Authors: Nicola Claire
I was impressed. But Avery was not.
He was frantically turning around and around, crouched, ready to fight. His eyes full of only jade, his fangs down, a snarl slipping from his curled lips. He had no idea how he had gotten here and I was betting, from the look of him, he was freaking out. The Dragon stood beside me, towering over me, looking at me with such love and then it flicked its gaze to Avery and fire spilled from its nose. The magenta eyes that had held me captive turned black, with licks of flames around the edges.
It reached out a clawed hand, ran the tips tenderly down my cheek and then flicked them out in a movement too fast for my eyes to comprehend. By the time his claws were back at the side of his body, blood had only just begun to spill from Avery's cheek where the Dragon had slashed. A gruesome series of gouges, three side by side.
Avery cried out in alarm and pain, a vampire hiss filling the air.
The dragon turned from me and loomed over Avery waiting for him to realise he was there. It didn't take long. Avery stopped cursing, stopped moving and paled.
“What. The. Fuck?” He gasped out, maybe he hadn't noticed the Dragon until then - too concerned with the change of scenery. He sure as hell noticed him now though.
I will say this only once, Avery.
The Dragon's voice in our heads was not Michel's, it was Darker, raspier and altogether more chilling. There was also no hint of French in there at all.
If you attempt to harm my mate again, I will harm you. There are ways of making death seem welcome. I know them all.
I didn't doubt that the Dragon did know
all
the ways to make a man beg for death. There was something ancient and knowledgeable in those dark, dark eyes. Something that Avery recognised.
I don't know everything there is to know about vampires. About how they branched off from the Nosferatin to become the Nosferatu. People say they had to sell their soul to the God of Darkness. But I have never heard of a God of Darkness, nor do I believe vampires do not have souls. But something, all those centuries ago, happened to make vampires Darker than me. Something that this Dragon was part of.
I watched as Avery nodded very slowly accepting the Dragon's threat. Then the Dragon walked toward me, surprisingly smoothly. Not as though it had a hunched back with large dark green scales crinkling in protest. Or as though its wings felt hindered by the abundant plant life in the garden around us.
I should have been scared. I should have been terrified of those sharp claws on its hands and feet, of the sharp teeth I could see. I should have been scared, but I wasn't. I smiled up at it, making it snort a puff of smoke from its nose and took the offered clawed hand it presented me. It pulled me up with ease and cradled me in its arms, then slowly, keeping eye contact with me so I wouldn't startle, it lowered its head to my neck and flicked out a long rough tongue to seal Avery's bite marks. I hadn't even realised they were still not closed.
I heard Avery make a strangled sound, but I was already trapped in the Dragon's gaze.
Sleep, my sweet little one
, he purred in my mind.
Sleep.
I woke up back in my body Michel cradling me to his chest, but otherwise not there. As had previously happened, he would be out for three hours now. I had briefly wondered if that would change, with the new use of my Light. But it obviously hadn't. I brushed a hand down his cheek, shifted a few strands of hair, and then snuggled my face into his neck to wait. All thoughts of Avery gone from my mind. I was back, with Michel. All was, once again, fine.
I did sleep. It had been exhausting facing Avery and with everything that had been happening, the Dragon's instructions to sleep easily took hold. It was Michel's voice that woke me.
“It worked,” Michel whispered, into the darkened room. It had been daylight when I settled in to Dream Walk, now the shutters were up and the stars shone outside the window. Michel hadn't put a light on, so the room was quite dark. “He told me it would.”
“Your Dragon?” I asked.
“He said he could help you. I didn't think he'd actually be able to pull Avery into his garden too.”
“Did you... I don't know, sense or see what he was doing?” Last time Michel had not been able to. He'd woken unaware of what had transpired.
“Yes. I could see it all, feel it all. I have no idea why, but he is a part of me." I could only assume Michel's new ability to be aware of what the dragon-within did, was tied into the Dragon using my Light. "He is also separate though. Like all vampyre, my demon-within has a mind of its own. It is capable of independent thought. But it is not capable of existing without me. Nor I without it.”
I reached up and stroked his cheek. “I wouldn't have it any other way.”
“You really
do
love my Dragon too?” Michel asked, dumbfounded.
“I love all of you, Michel. Every part. The good, the bad, the Light, the Dark. The vampire and the man. I love it all.”
He smiled down at me. “Just as well then, because I think the Dragon was rather taken with being able to assist you on your Dream Walk. He's going to insist on keeping an eye on you whenever you Walk again and pulling you out if needed.”
I laughed, “Don't go getting any ideas of smothering me those scales and claws of your yours. Once in a while maybe, but not every Dream Walk.”
Michel gave me a look of mock shock, then wrapped me up in his arms. “Would I smother you,
ma douce
?” he asked, mischievously.
I just laughed at him, what else could I do?
But, the light moment was swamped in unwanted shadows, as the Dream Walk to Avery brought back his words to me at the Palais.
“If you are not on my side, you are therefore my enemy. Do not get in my way. I don't play by the rules, Ms. Monk, and I know where all your loved ones live.”
Had we just made a formidable enemy in Avery Rousseau?
My new joined kindred Nosferatu, a member of the
Iunctio
council. A Dark vampire, the Plucking Pervert. After everything that Michel and I had been through, were we about to face more?
I hoped not, I really did. But I doubted that hope and as such,
I'd always stay on guard.
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The twang of a dagger embedding deep into the wall two inches from my right ear sent adrenaline coursing through me. As if there hadn't already been enough! I didn't have time to glare at the culprit before stale, rotten, hot breath washed over my face and a grimy, long-nailed hand grabbed me by the collar of my jacket and threw me across the room.
I landed hard, but not as hard as the boot to my ribs which followed. I jumped up and back as quickly as a cat getting attacked by a water hose. I think I may have hissed like one too, but despite my feline grace the rogue was coming in for a second attempt at throttling me. I already had bruises around my throat from his last attack, I was determined not to suffer that indignity again.
I struck out a hand and forced him back with my Light, but it wasn't nearly as impressive as it sounds. Although having seen Avery just last night to reinforce the joining, I was already beginning to tire. Two days too soon. I shouldn't have been suffering from weakness yet, but my state of mind wasn't helping. I really believe attitude had a lot to do with my current predicament. Attitude and Arthur Pencarrow.
I didn't take that thought through to completion before the rogue pounced again. Spittle from his slack mouth splattered across my face, my hands came up to his chest and held his fangs away from my neck, but shaking was beginning to make an appearance in my limbs. I'm strong, but my strength was failing me. I muttered a few choice curses under my breath and then watched in horror as another silver dagger flashed through the dim moonlight in the factory we were in.
The knife glanced off the rogue's shoulder and I had to twist my face away suddenly or wear the sharp edge across my cheek.
"Do you mind!" I shouted above the roar of anger from the rogue.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" came the whimpering reply.
"If you're going to take out the vampire, don't throw a knife when I'm so close! Stake the bastard!" The woman couldn't throw straight for shit.
"I... I... I can't," came Marie's stuttering reply.
I rolled over with the rogue, ignoring my
partner's
pathetic excuses, trying to get the upper hand. The rogue decided he didn't want to let me, so continued to roll us over until he was on top. The consequent battle for supremacy meant we rolled half a dozen times until we hit the far wall, neither of us gaining an inch on the other.
For a slavering, crazy, fanger he was pretty good.
But I am better.
Another bolt of Light, a groan at the corresponding washed-out feeling, and he was flying through the air and landing with a satisfying crunch against a pillar. I wasn't so quick to my feet this time, but determination mixed with stubbornness has its advantages. I made it upright in time to see the rogue advancing on Marie. Who promptly threw her stake then shrieked and bolted in the other direction.
Bloody hell, why me? I didn't ask for this. I am too busy fulfilling my roles as the Prophesied to play babysitter to a newbie Nosferatin with confidence issues. But, London had rules. Rules Arthur Pencarrow insisted I adhere to. I was having difficulty seeing it his way. Especially at times like this. Maybe I was being a little too precious. I have quite a reputation, I'd like to think it hadn't gone to my head though. But, it's hard not to feel self-important when you are the Prophesied. The one Nosferatin destined to balance the Dark with the Light.
I took a few steps towards them, realised I'd be too late and so shouted, "Hey, fanger! Pick on someone your own size!" Which, in itself, was a laugh. Marie’s about my size, five foot four inches, trim and fit, and the
fanger
was twice that.
He turned slowly, like a clockwork robot, his movements jerky but precise. I had a bad feeling he was just holding on to his sanity. Any minute now he'd go ballistic. I needed to put an end to this now.
He growled, low and long. I held my breath, fingered my stake and muttered encouragingly under my breath, "Come on, come on."
Then he flashed to the stairwell and headed up to the next floor.
"Damn!" I started running after him determined not to let him get away. The destruction he could cause on a busy London night would be phenomenal. I couldn't see where Marie had gone, but it wasn't anywhere near the vampire. And I knew, it wouldn't be anywhere near where I needed her either.
Once again I questioned why my life had to be so bloody difficult. I hated this. I hated having to hunt in teams as per Arthur's instructions or London's
rules
. I knew why Arthur had teamed me with Marie though. Apart from being the only other female Nosferatin currently based in London, he felt I may have been able to help Marie come out of her shell. That was debatable, from tonight's experience. And to think, I could have had this hunt over and done with half an hour ago, if not for the distraction and total incompetence of Marie. Hell, I could have been working on my To Kill List, which currently consisted of the Fairy Queen of the
Dökkálfa
and the Champion of the
Iunctio
. But instead I was chasing a rogue in a dingy abandoned factory, bruised and battered, and huffing like an old lady from exhaustion.
I was so going to make this rogue pay. Then I'd have words with Arthur Pencarrow, self appointed leader of the London Nosferatins.
I skidded to a stop on the first floor and took in the rogue down the far end, cornered. No exits - if you discounted the barred, dirty windows. The only way out was past me and I wasn't going to let him even reach the stairwell, let alone use it again. I could have used Marie's help, it would have been enough for her to block this exit, she wouldn't have had to get close to the vamp again. But right now Marie was hiding in a curled up ball of enormous fear, with a new potential life-long damaged psyche, courtesy of this evening's events. While I battled the rogue on the first floor alone.
That was OK, I liked to handle things alone. I'd deal with Marie's phobias later. First the rogue.
In a flash I was in front of him, my stake grazing the side of his face as he hurled himself at me, fangs down, red glow to his eyes. I had no idea what colour they used to be, they'd bled all natural hues and gone straight for frightful blood red. He was both hungry - having had his dinner disturbed - and quite clearly mad. Most rogues don't make it to that bat-shit crazy stage, they get dealt with by a hunter like me before then, but this one had most definitely slipped through the cracks. He'd bypassed blood-lusted and deadly, and gone straight for utterly insane. That
ballistic
I'd been fearing, had arrived.
Not a problem, he'd officially met his match, I had my game face back on. I didn't plan on toying with him, it was not my usual style. Although I have been known to take longer than necessary in the past to slide the stake home, those episodes had been under strained circumstances. I'd come a long way since then. I watched him gather his balance as he flew past my stake and then I spun out in pursuit before his momentum had stopped. Spin fighting is something I was attempting to teach Marie. So far it had elicited only bruises for her and a headache for me. I wondered whether poor scaredy-cat Marie had any natural balance at all.
I danced through the dust motes that filtered in the dingy space we were in, causing swirls of foul stinking dirt and grime to waft up around my feet, which were currently several inches off the floor. The full moon was out, making it easier to see where I was going. Spin fighting is impressive, often catching your opponent off guard, but if you aren't careful, it could mean a busted ankle or twisted knee. Knowing exactly what I was landing on was essential. Even with the enhanced sight Nosferatins have, the moon tonight was a help.
I landed lightly, took an extra step to bring me in line with the rogue and raised my stake for the final strike. I was already thinking about what to have for dinner. The pull had interrupted my earlier plans of steak and kidney pie. A new favourite, especially when baked fresh by Michel's butler-come-valet Christopher. For a vamp, Christopher could really cook. But now, as several hours had passed, I was thinking fish and chips might have to do it, there was a take-away - or "chippy" as the locals called it - on the route back home. I hadn't tried it out yet, but they said the Cod and chips were
bloody good
.
All of a sudden, my stake arm met a solid wall of muscle and flesh, and the stake - which I admit had been loosely held in my hand - went flying. The clatter of silver metal on the concrete floor was astounding. I spun to confront the "wall" with my second stake out in my hand. No one was there. Returning my attention to the rogue, I discovered he was flashing, vampire fast, towards the stairwell that led back down to my partner's hidey hole. Fuck!
"Marie!" I yelled. "He's coming your way!"
I began to make chase, but again came up against a solid wall, my head rebounding off what was quite clearly someone's chest and my butt hitting the dirt of the floor with an almighty crack. Tail bone. Figures. I groaned and sucked in a breath to quell the nausea and scanned the area for the blasted "wall". Still nothing to be seen.
"Goddess dammit!" I muttered, rolling to my feet and cringing at the pain in my rear. I wouldn't be able to sit for a week. I could just imagine Michel getting me one of those blow-up rings to sit on. He'd have a field day with that one.
Dusting myself off I prepared to follow the Dark signature of the rogue. He hadn't gone far, which was either a good thing or a bad. Good, because I could still catch him. Bad, because he had found Marie. I'd taken three steps, picking up speed despite the sharp, shooting pain coming from my butt, when the "wall" made another appearance. Wham! This time I couldn't avoid the nausea, my near empty stomach contents trying to make a quick escape. I forced myself to my feet, staggered unattractively, but didn't go down, and held my stomach together.
I slowly turned in a full circle, but couldn't see a thing. I let myself sink into the black nothingness I use to
seek
out Dark signatures, but came up empty handed. Even the rogue was no longer registering on my radar. A horrid creepy feeling swept down my spine. Marie. I had left Marie alone, when I was meant to be working as a team.
It would just be my luck to have my protégée injured, or worse. I didn't allow myself to think that through, Marie was a born vampire hunter, a Nosferatin like me. Although she was inexperienced, she wouldn't be able to stop her natural fighting instincts from taking over. Even I had been able to kill rogues before I knew what I was, and Marie had been training, first with Arthur for several months, and now with me for the past four weeks. I had to have faith she could do what was required of her, despite her near statue-like inducing phobia of all things that go bump in the night.
I gripped my stake more firmly and continued to scan the room I was in. It was big, with large dirt covered windows along all four walls, the odd support pillar here and there that would provide cover. But little else to hide behind here. I took a deep breath in through my nose. I wasn't as good as a vampire at scenting, but I could certainly pick up obvious smells with ease. The only things registering here though, was the foul smelling dirt and dust and something rotten, that I thought might just be a dead rat.
I rolled my shoulders and waited for a sound to draw my attention. I could hear nothing from downstairs, which only made me more agitated the longer I stood still. No sounds were coming from the floor I was on either. The only noise I could pick up was the low level hum of London mid-week in the dead of the night.
"OK," I said, slowly. "You've got my attention, why don't you show yourself." I was certain the "wall" hadn't disappeared. Not when it was having so much fun slamming into me whenever I moved.
I waited for a sign, anything that would indicate life. Several moments ticked by and neither I, the "wall", nor Marie made a move. Finally my patience ran out. Gripping my stake firmly I started toward the stairwell at a slow pace. If the "wall" jumped out I would see it and be able to stop. At this speed a turtle could beat me to the bloody stairwell with ease.
After a dozen or so steps I started to relax. Not completely, I'm a hunter, we never lower our guard. But enough to pick up speed and feel marginally confident I was going to make it. The stairwell was in sight, the room still so very quiet and, apparently, empty other than me. I took one last look over my shoulder and knew the instant my eyes had left the space in front of me, I had made a mistake.
I stopped before I felt him. Before I had even sensed him. I just stopped. I turned my head back to the front slowly, my stake already half raised.
A tall, sandy haired, pale skinned man, stood before me. Although his complexion was on the paler side, he wore it well. The paleness of his skin seemed translucent, his short hair thick and a little unruly, almost bed-head messy. The small amount of stubble on his cheeks making him appear dangerous, but the casual attire and small smattering of wrinkles around his bright, sparkling blue eyes, a contrast making him seem intelligent, full of life, someone who has a lot of fun.
He smiled, flashing straight white teeth and shrugged his broad shoulders in way of greeting.
"Hello, lass," he said in what had to be a Scottish accent.