Beautiful Death

by Christina Moore

  He held her, crushing her to him. The leather of his jacket and her vest moaned against each other. Under the soft plush of her breasts against his chest he could feel her heartbeat.

  God, now was so not the time to be getting personal, but he couldn’t help it. The closer he was to her, the less he could think clearly. Maybe it was vampire tricks. Or maybe it was something more primitive and simple. But, he had to remember, he was only food.

  Oh hell, he didn’t give a shit. He’d let her eat him whole.

  “Ash,” he whispered. “Ash, look at me.” She flinched, her eyes flicking up to fix with his. “What are we doing here?” He wasn’t even sure what he meant by the question, whether he meant why where they in that fucked up home, or him-n-her. Personal like.

  “I… I do not know…,” she answered softly and withdrew her arms from under his jacket. He thought she was going to push him away, but then she smoothed her palms up his chest. At his neck, her fingertips lingered at a small cut she’d given him the night before as if testing its durability. Those cold, smooth fingers traced the vein on his neck up until slipping into his thick, dark hair. Tristan shuddered against her, the feel of her fingernails grazing his scalp sending little shivers of excitement all through him. He gave a deep groan and took the last step forward to press her back to a pillar. She made a small, helpless noise as he buried his face into her neck, inhaling the subtle sweet scent of her.

  Lips grazed his neck and he wished she would press them to his skin. His thoughts went back to the dream they shared. The memory of those molten lips opening across his neck made him shiver as he felt aroused. Even with the threat of her eating him, maybe even hurting him, holding her to him felt so right, so damn good. She belonged in his arms. Maybe she really could think of him as more than food. But when her tongue flicked across the skin under his ear, when she wiggled closer, coaxing his growing anticipation; when her lips parted across his neck in a wet line and the sharp point of two fangs pressed into his flesh, threatening to break the surface—he knew. She just wanted his blood. Even so, he would give her whatever she desired.

  “Do it,” he whispered against her neck. “Take it...” Take whatever you want.

  Ash made a small noise of surprise and her chest heaved against his as she pulled in a deep breath. She pushed gently, forcing him back. Tristan let out a shaky sigh and pulled back slowly, turning his face into hers. Her parted lips brushed him softly in passing, wetting a line across his cheek. He stopped, mouth hovering inches over hers as he stared into her eyes. Her eyelashes fluttered a few times quickly and just as he was leaning in to close that last two inches between them, press his lips to hers, she pulled away. He let out the breath he had been holding and opened his arms, releasing her. She slipped out from between him and the pillar and walked away, putting her back to him, leaving him bewildered and aching in a way he’d never felt before. God, he just wanted her so badly. There was no way she didn’t know.

  “I am sorry, Tristan,” she whispered. “The others they—I let the beast inside rule.”

  The others? The beast inside? He wanted to believe it was really her true feelings for him that he just saw. Yes she wanted his blood, but she also wanted him. If she were any other woman, he’d have shown her what he was feeling, scooped her up and kissed her already. But then, she was far from any other woman and deep down, the whole vampire thing still worried him. What would a relationship be like with someone like her? In the beginning, sure it would be great—they all were. But the longer they stayed together, would he start to wonder if she really loved him, or his blood?

  “It’s...fine,” he said, unsure of what else to say. Unsure of his feelings. Ash confused him like no other.

  She frowned and took a step away from him. “I—” She took a deep, cleansing breath and straightened, looking all business again. “We should go see Yukihime.”

  “Yeah, the faster I can get out of this fun house.” His words were strong, but his resolve was weak. There was just too much confusion in his head. “Why did you even bring me here?”

  “Yukihime and her brood are… eccentric, but they will not harm you.”

  Tristan laughed, he couldn’t help it. “They sure seemed like they were going to take a bite out of me back there. And that whole Fight Club you and Desmond had going, I thought you were trying to kill each other.”

  “Desmond is…” She let out a heavy sigh. “He and I were lovers once.”

  Tristan flinched back. While he kind of expected it, like with Lucien, hearing it so bluntly was a blow. “I… oh.”

  Ash sighed again. “He is the constant thorn in my paw. He is what he is and a very long life will not change him. It very rarely changes any of us for that matter.”

  He wasn’t sure what she meant and frankly didn’t want to hear about it, not right then. “Ash, what is it you are not telling me?”

  “I would not know where to start,” she answered, sounding tired. “Right now, all I want is finish this and leave.”

  “Fair enough. But when we get out of here, you and I are going to have a nice long chat.”

  Ash broke into a big smile. “Yes, sir.”

  He chuckled as the pair moved down the hallway again towards that last door. And the closer he got, the more nervous he felt. It was that same cold burning he felt in the room full of vampires. Now that he thought on it, he felt it too when he was near Ash—in the car when she took him home, their shared dream, up close and personal kendo practice... just now. God, just what he needed right now, something else wrong with him.

  They stopped in front of a screen door at the end of the hall. Light showed from the other side giving the thin paper a bright yellow hue. Ash stopped to rest her palm against the wood frame as if reflecting or preparing herself. Tristan wasn’t the type to scare easily but suddenly he had one of those feelings again. That sense of danger, foreboding. He didn’t want to go in that room.

  Ash turned quickly. “What do you feel?”

  “I—” Tristan started and then closed his mouth. He had a hard time putting it into words. “I don’t—”

  A sharp, “Raikō. Now!” came from the other side of the screen. Tristan frowned thinking the voice sounded familiar.

  Ash visibly winced as she turned to enter the room. Tristan took a deep breath, preparing himself for this all powerful Master who ruled over the house of freak vampires. The pair stepped into a cloud of haze, a layer of smoke that hung heavy in the air. It was a pleasant, sickly sweet smell. Tristan was ashamed to admit that he knew the scent and wondered how long he could spend in the room before he started to feel sick. And very high. The room wasn’t huge, but comfortable and dim under the light of only a few strategically placed candles. This room was even colder than the last and he was glad for his leather jacket.

  He came to a sudden stop when he saw the main attraction seated at the center of the room, lounging amongst a mass of silk and satin pillows and smoking on a long pipe like The Caterpillar from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Ash elbowed him hard in the side and dropped to her knees, forcing him down with her. “Mind yourself,” she hiss whispered, though it wouldn’t matter, not with Yukihime.

  “Yeah, but come on… that’s the Master?”

  The Master in question offered Tristan a flirty wink and rolled her shoulders back as if inviting him to her. The fox noh mask was gone, but there was no doubt, this was the same girl that he met in the other room. And girl she was, she didn’t look a second older than twelve.

  “Point in fact, I was fourteen and one half,” the tiny creature said. “Arigatō gozimashita.”

  “Tristan,” Ash admonished again. “Behave yourself. Please.”

  “What?” he whispered back. “You want me to just stop thinking? Good luck with that.”

  Ash mumbled something at him that he recognized as dismay even without speaking the language. He sighed and bent forward on Ash’s example, abasing himself to t
he child vampire. God, he hated that the vampires could read his mind. He needed one of those hats like Magneto had. Yeah, then the old vamp wouldn’t be able to read his mind.

  “But I like your mind, danshi.”

  Forehead still pressed to the tatami mat below the line of opium smoke, Tristan turned his face towards Ash and whispered, “What’s danshi?”

  “It—”

  “Young man,” the grinning girl answered.

  “Young man?” Tristan sat up, though by the screwed up expression on Ash’s face he shouldn’t have without being bade to.

  “Hai, like… a child?”

  “I’m twenty-four.”

  “You are younger than I, danshi. Child.”

  He couldn’t help but groan to himself, rolling his eyes. Beside him, Ash gave her own dismayed sigh—just inside the room and already Tristan was being Tristan and letting his mouth run rampant.

  “Oh, honestly,” the young vampire said, “You’re too uptight Asta-chan.”

  Ash gritted her teeth. Of course she knew Yukihime would call her by her given name. Just as Desmond had. They could not help themselves. It was also like the ancient vampire to be angry one moment, flippant the next. Ash was still trying to access the vampire’s mood tonight.

  “Mizu no Yukihime—”

  “Asta-chan, tonight it is simply Yuki. No need to be so stuffy, ne?” She stuck her lip out and pouted as she said, “Just do not make an old vampire wait so long to see you next time.”

  “Yukihime,” Ash said, jaw stiff. She would acquiesce to the dropping of the title, but she refused to call her simply Yuki, no matter what the older vampire said. “Thank you for taking us into your home this eve. I am most humbly regretful I did not prepare an offering for you, please accept my deepest apologies.”

  Yukihime considered her for a moment around the pipe she was sucking on and then said, “No you’re not.”

  Ash stiffened and then relaxed, cracking a small crooked smile. “No, I am not.”

  Yukihime laughed and Tristan shuddered, eyes shutting as those tingling fingers tickled below his waist. God, what was that?

  “Asta-chan here has not told you of us?”

  He had to fight to not give Ash a nasty look. “Apparently not.”

  “Subarashii!” the tiny vampire said with a wicked smile, clapping like a maniac. It was then that Tristan noticed the fangs. How hadn’t he before? They were fucking huge.

  “Oh my god,” he breathed. “Why are they so big?”

  Yuki looked down and cupped her nonexistent breasts. “You think?”

  Tristan couldn’t help but snort a laugh. Then he realized she was serious and frowned. “No, the fangs.”

  “Ah yes, those are rather big too, ne?” Yuki plucked at the tip of one her fangs with a long fingernail.

  “Why?” he said, looking to Ash. Her fangs, even Desmond’s and Lucien’s were all small. That girl out in the room had none at all—he still wasn’t even convinced she was a vampire. Didn’t mean she wasn’t something else, something Ash hadn’t bothered to tell him about yet.

  “Asta-chan,” Yuki prompted.

  Ash cleared her throat. “Age.” She took in a deep breath, let it out and looked to Tristan. Even if she couldn’t read his thoughts, the confusion was written so clearly across his face. “As we age, the fangs grow longer, simple.”

  “Yeah but…,” he said looking back to Yuki. Why are some so pale and others not? he wanted to know.

  The tiny vampire smiled broad. “Oh this is too good. I love it when my children bring me virgins. And such pretty ones.”

  Tristan flinched back. He was just realizing how much he didn’t belong here. How fucking nuts this place and its inhabitants were.

  “Only just?” Ash hissed lowly at him.

  “Shut up,” he snapped. “You brought me here.”

  Yuki stood and took a step forward. “And I am so very glad for that. Please, allow me to show you something beautiful.”

  Tristan gave her a look, one that said ‘stay the fuck away’.

  “Please,” the small vampire pleaded looking as innocent as could be behind that childish façade she wore. But Tristan knew she was no child. Not if she really was over a millennia old.

  Tristan looked to Ash for guidance. Reluctantly, she nodded her approval. She distrusted the old vampire as much as she trusted her. It made no sense, but she knew Yukihime too well. Yes, she trusted Yukihime with her life, however, Yukihime never did things in a direct sort of way. The ancient vampire would always save Ash’s life, but at everyone’s peril. So long as they came out alive, Yukihime considered it a win. Even horribly maimed.

  “Please,” Yuki said again, motioning for his hands.

  For some reason, he didn’t want to touch her. Good instincts. Finally, he sighed and trusting Ash’s judgment and abilities, stood and gave his hands to the little vampire. Next to him Ash stood too. He made a small surprised noise at how warm Yuki was despite the frigid temps in the house. He just assumed all vampires were as cold as they looked, Ash always was.

  Yuki shot Ash a knowing smiled and then encompassed Tristan’s larger hands with her small hot ones. Something tingled through them into Tristan and he gasped when their hands suddenly went ice cold. Electricity mixed with excitement sizzled up his arms, spread across his chest and shot right to that cold ball of tingling he’d been carrying in his middle since he walked into the home. He moaned, not meaning too. Yuki laughed and he shut his eyes, certain now that she was making him feel that way and didn’t care as the touch of her laugh excited one of the most basic of human wants.

  Those little hands let go and Tristan opened his eyes, wondering what happened. There was a weight in his palm and he opened his hands revealing the tiny treasure. “Oh my god,” he whispered. In his hand was a tiny ice sculpture of a camellia flower. Perfect and gleaming yellow in the light of the candles. Next to him Ash let out a heavy sigh, relieved.

  “How…” Tristan looked up. “How did you do that?”

  Yuki smiled, all teeth. “Simple,” she answered and then the flower collapsed into itself and melted into a puddle of cold water. Tristan cursed and flinched back, hands out to avoid getting the water on him when suddenly the water was no longer dripping through his fingers. His mouth fell open as he gaped at the droplets spiraling straight up, inches from his face. It gathered into a large ball and then shot away to splat wetly against a screen wall across the room.

  The small vampire, pleased and looking the cat that ate the canary, turned away. “Asta-chan did tell you we have powers?”

  He shot Ash a look. She wouldn’t meet his eye. “In so many words.”

  Yuki laughed, sitting down amongst her pillows, taking up her pipe again. “The older we get, the stronger our powers. The more we use those powers, the more we look like this.” She made a flamboyant gestured to herself and he knew she meant the washed out pale features and not that fourteen year old body.

  “But then that means…” Tristan’s eyes widened as he understood his host and bodyguard even more. She had powers. And she used them a lot if she was that pale already. Desmond too. God, even that fucking prick Lucien was halfway to being as pale as Ash. The question was, how strong did that mean they really were? What was it that Ash did that was so terrible she had to hide it from him? Yuki’s power seemed simple enough, but he could see the inherent danger in having such precise of control something so simple as water.

  “Tristan, I—” Ash started but then Yuki interrupted with another one of those moan inducing laughs. Tristan managed to keep his eyes open this time, just.

  “Please, honored guests, sit.”

  Ash tried to hide her surprise. It was not like Yukihime at all to deflect a situation. Then again, she was always up to something. Trouble was, now Ash was at a bigger disadvantage than normal with good portion of her memories gone.

  Yuki smirked at Ash then looked to Tristan. “This one will break my tiny neck from having to look up for so long and
I trust you want to hear all I have to say, ne?” Yukihime motioned across the room to a pair of elephant sized pillows. “Sit.”

  Just as Tristan turned, he flinched, realizing the feeling of being watched wasn’t wrong. Standing off to the side against a wall was a black haired girl. She was dressed in a frilly black and white maid’s outfit complete with hair accessory and lacy apron. The outfit was borderline Lolita cosplay. Not Tristan’s thing but, he realized, was fairly popular in the bigger cities in Japan. The Japanese liked their Lolita.

  “No?” Yuki said with a high pitch. “Kono chiisana sennyou wa kawaii desu ne, Asta-chan?”

  “English, Yukihime. He does not speak Japanese.”

  Tristan looked at Ash, hearing the first hint of anything but humble respect in her voice. And he realized the propriety, the formal shit they had to go through pissed Ash off. The fact that Yuki was older and therefore Master, pissed off Ash too.

  Ash shot him a look, reading his thoughts and nodded. Too much power for someone so fickle.

  “Fickle, dato? You want to know about fickle?”

  The room dropped ten degrees and then Yuki was on Ash. Tristan gasped, stepping back. He thought those fangs were huge before, but closer, they were mammoth. Why did someone so tiny has such big teeth?

  Yuki’s dark red lips pulled into a crooked grin, those crystalline eyes shining with dark amusement. “The better to bite you with, my dear.”

  “That’s—” He took another step back, running right into the Lolita girl. He never even saw her move his way. She took his arms into her hands. Her grip was barely there, but something in him told him to stay put anyway. He didn’t want anything to do with the two vampires staring at each other, one in dark contempt, the other in whimsical thought. Something about Yuki screamed dangerous to Tristan. He didn’t want anything to do with her.

  “No?” The small vampire said, eyes still fixed on Ash. “Asta-chan’s sentiments of you aren’t the same.”

  Ash hissed a nasty word at the Master vampire in Greek.