Possession (4 page)

“I’m
trying
!”

“What was that?” he growled.

“Yes, sir!” Catherine said, realizing she’d
slipped out of her role.

Julian was making her punch a padded dummy
over and over with boxing gloves on. It felt funny, and she wasn’t
the violent type. She didn’t want to hit anybody.

He seemed to read her mind.

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t
want
to hit anything, Miss Mitchell. The day will come when you
have
to. Now, commit!”

“Dance Instructor Julian” had now been
replaced by “Drill Sergeant Julian”. She didn’t like him very
much.

“Stop, stop! I have an idea.” She waited
while he left the room and came back a minute later. He taped a
piece of paper to the bag. It was a crudely drawn face, in black
marker.

Catherine recognized exactly who it was
supposed to be.

“Go ahead, love. It’ll be our little secret.
God knows, I haven’t slugged ‘im nearly as much as
I’ve
wanted to,” Julian cajoled.

She hit the face and made the bag sway ever
so slightly.

“Good! Harder!”

Right, right, and a left!
Once she got
started, it felt good to keep hitting that image, giving the
pretend-Lorcan punishment for every demeaning word and touch he’d
subjected her to.

“There’s where you’ve been hiding your fire…”
Julian said. “Over to the mat, now. Let’s work on somethin’
different.” He pulled the gloves off Catherine’s hands, then handed
her a big foam-covered stick.

She quirked her brow.

“Bo staff. Easier to start with than a
sword.” He held one identical to it. “Show me what ya got.”

“Huh?”

He rolled his eyes. “Follow your instincts.
Come at me.”

“Sir…”

“Attack me, Miss Mitchell, or you’ll be
cleaning the kitchen floor with your tongue.”

She gulped, then edged forward to hesitantly
tap his arm with the stick. Julian looked at the staff, then at
her, arching his brow. He extended one arm with a lightning-fast
movement, knocking her down with the end of his staff.

“Take this seriously, will you?” he
asked.

Catherine got up, rubbing her arm, and
sulking.

“Aww, does poor little Cate have a bruise?”
he taunted.

“Don’t call me that,” she muttered.

“You say something,
Catie
?”

“No, sir.” She kept her eyes on the floor as
he circled her like the predator he was.

“I think you did, little Cate… You gonna hit
me, or stare at your bloody toes all day?”

Don’t let him get to you; don’t let him get
to you…

It was one thing to learn how to throw a
punch, another to actually use a weapon on another being. Her
parents had always taught her to resolve conflicts with words, and
if she had to, run.

Julian started poking her with the Bo as he
walked around her, just enough to be annoying. “Hit me, hit me, hit
me, hit me…”

“No,” she ground out.

“
No?
You don’t get to say ‘no’ to
anythin’, sweetheart. Well, I’m sure you’ll say it plenty to Lorcan
when he rips into your sweet cunny, but--”

That’s it!

Catherine pivoted and brought the staff up
between his legs as hard as she could, her eyes wide as saucers a
second later. Julian groaned in pain and doubled over, but didn’t
fall. He limped around the room while she kept a wide berth between
them. She was deathly afraid of what he’d do once he could
straighten up.

“Good hit,” Julian wheezed.

“I…”

“One, I told you to hit me, and two, always
fight dirty if it lets you live another day. Some punk on the
street isn’t going to stick to official boxing rules, and neither
will a demon. Continue, Miss Mitchell.”

“Are you…?”

She waved her hand in the direction of his
body, not believing he wanted to go again so soon. Wasn’t he still
in pain?

Julian nodded encouragingly. “Three, learn to
fight through the pain. It’s hardly the worst hit I’ve ever gotten.
Come on, now. We’ll do somethin’ easy. I swing this way, you block
it.”

She could do that, like playing patty-cake
with the sticks. He pivoted the staff slowly at different angles,
so she could meet them.

Soon, Catherine got into the rhythm of it and
didn’t realize the speed was steadily increasing. The game stopped
when she managed to get through his defenses and bop him on the
nose.

“Oh! Sorry!”

He sniffed, but kept going. “Don’ worry ‘bout
it. No blood, no foul. It proves you’re getting better at reading,”
he said with a grin.

Catherine smiled back

***

Wow, she actually is a pretty little
thing,
the vampire noted.
We might make a good companion out
of her, yet.

***

A chocolate truffle was on her pillow that
night when she turned in for bed, accompanied by a note.

Have to respect a woman that goes for the
family jewels.

Catherine giggled and popped the truffle in
her mouth.
Mmm, bittersweet…

It seemed like forever since she’d had any
chocolate.

***

Waking up to find it was her time of the
month was inconvenient, but luckily, she had supplies in one of her
boxes.

Catherine went about her day as normal,
though it might have seemed at lunch that the demons noticed her
more than usual.

I’m sure I imagined it,
she thought,
walking to class.

As she rounded the corner, someone pushed her
into the wall from behind. A female someone, judging by the breasts
pressing into her back.

“Nothing personal,
mon
amie
,
but I’ve been on bagged blood for a month, and you smell
so
good.
”

The redhead French vampire, then.
Colette.

She pushed Catherine’s head to the side and
licked the skin over the jugular.

“If you are quiet, I’ll even make it good for
you, hmm?” she whispered, then plunged her fangs into Catherine’s
neck.

At least it isn’t Lorcan,
she thought,
already feeling woozy. She made her peace with death just as the
arms around her disappeared in a cloud of dust. She fainted as a
pair of strong, pale arms caught her.

***

Julian brought Catherine into the infirmary,
Alana jogging behind.

“By god, what happened?”

“That French whore we took in a month ago got
hungry. I don’t think she took too much, but the girl passed out
anyway.” He laid her on a bed. “Buggerin’ hell… Lorcan is going to
be fit to be tied when he sees fang marks on her neck that aren’t
his! This is why I don’t. Take. Humans!”

“So have them magicked away. It’s not that
hard. It’s not like she was claimed, so he’ll never know,” she
reasoned. Her partner could be so volatile.

“I’ll deal with it later. Get someone to
bring some juice and bread while I try to wake her up.”

Alana teleported away.

Julian pressed a gauze pad against the bite
marks on the girl’s neck. His mouth was watering at the scent of
fresh blood in the air. It’d been a long time since he’d fed from a
live source, rarely leaving the mansion to hunt. They didn’t need
that kind of attention.

Catherine’s eyes fluttered open. “What…?”

“Stay still. You’ve lost a bit of blood.”

“She bit me…”

“She’s dead. Catherine…how long does
your…?”

Her brow scrunched in confusion. “Huh?”

“How long does your cycle last?”

“Three or four days,” she murmured absently,
her eyes closed. She felt like she was between sleep and
waking.

“You’re going to be kept away from the
others, then, for your safety.”

“Okay… Julian?”

It was the first time she’d addressed him by
his name. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Alana came bustling back in with her arms
loaded with sugary foods. Julian rolled his eyes at her and left
the half-demon to get the girl back on her feet. He needed to go
have a talk with the other demons.

Chapter 5

Week 3…

By week three, Catherine had mastered the
waltz, the Viennese version was passable, and she could carry out a
decent tango. Alana taught her the tango.

The day of the incident, Julian ordered her
to bed with her books, and wouldn’t let her get back to fight
training without having the wound healed by a bit of magic.

“How does it look?” she asked, once the witch
was done.

He tilted her head to the side to put her
neck in the light, running his fingertips over the formerly
blemished skin.

“Good as new.”

She shivered, in a not-entirely-unpleasant
way.

To Julian’s credit, he didn’t seem the least
bit tempted to make her a meal by her…female issue. But, she was
worth money to him, an asset waiting for a client. He
had
to
deliver her in perfect condition.

So far, she could also walk gracefully in
various heights of heels, even on stairs, identify a hundred
different types of demons by picture, carry out perfect table
manners, write the perfect thank you note, and run five miles with
only being slightly winded.

Mrs. Crumb deemed her previous knowledge in
history and literature suitable for conversation. Alana was
satisfied with her ability to run figures. The half-demon drilled
Investing 101 into her brain. And the sex ed was…enlightening.

They were just wrapping up another class,
now.

“Here,” Alana said, presenting her with an
unmarked brown box.

“What is it?”

Alana smirked. “Something to help with your
homework. See you tomorrow!”

Catherine peeked in the box, blushed, and ran
up to her room to slide it under her bed. At least Alana hadn’t
gone into a lecture on the wonders of said product and its myriad
uses!

She liked the woman, she really did, but
Alana had little tact, and even less modesty. Apparently, when
you’re several centuries old, you stopped thinking of such
things.

It wasn’t that Catherine had never
experimented with her…lady parts. She’d even looked at them in a
mirror before, but…well, her mother died before getting past the
“where babies come from” lecture, and her grandmother certainly
wasn’t going to share any tips. Her questions were left to be
solved by answer columns in magazines like
Glamour
and
Cosmo
.

Typical for most young women. You fumbled
about with boyfriend after boyfriend until you figured out what
worked for you, unless you happened to find that one magical guy
who could read you like a book.

Alana also had another motive for sharing as
much as she did. “Things will be different once he turns you,”
she’d said. “But you still have to know how to take care of
yourself.” Then, her voice dropped to an intimate murmur. “If you
know yourself, you can be prepared for the pain.” And then she’d
slipped Catherine a note with a summoning incantation written on
it, “just in case”.

Halfway through her training, now, she was
acutely aware that time was rapidly slipping away. Just three more
weeks until Lorcan came back to get the progress report from
Julian.

***

Julian brought in a new book for her to
study. Well, it was an old book, like all the rest, but new to her.
The History of One of the Most Feared Vampire Clans of All
Time
.

“This is the most accurate version in written
form.”

“Alright…” She wasn’t making the connection
why that was important.

“It’s the clan you’ll be born into,
Catherine.” He’d taken to using her first name since she’d been
bitten. She hadn’t asked why.

Her mouth formed an “o” as the light bulb
turned on above her head. “Lorcan is in here?” she asked, patting
the book.

“Among many others. You’ll get the same
stories from him, although they’ll be a lot more colorful than the
truth, the pompous git.”

She nodded. “Will there be a test?”

Julian shook his head, a little smile playing
at his lips. “Nah, this one’s just for your own good. You should,
uh…you should have the truth.”

“Okay,” Catherine replied. “Thank you,
sir.”

“
Julian
. You’ve been here long enough,
and you’re more respectful than Alana. It’s Julian.” He turned away
and selected a Bo off the wall. “So, you ready to earn today’s
bruises?”

“If you’re ready to earn yours,” she
countered.

He laughed. “Just as long as you stay away
from the knackers, love.”

She picked up the book to read after dinner,
in her room. The front two pages were a family tree in tiny print,
the page number recorded next to each name. Glasses on, her finger
skimmed down the line as she looked for Lorcan’s name.

Lorcan--sired James, Peter, and Celia.

The notation under Celia’s name caught her
eye:
Julian, Killer of Demon Hunters.
Lorcan’s mention of
“family” now made sense.

Skipping ahead to Julian’s pages, Catherine’s
eyes poured over the book. The account described his exploits in
gruesome detail, up until he and Celia parted ways in Santa
Barbara, CA. Celia followed her sire in one direction, and Julian
went elsewhere.

The book seemed to stop for every vampire in
1998, so she guessed another volume was being written somewhere at
this minute.

Was Julian really so distraught over Celia
dumping him that he retreated from the world in this house from
then on? Alana had already mentioned it was a modern business, but
Catherine hadn’t guessed it was less than ten years old.

Two things had stuck out in his
biography--his zest for a challenge, and his devotion to his sire.
Had they been entwined? Just ways to prove himself to her? Julian
was still an enigma.

She shouldn’t like him, of course. As decent
as he might have been since she came to stay here, Julian was still
a killer, a murderer, a vampire. Feeding was a natural instinct for
any species, but he hadn’t just fed to survive--he’d killed people
and enjoyed it. Meditated how he would carry it out. It was all on
the pages. Even without a conscience, he’d still had a choice.