by Poppet
"What happened?"
He gives me a glance of pained brown eyes, a hand over the slash in his shirt, favouring the spot tenderly. His face is battered, he looks like a boxer who's been stuck in a cage practising Chilla Kasi, or battling bunyips and popobawa with hell hounds, and he came off second best.
"Despite appearances I'm older and better skilled than he is. It should be a couple of days before he comes after you again."
"And he looks worse than you do?"
He nods, a vague grin tilting the corners of his mouth.
"We heal rapidly. I'll look normal again inside of four hours."
I hand him my vodka and juice.
"What do you need from me?"
A hand shoots out and snatches me, pulling me off balance and into his lap. A faint wince escapes his provocative lips.
"Love me. That's all I ask of you. Don't stop. Don't let them get to you or interfere."
Gently I trace my fingertips over his battered face. Depositing tender kisses on his wounds.
"We can kiss better. It's not just a saying, it really works."
"It works because you believe it does. You humans have always underestimated the power of conviction and faith."
Lordy, you are in a sombre mood.
Protective instincts demand my attention. Insistently I peel his shirt off and stare at the gash across his midsection. I can literally watch it healing. Jack's beanstalk has nothing on this lot.
I cover him with soft kisses, between gentle caresses. Wanting to soothe.
"How did you get home?"
"Ellindt."
He tenses beneath my hands.
"Phoebe, be careful who you summon. That's how we create attachment."
I sit back and stare at him. Watching his eyes morphing between colours so fast they seem like a kaleidoscope.
Worming my hand inside his, I squeeze it softly, "What aren't you telling me?"
His head flops back as he exhales heavily. My stomach clenches in reaction.
"When we fell, we hated the lot of you. You who had God's grace, mercy, forgiveness, not to mention free will. We were sickened with the way you've used free will. For some reason your kind like to inflict emotional and physical damage not just on each other and your young, but also on the animals created to be your companions. They used to instinctively trust you. You fucked that one up royally."
His eyes open and I survey two pinpoints of light move across the ceiling.
"Some of us became outraged. Unprepared to sit back and watch you screw up something perfect. You took what was beautiful and made it ugly. They became the red eyes. We didn't know it back then, we had no idea what the consequences would be of taking retribution into our own hands."
Listening intently I pick up the glass and take a sip before handing it to him. He depletes the contents and finally stares at me.
"The red eyes despise humans. They hate your free will, and what you've done with it. You have a huge capacity for love and a spirit you share. But you work against yourselves. They take great pleasure in taking life. Draining your blood slowly, inflicting the most amount of pain they can, as pay-back for the pain you've given this planet and each other … they can separate you from your Spirit."
"… But we are not allowed to judge. We were created to follow orders. Unlike you who can do whatever you want. We were lost when we got here. And your kind thought we were gods. We enjoyed the turnaround from slave to master. The red eyes were just like my sect. Silver eyed. Any Vampyre with red eyes has murdered. That means they will never regain salvation of any kind. They have turned from mercy forever. When you meet one whose eyes flicker with red, be careful, because they have the capacity to hurt you and take your life."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because Ellindt has red flickers. You heard Jowendrhan say I can't touch him because he hasn't broken any laws?"
Nodding I watch his face match his serious tone.
"He has never taken something a human hasn't willingly given. Those who have broken no laws cannot be bound or cast away from you. I have no power to protect you from him. I have to teach you to own your own power completely, so that you stop being a pathetic human victim. You are made in God's image. His Spirit is in you. You could use that powerfully and to great advantage."
"What happened between you, then?"
"Combat. Futile really, as neither of us can win. We're equally matched in terms of deeds. He and I have not taken anything we should not have. He's as strong as I am, but I have the skill advantage. All we did was lay into each other. Unfortunately we share the same tastes. It's partly genetic now. He sees the potential in you that I do. I've already done half the work. You accept my kind as real. You aren't afraid. He sees you as a challenge. Something he would like to gain for himself. We're still partly male with male instincts. And you do smell rather alluring. Your scent is very different to a Vampyre."
I'm decidedly self-conscious now.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Like a woman walking past a fudge factory, you can't resist the temptation can you? Well that's how you smell to me."
Unable to prevent the grin, I smile at him.
"Your spirit is something we have never had. Humans release a part of it when they copulate. Orgasm shares it equally. With your own kind you would receive a part of your partner. But I have no spirit. And it's a desire that is irresistible. When you release the spirit that animates you over me, it's like being home."
My heart breaks with his haunted expression. "Phoebe, I can never go home. None of us can. You are as close as I've been to feeling Him again. It's not really a Him at all. It's far more complicated than that. But the Presence is so joyous. Endlessly safe and euphoric. You feel safe with me and euphoric with Ellindt. Each of us contains a part of Him. But you have the Spirit."
He looks into my eyes, his bright like full moon in magnificent splendour, "I don't want to lose you."
"You won't."
"Anima is the Latin word for Spirit. Any word that uses it indicates Spirit is involved. Animals, animated, all are done through the only Spirit that gives real life. We're called undead, or dead, because we have no Spirit. Your movies have as usual given the general population ignorance to feed off. What makes us dead is not the fact that we have no life, or no heartbeat, we are alive. But we are spiritually dead. We are animated by coupling with humans. We've found a way to exist despite our challenges. We've found a way to integrate with humans. But until we receive true mercy, we will never have what animates you or an animal. Phoebe, we rank below animals."
I'm horrified by the shame on his face. His expression is shredding my heart into ribbons of ache.
Cupping his sad face in my palms I lean in to kiss him with every ounce of emotion I'm feeling. "I love you. It's fucked up, but I do. Please don't feel unworthy. I'm smitten with you."
"When you kiss me I taste your Spirit. Bathe me with your life, Phoebe."
Closing my eyes, I slip deeper into his lap and invade his mouth with my own. I desire beyond reason to ease his aching pain. His emotional scars are gaping at me. I would be dead myself to not respond with the need to salve. To repair. Ravenously I feed on his mouth, and he feeds on mine. Inhaling each other asthmatically. Each craving a fix. Two addicts, finding the vein, in each other.
Chapter 26: Sarcophagus
Some time in the dark between the witching and dawn, I sense his heat depart from my side. Having become accustomed to a living volcano around, I experience a keen longing. Now I'm awake.
I crawl lethargically to my laptop. Except now I don't have my phone, do I?
Sighing with gnawing indecision, he leaves me no choice.
"Seithe."
He flickers for the first time ever, before solidifying.
I can't help but grin at his naked body, "Sorry, is this a bad time?"
"What is it, Phoebe?"
"Well if I could phone you I wouldn't have to summon you."
&nbs
p; "Our voices don't work on a digital network. Why do you think we invented email and the internet? It was out of necessity."
My eyebrows reach for my hairline, "You have my phone mister. I would have used online chat but couldn't log in without my phone."
"You wanted me?"
"Yes, take me back with you, I miss you."
His visage flirts with indecision before grimacing. "Close your eyes. There is no way I can do this the way I feel, cloaking myself."
His arm wraps around me when I close my eyes. My stomach stays behind with vertigo, before darkness clouds my perception.
Regaining consciousness, I'm soaked with perspiration. He's asleep but at least this time he left the torches lit. Tentatively I put a hand on his forehead. He's an inferno. How do you know if a vampire has a temperature? Laying next to him is like falling asleep in a sauna.
Sitting up I become aware we're in a different room. This room scares me. It's dusty, the stone of the walls ragged and untidily hewn. I'm expecting to see a coffin to be honest. It's creepy in its darkness. There's something about this room that unsettles me.
I crawl off the bed and wander over the black carpet gingerly. Against the wall on my left is a recessed bookshelf. There are paintings on the right wall, portraits of his ancestors I presume. They all feel like they're here, staring at me. Watching me.
Intimidated, I whisper over the floor back to the bed, uncertain.
Watching him slumber curls my lips into an affectionate smile. He must trust me to bring me here. To sleep so soundly beside me. Tenderly I smooth his hair, caressing him with the love I'm feeling. I wish I knew how to help him get better.
One eye opens and stares at me with blue clarity, "Hmmm?"
For some reason I whisper, "Where are we?"
"The sarcophagus."
My skin crawls with repulsion. "The what?"
"It's an affectionate term for the recovery room. None of them can get in here."
My tension eases, "Oh." Nibbling the inside of my lower lip I query, "How are you feeling? How do I know if you have a temperature?"
He grins and rolls onto his back, tugging my supporting arm so I fall next to him.
"We don't suffer from illness like that. All you're experiencing is my guard down."
Something begins crawling up my shin. Absently I wipe it away with my other foot.
"Why, when you transport me, do I pass out?"
"It's less of a shock to you. It's become a rather bad habit of mine. I know I don't require to force your body into overdrive any longer, but I rather like having you at my mercy."
A hot flush stains my neck. "Oh, I see. So you get to not only window shop, but check out the goods before purchasing anything? Is that it?"
Bemused brown eyes sparkle at me, "I love your outrage and sense of propriety. You are so quaint."
"Quaint?"
"And the way you challenge with one word. Phoebe, it was just easier to do things that way. You have such a foul mouth for such a feminine woman. I rather like your contradictions. You say what you think and don't seem to care about consequences at all."
This crawling on my leg is driving me to distraction and I sit up to kill whatever it is.
"I swear I can feel something crawling on me, but I don't see a thing."
"It's probably just one of the phantom spiders."
I couldn't leap higher if he'd told me it was a cobra.
SQUEEAAAL!
Frantically brushing at my naked legs. That's what happens when your boyfriend constantly pinches your clothes when you're unconscious.
He breaks the silence in the room with a smug laugh. I love that his laugh is so über self-imposing. Definitely a capital A. He wraps long fingers around my wrist and yanks me down onto the ancient bed. Closing my eyes tightly I'm trying to think of something other than mice droppings and dust mites that must surely be lurking. His strength rearranges me like a doll on display.
"They don't like heat." The suggestion in his tone is blatant. His heat recedes to a more comfortable level as he tucks me tight up against him, a lazy touch traversing my skin.
"You just want to bask in my fudge-yummilicious spirit."
"Heal me baby girl."
"Well when you put it that way ..."
I am so patting myself on the back for leaving Brian right now.
I grin at him and shove, "Why don't you relax back and let God-like Phoebe take care of you."
Oddly this is turning me on like the element inside the geyser. He smirks at me, holding his hands up in surrender, flopping off me, laying back waiting. And I savour every moment of being dominant with him. It's rarer than world peace.
*
My rumbling stomach ruins romantic spooning interspersed with kneading caresses.
"I'm sorry minxy. I only have to eat once a week, I forget you haven't eaten."
Instantly we arrive lounging in our intimate spoon to join the cutlery in the kitchen, except we're on his black chaise.
"Seithe, why no windows?"
"We are so bright Nasa would spot us from out of space. The only way to go unnoticed is to shield ourselves in obscurity. No windows, means none of the light escapes when we're arguing, or just being ourselves. It also prevents some of our heat from escaping."
"Then how do you get fresh air?"
He squeezes my spine tightly against his warm body before waving a hand in front of my eyes. "Like this."
A cold gush of air descends on us, covering me with objecting bumps. I look up and see the roof sliding away.
"How often do you do that?" I watch it sliding back.
"Whenever we remember to. I leave the details to Moneda."
"Who's Moneda?"
"The housekeeper."
I'm instantly distracted as his hot mouth attaches itself to my neck.
"I gather you're feeling better?"
"Definitely."
My eyes observe a plate appear on the kitchen counter.
"This is freaky."
"I told her you were staying, at least she remembers to make you dinner."
"So where's she hiding?"
"She has her own quarters. I like my privacy. I wanted to be alone with you."
One of his hands starts kneading my left breast, and I'm finding concentration challenging.
"Delicious minxy mammal."
Fighting the desire to close my eyes and rape him again, my voice has to argue breathlessly, "Mammal? Thanks."
"You are such an objectionable female. Mammal, Phoebe, is not an insult. Haven't you ever noticed the word Mamma inside the word mammal? Mammals are nurturing creatures with warm blood. They love, they protect, they nurture, like a mamma." His body presses tightly against mine as his arms squeeze me, his mouth over my earlobe, "Like you."
I'm finding coherent thought impossible, somehow managing, "Hmmm."
It's a hmmm of agreement, approval, impressed with the compliment, and a hmmm of do we have time for another quickie before my dinner gets cold?
Chapter 27: Remember
Following him curiously, I demand, "Now what?"
For some mysterious reason he's given me a dress to wear. A clingy black satin thing with a slit right up the thigh, open back held on with tiny spaghetti laces strapping it closed. Ultra feminine. He's even put me in heels. I'm beginning to wonder if I'm about to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.
"Memory."
"What about it?"
"Your observation skills are shockingly non existent. I have to arm you, Phoebe. Wake you up, so you can be less easily fooled by Jowendrhan."
"Then why the dress?"
He stops, spinning on one foot to face me. All he's wearing are his leather trousers and boots. I'm feeling overdressed.
"Because we're dancing when we're done."
"We are?"
I can't dance to save my life.
"Yes. Latin dancing is steamy and delicious, and I'd like to work that little body of yours up into a frenzy."
&n
bsp; A smug grin rearranges my dark pink lips. They feel pouty, swollen from kiss gorging for days on end. I can't resist strutting, copying Ellindt's sashay in a teasing fashion as I walk with him to a different room on a new straight passage. I suppose all of these dancing flames along the walls, the sedating warmth of this place, and the fact that we look like the next power couple to be featured in Times, all makes for a sexually charged environment.
I let him seat me on a chair at a black table in a huge room. Chandeliers glitter sporadically in darkness. The only light is next to a grand piano on this table. One lamp switched on to my left on the table. A tray awaits covered in a red velvet cloth.
The room has amazing acoustics as my favourite band begins to play. Manifest whatever you desire. I don't need to accept immortality, I have Seithe who can manifest whatever I desire. Including cuddles and kisses, and orgasms, and massages, and sensation and temptation overload.
"On this tray will be a number of objects. Music can work one of two ways. It can either distract your concentration, or intensify it. Either way, we're doing this my way." I arch a slender black eyebrow, nodding my understanding.
"In a moment I'm going to remove this cloth. You have sixty seconds to memorise everything on the tray."
I nod again, taking a deep breath, watching the tray. He flips the cloth off, and I stare at random objects. A pocket watch, broach, thimble, flick-knife, candle snuffer, sugar bowl, playing card - queen of hearts, lip balm, a segment of orange, hairbrush and bottle of spirits.
I've barely considered them all when the cloth is replaced.
"Tell me what was on the tray."
Closing my eyes, I am finding the music distracting. "Bottle of surgical spirits, orange, candle snuffer, knife, watch, thimble, broach." I open my eyes, staring up into his being alarmingly blue, "Oh and a playing card."
"You have forgotten to recall lip balm, sugar bowl and hairbrush." He flicks his hand like a magician over the velvet before revealing the tray scattered with completely different objects, "Again!"
I stare at scissors, lighter, measuring tape, salt shaker, perfume, chocolate, wallet, hair band, safety pin, a pink rose and a packet of tissues.
