly burnt. Coupled with the amount of Sanguis Vitam rolling off him, he was no two-bit player. A master in every aspect. In fact, I had a sneaky suspicion, he was more than just your average level one master. I'm not quite sure what tipped me off about that fact, but my inner monologue was whispering, tread carefully, very carefully inside my head. I usually listen to that voice, it's pretty damn perceptive.
“Another Nosferatin. How droll.” His accent was upper-crust British. Not surprising, considering I was in London. Knightsbridge to be precise. Not all vampires have well bred accents, but when you've been dead a few centuries you learn to pick up the accent of your choice. This chap had been around close to a thousand years, not a usual age for a vampire - usually they don't make it that far, a stake in the chest will do it - and he had established himself in the upper echelons of society, I should think. “Have your brethren not passed on the memo?” he purred.
What memo? I chose to ignore his urbane question and just glanced down at the dead human at his feet and then slowly up the length of his tall body to finally rest my very hard stare on his face. He noticed the move, creepy but true. Until now, there were only two other vampires who could see me in this realm - this Dream Walking realm - and to them I appeared as nothing more than a hazy outline, a representation of my aura. This vampire, somehow, could see all of me. I don't know how, but I sure as hell would like to find out.
But, first things first, show no fear. Rule number one on the Nosferatin charter of behaviour.
“You seem to have over indulged this evening, vampire. Tsk. Tsk. It is against the rules, you know.” I fingered my stake, allowing the silver of it to catch his eye. He just smiled more broadly.
“You are on my turf now, Hunter. My rules. My world. You are not welcome here.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” I answered and spun in the air towards his right hand side.
Spin fighting is one of my learned talents, it's not inherited, not inherently Nosferatin, just a skill taught to me by my former Nosferatin trainer, Nero. He had been the master of the manoeuvre, a stunningly brilliant move he made look mesmerizing. We have enhanced speed, courtesy of our ancestors and joining with a kindred Nosferatu, making the spin appear nothing more than a blur and the time taken to cross the space between where I had been standing, to where he hovered over the remains of his supper, only a split second. Usually enough to get the drop on the vamp I was after. Not only because of the superhuman speed, but because the move is spectacular and even the undead have an appreciation of beauty.
Of course, occasionally it can go wrong. Like tonight.
I landed to the side of the vamp and had my stake up ready to make the killing blow, when he simply thrust out a hand, taking advantage of my continued momentum, casually flicking me away. He would have used a fraction of his full strength, nothing more than a slight movement of his fingers, like you would if you were swatting a mosquito away. But, it was enough to send me over ten feet down the paved lane and crashing against the glass of a boutique shop window, tumbling through the enclosure and across the polished concrete floor of the shop.
Clothes stands went flying, designer garments crashing to the ground and the ornate counter providing a shockingly non-absorbent landing pad. I felt the bones in my right arm, my fighting arm, shatter on impact. Crap, but it hurt.
He didn't fly after me in that preternatural speed they have, he simply stepped over the carnage of the window, the scattered outfits worth thousands of pounds and glided across the mess with slow purpose towards me. I struggled to right myself, using only my left arm, transferring my stake to my non-dominant side and pushing up off the ground, turning to face him.
OK. So he had some clout, but I don't give up that easily. One handed I still had some tricks up my sleeve.
I started gathering my Light, preparing to blast the Darkness out of him and turn him from something completely engulfed in evil to something with a choice. Usually, they chose to carry on with their nasty ways, but occasionally they did the right thing and walked away a new vampire, ready to start a life well within the rules. When he made it to within two feet of me, I began to release my Light, as though I was physically touching him, prepared to bring him into my line. I wouldn't have to do that though, it was all in the intent. I have one vampire already in my line, but that didn't mean I had to have more. As long as my intention was to bring the Dark vampire under my wing, the Light would do the rest.
I really didn't want to add to my stable, so avoiding physical contact was essential in this little routine. As long as I didn't touch the object of my Light's focus, they would simply be balanced out and have a choice to make. Good versus Evil. Light versus Dark. I could live with that. If they chose the wrong way, I'd just stake them. If they made the right choice, I'd let them go on their merry way with a rap across the knuckles.
Easy.
Except, when they try to grab you as the Light flees your body. Of course, the outcome would be basically the same, although they would no longer have a choice, they would simply be under my command, under my line, subject to me. Their new master. But, they would be good and not evil any more. I did not want that. I really needed to get over this little aversion to adding to my family line, because I immediately flinched as the vamp's hand wrapped around my wrist, painfully tightly and changed my Light from a balancing the universe power, to simply its natural manifestation in an instant. A natural reflex action to the abhorrence of adding to my line.
Damn.
The vampire collapsed to his knees, a small moan escaping his lips, with me in tow. Unfortunately, my Light has a habit of including me in the experience when I don't temper it at all, when I let it do its thing in its natural form. And unfortunately, its natural form is rather an embarrassment.
Heat washed over us and wrapped around our bodies, sending shockwaves of pleasure through the length of us, melding us together in an erotic maelstrom of desire, lust, hunger and need, taking us on a high like no physical intimacy ever could. The after effect was always one of sated bliss, a post coital experience without having to get dirty to achieve it. Yuck. I hated that this was my natural Light's ability. Sure, occasionally it was fun, but only when I did it with my kindred.
This guy was not my kindred, not by any stretch of the imagination.
He recovered faster than most, but then maybe finding release through physical contact was just par for the course in an evening's adventures for this chap. He rolled over the ground, covering the distance between us in a split second, to press my body into the scattered garments at my back, making a surprisingly comfortable bed. The hard length of his body moulded to mine, his hands securely fastening my arms at my side, a simple twist of my wrist and my stake was gone. The break in my other arm screaming, but the voice in my head drowning it out. Shit. This was not good.
He leaned in slowly, his face at my neck and inhaled. Vampires love scent, it's very personal and very revealing for them. They can hunt you by your scent alone, they can recognise you, taste you, be captivated by you, all because of your scent. It is erotic to them, enticing, enthralling and in some cases, absolutely addictive to them. If your scent just happens to be the one that hits their buttons, you're doomed. I held my breath and prayed to every god I knew, that this guy didn't have a penchant for candied apples, sunshine, honey and Spring. My signature scent.
“You are divine, Nosferatin.” His face came away from my neck and took me all in, scanning my eyes, my cheeks, my jaw line, the rapidly beating pulse at the base of my neck.
I shifted against him, trying to find a weakness in his hold. Useless. Futile. A waste of friggin' time.
He smiled wickedly. “It is a shame I shall have to end your existence here. I cannot afford word of my exploits to reach the wrong ears.”
No, he couldn't. If the Iunctio found out, they would send their Enforcer after him. Th
e Iunctio may not have been the good guys as such, but they liked their rules. This vampire was well outside of them tonight. But, at least, the fact that he wanted to kill me, meant my scent hadn't triggered a possessive, must-add-you-to-my-harem desire in the vamp. He wouldn't be hell bent on chasing me down because I smelt nice any time soon. That was of course, if I could away from him now.
The pain in my arm had escalated to an alarming degree, making it hard to think clearly and sweat begin to grace my skin, from head to toe. A sense of nauseous unease had also settled in my stomach, making me repeatedly swallow back bile in an effort to not up-chuck all over this guy's expensive outfit. Of course, as far as defensive manoeuvres go, perhaps it would have been a good one. Unexpected at any rate.
I needed to get out of this situation and fast. It would take a split second for this killer to pounce, I didn't get the impression he was in the mood to play with his meal. It would be lights out the moment he wished it so. Frantically trying to think of an out, I realised my only form of escape with a fractured arm and a powerful vampire sitting on my chest, was a Walk back down Dream Walking lane. I needed to get out of here and back to my body, in my house in St. Helier's Bay, Auckland.
I centred myself on my frantic heartbeat. It didn't bother me that it was fast, the repetitive sound of it was enough to meditate my way into a trance-like state, allowing my mind to fall back into the nothingness that leads me back to my body. Most vampires can't tell what I am attempting to do - well hell, if they can't see me it's pretty easy to pull it off - but this guy, was watching me intently. He may have had every intention of ridding the world of my existence, but he wasn't opposed to having a little play before he completed the deed.
I guess my scent was good enough to get mildly distracted by after all, even if it wasn't his drug of choice per se.
He shifted above me, not erotically, just to get a better hold of my fractured arm, to encase the rest of my body with his. To limit any avenue of escape. He inhaled my scent again and nuzzled my neck above my pulse, right over Michel's new mark. He may not have been getting off on holding me captive, well not in a sexual way, but he certainly was getting his fix for dominance and control tonight. He had decided to have a little fun before he finished me off completely. It's not the first time I have been faced with an aggressive vampire pinning me to the floor, so I did my best to ignore his movements, his low growl-come-purr as he satisfied the predator within and worked on settling my mind.
Of course, he figured out fairly quickly that I wasn't going to play the game, but then vampires have more in their arsenal than just good looks, quick wit and long fangs. His Sanguis Vitam washed over me in a delightfully delicate touch, so not what I was used to with a vampire, especially one riddled with Dark. It had a timeless quality to it, as though an eternity had been spent perfecting it, smoothing it, making it just right. Not too heavy handed, not too weak, just perfect. It wrapped around me and caressed my cheeks, my neck, down my back, making me still my movements and my heart leap into my throat, knowing what was coming next and dreading it. He growled low in appreciation of my response. You could just tell what he was thinking, that's better, now we're cooking with gas.
I frantically tried to clear my head, to not show fear. I have some natural resistance to vampire mojo, they can certainly get the better of me if I'm not in top form, like when I have the distracting pain of a fractured arm, but I am a professional too. I blocked out the pain as best I could and then reinforced my shields. The longer he took to enjoy his game, the more time I had to sink back into the black nothingness of my mind. I offered up a whimper to keep him happy and then turned my attention solely on returning to my body.
It was hard, he was good. Not just the power of his Sanguis Vitam, but the skill in which he increased my fear, threatened to harm me further, squeezed my fractured arm with just enough pressure to remind me of what could happen, but not in fact follow through yet with the threat. And then he ran his fangs over the my flesh above my pulse in my neck, the implication obvious. I'd interrupted his meal tonight, he wanted compensation. He knew what he was doing, he knew exactly what would work, but he hadn't countered on the fact that I was already pretty angry when I was called here by my Dark Vampire seeking powers, or my role as the Sanguis Vitam Cupitor. I was actually pretty pissed off in fact, with vampire power plays and politics, not to mention mood changes and possessiveness. This vampire may have been strong, ancient and powerful, but he was a walk in the park compared to my kindred right now.
I pushed out everything he was doing, calling on all of my resources and any additional power I could find within and fell away into the void with frantic need, coming to on my bed, the shutters down for the day, blocking out what sunlight there may have been and the dim glow in my bedroom casting an eerie light across the room.
I had done it. I had escaped, but I hadn't saved the human. Nor the three glazed Norms watching from the wings. I groaned aloud at the thought of what the vampire would be doing to them now. He wouldn't show mercy, he'd proved his intent with the death of his first meal and now I had slipped through his fingers, he would be mad. The audience was as good as dead and I had failed.
Shit.
I took a deep breath in and sat up on my bed cradling my fractured arm and trying not to let the tears flow. I blinked them away frantically and when the room lost that blurry edge, was rewarded with a sight I had not expected. I just about hit the roof in surprise.
Michel sat in an armchair across from me, legs crossed, eyes glowing magenta in the dark, watching my every move. The fact that he was in my bedroom, the room I usually share with him, was not the surprise. The fact that he was here during daylight hours when he has been staying at Sensations, his club in the CBD, was.
Oh no. This was not going to be good.
“Lucinda. Would you kindly tell me what the hell it is you have been doing?”
Oh no. Not good at all.
Find more Nicola Claire books at: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5831941.Nicola_Claire
Giver of Light Page 42