Bete Noire

by Christina Moore

  Ash sighed, “There goes my meal.”

  “Holy shit,” Tristan whispered. “What the fuck was that all about?” He pulled his gaze from the empty spot Sebastian left to look at Ash.

  She shrugged lightly. “The fae relied on the elves to help them during the Great War. But the elves were nothing more than spineless cowards and traitors. You just paid Sebastian a great insult.” She paused for a moment, held tilted in consideration. “Yukihime keeps many journals on the other races. It would do you well to read up on them.”

  “And by other races, you mean the seven shinwa.”

  Ash made a small shocked noise. “Y-yes.” She studied him for a moment and then asked, “Sebastian told you?” He nodded and she sighed, looking away. “You should ask to borrow Yukihime’s journals when you return to Japan. There is much you can learn from them.” She looked to him again, smiling though it was forced, sadness lurking on the edges. “She was not always as she is and her older writings are rather legible.”

  The part about “you” returning to Japan and not “us” didn’t go unnoticed. He frowned at her. “Come on, we should get going.”

  She answered him with a foreign word that he guessed was Greek from the sound of it. It wasn’t as soft and pretty as Sebastian’s French. And the look in her eyes, the eagerness, scared him a little.

  The flamethrower was tossed in a black cotton sack along with a few extra knives. And since both of them carried more than a few illegal weapons, they each threw on a long trench coat that made Tristan feel like he was about to step right onto the set of The Matrix. As if to prove it, Ash produced a pair of silver reflective lenses to perch on her nose, hiding her expressive purple eyes.

  Outside it’d only just started snowing. What was left of the winter-dead grass wasn’t even covered yet. Tristan let Ash drive. Sure, he wanted a chance to drive the car again before they left France, but his nerves were on edge. He didn’t feel right. Not even when he went to go kill Malik did he feel this uneasy. And he was convinced he was going to die back then. There was something going on, something deep, metaphysical, that he didn’t understand.

  Ash’s fine-tuned vampire reflexes turned out to be the better option as the snow quickly thickened the further they traveled. Wouldn’t have known it was inclement weather the way she dogged the expensive sports car, weaving in and out of the slower moving motorists as if she had an F-1 race to win. He was too focused on watching for their eminent crash to bother talking. When they crossed out of the main city into the outskirts, Tristan relaxed a little.

  “Hey, Ash.”

  She stiffened, hearing a preview of his thoughts, but didn’t look over.

  “You seem… off these past few days. Are you okay?”

  She cleared her throat softly. He never knew something like that could sound so… elegant. She really did have this way about her that he couldn’t resist. “Of course I am. And no, I am not worried about fighting Lucien. Or his fire gift. He is of no concern other than the squashing of an irritating bug.”

  He sighed, turning to look out the window. After sitting in silence for a long time, he asked, “How old is he?”

  She was silent a moment as she thought, then spoke sounding more like she was thinking aloud rather than speaking to him. “He was born in 1820 and taken 19 years later.” There was a long pause as she let Tristan soak that in while he tried to work out the math. “One hundred and sixty-seven,” she supplemented.

  “One sixty...seven...” he mumbled—seems so young—and sighed. “And a fire user.”

  “Yes, an inept one at that.”

  He looked at her. “What’d you mean?”

  “That fireball he threw…” Ash glanced at him. “It was meant to hit me.”

  “What?” he breathed out.

  “He was aiming for me.”

  “But I thought—”

  “He wanted me for a sex slave? Yes. But it seems he has a desire stronger than his want of me.”

  “Me?” Tristan asked with a high lit. “But why?”

  The car slowed as the terrain grew rougher. There were no more lights or signs of civilization. The Bugatti was not meant for snow and now there was nearly two inches of it. Tristan wondered if they’d be snowed in when they meant to leave.

  Ash couldn’t look at him. “That I do not know.” She shifted in her seat so that the leather of her clothes moaned against the bucket seat. “However, I must say… I was surprised to see the scope of his power. But it is an untamed, wild power. It may be in our favor.”

  Tristan slumped in his seat. Things almost felt normal again with her talking to him like this. Back and forth conversation was… refreshing. “How is his ability to throw fireballs the size of beach balls at us in our favor?”

  “He is in his henkei or transmute phase.”

  Tristan paused a moment, watching as Ash slowed to pull into an invisible drive.

  “Transmute, what, like… developing?”

  “Yes, exactly. In his current state, he is highly volatile. It is not uncommon for a vampire to succumb to their power before fully learning to control it. Fire being the most difficult and radical of them all, he could just as easily set himself alight on accident while he slept as burn down an entire dwelling by a tiny focused thought.”

  “Holy shit,” he whispered. He swallowed hard, his mouth was dry and the small of his back was damp with sweat. “So, what happened in the hotel room, he really did lose control.” It made sense. The young vampire seemed so pissed after he tossed that fireball, now Tristan knew why. Lucien meant to take out Ash. But why? And what did he want with Tristan?

  Ash nodded ever so slightly. “Perhaps so.”

  “Thank God for small miracles,” he mumbled and Ash laughed. He jumped, startled by the sudden burst of noise. “What?”

  “I thought you did not believe in the Oh Mighty Lord.”

  “Don’t be a smartass.”

  Ash sighed as she slowed the car to a crawl when they emerged from the line of wild trees that practically hid the driveway. Set back more than three football field lengths away was an enormous stone building, a great sprawling structure tucked away behind two crumbling watchtowers and a rusted gate, long neglected. And what was an authentic stone-brick castle without an authentic moat. The walk to the building would take the pair through a jungle of untamed gardens and broken water features, down a long driveway of white stone, now hidden under a blanket of snow. If Lucien really was here, it was before the snow since it was untouched and perfect.

  As Ash pulled under a grove of ancient, winter-bare trees, branches laden with snow, Tristan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Anxiety was creeping up his spine, making the back of his neck tingle. He wasn’t worried about his ability to kill Lucien. That wasn’t it. It was one of those bad feelings again—the sudden unease he felt just before his parents died, the eerie feeling he felt in that house before Aaron attacked him. The feeling happened too many times now for him to just ignore it.

  Ash’s leather outfit moaned in the silence of the car as she turned in her seat to look at Tristan. “Are you ready?”

  He swallowed hard and wondered if she could hear his confused thoughts about “the feeling”. “Sure.”

  Ash held up a hand, a little glass vial between her fingers.

  Tristan curled his nose up in disgust. “No thanks, I’ll do without it.”

  Ash looked genuinely confused and palmed the potion. “Why?”

  The memory of the ebb and wan of the pain inflicted on him by Malik’s flunkies was still all too fresh. He was about to open his mouth to explain just that, but then, Ash heard the thought and frowned. “It… did not work?”

  “Well, if you call a spike of pain and then a rush of relief to a dull throb working…”

  She frowned harder. It was not meant to work that way.

  “So, we going or are we gonna neck in the car all night?” he asked. He knew which one he preferred right then. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the one he thought h
e would. He hated the thought that he was now a murderer, but he needed Lucien dead. To see it with his own eyes.

  Ash laughed softly, a low husky sort of laugh and slid a hand behind his neck. It must have been a trick of the leather steering wheel and the confines of the toasty car, but her skin was warmer than usual. “Necking, is that what they call it these days?” Ash kissed him on the cheek and moved to his ear, brushing her lips against him, nuzzling him.

  He pushed at her, but not enough to make her stop. “Come on, it’s getting late. We’ve only got a few hours until sunrise.” As it was now, if they didn’t kill him in the next hour and half then they’d be staying here for the day.

  She made a purring noise in his ear and nudged her lips against the rim. Tristan cleared his throat and tried to ignore her by reaching for the door handle. In a movement too fast for him to follow, she leaned over and grabbed his wrist. He blinked at her from inches away, pressed chest to chest. Her heart was beating against him and his breath quickened.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “What?” she asked, sliding her hand along his arm.

  He couldn’t help it when his eyes shut as she pressed a soft kiss to his neck. “This,” he whispered in a hoarse tone. So not the time for this. Still, it was hard to say no. “Ash. Seriously.” He shrugged her off, tried too, but not enough to actually make her move back. She pressed closer, slipping into his lap so that her ass rested on his crotch, her breasts to his chest and her lips, hot as fire, tasting his neck. “We really don’t have the time for this, it’s getting late.”

  “There is always time,” she whispered.

  Tristan felt the press of teeth and gasped, shoving her back. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  There was something dark and cynical in her eyes as she stared back at him. “I thought that this was what you wanted.”

  In a sudden burst of anger, he lifted her off his lap and deposited back into the driver’s seat. Sure, this is what he wanted, but now was so not the time. He didn’t even bother voicing his thoughts. As he climbed out of the car Ash’s soft, condescending sigh was enough proof that she heard. Movements still rough and angry, he jerked his long jacket off. He was inspecting his weapons, adjusting straps and clothing when a pair of hands slipped around his waist and moved over the front of his pants.

  “Hey!” He grabbed her wrist, holding it up in the air as he spun around to face her. “What the hell? Now?” He let her go. “You really want to do this now?”

  She stared at him a moment with those cold, dead eyes and then smiled in a way that wasn’t her at all. It was… more like him. Her brows pinched together as she heard his last thought but that didn’t stop her from leaning into him with her lower lip between her teeth. A small spot of blood seeped out from between her lips. The urge to wipe that red smear away was almost overwhelming as he watched it run the length of her bottom lip to settle in the middle. She licked it away in a gesture she’d done many times. It was slow, seductive and completely sexual, the tip of her tongue rolling slowly along her reddened lip. It was a gesture Malik had given him once, a gesture he used while trying to get Tristan to play his game.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he whispered.

  “Mmm, I am sure I do not know what you mean.”

  The smell of her blood was overwhelming. The Uruwashi in him screamed, poked at his delicate sensibilities to have a taste. He took in a shallow breath, closing his eyes for just moment. God, it felt so damned good. How did any Uruwashi ever get any hunting done feeling like this?

  He opened his eyes again and met Ash’s sultry gaze. “You’ve been acting strange, out of character ever since we left Japan.”

  “And how do you know what is my character?”

  He frowned, furrowing his brow. “Come on, Ash. I know you and this isn’t it. First you act like you have a thing for Lucien, then you tell me that’s not it. You beat up on yourself, acting the abused woman, then you practically jump me. You let Lucien touch you in the hotel without argument and then come back the next night after fleeing telling me you’re seething to kill him.” He shook his head, disgusted. “You’re just full of contradictions. I just don’t get it, what is your problem?”

  After he stopped talking, he realized what he said may have come out wrong or baiting, but it was what he was thinking. Ash took a step back, eyeing him. The look on her face was familiar, reminiscent of another vampire. She was watching him like the predator she was. Malik looked at him the same way with his cold gaze. And it wasn’t with compassion, wanting or love, it was the need to harm. To eliminate something from his life that he feared.

  “You’re afraid you’re turning into Malik, aren’t you?”

  She couldn’t hide her tension, not even with her blasé answer, “I do not know what you mean.”

  “The hell you don’t. You’ve been off since we left Japan, since Yuki barged in and sent us on this stupid hunt. I thought at first you were afraid or worried about killing Lucien, maybe even thought you couldn’t kill him. But really, you’re afraid that if you continue to hunt down those that wronged you in the past you’d turn into Malik. A bloodthirsty, sadistic, murdering psychopath.” What else could it be?

  Ash sighed, shutting her eyes and making an offhanded gesture before looking at him again. “Before Malik came into my life, I had never killed a single living thing. But after… and now… Is it so wrong to think that I could become the same monster I hate so, by repeating those monster’s very actions?”

  He huffed in frustration, scrubbing at his hair, damp with melted snow. Without his jacket and with the sweat of anxiety building under his thin clothes, he was getting cold. “But you’re nothing like him. Don’t you understand? Jesus. You can never be anything like him.”

  Her jaw hardened. “How do you know this?”

  “Goddammit, Ash!” He spun away from her and slammed his fist down on the roof of the car hard enough that his fingers tingled with the force. He was sure he left a dent but didn’t care. I’m getting so tired of this. Back to her and through gritted teeth he said, “I wish you’d stop beating up on yourself so damned much. What can I do to convince you that you’re not the weak creature you think you are? That Malik tried to make you into?”

  She studied his back for a long moment, her old stoic mien taking over. She was shutting down. She was done talking. “Come, the night grows weary.”

  That’s not all that grows weary, Tristan thought as he listened to the crunch of her boots move away from him. As she removed her coat and neatly folded it to place in the storage compartment, Tristan said softly, “I accept who you are, why can’t you?”

  “You do not even know me,” came her dry answer.

  Leaning against the side of the car, head bowed forward, he sighed. Ash was the most complicated woman he’d ever known.

  How did I end up here?

  Ash growled low in her throat, her expression twisting into anger and Tristan’s attention snapped to her. “You are here because you are Uruwashi.” She stepped around to Tristan. “You are here because I saved you from death at the hand of an inutile jikininki.” She took another step forward, forcing him back a step. She put a single finger to his chest and pushed. Her voice was harsh and biting as she said, “You are here because I chose to allow you to live when all others of my kind rather you dead.”

  Tristan swallowed hard, staring down into her angry eyes. She was seething with nervous energy. Something was seriously wrong and he didn’t know what. She was trying to push him away, to hurt him on purpose. Was she finally realizing how fucking insane it was to be with an Uruwashi as a lover, a man she couldn’t even really be with? Was she finally leaving him?

  It was the smart thing for them both, really…

  He turned away, not wanting to follow the line of thoughts his last musings would bring him to. He took in a few deep breaths, forcing his shoulders to relax. “Why are you pushing me away?” He turned to faced her again. His jaw tightened at the dull, life
less stare she was giving him, as if she didn’t give a shit about anything. “I know you and this isn’t you.”

  The careful veneer suddenly broke. She took the last step into him and screamed up into his face, “How do you know what is me when even I do not!”

  He took a step back, sucking in a sharp breath. He’d seen Ash angry before, but not like this and never directed at him. “I’ve seen you at your most intimate of moments. I’ve seen you when you kill and now that I have killed too, I know. I know, okay? I understand… You forget yourself in that moment. You forget that it’s wrong, immoral, and ugly, that you’re not supposed to hurt others and you just act. Your body just moves and the rest follows. Your true feelings, your true nature boils to the surface in that one, unguarded moment and lets others see who you truly are. What you truly are. A killer. But I… you don’t act on it freely. You’re not a murderer. You’re just trying to live. We all are. The real you may love blood and the thrill of the kill, but it has nothing to do with wanting to harm. You’re just trying to live.”

  Ash blinked back a welling of tears. Her lips trembled as she said, “And that is why you do not know me at all. I have wanted to kill you since the moment we met.” She started to turn away but stopped to add, “And I would enjoy it.”

  Tristan was left staring at her as she walked off towards the castle. “Go home, Uruwashi. Escape the tragic finale of your story for just a while longer. I do not need you.”

  He felt as if she had just stabbed him in the chest. What the hell was happening? How did things turn foul so fast?

  He really had only two ways to react and the one he let guide his mouth to opening probably wasn’t the best of the options. “The fuck I will! You’re wrong. You need me. I’m a fucking Uruwashi. I’m here to kill a vampire and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

  She stopped but didn’t turn to look at him. “Do as you please. Just stay out of my way, I will not be responsible for you.”

  He hissed a noise under his breath, turning in a small circle. He was just so confused and angry. What the hell happened? Who was this woman?