by Sophia North
"Well, whoever he is, he thinks he's a bloody vampyre or something. And how did he jam my computer system? I mean...what the hell, Simone?"
Simone glared back. He had a point about the bosses. They would have questions about Jack's inability to cut the caller off. But what could she do? There was no way she was going to mention anything about Dante.
"I'm leaving," she said, grabbing her coat. "I can't handle this tonight. I need some time to think!"
"You can't leave! We need a plan for dealing with the higher ups."
"To hell with them," Simone responded, striding purposely towards the studio's exit.
At the door, she paused as a wave of sympathy for her producer washed over her. His anger was understandable. He couldn't be expected to accept all this talk of vampyres and prophecies when she was barely able to wrap her own head around it all.
"Jack, I'm sorry," she apologised. "Things are just too messed up right now."
"Fuck being sorry," Jack shouted back. "It's not good enough, Simone..."
Simone closed the door behind her, leaving Jack to continue his tirade alone. She took the elevator down to the basement car park and strode towards her Tesla, pulling the collars of her coat close, as her heels echoed in the grey vastness of the concrete structure.
It was cold in the car park and felt even colder for its emptiness. At one a.m. there were only a handful of cars, most of them belonging to the night shift staff. Simone always tried to park close to the lift, a woman at night could never be too careful. But tonight she was even more grateful for its close proximity. She needed to get away, clear her head, focus.
With her hand on the handle of her driver door, she caught a reflection in the window. Someone was standing behind her.
Startled, she turned round and was confronted by a short, thick-set man with black bushy hair and piercing eyes.
"My, my," he muttered, stepping closer and running a hand through her hair, "I'm going to enjoy draining you."
Pushing his hand away, Simone tried to stay strong. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice sounding scratchy. "And don't you dare touch me."
"Feisty too, eh?" the man responded with a laugh.
Simone tried to think of something to say in order to buy a little time when her next words just fizzed out. "This is to do with the caller tonight...it's to do with Dante, The Watcher, isn't it? You're not really interested in me."
"The whole world is interested in you, my pretty," he hissed. "The beautiful Simone, whom Dante Polidori seeks - oh yes, my pretty, he must like you."
"You're wrong. He does not like me. I'm only his therapist."
"Oh, my master knows you are more than that. But not for much longer."
The man suddenly placed a hand on the back of her neck. Simone had not even seen him move. His hand was just there.
Restrained against her car by his bulk, she tried to push him off but he was as immovable as a mountain. "I'll scream," she gasped, "someone will hear."
The man chuckled at her threat. He was nothing less than calmness personified, which made her feel horribly weak.
She then felt a sharp pain on the side of her neck, as his mouth began to gorge itself against her throat. He was drinking her blood. Like a vampyre!
The pain soon disappeared, replaced instead by a strange numbing sensation. In her right ear she could hear her attacker swallowing.
'He's drinking my blood! He's drinking my blood!' she panicked.
She tried to scream, but nothing came out. Just soundless breath.
Overwhelmed by a hazy, light-headedness, her will to fight started to surrender. It was all over. Whatever he was, this creature, this vampyre sucking her blood, he was far too strong.
Slowly, everything began to fade when all of a sudden she felt the vampyre being pulled from her. Her legs buckled and she collapsed onto the ground, instantly losing consciousness.
Dante's rage burned like fire through his veins as he pulled the vampyre off her before flinging him through the air. Glancing down at Simone, who lay slumped on the floor, he initially feared the worse.
Was he too late?
Gently pressing his fingers against the bite mark on her neck, he nearly cried out in gratitude when a faint heartbeat pulsed to life.
His relief was short-lived. Attacked from behind, Dante shifted his weight at the last second and sent his opponent catapulting over Simone's car and into the concrete wall on the far side of it.
The wall crumbled under the force of impact and at its base Simone's vamp attacker laid motionless, covered in rubble.
Dante watched the vampyre's unanimated body quickly come back to life. Something wasn't right. A blow like that should keep a vampyre incapacitated for much longer.
Finally able to get a good look at Simone's attacker, Dante recognised him as Samsun, an old acquaintance from way back. His anger now mixed with surprise. Samsun was known for being a gregarious, easy-going vampyre.
But before Dante had a chance to say anything, Samsun came charging at him like a vamp possessed.
Dante's superior reaction time allowed him to spin his attacker through the passenger window of Simone's Tesla. The deranged vamp went straight out the opposite window, the sound of breaking glass echoing inside the empty car park. And then there was silence.
Cautiously, Dante moved to the other side of the car, certain Samsun was not finished. At best, he would merely be dazed.
But there was no sign of him. The vamp had given up the fight and fled.
"Another time," Dante muttered in reference to Samsun's defection.
He quickly returned to Simone, concerned she might require medical attention. He'd felt a pulse but could not be certain she was out of the woods yet. A vampyre bite was serious business.
Relieved to discover her sitting up, rubbing the side of her neck, he knelt down beside her. "You have strong recovery powers," he said.
Simone removed her hand from her neck and noticed a smudge of blood on her palm. "He bit me!" she exclaimed. "He was drinking my blood!"
"It's what vampyres do," Dante muttered, helping her back to her feet. "Well, some vampyres," he corrected.
Standing on shaky legs, Simone looked into Dante's eyes and whispered: "It's true then. You are one too?"
Instead of verbally agreeing, he decided to confirm her query by revealing his fangs. Unfortunately, the gesture had rather too much effect. Simone gasped in astonishment before promptly fainting in his arms.
"Wrong move, Dante, you idiot," he muttered, cradling the unconscious woman.
Chapter Eleven
SIMONE'S EYES SLOWLY fluttered open to reveal a high, ornately decorated ceiling above her. At its centre, a large painted mural depicted a scene typical of the Renaissance period. Set in a pastoral landscape, young women in various states of disrobe cavorted at the edge of a large pool of water, fed by a cascading waterfall. The light of a full moon shone down, casting a warm glow on the glade's proceedings. A celebration was afoot, with sumptuous food and wine spilling across tables set out for those in attendance.
The details were amazing, and for a while Simone laid where she was, unconcerned as to where exactly that may be, happily lost in the mythical land above her. It was much more preferable to contemplate than her current predicament.
Eventually the soft creak of leather alerted her to the fact she was not alone. Stiffening slightly, she closed her eyes and tried to feign sleep.
"I know you are awake, Dr. Radcliffe," a rich cultured voice spoke, breaking the silence.
Simone recognised it immediately, as images flooded back into her consciousness. The underground car park. A man with fangs...drinking her blood ... attacked ... by a vampyre! Darkness then ... Dante. Dante saved her but wait ... Dante has fangs too!
"Vampyres..." she whispered as her memories flooded back.
"Yes, it is true. I am a vampyre."
Scrambling up, Simone retreated to the corner of the long leather couch she was lying on. "Mr. Polidor
i, I insist you explain how I came to be here. Post haste." A haughty look was stamped clearly across her beautiful face.
Dr. P&P had returned. Pity.
But that was the least of his worries. On a more alarming note, her knowing his name meant she did indeed remember who he was. How was that possible? His power of enchantment had never failed before. Mystified again at her ability to resist his powers, Dante stared at his shocked therapist with an appraising eye.
"Here in what sense? Physically or mentally?" he ventured, hoping to draw from her exactly what she did or did not recall. To be fed on by a vampyre brought on varying experiences for mortal beings - at least those who survived it and they fell into three camps.
There were those who tended to dismiss the experience completely from their minds as nothing more than a particularly vivid, albeit terrifying dream. Whilst others buried it so deeply within themselves not even a faint memory remained. But for those unfortunate few who did remember, it would take vampyric mind control to erase the memory, for if left untreated, they tended to go mad.
Dante silently mulled where Simone currently ranked, and worried how he would handle things if she remembered everything. Without the power to wipe her memories, it meant his choices were limited.
"Are you trying to be cute with me?" she accused. "I demand to know why I was attacked, both on-air and physically, by bloody vampyres! You know, creatures that were once happily only a figment of imagination."
Cute? He'd never been referred to as 'cute' before. It brought a slight smile to his lips. Modern women's use of language still threw him at times.
Simone sat back in amazement at his response. He found her amusing?
The arrogant beast.
Dante saw her militant expression and regretted not guarding his reaction to her outburst. He needed her pliable, not plotting his demise.
"Simone," he began gently, "It is not my intention to rile you with my manner. I have long been without practice in dealing with mortals who have learned about our existence involuntarily. Normally, my power to erase a human's memory happens without a hitch. Unfortunately, this does not seem to be the case with you."
After considering his explanation, she sensed he spoke truthfully and allowed herself to relax a little. "You tried to erase my memory last night in the car?" she asked, finally able to understand why he'd spoken the way he did.
"Yes, but I didn't realise I'd failed. I would have never walked away otherwise," he explained, hoping to further soften her feelings towards him.
His confession surprised her. If he believed their time together had ended, why come to her rescue?
"And yet, tonight you saved me. How did you know I was in danger if I had ceased to be your concern?"
Dante shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He didn't want to tell her the truth, fearing she'd find his answer displeasing. And there was also the undertone of anger he detected in her question to contend with.
Ceased to be his concern? Not bloody likely, she'd dominated his thoughts from the moment he'd heard her voice on the airwaves. He could just as soon stop breathing as her ceasing to be a concern of his.
"How?" she demanded more forcefully.
Dante caved and told her the truth. "I could not resist hearing you again. Your voice resonates very powerfully within me. I am drawn to you like I was..."
"To Zara," Simone finished for him.
He nodded stiffly in the affirmative. "When I heard Anton threaten you, I could not help but react. I failed Zara and I wasn't going to allow another innocent to be harmed because of me."
He may be a vampyre but he still displayed all the classic human symptoms of emotional confusion. "It is alright, Dante. What you felt towards me is referred to as transference. You transferred the feelings you have for Zara to me because I was able to help you the way she did."
The compassion in her cool blue eyes made Dante look away. His feelings for Simone far exceeded those he'd ever felt for Zara. And it confused him immensely. She should not have such power over him. That right should only lay with his true Mate, and Zara was dead. His research said nothing about finding another so soon, if ever. It could take centuries before a vampyre's match might reappear in human form according to the ancient texts he'd read.
His continued silence stretched the awkwardness of their conversation to the limit, until finally, in an attempt to fill the dead air, Simone quietly asked: "Where am I?"
"My home," was his two word reply.
Then silence again.
Feeling increasingly uncomfortable, Simone decided to take the bull by the horns and break the deadlock between them.
"What is your kind's history? As a trained doctor and psychiatrist my logical mind aches to dissect your unique biological and psychological traits."
Dante chuckled, pleased to be dealing with the good doctor again. She was much more predictable... and by extension, safer.
Having her in his home and on his sofa looking delectable enough to eat was playing hell with his self-control. The temptation to take her against the supple leather of the generous couch where she sat was overrunning his senses.
It also didn't help that the escaped wisps of hair from her loose ponytail fell so beautifully against her cheek. He was half cocked as it was already and didn't need much more encouragement.
What he did need was for Dr. P&P to remain in control or he was going to lose the battle and lick the sweetness he detected between her legs.
Time to diffuse the situation with words. And nothing got humans off on a tangent like the juicy morsel of asking a vampyre any question they so desired.
"You are not the first human drawn to unravelling the mystery of our existence. In truth, there is an entire sect devoted to the cause, much to the horror of many in the Lowerton elite. They would prefer our worlds not come into contact unless absolutely necessary," he explained, planting the first breadcrumbs and eager to see which direction Simone would choose to go.
"Your existence is known to some humans?"
As soon as she'd said it, Simone realised how naive she sounded. Of course some humans knew about vampyres, was she not a shining example of this rather obvious fact?
Dante sat back. Ah, the old ‘human awareness of vamps’ chestnut. An interesting path to take. "Yes and no is the enigmatic answer," he replied.
The puzzled look on Simone's face prompted him to clarify. "We, and others considered 'supernatural', are only known to a small, select number of humans. Granted, there have been moments in history when relations were, ah ... what is the twenty-first century phrase for it? ... more transparent. Yet on the whole, it is usually best when humans believe but don't actually know about the supernatural world. I am sure with your extensive knowledge of the human psyche, you can appreciate the point I am making."
Simone understood it perfectly. Her preference for Jungian archetypal theories gave her an excellent foundation in order to do so.
"And who exactly are these illustrious Chosen few?" Simone queried sharply, unable to keep the edge from her voice. The exposure of supernatural beings would mean a monumental shift in their shared reality. Tantamount to the revelation of...
"... aliens being real." Simone said, finishing the end of her sentence aloud.
Dante arched a quizzical brow at her. Simone blushed, realising how out of place her train of thought had been. It always drove Penny mad when she'd have an internal conversation with herself...say something aloud in relation to whatever it was she'd been thinking... and in the end confuse the hell out of the poor soul in who's company she was in. Apparently such practices were uncommon amongst most normal folk. Oh well, one is who one is.
As for Dante, his only thought was: Where the fuck had that come from? But at least the conversation was working wonders at quelling his erection. Aliens? That was a first.
"This fascination over the existence of aliens is most strange," he replied, stroking his chin in mock contemplation. "Vlad and I are constantly amazed at the exp
losion of interest, especially since the invention of the worldwide web. My god, one would have thought Hollywood's homage on the subject would have been enough to put it to rest."
"Have vampyres not received the same fame?" Simone returned, challenging his patronising 'there, there' tone. "And yet, there you sit ... a living, breathing vampyre."
"Well, technically speaking, I'm dead," Dante teased, seeking to lighten the mood.
"Hah, exactly," she declared triumphantly. "Which leads us back to my original question."
It did? If so, Dante struggled to recall what it was.
"About aliens?" he prompted, with a devilish twinkle in his eye.
"No, not about bloody aliens," she burst out. "Sod them, I have enough to deal with as it is - extra terrestrial beings are the least of my worries at present."
"They will be disappointed to learn this," Dante cheekily replied.
Speechless, Simone stared at him with barely contained fury. His attitude that this was all some kind of a lark rankled her deeply. "You are impossible," she eventually decreed.
Dante sighed. As enjoyable as it was watching Simone's reactions, there were more serious matters at hand. She would have time aplenty to quiz him about his world. She just didn't know it yet.
"You have been through quite an ordeal tonight, Simone," his deep baritone voice soothed. "And it will be dawn soon. You must rest. I will answer all your questions when you awaken."
"I cannot stay here," she squawked, deeply unsettled at the prospect. "It wouldn't be proper."
A smile tugged at his lips. How very Victorian of her.
Before she had time to move, Dante scooped her up from the couch. Cradled in his arms, he took a moment to revel in the feel of her pressed against him. So warm, so soft. And her scent was intoxicating him once again.
With her arms wrapped around his neck, Simone studied his profile in return. She wanted to protest over his high-handedness in ignoring her wishes to leave but she felt too exhausted.
Drawn to his full lips, she recalled their kiss. "You told me we would meet in my dreams, where we would fulfil our heart's desire. But you never came."
