Dancing Dragon

by Nicola Claire

  But, first things first, show no fear. Rule number one on the Nosferatin charter of behaviour.

  “You seem to have over indulged this evening, vampire. Tsk. Tsk. It is against the rules, you know.” I fingered my stake, allowing the silver of it to catch his eye. He just smiled more broadly.

  “You are on my turf now, Hunter. My rules. My world. You are not welcome here.”

  “I bet you say that to all the girls,” I answered and spun in the air towards his right hand side.

  Spin fighting is one of my learned talents, it's not inherited, not inherently Nosferatin, just a skill taught to me by my former Nosferatin trainer, Nero. He had been the master of the manoeuvre, a stunningly brilliant move he made look mesmerizing. We have enhanced speed, courtesy of our ancestors and joining with a kindred Nosferatu, making the spin appear nothing more than a blur and the time taken to cross the space between where I had been standing, to where he hovered over the remains of his supper, only a split second. Usually enough to get the drop on the vamp I was after. Not only because of the superhuman speed, but because the move is spectacular and even the undead have an appreciation of beauty.

  Of course, occasionally it can go wrong. Like tonight.

  I landed to the side of the vamp and had my stake up ready to make the killing blow, when he simply thrust out a hand, taking advantage of my continued momentum, casually flicking me away. He would have used a fraction of his full strength, nothing more than a slight movement of his fingers, like you would if you were swatting a mosquito away. But, it was enough to send me over ten feet down the paved lane and crashing against the glass of a boutique shop window, tumbling through the enclosure and across the polished concrete floor of the shop.

  Clothes stands went flying, designer garments crashing to the ground and the ornate counter providing a shockingly non-absorbent landing pad. I felt the bones in my right arm, my fighting arm, shatter on impact. Crap, but it hurt.

  He didn't fly after me in that preternatural speed they have, he simply stepped over the carnage of the window, the scattered outfits worth thousands of pounds and glided across the mess with slow purpose towards me. I struggled to right myself, using only my left arm, transferring my stake to my non-dominant side and pushing up off the ground, turning to face him.

  OK. So he had some clout, but I don't give up that easily. One handed I still had some tricks up my sleeve.

  I started gathering my Light, preparing to blast the Darkness out of him and turn him from something completely engulfed in evil to something with a choice. Usually, they chose to carry on with their nasty ways, but occasionally they did the right thing and walked away a new vampire, ready to start a life well within the rules. When he made it to within two feet of me, I began to release my Light, as though I was physically touching him, prepared to bring him into my line. I wouldn't have to do that though, it was all in the intent. I have one vampire already in my line, but that didn't mean I had to have more. As long as my intention was to bring the Dark vampire under my wing, the Light would do the rest.

  I really didn't want to add to my stable, so avoiding physical contact was essential in this little routine. As long as I didn't touch the object of my Light's focus, they would simply be balanced out and have a choice to make. Good versus Evil. Light versus Dark. I could live with that. If they chose the wrong way, I'd just stake them. If they made the right choice, I'd let them go on their merry way with a rap across the knuckles.

  Easy.

  Except, when they try to grab you as the Light flees your body. Of course, the outcome would be basically the same, although they would no longer have a choice, they would simply be under my command, under my line, subject to me. Their new master. But, they would be good and not evil any more. I did not want that. I really needed to get over this little aversion to adding to my family line, because I immediately flinched as the vamp's hand wrapped around my wrist, painfully tightly and changed my Light from a balancing the universe power, to simply its natural manifestation in an instant. A natural reflex action to the abhorrence of adding to my line.

  Damn.

  The vampire collapsed to his knees, a small moan escaping his lips, with me in tow. Unfortunately, my Light has a habit of including me in the experience when I don't temper it at all, when I let it do its thing in its natural form. And unfortunately, its natural form is rather an embarrassment.

  Heat washed over us and wrapped around our bodies, sending shockwaves of pleasure through the length of us, melding us together in an erotic maelstrom of desire, lust, hunger and need, taking us on a high like no physical intimacy ever could. The after effect was always one of sated bliss, a post coital experience without having to get dirty to achieve it. Yuck. I hated that this was my natural Light's ability. Sure, occasionally it was fun, but only when I did it with my kindred.

  This guy was not my kindred, not by any stretch of the imagination.

  He recovered faster than most, but then maybe finding release through physical contact was just par for the course in an evening's adventures for this chap. He rolled over the ground, covering the distance between us in a split second, to press my body into the scattered garments at my back, making a surprisingly comfortable bed. The hard length of his body moulded to mine, his hands securely fastening my arms at my side, a simple twist of my wrist and my stake was gone. The break in my other arm screaming, but the voice in my head drowning it out. Shit. This was not good.

  He leaned in slowly, his face at my neck and inhaled. Vampires love scent, it's very personal and very revealing for them. They can hunt you by your scent alone, they can recognise you, taste you, be captivated by you, all because of your scent. It is erotic to them, enticing, enthralling and in some cases, absolutely addictive to them. If your scent just happens to be the one that hits their buttons, you're doomed. I held my breath and prayed to every god I knew, that this guy didn't have a penchant for candied apples, sunshine, honey and Spring. My signature scent.

  “You are divine, Nosferatin.” His face came away from my neck and took me all in, scanning my eyes, my cheeks, my jaw line, the rapidly beating pulse at the base of my neck.

  I shifted against him, trying to find a weakness in his hold. Useless. Futile. A waste of friggin' time.

  He smiled wickedly. “It is a shame I shall have to end your existence here. I cannot afford word of my exploits to reach the wrong ears.”

  No, he couldn't. If the Iunctio found out, they would send their Enforcer after him. The Iunctio may not have been the good guys as such, but they liked their rules. This vampire was well outside of them tonight. But, at least, the fact that he wanted to kill me, meant my scent hadn't triggered a possessive, must-add-you-to-my-harem desire in the vamp. He wouldn't be hell bent on chasing me down because I smelt nice any time soon. That was of course, if I could get away from him now.

  The pain in my arm had escalated to an alarming degree, making it hard to think clearly and sweat begin to grace my skin, from head to toe. A sense of nauseous unease had also settled in my stomach, making me repeatedly swallow back bile in an effort to not up-chuck all over this guy's expensive outfit. Of course, as far as defensive manoeuvres go, perhaps it would have been a good one. Unexpected at any rate.

  I needed to get out of this situation and fast. It would take a split second for this killer to pounce, I didn't get the impression he was in the mood to play with his meal. It would be lights out the moment he wished it so. Frantically trying to think of an out, I realised my only form of escape with a fractured arm and a powerful vampire sitting on my chest, was a Walk back down Dream Walking lane. I needed to get out of here and back to my body, in my house in St. Helier's Bay, Auckland.

  I centred myself on my frantic heartbeat. It didn't bother me that it was fast, the repetitive sound of it was enough to meditate my way into a trance-like state, allowing my mind to fall back into the nothingness that leads me back to my body. Most vampires can't tell what I am attempting to do - well hell, if they
can't see me it's pretty easy to pull it off - but this guy, was watching me intently. He may have had every intention of ridding the world of my existence, but he wasn't opposed to having a little play before he completed the deed.

  I guess my scent was good enough to get mildly distracted by after all, even if it wasn't his drug of choice per se.

  He shifted above me, not erotically, just to get a better hold of my fractured arm, to encase the rest of my body with his. To limit any avenue of escape. He inhaled my scent again and nuzzled my neck above my pulse, right over Michel's new mark. He may not have been getting off on holding me captive, well not in a sexual way, but he certainly was getting his fix for dominance and control tonight. He had decided to have a little fun before he finished me off completely. It's not the first time I have been faced with an aggressive vampire pinning me to the floor, so I did my best to ignore his movements, his low growl-come-purr as he satisfied the predator within and worked on settling my mind.

  Of course, he figured out fairly quickly that I wasn't going to play the game, but then vampires have more in their arsenal than just good looks, quick wit and long fangs. His Sanguis Vitam washed over me in a delightfully delicate touch, so not what I was used to with a vampire, especially one riddled with Dark. It had a timeless quality to it, as though an eternity had been spent perfecting it, smoothing it, making it just right. Not too heavy handed, not too weak, just perfect. It wrapped around me and caressed my cheeks, my neck, down my back, making me still my movements and my heart leap into my throat, knowing what was coming next and dreading it. He growled low in appreciation of my response. You could just tell what he was thinking, that's better, now we're cooking with gas.

  I frantically tried to clear my head, to not show fear. I have some natural resistance to vampire mojo, they can certainly get the better of me if I'm not in top form, like when I have the distracting pain of a fractured arm, but I am a professional too. I blocked out the pain as best I could and then reinforced my shields. The longer he took to enjoy his game, the more time I had to sink back into the black nothingness of my mind. I offered up a whimper to keep him happy and then turned my attention solely on returning to my body.

  It was hard, he was good. Not just the power of his Sanguis Vitam, but the skill in which he increased my fear, threatened to harm me further, squeezed my fractured arm with just enough pressure to remind me of what could happen, but not in fact follow through yet with the threat. And then he ran his fangs over the my flesh above my pulse in my neck, the implication obvious. I'd interrupted his meal tonight, he wanted compensation. He knew what he was doing, he knew exactly what would work, but he hadn't countered on the fact that I was already pretty angry when I was called here by my Dark Vampire seeking powers, or my role as the Sanguis Vitam Cupitor. I was actually pretty pissed off in fact, with vampire power plays and politics, not to mention mood changes and possessiveness. This vampire may have been strong, ancient and powerful, but he was a walk in the park compared to my kindred right now.

  I pushed out everything he was doing, calling on all of my resources and any additional power I could find within and fell away into the void with frantic need, coming to on my bed, the shutters down for the day, blocking out what sunlight there may have been and the dim glow in my bedroom casting an eerie light across the room.

  I had done it. I had escaped, but I hadn't saved the human. Nor the three glazed Norms watching from the wings. I groaned aloud at the thought of what the vampire would be doing to them now. He wouldn't show mercy, he'd proved his intent with the death of his first meal and now I had slipped through his fingers, he would be mad. The audience was as good as dead and I had failed.

  Shit.

  I took a deep breath in and sat up on my bed cradling my fractured arm and trying not to let the tears flow. I blinked them away frantically and when the room lost that blurry edge, was rewarded with a sight I had not expected. I just about hit the roof in surprise.

  Michel sat in an armchair across from me, legs crossed, eyes glowing magenta in the dark, watching my every move. The fact that he was in my bedroom, the room I usually share with him, was not the surprise. The fact that he was here during daylight hours when he has been staying at Sensations, his club in the CBD, was.

  Oh no. This was not going to be good.

  “Lucinda. Would you kindly tell me what the hell it is you have been doing?”

  Oh no. Not good at all.

  Chapter 2

  Reunion

  “Nice of you to drop by,” I threw out at him, still cradling my broken arm to my chest protectively.

  Michel had been spending a lot of time at Sensations recently. At first, I accepted it as part of the obligation to his line and businesses, but the days away lengthened and now lately, I had begun to just think he was avoiding me outright. Only crossing my path when he felt the effects of not being near his kindred after three or so days. As joined kindred we needed to remain in physical contact with each other, it didn't necessarily need to be intimate as such, but we did need to touch, even briefly. When we denied ourselves that contact, we became weak.

  Usually, that wasn't a problem. Keeping our hands off each other had never been an issue, but things have changed. Actually, they pretty much about-faced when I gave him every single tiny piece of my heart and soul. They changed when I made that last commitment to him, took that last huge leap of faith and laid myself bare at his feet. I gave him my Sigillum, or mark, something so precious and intimate, something I had vowed I would never give to another unless I truly meant it.

  I had meant it. I loved Michel more than life itself, so I gave him my Sigillum. Now he wore a colourful, light enhanced tattoo of a dancing dragon on his chest, intricately woven with swirls of ribbons wrapped around the dragon making it appear more than it was, above his heart, right up to his neck. It was beautiful, magnificent and he had appeared at the time to be in heaven when I gave it to him.

  Then several days later he moved out.

  Of course it was easier for him to do that, the claiming that we had been subjected to had been satisfied, which hadn't surprised me at all. I mean, the vampire within him had been trying to claim me as his own for some time and when I gave myself over to him completely, it was finally satisfied enough to call off the claiming - which is an intense urge on his part to mark me as his own, either by feeding from me, or having sex with me. Alarming as it had been, I missed it. Almost as much as I missed him.

  With its absence, went his ability to read my thoughts. We could still throw thoughts at each other intentionally, but he could no longer read my mind, something I had hoped against hope would disappear. And now that we didn't have it and he had started to constantly second guess my motives, my actions, my words, I missed it too. Dear God, I missed it.

  What had happened to my Michel? I couldn't help thinking it had all been a game and now he had won me, he was moving on to better things. That's what vampires do. They cast around for something to entertain their very old and experienced selves and when they win the challenge of their choice, they move on. I just had never, ever thought Michel fell into that category. I thought he actually loved me.

  Stupid. Stupid. Me.

  “I felt your need for some of my powers tonight, Lucinda. The Bond called for it. I thought we had agreed you would not do anything risky for a while. To - how did you put it? - lay low.”

  Oh. The Bond we shared had a tendency to take power from the other of our joining when needed. It was a two way street, but we had little control over it. Obviously my run-in with that ancient vampire required a bit more oomph than I'd had and had called on the Bond to help out. Great. I hadn't wanted Michel to know I had Dream Walked to a pull. Nero had always said it was too risky to use the Sanguis Vitam Cupitor powers in that way. That I should wait for the vampires to come to me, to answer the call of my Prohibitum Bibere powers.

  Sooner or later, Dark vampires answer that siren's call and then I can deal with them on my own turf, bu
t chasing after the pull is dangerous. Unfamiliar territory, no back-up, in the form of my two very competent but insanely over protective vampire guards Marcus and Matthias and no Michel. Well, hell, I had been caught out, but ignoring that pull was torture. Standing by when I knew no other Nosferatin was nearby to answer it, was damn near impossible. Still, Michel had made me promise and I had broken that promise tonight.

  No wonder his normally blue eyes were shining magenta. Magenta was never a good look on Michel, not because it didn't suit him, but because it meant he was only just holding on to his temper and at any second he could blow.

  Well, I'd had enough of tip-toeing around Michel lately. Trying to figure out why he was pulling away, trying not to chase after him, trying to let him have space. I was sick and tired of being the patient, doormat of a kindred Nosferatin. Michel and I had more than that. Or at least I had thought so, anyway.

  “You didn't need to come and check up on me, Michel. It's not like you've taken much of an interest in my life lately, so why start now?” Bitter, me? Nah.

  “When you insist on using some of my power through the Bond, Lucinda, how can I not intervene?”

  It hadn't escaped my notice that he was using my given name and not his pet name for me, ma douce. Not that he had called me that for at least three weeks, but Lucinda usually meant he was angry. If the magenta in his eyes didn't give it away, the Lucinda sure did.

  “Well, I'm sorry, but it's not like it did you any harm, Michel, it doesn't work that way.”

  “But it still concerns me, does it not?”

  We stared at each other for a moment. Him in his impeccable Armani suit, broad shoulders, long dark brown, almost black, shiny hair, deep cream, lustrous skin, so perfect. And I just felt tired. Defeated. Crushed. Michel may not be able to read my mind anymore, but he can still receive my emotions. I went to shuffle, uncomfortably, off the bed, still trying not to disturb my fractured arm and he was instantly by my side. Sitting beside me and reaching a hand out to me. He hesitated, then when I looked down at his hand, hanging in the air between us, suspended, he covered the last of the distance and gently, so carefully, picked up my arm.