We were both now kneeling, facing each other, body to body. His arms went around me, mine around him and we kissed. It wasn't like our usual kisses. It wasn't sweet and slow and full of love and desire, there was desire there, but it was laced with a hunger I had never felt before. It was more than just a hunger for his touch, or his attention. I smelt him and I tasted him and I wanted more. I could hear his pulse beating under his skin, his heart hammering away and the desire to taste more of him was overwhelming. I wanted to taste his blood. To free that pulse, to let it loose and let it flow through my mouth and down my throat.
There was nothing right now that I wanted to do more. My desire for his touch and body had morphed into a vampiric need for food, a blood lust I couldn't control. Part of my brain was telling me it wasn't my lust, it was Michel's I was feeling, but I couldn't stop it. I couldn't break away from it, it was in me, a part of me, it was what I wanted too.
I'm strong, really strong for a human, I can hold my own with pretty much any vampire that crosses my path, if I'm lucky and things go as planned. They can still get the drop on me, if I make a mistake, or I'm tired, but I am strong. It's just that right now I was under a spell and I was tired and this was Michel. The strongest vampire I have ever met. Part of his strength is mine and the Nosferatin in me can call to it, but right then all my body wanted was his blood. And I was working so hard to get to his neck, to get to his artery pulsing just under his beautifully creamy skin, that all other thought had fled me.
It's not a move I've practised much before. I've trained in martial arts, in street fighting techniques, I run to keep fit, but I don't practice controlling a combating body. Manoeuvring the head and neck, so I can place my lips upon flesh and bite down into the delicious flow of blood. It's just not something I've done before, so I wasn't that good at it.
Michel, on the other hand, is. Even though I was fighting him to get to his neck, I wasn't fighting
him
. I wasn't stopping him from getting to mine, but it was still enough for us to have ended up on the floor. Almost chasing each other in circles. Me going for his neck on one side, him following my movements to go for my neck on the other. Our limbs were entwined, our arms around each other, linked with each other's arms, our legs tangled beneath us, our bodies pressed against the length of the other. It wasn't a beautiful melding, but frantic movements, roiling motions, swirling actions. One thing following the other in rapid speed, that to those watching us, we were probably just a blur.
When his fangs finally found purchase I had a moment of clarity, enough clearness in my head to think that I was glad it had been him to win. That brief sting of fang to flesh was enough to douse the burning blood lust, for me to realise that I
really
wouldn't have wanted to sink my teeth into his flesh and swallow blood. But for him, it was heaven. And I could feel that now.
His body hummed like a tuning fork against me. I could feel the effect my blood was having on all of him; how it animated him, filled him, stretching his skin smooth, made his heart beat and his beautiful blood circulate his body. His skin grow warm and fill out with a soft plumpness, so subtle, but so necessary to stay alive and look alive and not just be a walking corpse. Then I felt the effect my blood had on his emotions, usually so contained and controlled. Blood allowed a vampire to feel more than they usually were capable of. Hunger, lust, they're just basic vampiric needs, but my blood filling his mouth, coating his throat, spreading through his body filled him with more than just lust and satisfying a hunger. It filled him with a love of my body, my blood, me. It told him how precious I was to him, how important I was to him, how central to his existence I was to him.
I felt it all and I think he did too, because he hesitated. The sucking slowed, almost to nothing, almost, but not quite, as though he couldn't quite find the strength to stop that last desire to taste. I am quite sure he would have found the strength to pull away, he was fighting his desire, he was battling it. Trying to stay clear-headed, trying to cling to the feeling of loving me, not just for my blood, but for me. But, whether the Champion was still very angry, or she just thought this was a handy way to kill us both without going to trial or passing an official judgement.
Oops, our guests killed each other, how unfortunate, but there you go.
But, for whatever reason, she amped the desire up a notch. Maybe, she wasn't all Darkness, because she threw a little bone out to me too. She made me want Michel to drain me. Want it so badly, I clasped my hands to his head and pulled him against my neck, not allowing him to release, even if he could. But he couldn't, not now, because he wanted it too.
I could hear my heartbeat in my head; so strong, yet so frantic. And I heard when it missed a beat and then another and then another. I heard when it paused, for a second, then beat once, then paused for three seconds. I heard it slowing, but not just slowing; faulting, missing, dying. The heart doesn't just slow down, it's not smooth and even, it's frantic and scared and panicked, it doesn't want the beats to stop. Adrenaline had shot through me, fighting to keep the heart pumping, fighting for its survival, but there just wasn't enough blood. If there's no blood, there's nothing to pump. If there's nothing to pump, the heart gets confused, it falters and eventually it dies.
I knew I was dying and I didn't care. I didn't hear my internal monologue shouting at me. I didn't hear what answer I might have given. I didn't see my Light trying to build inside me. I didn't try to help it against the sluggish response of my body and mind. I felt when my heart beat it's last beat.
And I just let it.
Being dead is unusual. I'm a Christian, I believe in the afterlife. Despite my hobby of killing the undead, I do try to live within certain rules. God says,
Thou shalt not kill, Exodus 20:13.
It's the sixth commandment, isn't it? It is perhaps the one commandment I have the biggest challenge with. I mean, I kill. I just kill things that are already dead.
Part of me believes God would understand. That the creatures of the night are evil and undead, not human. And I'm sure that he meant
Thou shalt not kill human beings,
but then it's also what I want to believe. So, I don't really know. I have thought about it a lot though. What would happen when I die? Will Saint Peter let me in the gates to Heaven? Will he unlock them when I come? Or slam them in my face?
I don't know.
So, I wasn't sure I was dead, but then I knew I wasn't alive either. There was no pearly gates, no Saint Peter, well none that I could see, but there was light. So bright, so everywhere, so beautiful. How could I not be in Heaven, with such beauty washing over me, such light dancing around me, hugging me, welcoming me, loving me? I was filled with such a sense of being home, of being safe, it made me cry. I had come home.
I became aware of noises. Musical laughter, children playing, the sounds of a school playground, laughter, singing, shouting. It was beautiful, it made me smile. Even though I couldn't see it, it felt so happy, so light, so innocent. Who can't smile at children having fun?
I turned from where I was standing, trying to follow that delightfully happy sound, trying to see through the bright white light that surrounded me, but there was nothing to see. Just light, bright white with edges of a rainbow here and there. No forms or shapes within, just light.
Time didn't seem to matter here. I wasn't aware of how long I had been standing there, of how long I had been listening to that happy, happy sound, I was just there, enjoying it, loving it. I wasn't thinking of anything else, just smiling and enjoying and being happy. So happy.
So, I got a fright when she spoke to me. I couldn't see her, just glimpses of a face through the light. Of long, long black hair; wavy, but not curls. Of a dark skinned face with high cheek bones and fine thin lips, that didn't look too small for the face, but spread across it; owning it, centring it, making it alive. Her eyes were big round molten pools of lava; gold, no other word to describe that beautiful colour. They shone a bright, bright gold. But all of this, was only caught in glimpses, here and there, in and out of the white bright light.
“Child, it is not your time.” Her words were everywhere. In my head, around me, above me, under me, through me. She spoke them, but I felt them inside me too. Deep, deep inside. They were light and musical and if words could be pretty, then these most definitely were. I loved her voice, I wanted her to speak again, but I couldn't think of a thing to say.
“You must return and finish what we have started.” She faded slightly, but I so did not want her to go, to leave me, to send me away. I wanted to stay with her, be with her. She was my home, my haven, my safe place on a stormy night.
“Never fear, Lucinda. The Light will always be with you. You are the Light.”
I felt a brush across my cheek, as though she had touched me, stroked me. An intimate caress between mother and child. I felt my tears fall silently, unhindered down my cheek, not washing away her touch, but sealing it underneath the warm moisture.
“Do not forget, you are a Child of Nut. A Child of the Light. Do not forget.”
The last was just a whisper, barely heard or felt, just a faint noise on a distant breeze. There one second and gone the next. You almost believed you didn't hear it, but then maybe you just did.
And then the light faded and my heart felt crushed. Pain rushed in, my chest was so tight, so sore. A sharp stabbing pain right where my heart was, a deep wrenching ache right where my lungs were. I felt the coldness of stone beneath my body, heard the sounds of raised voices off to the side and realised I could breathe. And when I did, the pain in my heart subsided slightly and my lungs filled up with air, chasing away the ache and filling me up with life.
I raised my head up off the floor and waited for my eyes to come into focus. I was on the ground in the waiting room, still at the
Iunctio's
headquarters. The Champion was in a heated argument with the two vampires, all of it in French, none of it making a damn bit of sense. I turned my head slowly, scared that it would hurt, but it didn't and the world didn't swim, like I thought it would. The guards were just inside the room, a startled look on their faces, but their stances told me, they were ready to intervene, protect the Champion if she needed it. They had that bodyguard readiness about them, despite their larger than usual eyes.
Well, I didn't hurt anywhere any more and I didn't feel dizzy, so things were looking up. I reached up to my neck, to feel where Michel had bitten me. There were small bite marks, two little lumps, but no blood, no wetness and it didn't hurt, at all. I moved my head around in a circle on my neck. All OK. So, could I stand? I didn't fancy being on the floor when the Champion noticed I was conscious. I felt an overwhelming desire to face her eye to eye. So, I gingerly sat up, then just as gingerly got to my feet.
I held on to a nearby table, just for security more than anything. I didn't really think I needed to, it was just there. And then I was at full height, stretching out my body, freeing up my muscles, making sure it all worked.
I noticed the silence first. It had been so full of angry words. Angry words are angry words in any language, even delightfully romantic sounding French. But there was no French now, no angry words, just silence. A silence that made you want to curl up into a little ball and disappear.
I turned to look at the Champion and she looked different than before. Not angry, but surprised, but that wasn't what I noticed initially. She was still both light and dark, but no longer looked clear, translucent. She was solid. What did that mean? Had she changed, or had my perception of her? In her more solid form, she was even more stunning. The shadow or ghost like essence she'd had before had hidden her true beauty. Now it shone with a strength of purpose, with the weight of solidity to back it up. I almost stopped breathing at how extraordinary she was.
I flicked a glance at her two companions. Both male, both vampires of course, both tall. As tall as Michel. One was dressed in, what I guess you'd call, a frock coat. It was black and long, like a suit jacket but all the way down to just below his knees. The cut was perfect, fitting against the shape of his shoulders, moulding to the line of his body, but the style screamed old. His trousers weren't the same colour, but a lighter grey and he wore polished black leather shoes on his feet. I let my eyes travel back up the length of him, past the lapels of his coat where a strange looking brooch sat pinned to his left breast and then gazed on to his face. He had an aristocratic look to him, it was more to do with the way he held his head than his features; stiff necked, chin up, looking down his nose at you. He was austere but handsome, despite the harshness of his posture. His eyes shone a liquid brown, his hair a sleek dark brown, brushed tightly against his scalp and tied back closely to the nape of his neck.
The other vampire was more relaxed, giving you the sense that he was younger than the frock coat vampire, but the
Sanguis Vitam
signature told otherwise. They were both about 500 years old, Frock Coat a little older. The younger looking one was dressed in a suit; dark grey, with a pale mauve shirt on underneath and grey tie, Windsor knot at his neck.
Number two vampire had a pleasant face, not handsome, but not unattractive either, just a softness to the edges. His mouth a little small, his chin not quite as strong, but his eyes a lovely shade of blue, almost blueberry blue, intense and deep, as though something could be hidden in them. He smiled at me, making his eyes sparkle and his face suddenly seem very handsome indeed.
His hair was loose, down round his shoulders. Light brown with stripes of blonde, not highlights, but actual stripes, as though someone had died it that way, methodically, on purpose and with much effort. His hair had a soft wave to it, that made it fan around his shoulders and shift as though alive when he moved his head. Like his eyes, his hair was mesmerizing.
There was one thing to be said, none of the
Iunctio
so far appeared to be lacking in the beauty department.
That thought must have got through to the Champion, because she shut her open mouth and stood a little taller, staring me down.
“You were dead.” A statement, not a question, so I didn't answer. What would I have said anyway? “Michel was dying.”
Michel. Oh shit, I hadn't even checked him. I did a stupid thing then and turned my back on the vampires. Stupid, reckless and
so
not a vampire hunter move. Amateur. So, I stopped myself and turned back slowly, instead allowing my senses to flow down that metaphysical line that connected us, the Bond, and sensing he was still in there, just hidden away, shut down, but alive. I poked him down the line, but didn't get an answer.
But, I had more pressing things right now to deal with, so I breathed a little Light towards him and kept my eye on the Champion.
“How are you alive?” she asked. Regaining some of her composure, no longer quite so stunned.
OK. So, she'd asked a question now and I was guessing she wanted an answer, just a shame I didn't have one to give.
“I'm not sure how.” Well, it was the truth. I knew I'd been somewhere close to death, to Heaven if you want to call it that. But I also knew it wasn't me that brought me back. It had nothing to do with anything I did.
“You were drained, we all felt it. Your life force vanished, we felt the loss of your power.” She stopped then and cocked her head to the side, as though she was trying to hear something the rest of us could not. “It's back, your power has come back to us and it's....stronger, more.” She straightened her head and looked at me, her face a picture of pretty puzzlement. She really was perplexed. “I demand you tell me how.”
Her voice had gone lower, not a growl, but a definite threat. She wanted me to tell her, but I had no idea what to say. She'd sense a lie, a falsehood, but then the truth? Would she believe me? Could she accept it?
I sighed. She frowned. “I honestly don't know how, Champion. I thought I was dead, I thought I was in Heaven and then she sent me back.”
“She?”
“My mother.” As soon as I said the words I knew they weren't entirely true, but they also felt right. Had that woman I heard and saw in glimpses, been my mum? My biological mum? But, that didn't quite sit right either. I've seen photos of my mum and she didn't have black hair, but brown. And she didn't look like that face, hers was rounder, softer, smaller. So, if it wasn't my mum, but it felt like I was her child, then...
“Nut. It was Nut”
The Champion actually collapsed then. Frock Coat sweeping a chair out of nowhere to catch her fall, placing her perfectly on her bustled rump in the centre of the hard backed wooden seat.
“This is not possible, but I smell the truth on you.”
I knew then, that she was scared. I sensed it, I smelt it, but I also just knew it, like someone had whispered it in my ear. She wasn't scared that I was a Child of Nut. That Nut existed even. She had accepted that long ago. She was scared that if she really wanted me dead again, she wouldn't be able to achieve it. Nut would intervene and bring me back. Shit.
I sunk down into a chair too. No one sweeping it under me, just damn luck it happened to be there.
“You understand. But why you?” Her voice was soft, no vampire mood tricks, just genuine amazement.
“I don't know.” The Prophesy maybe, I thought.
She shook her head. “It doesn't work like that. The Prophesy has started, we knew this. We now know that you are the
Sanguis Vitam Cupitor
, you are the key, but
I
can not kill you. I should be able to, so there is a reason for that.”
I didn't understand what she was saying. If Nut had saved me now from death, then surely she'd do it again, regardless of who tried to kill me.
“No,” the Champion said looking at me and for the first time it didn't hold anger, or hatred. For the first time it looked like she was truly seeing me, almost assessing me. I got a creepy feeling she was sizing me up. Trying to decide how she could use this new information, this new thing she had discovered. She couldn't kill me, there had be a reason why, so what good was I to her? What purpose was I to fill?
“I can see a connection between you and this Hunter.” Old Frock Coat could talk and I realised I recognised his voice from those arguing before, he had been the most vehement.
I looked at him, but he only had eyes for the Champion. He was
really
concentrating on seeing her, or around her, something like that.
“There is a reason you are connected, but I cannot determine what it is?”
“How can you see we are connected?” I couldn't see a connection, how could he?
He turned to look at me and it wasn't exactly unpleasant, just neutral, austere. “I am the Diviner. I can sense how people are connected. I can see your Bond to your kindred, its strength, its unyielding connection. I have never seen one before so enduring. I can see you have a connection to another, but until I see you both together, I cannot tell to whom or how. But, I can see you are now connected to the Champion. It isn't weak, but it isn't strong. It just is and I cannot see why.”