Pure Rapture

by Aja James

  “Meow, meowrrrr,” Anunit teased, mimicking the sound Ishtar made when she tried to roar in her leopard form.

  Snow leopards didn’t have the mechanics necessary to roar, unlike most large feline predators.

  “Maybe I should shift into you instead and make the Sage chase after you and tell Mother it was you who didn’t take her studies seriously,” Ishtar threatened with a sniff, her nose in the air.

  Anunit rolled her eyes.

  “Mother would never believe it of me. You’re the slacker between the two of us. I can already recite five hundred verses from the Dark Laws. How many can you?”

  Ishtar couldn’t recall any of the verses word for word, in fact, nor did she want to.

  In her humble opinion, most of the Dark Laws were just plain silly, and some were downright wrong. She especially didn’t like reading the parts about how Dark Ones were supposed to subjugate Pure Ones and humans. She didn’t understand why there had to be any subjugation at all.

  “Besides,” Anunit continued, putting on a superior air, “you still can’t hold your vampire forms for more than a few seconds. You’ve only mastered the leopard form.”

  “That’s because I’m really a leopard born into a vampire body,” Ishtar retorted, flashing her sister a mischievous grin.

  If only it were true. Leopards didn’t have to memorize everything that was written in that gigantic book.

  Anunit shook her head, pretending to be chiding, but she couldn’t keep the serious expression for long. Ishtar’s playfulness was contagious.

  “You better go before the Sage looks up from his text,” she warned Ishtar. “He’s about to reach the end of the verse.”

  “Fine,” Ishtar whispered back. “I’m counting on you, Big Star. Work your magic on Mother so she won’t send me to my room without luncheon. I hear we’re having roasted lamb today, and I’m hungry already.”

  Go on, Anunit mouthed silently, making a shooing motion with her hands.

  With a shimmer and a quiver, Ishtar’s form changed in the blink of an eye from that of a young, dark-haired, dark-eyed girl, to that of a white, spotted snow leopard with light purple eyes.

  Slinking on her belly, she quickly crawled around the perimeter of the royal schoolroom on silent, fur-padded paws and darted through the heavy double doors that Anunit helped open a crack with her telekinesis.

  Once in the long hallway that led to the outer courtyard, Ishtar bounded happily toward freedom, her extra-long, thick-furred tail twitching with excitement.

  It was a good thing the palace was built from giant blocks of white limestone, for a snow leopard blended in with her surroundings seamlessly. From the highest domed towers to the twenty-foot wall that enclosed the palace, everything was pristine white, glowing brightly under the full moon’s light.

  The leap over the wall was literally child’s play for Ishtar in her leopard form. Even as a kitten, she could leap more than six times her body length. With a few long bounds, she sprung up in the air on her powerful hind legs and cleared the wall without even trying.

  Once on the other side, she hid briefly behind a grove of olive trees that surrounded the palace walls and changed back into her young girl form.

  She hadn’t given much thought to her dress for the night, but she usually chose the least feminine of all the clothes her handmaiden set out in the evening on her bed. Something the color of dirt that aided movement.

  She was glad to see herself in just such a tunic dress when she looked down. Even though it was made out of the most expensive fabrics, and the needlework was so fine it was all but invisible, the style wasn’t fussy and the color did not draw attention.

  Soon, she’d get a nice coat of dust on it as she wandered through the city’s torch-lit night markets and explored new nooks and crannies, and no one would be able to guess that she was anything but a fun-loving common girl.

  Ishtar grinned and began to run.

  She loved the feel of the night air on her face, loved the freedom of being a commoner, a human. No one would bow to her, kneel at her feet or treat her as if she were something fragile to be put on a pedestal or in a cage.

  Or something dangerous to be viewed with suspicion.

  And no one would be planning her betrothal to random Dark males she’d never met and didn’t know, many of whom were already old. Fully grown. Tall and threatening, bulging with muscles and their own self-importance.

  Her poor sister was already betrothed to a formidable True Blood called Enlil, whose heritage name had been removed from the record books in anticipation of their Mating. After that, he would take on the name Enlil Naram-Anu, “beloved of Anu.”

  Did love have anything to do with the Matings of royal Dark Ones? Ishtar wondered and slowed her pace to a brisk walk.

  As far as she knew, it was just a process that bound one Dark One to another for the rest of eternity, and they would depend on each other for survival, each providing the necessary Nourishment to the other.

  It all seemed frighteningly irreversible and restrictive.

  What if you didn’t love your Mate? Or what if you stopped loving your Mate?

  She didn’t think humans had to deal with these unbreakable binds that reached deep within a vampire’s body, permanent and immutable.

  When humans bonded, they formed families, produced offspring, and while breaking the bond might be frowned upon, neither party died from it, at least. Each party would still be whole, independent beings who were sufficient unto themselves.

  Dark Ones didn’t have the luxury of choosing more than once. And in her own case, she didn’t have the luxury of choosing even just the once.

  What’s more, if she weren’t royalty, perhaps she wouldn’t have had to choose at all. She could have stayed whole and independent, completely sufficient unto herself like all the other solitary vampires of her Kind.

  Ishtar shook her head to clear it of depressing thoughts. This was why she had to get away.

  She was close now. She could see and hear the gaiety of the night market already. Right now, she was going to enjoy herself like any other common girl.

  It was a beautiful, fragrant night, jasmine and orange blossoms mingling in the breeze. As the capital city of the Akkadian Empire, Akkad welcomed travelers from far and wide, a bright, sleepless city bustling with trade and entertainment.

  Its wares were on display from early dawn to well into the deep of night. After sunset, the minstrels, jugglers, snake charmers, fortune tellers and dancers came out to play, providing endless entertainment, music and laughter.

  The Ivory Palace, Ishtar’s home, also boasted one entertainment after another. Dark Ones loved beautiful and clever things. Performances were elaborate; every move, every note, every gesture, the epitome of beauty and grace.

  But Ishtar had always enjoyed human entertainment so much more. It was fun and refreshing, often impromptu and unexpected.

  A burst of laughter from a nearby ring of spectators proved her point eloquently.

  There was almost no laughter in the palace. And if there was, it was grim or sardonic, rather than carefree and boisterous.

  Ishtar slowed as she passed by stalls of linen sellers, displaying every color of the rainbow on hooks and wooden bars, or rolled into bolts and stacked on tables. The cloths here were almost as fine as those that could be found in the palace, and what Ishtar loved was looking at all of the different designs, representing different cultures from across the vast Akkadian empire.

  “Would you like a scarf or the perfect cloth to make a new dress, pretty girl?” an old lady asked Ishtar with a smile from her seat on a wooden stool.

  “I’m just looking, thank you,” Ishtar replied, smiling back.

  She had no money with which to buy anything. She knew where to get it, but everything in the palace was gold or precious stones. The money humans used was different, and she understood that one piece of gold from the palace would be worth entire stalls worth of linen, never mind one bolt.

>   “What you’re wearing is such fine cloth,” the old lady continued, eyeing Ishtar’s attire with a discerning gaze. “Perhaps my wares cannot compare.”

  “Oh no,” Ishtar hastened to say, “These fabrics are so intricate and lovely. I’ve never seen this color of dye before.”

  She smoothed her hand gently along one particular bolt of linen.

  “This one,” she said, her voice wistful.

  “Such a brilliant shade of blue—no—green. It is both and it is neither. Like the sea beyond the cliffs when the sun shines upon it.”

  She’d snuck out during the day only once before to see it. In leopard form, she didn’t feel the effects of the sun as she did in her vampire form. But her adventures quickly came to an end when the Queen discovered her missing.

  Her mother might turn a blind eye on most occasions to Ishtar’s nightly rambles, but going out of the palace during the day was hence forth strictly forbidden.

  “You have a very good eye,” the old lady said, surprised. “How can you tell the color so well with only the torchlight to guide you?”

  Ishtar gave a slight shrug. It probably wouldn’t do to reveal that a vampire’s vision at night was far sharper than a human’s vision during the day.

  “Well, I can’t let such a pretty girl go home empty handed,” the cloth merchant said with a generous smile. She stretched to her right and pulled something off its hook in the corner of the stall.

  “Here,” she offered, taking Ishtar’s hand and laying it across her palm.

  “This is woven from that fabric you admired. You can wear it in your hair or tie it around your waist. Even use it for a necklace by winding it around a couple of times or letting the ends hang freely in the front or back.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Ishtar breathed, letting the delicate woven ribbon sift through her fingers. “But I can’t possibly take this.”

  “Nonsense,” the old lady admonished. “I did a brisk business all day today and am feeling quite charitable this night. The ribbon has your name on it, young lady, so you’d better take it off my hands.”

  She deftly wrapped the ribbon around Ishtar’s wrist until it looked like a bracelet cuff made of turquoise.

  “Now,” the old lady began, “here’s how you take care of it so the color doesn’t fade—”

  But before she could finish her thought, they both jerked their heads toward a commotion that was quickly approaching their stall.

  A team of two large work horses pulling a loosened cart was pounding down the dirt road through the middle of the busiest part of the night market, stomping stands and overturning displays.

  People screamed and cried and struggled to get out of their way as the maddened animals hurtled passed.

  Before they could react, the horses’ crushing hooves were upon the fabric seller’s stall, and one of the beasts would have rammed its side into the old lady if Ishtar hadn’t been quicker, pulling her out of the way and taking most of the impact herself.

  Oomph. The breath got knocked out of her despite her superior strength as a vampire. Even if she had been fully grown, she still couldn’t avoid a few broken ribs from an impact like that.

  With a wince, Ishtar straightened and began to chase after the runaway horses. Someone had to stop them before they did more damage.

  In her two-legged form, she was fast, a natural sprinter, but not fast enough. Without thinking beyond saving the human revelers from the rampaging animals, she changed into her leopard form and immediately increased her speed ten-fold.

  With a bounding leap, she rose into the air above one of the horses and changed mid-flight back into her vampire form, landing astride the lead horse’s back. She clutched a handful of mane in one hand and leaned forward so that she could smooth her other hand down its neck.

  “Shhh,” she whispered to the animal, putting her cheek against its sweat-sheened coat. “Calm yourself. Everything is all right. Shhh.”

  The horse’s gallop slowed to a nervous canter, and it flicked its head as if trying to shake off whatever that had triggered its mad dash through the market. Likewise, its partner, still tethered together by a harness and the cart, also slowed to a walk, breathing heavily from the exertion.

  When they’d fully stopped, Ishtar slid off the horse’s back and walked around to stroke its muzzle. But after a couple of pats, the horse abruptly raised its head out of her reach and backed away, taking its partner with it.

  And that was when she realized that she’d gathered an audience. A very large audience of men and a few women holding torches and other things.

  Ishtar’s eyes quickly took in a length of rope, a couple of heavy sticks, an axe. One woman was holding a large rock in her hand.

  The humans that surrounded her did not seem relieved or thankful that she’d stopped the rampage. They looked…

  Angry. Resentful. Bloodthirsty.

  “Did you see that?” Ishtar heard one man whisper to another. “She turned into a leopard.”

  “What is she?”

  “She looks like a girl.”

  “Don’t be deceived.”

  “She’s one of those vampires who live in that white palace on the hill.”

  “Bloodsucker.”

  “Demon.”

  “Filth.”

  The angry horde was moving closer to Ishtar, trapping her in its maddened circle.

  What was happening? Why were they treating her this way? She’d saved lives. She meant no harm.

  “Get her,” the woman with the rock spat low.

  Clutching her broken ribs, Ishtar tried to back away, but the angry mob had her surrounded.

  Shivering with fear, she tried not to shapeshift, knowing that if they saw her make the change up close, they’d be incited even further.

  But she couldn’t help it. Fear and anxiety fueled her primal instincts, and those instincts told her to transform and flee while she still could.

  So that’s exactly what she did, changing in an instant, crouching low and leaping out from the horde of humans with one strong thrust from her hind legs.

  “Get her!”

  Ishtar could hear the battle cry from a few paces behind her. The mob was not going to let her escape so easily. They were giving chase!

  Blindly she ran, as fast and as far as her wounded body would carry her, even though every leap stabbed into her side, every bound made the pain worse.

  She knew that she was headed away from the palace, not toward it. But to change course, she’d have to get past the mob, and she just didn’t have the strength or courage to try it. She hoped as she ran that they would grow tired before she did, or that she could find a place to hide.

  Her wounds slowed her down significantly, and she knew that she’d have to stop soon. But there was no place to hide, no trees to climb, only open hills, one after another.

  As she crested a particularly large, steep hill, she saw two paths she could take—one towards a small stream that wound around the base of a jagged mountain and the other towards an isolated hut with a smaller shed off to the side.

  She didn’t have the strength to climb that mountain, but if she had, it would be the best path to lose her pursuers. She could barely move another step, her whole body shuddering in protest with fear and pain. So she forced herself into motion again and quickly crawled to the darkened shed.

  Just when she’d squeezed her small furry body through an opening beneath the shed door, the horde had crested the hill and were making their way down this path.

  Ishtar crouched low on her belly in the darkness of the shed and looked through the opening beneath the door. The mob’s footsteps and torches were getting closer and closer.

  Frightened out of her wits, a low growl vibrated in the back of her throat, overlaid with a whine.

  If she were in her vampire form, she’d probably be bawling and blubbering for her mother right now.

  And then a pair of worn boots came to stand between the shed and the approaching horde.

/>   Ishtar rolled her cat eyes upwards but couldn’t see beyond the long legs attached to those boots.

  “What can I do for you, this fine night?” a masculine voice called out as the horde drew near. It was the voice of a boy on the verge of manhood.

  “We’re looking for a creature that must have come by here, blacksmith,” one of the villagers said, somewhat belligerently.

  “A large cat. White with spots.”

  “Well, a number of cats do tend to come by here,” the blacksmith boy-man replied, his manner easy, conversational.

  “I saw a great big orange one with stripes the other day. Could have been a baby tiger it was so fat.”

  A few chuckles skittered through the crowd, and Ishtar could almost feel the tension lessen a few degrees.

  “This cat is a demon cat,” another man spat out, refusing to be amused. “And we mean to capture it. If I had my wish, I’d skin it alive.”

  The other villagers murmured in agreement and the bloodthirstiness kicked up a notch while Ishtar shivered in her hiding place.

  “A demon cat,” the blacksmith repeated in a tone of consideration. “A demon cat that’s white with spots. What else does it have?”

  “A long, fluffy, curling tail,” a new voice said, “and small ears like so, full of fur.”

  “Well, it sounds just terrifying,” the blacksmith murmured, eliciting more snickers. “Especially the long, fluffy tail.”

  Again, the tension deflated like a sail without wind.

  But then—“It’s a vampire in cat form,” the woman who incited the mob to “get her” hissed.

  “A vampire drained my boy of blood and soul,” the woman continued, seething with rage and vengeance. “He would have turned just four this summer.”

  Oh Dark Goddess, Ishtar thought.

  She’d heard of such atrocities from human servants who worked in the palace, and the Enforcers of her Kind always hunted down and punished Rogues who committed these crimes, but to hear them from a mother’s lips, in her own words… no punishment would ever be enough to balance the loss of her son.

  “I’m very sorry for your loss,” the young blacksmith said, echoing Ishtar’s thoughts. She could feel the truth of his words.