by L M Adams
“I thought this was the happy part.” I mumble and yawn, comforted by his voice and warmth and the vodka humming through me.
“Shh, I’ll be telling the story.” I hum my agreement.
“They somehow found themselves in some little village in Ireland. This is the late eighteen hundreds, mind you, and an isolated little place. My father can be a vicious bastard and my mother, let’s say she’s easily influenced by him. Anyway, they came upon this village, a murder of crows... Do you know what a crow is?”
“Vampires cannot have children after they become full bloods. Vampires can be made from humans, called the children of Dracula. It takes three bites to bond the Dracula virus and to change them over. Many humans don’t survive the process of changing their DNA. The ones that do have a certain viciousness to them, humans are not meant to live apart from their souls. There is a thought that is why a child of Dracula, or a crow, is so vicious; barely any control over their blood lust without a Blood Master or Blood Mistress to rule them. They kill humans indiscriminately. Reapers kill murders of crows that make too much of a spectacle endangering our secrets.” I rattle off quickly, remembering my lessons and training to become a Reaper. I ran into a murder of crows before. One particular crow fucked up my life, we bathed in his blood beneath the moonlight, however. I sigh and nod my head on Jack’s chest warm and inviting.
“Hmmm, sexy and smart.” I smile at the praise. I guess I’m not beyond liking kind words and compliments.
“Anyway, this village was being picked off one by one by the murder of crows. My mother wanted to help fight back against the crows, or bring them to heel. My father thought it was a good show and would not turn on his kind for humans, nor did he want to use the power necessary to bring the Crows under control.”
I can imagine the screams of terror as the crows fell upon them killing and gorging on their blood. His parents watching it like a fucking movie. A shiver runs through my body. Jack rolls to his side and holds me close.
“Well this village decided to rise up under the urges and courage of a lowly blacksmith. A huge man covered in soot swinging a mighty anvil. My mother, seeing that man’s fearful courage, felt something pull at her heart. She told me having courage in the face of death is one of the most profound things a person can ever experience. That man had drawn a line and she chose to be on his side of it. She turned on my father, joined their side and fought for the humans. She’s a pretty strong vampire in her own right. They fought a bloody battle, chasing the crows from the village.” He’s quiet for a moment.
“Nicholas means strong people; the blacksmith’s name was Jack. She told me she promised Jack to raise her son to be a better man so that I could become a better Vampire.” Jack says quietly and gravely like he feels the weight of his names sake to prove he can be like Jack, courageous; that he can be Nicholas, strong.
“Goddess, if that was the good story I don’t think I ever want to hear about Capaneus then. Are you a better vampire Jack? Did it work?” I ask quietly. Can you will yourself to be good when all you feel is evil?
“I try to be, Jae, I try very hard to be. I’ve killed before. I’ve killed many. I’ve hurt people. But now I try to leave the innocent alone, to respect their lives and their sanctity. I do not drink from unwilling bodies; I do not share my body with those that are pure. I will not turn a human into a crow.”
“‘O Capaneus, since your insolent pride’-‘Is still unquenched, you are chastised the more’-‘No torture other than your own mad ravings’-‘Can punish you enough for your grim rage.’” His voice is grave as he recites part of Dante’s The Divine Comedy, I know it well.
He continues on, “Capaneus was dammed by Zeus for being vain and for cursing him, Zeus struck him down with a lightning bolt forged by Hephaestus (Vulcan) the god’s blacksmith. Dante, on his travels through Hell, came across Capaneus as he lay in the burning pit and the rain of fire fell on his body. He had no regret, still raging and cursing god for nothing would bend his will. My mother told me how hollow pride is, and vengeance even if you have it, will be no comfort. Be strong when you must, but be willing to yield, learn the strength in submitting. I found I liked it. Submitting, taking care of people, and being hurt. It made me feel like I was good; that I could be good. I know you are good because by all definitions I am evil.”
I start to object, but he shushes me.
“I am evil, Jaevia. I have no soul. I have done much wickedness in the world. I have killed men and women, and even children. I’m only a good man now, because I choose to be a good man. You are a good woman because you choose to be a good woman. And if you need to hurt someone to let out the dark things so it’s easier for you to find the good parts? Then what other man is more perfect for you than one that needs to be hurt so he can feel good?”
“You are so fucking twisted.” I say into his chest.
“We are like a matching pair.” he says. I scoff.
“Who won the fight?” I ask changing the subject.
He laughs low and steady, “I’m in bed with a beautiful woman, he’s sleeping wherever, alone and angry. Any book in the world will tell you I’m the winner.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” I whisper quietly.
“Whatever you wish, Jae. If you want to leave in the morning, take Peter and Minx with us, we can go. We can live well and have a happy life. I can provide for us.”
“I owe Tabari more than that.” I sigh on his chest.
The simple truth is, I do. Tabari risked much for me. It wouldn’t make me a good woman to betray him like that.
“Then we stay and we deal with whatever may come our way, but I’ll not be leaving your side Jaevia Knightley.”
“Ok Jack,” I feel immense comfort in having him here, as if his power is a soothing tonic to my soul, easing the ragged edges of my psyche. Giving me calm in the middle of a storm; no, I won’t be giving him back. The Madame will just have to deal with it.
“Can you walk in the sun?” I ask knowing it will spill through the curtains. Even though they are dark, they aren’t sun proof. I don’t want to wake up snuggling a pile of ash.
He yawns, “Yes, my heart, I’m powerful enough to be in the sun.”
My heart? Oh, Goddess no, “Don’t fall in love with me, Capaneus Nicholas Jackson de la Fountaine.”
He only hums in response. I sigh and close my eyes; I thought it would take a while for my mind to quiet and sleep to find me. But the hazy fog settles around me with the thump of Jack’s heart steady at my ear. I let my consciousness slip away into the night, surprised because I’ve always believed there is no rest for the wicked.
Chapter Fourteen
Peace and redemption
I wake up early. It’s little before ten, a whopping four hours of sleep. After fifteen minutes or so I abandon the idea of falling back asleep. I slip out of bed quietly so I won’t disturb Jack, his breathing steady, slow and even. Vampires don’t need as much oxygen as humans, and can go long periods without it, but they still need to oxygenate the pilfered blood that runs through their veins, powering their chi, giving them life without a soul. I grab my pair of favorite purple yoga pants, a sports bra and a tank top. I snatch my wild, curly hair back into a tight ponytail.
I leave the room and move silently down the stairs heading towards the kitchen. I pass Lucien on a pallet on the floor. I walk by the dining room and see Peter is gone. I’m worried until I feel his wolf in the bedroom upstairs sleeping soundly. I owe him the largest apology known to man. I have no idea where to even start.
I sigh, I’m such a shithead sometimes.
Careful to not let the door slam, I make it to the backyard. Light misty rain falls from the overcast sky. It feels good on my skin, some soothing tonic reminding me of Jack’s power. How odd I already find comfort when he is near.
Tabari is already in the yard, sitting in the middle of the wet grass, lotus position. His eyes are closed, meditating. He has on a loose pair of dark blue pants,
no shirt. His hair is lifting at the ends like it always does when his third eye is open or he’s doing high magic. I turn to go back indoors.
“Sit,” Tabari’s voice echoes, no anger, just like it’s overlapping on itself.
I resign myself to the speech I’m sure I’m about to get and sit down in front of him mimicking his pose.
I suck at meditation; I can’t quiet my mind enough.
“I know I was wrong for last night, with Peter.” I say softly, already knowing what I’m in trouble for.
Tabari nods his head, eyes still closed.
“The vampire is good for you Jae, he brings you peace. Still, he’s not going to be around all of the time. You need to find balance within yourself.”
“Balance what?” I ask, my face scrunched with half curiosity and half indignation, which he can’t see because his eyes are still closed.
“Why did you want to hurt Peter?”
“I didn’t want to hurt him.” As soon as I say it I know it’s a lie, I open my mouth to try and explain but he cuts me off.
“It is better to be violent, if there is violence in our hearts, than to put on the cloak of non-violence to cover impotence. Violence is any day preferable to impotence. There is hope for a violent man to become non-violent. There is no such hope for the impotent,” he says quoting Gandhi.
Tabari has always loved quoting shit.
“You, Jaevia, you will never be non-violent. You will never be able to have that little sister and I’m sorry, the best you can do is maybe have balance and then maybe peace. The first step is to admit that you are a sadist, that you like to hurt things. Say it.”
“I like to hurt things.” I say with a small voice.
It crushes my heart to say it aloud. I’ve said it before inside of my own mind. Saying it out loud makes it seem worse, crueler and more real. It makes me feel evil.
I don’t like this game Tabari is playing with me.
“Have you beaten your slave this morning?”
I jump to my feet, “No! Tabari, I’m not a monster, he’s done nothing wrong!”
“That did not matter when you hurt Peter last night.” He gets to his feet.
He’s a little taller than me, maybe six feet. I don’t have to crane my neck back to look into his eyes. His eyes are full of peace, a thing I’ll never feel.
“I’m sorry about that,” I answer, ashamed.
He shrugs his shoulder. “It does not matter, go beat your slave and you can be sorry about that later as well.”
I feel anger rush up, hot and thick, my eyes blaze.
“Ah, now you want to hurt me. Why? Because I’m saying things you do not like?”
“Leave me alone, Tabari,” I say, hissing at him almost.
“No, I will not leave you alone. Now what? Will you find someone not as strong as me to hurt because you know you could never beat me? So, we are back to you going to beat your slave.”
“His name is Jack! He is not weak he is strong, one of the strongest men I have ever known. I am weak!”
“Why? Because you give in to the violence in your heart you try to deny is there?”
“Yes,” I hiss out, eyes blazing, blood on fire. Tabari is pushing me too far.
“No! You are weak because you can’t admit it’s what you want. Nor that you enjoy being hurt, you want someone to lash back out at you. You went in there and got a new werewolf drunk and told him cruel things without a care. You wanted him to hurt you. How can you hope to control a thing you aren’t willing to admit exists?” With that he walks past me and back in the house.
I stand in the wet grass letting the misty rain cool my skin. I’ve never reacted like that to Tabari; I don’t know why I am now.
More importantly, why is everyone fucking with me? I try to be good, to cause no one pain, especially if they have done nothing to me. I really do try. Yes, I feel like a shit for what I did to Peter. I was mad at Lucien and my emotions were raw. I didn’t mean to go hurt Peter. Yes, we did.
Then it clicks. I did what I did to Peter because I couldn’t find a way to hurt Lucien more, deeper. Like he’d hurt me. So I sought out Peter. I knew a way to slice at him and I’d done it. Goddess above I’d done it and enjoyed the pain flickering back at me through his wolf eyes. If he’d lashed out and hit me? I would have enjoyed that as well, it would have been a pain I could understand. Not like the pain Lucien causes me, which I don’t understand at all.
I sigh, I can’t think about this right now.
Meditation doesn’t work for me, but exercise does, it helps quiet my thoughts and my anger. I start to move in the fighting stances I’d trained so hard to learn. Tai Chi can be used for fighting or for physical training. The Kindred uses it; all Kindred know the basic forms. But the higher level, Dancing the Dragons, well those are taught to the Cerberus and to the Reapers.
The Dragons have three levels one building on the other.
The Flight of the Dragons, pure hand-to-hand. I jump and kick higher and higher in the air. My movements are fluid, graceful. I spin in the air, lashing out with my foot towards an unseen opponent.
The Dragon’s Claw, the blade, I’d left my own in the room but still complete the movements, quick dashing in and out fingers curled like claws, jumping and slicing the air to ribbons.
And finally, Dragon’s Breath, the magical, I have no magic except my glamour and creating lust. Which I was sure never ever to use, I needed to be seen as a Reaper, in no way could I use my Succubus powers to fight with. Thankfully I’m not the only Reaper without magic; this is where I’d use my sword.
But I don’t have a sword, so I just stop, I don’t have the right to carry one.
And so very quickly the anger returns. Angry again because I’d never been awarded my Reaper sword, I’d used practice swords to learn. But I’d never been officially named as a Reaper.
The burning anger in me returns, the true rage I feel at the world that destroyed me. Is there no end to it? I walk around in a circle, agitated, trying to stuff it back down deep inside. I used to be good at this, silencing my own anger, now I can’t seem to get a hold of it. What’s wrong with me?
Tabari’s voice runs through my thoughts, Have you beaten your slave today?
Why no, no I haven’t, I turn back to the house. Why? I don’t want to look at too closely.
I walk towards the house, the door opens. Peter stands in the doorway. All of my anger rushes out of me seeing him. Shame beats anger any day of the week.
He’s still a little sleepy; brown eyes look back at me, no trace of wolf in them. He has on a white undershirt, the blue jeans from last night, and his biker boots. I like the boots.
I look up to him and let the regret and sorrow fill my eyes, “I’m sorry, Peter. So sorry.”
He nods his head, “Was it true?”
I nod my head. “Doesn’t give me the right to tell you like I did, I’m a complete asshole.”
“Yeah you are, and also my best friend. So it’s cool, I’ve always known you were an asshole.” He smiles at me, warm and welcoming. All is forgiven, just like that. I wish I could be more like him, so easy to forgive, so free with it.
I don’t deserve it. I wish he’d hurt me, vengeance I understand. But not this, to forgive me without a thought? No, I don’t deserve it.
“Beers on me later?” I ask because I’m still a shit and I should say thank you and give him a hug. But I’m not one for emotions; I hope he knows the beers are my thank you.
He nods his head, yeah he does.
“So exactly what were you doing to poor Jack last night?” He grins.
My eyes widen and I feel the heat rush to my cheeks, I don’t have the pigmentation to blush but damn if my body isn’t trying to right now.
“None of your damn business, Robinson.”
He laughs, “Well at least you finally got laid. You’ve been extra bitchy the past few weeks.”
I brush past him, mortified. I cannot believe him. But I chuckle inside.
&
nbsp; Jack is in the kitchen with jeans and a snug white plain T-shirt on.
Goddess, he heard me and Peter, but he only smiles at me. Absolutely gorgeous, I lick my lips.
He’s made a pot of coffee and silently pours me one pausing to look at me holding the cream and sugar.
“Both, heavy on the cream, make sure you use the cream with my name on it. Under no circumstances use the cat’s stuff.” Minx is downright territorial over it.
He brings me the coffee with a smile on his face. He bends down kissing me softly on the lips. “Good morning.”
“Um, morning.” I smile up at him. He steps back, turns, and walk out of the kitchen.
Since when does a slave initiate contact? Huh. Do I mind? No, not really, Jack is like no slave I’ve ever met. He’s perfect for us.
For once, the succubus and I are in full agreement.
I smile and take my first sip. God, the man makes a good cup of coffee too. Peter smiles at me and goes out the back door saying something about needing a cigarette. I need one too, but I turn away from the door. I need to quit smoking.
I make my way into the living room. Tabari is on the sofa, laptop on his lap typing furiously.
The Internet is bigger and stronger than ever, even post-com. The world would either be better off, or worse off, without it, I’m not sure which. I use it enough not to judge, I carry a wrist tablet now, a very human thing to do. Needing to be connected to the information highway at all times, music and movies are my passion.
I hear the shower going in the bathroom down here, under the stairs. I assume Lucien is in it, I’m surprised he fit in there. The bathroom down here is small.
I stare at the brother of my heart and try to decide if I’m still angry with him for the things he said. No, but I am angry at the world.
“Fine, I’m angry,” I say quietly and sit down on the sofa beside him.
“I know.”
“What should I do?”
