Bete Noire (31 page)

“I am done hiding behind my weak self,” she said and he smiled. “The frightened me.”

“I’m happy to hear that, darling.”

“From here on, I promise to stop being so
damned
difficult and just be.” He had to smile at her use of a phrase he’d said more than once to her. “Just know, I have demons. Things I’ve done in my past that I regret, that even after more than three hundred years I cannot let go of.”

He touched her face again hoping to pull her down for a kiss. “We all do.” Some more than others. “It’s what makes us human.”

She shook her head against his hand. “Not like this. I have killed so many over the years, innocents, to sate my needs. I have tasted so many, witnessed their past, swam in their memories and saw that they were good people. Far more noble than I ever was. My conscious grew heavy with the guilt of their deaths to continue my life. Haruka...,” she whispered. “I almost drained that child. I thought to release her from the torture of her memories of watching Malik decimate her family. I was moments from killing her, but then I could not give her that release.”

Ash sighed, shifting the hair out of his face. “I was selfish, I needed her—no, please
,” she said when he tried to butt in. “Let me finish.

“I was selfish, yes. But it seemed we needed each other. She showed me how to grow past my desire for blood and death. And she, as I came to discover, wanted to live. She needed a life of love. And I gave her that and will never regret it.”

He smiled warmly, touched that she was sharing with him so openly, finally. “I’m glad you found something in your life that made you happy, Ash.” He was also kinda hoping she’d add him to that short list of things that made her happy.

She looked at him through half lidded eyes for a moment, studying him. “Even with the love we felt for each other, Haruka and I, I still lived in despair. To the end of my days, I am afraid I shall carry with me the anguish of what Malik ha
s wrought on me. The things he has done to me, forced me to become, will scar me until my end.”

“I understand that,” he said shifting in her lap to a more comfortable position. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t be who you are. You’ve shown me the real you so many times. Like when you threated to take off that bastard elf’s head if he hurt me.” He smiled hard, unable not to as he remembered the fae’s scared expression. “I like the real Ash. She’s fun.”

Ash didn’t return his smile, but nodded, absorbing his words. “Yes, you are right. I see that now. I see the folly of my actions and I can only hope that you forgive me. My attitude since Yukihime gave us our orders has been positively deplorable. I... it was human feelings, what is left of them. They frightened the vampire in me into acting out, to behaving like a child.” She licked her lips in a nervous gesture. “Not once in the past—in my entire lifetime, not even my human years, have I felt this… strongly for another person.”

Tristan gave a moan and tried to sit up. Ash made a noise of disapproval, but helped him upright. When his vision cleared of the annoying dark spots and his head stopped sloshing enough for him to see again, he did he quick inventory of his body. What he could see of himself was covered in already darkening bruises: his chest, both wrists where they
had been bound, a grapefruit size spot on his thigh near his groin. Then there were the bright red welts, some flaked with dry blood, where he’d been whipped. He wondered how many of the marks were put on him after he passed out—he remembered quite a few of them while still conscious.

Ash on the other hand, she was perfect. Absolutely perfect in all her naked glory.
Then again, he couldn’t see the foot with its missing toes she hid, or her flayed back.

He frowned at her, swaying slightly. All of the sorrow, misery, angst, confusion, fear, anger, elation, worry—every emotion he’d felt over the past few days boiled to the surface suddenly. He wondered if he looked as miserable and frightened as he felt. Things were getting intense and he wasn’t sure he could handle it in his current state.

“What… what are you trying to say?” he whispered, his mouth barely able to work the words.

Ash swallowed hard and started to shake her head. She thought she was ready to finally come clean and tell him everything. Turns out she wasn’t. “I cannot.” She gave a little gasp and grabbed Tristan’s arms when she felt Lucien and Sebastian coming. “Listen to me. We do not have much time… Are you—tell me that you want me to bite you, truly.”

“What?” He knew he was broken and maybe not hearing things right, but this? “Come on, Ash—”

“Tell me,” she implored.

“You think we won’t make it out of here…”

She looked down.

“Hey.” Tristan lifted her chin with a finger. “I want it. God, I want it so badly, you just don’t even know. But not like this. We’re going to be okay.” The worried look in her eyes said she wasn’t so sure. In truth, the words tasted bitter to him. He had been thinking the same thing. “And when we’re out of here and safe and had a nice long nap, a nice long hot bath and a nice long talk, then I’ll take you up on the offer. Okay?”

Ash couldn’t even speak without bursting into tears. Why did she have to be so human?

“God, come here.”

He reached for her and s
he grabbed his hand midair, leaned in and kissed him. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to feel her under him. He missed her, her touch, her smell, the feeling inside when she was near him—both the Uruwashi blood in him and the way his human heart sped up all on its own. He knew her rules, but right then he thought of any time in their lives she might give a little and let him have this, he pushed her limits. He tested her lips with his tongue and she willingly opened for him. She wouldn’t bite him, not in that moment, but maybe tomorrow or the day after…
after
they got out of their prison. He moaned, grabbing her head into his hands, holding her to him as he tasted her deeply, slowly. He was going to savor every second they had.

A heavy door creaked opened down the hallway and in came the sounds of footsteps and soft French conversation. The pair in passionate
embrace heard the thunder of those steps but were both in total agreement and ignored the approaching doom as they fell deeper into their longing kiss. The conversation stopped outside of Tristan’s cell with a harrumph. Someone spoke to them, but they didn’t hear the words until Tristan was jerked backward.

“I said that is enough,” Lucien barked. 

Tristan fell back into Sebastian’s arms. He whimpered as Ash was dragged up by her shoulders and hair. She fought Lucien in earnest, punching and kicking. She was driving him back, besting him. Tristan wanted to cheer her on, but then he saw the mess that was her back. So much skin was missing, leaving red raw patches of muscle showing in perfect little squares.

After he’d passed out and Lucien was bored of cutting Ash—not even bothering to sample her more provocative wares—the two men played a game of chess on her back. Lucien liked to be “productive and innovative” in everything he did. Malik taught him that.

“Bitch!” Lucien screamed as he was corned. Sebastian knew better than to interfere and waited patiently, a hand on Tristan’s shoulder to keep him on his knees. With another groan of anger and a cursed French word, Lucien pulled a knife from his back pocket and in a movement Tristan couldn’t follow, brought the blade up and swiped it across Ash’s neck. Her throat burst into a red fount.

“No!”

The fae had to hold Tristan down to keep him from running to her. Even in his delirious and shaky state, he was ready to murder.

Lucien bared his teeth in a nasty sneer and kicked Ash in the middle, toppling her over. Her head smacked into the stone with a sickening wet thud that made Tristan’s stomach lurch. Voice rough and angry Lucien grumbled, “Don’t be so fucking pathetic. She’s fine. She will live…
Hmm, maybe.”

“Oh my god, Ash.” Tristan was crying now. He was sure he just witnessed her death.
“You son of a bitch!” He burst to his feet, kicking out at Sebastian to knock him over, and went for Lucien. The vampire easily ducked the slow, clumsy tackle and Tristan fell over, tripping on Ash’s body.

“Fuck!” he screamed, frustrated and moved to try for the vampire again when Lucien kicked him squarely in the jaw. Dazed, Tristan fell over, laid out flat next to Ash’s body, trying to remain conscious. All the while, muttering how he was going to kill Lucien, over and over.

Lucien stopped and looked down at the man on the ground and realizing his task of taming the Uruwashi would be easier with Ash alive rather than not, he ordered Sebastian to heal her.

“Oui,
mon seigneur,” the fae answered dryly.

Tristan forced his eye open and reached out, touching the body next to him
. “Ash.”

Her eyes opened, just a hint of purple. “…fine,” she whispered and shut her eyes again.

Tristan reached up and touched her head. “Oh god, don’t die.”

“Go on then,” Lucien ordered. “Take her out. Make sure you heal her enough for her to recover consciousness tonight.”

“Oui, mon seigneur.” Funny, Tristan was starting to notice the dryness of contempt in the title Sebastian called his Master. Whenever Sebastian called Tristan mon seigneur, it always sounded like he meant it. Maybe the vampire was holding something important over the fae’s head to get him to work with him. If only Tristan could think straight, he might come up with a way to use the discontent to his advantage.

Sebastian kicked Tristan’s hand away from Ash before scooping her up.

Cold blood dropped onto his cheek and he sobbed, barely whimpering out, “You son of a bitch.”

“Now
now.” Lucien knelt down next to Tristan and patted him on the back. “I like Ash. I hope to keep her around for a very long time. She’s very resilient, you shouldn’t worry so much. You should be more worried about yourself, don’t you think?”

“
I’ll fucking kill you!” he screamed and with his last surge of strength, shot to his feet. He got one good hit in, surprising the vampire who thought he was too weak to fight. But his next hit was caught in a hard hand. Lucien sneered all fang into Tristan’s face and then head butted him hard enough to stop his breathing for a moment.

The world went black, his head felt like it came
right off his neck. He was free, airy. Faintly, he felt his body fall and braced for the pain of hitting stone that never came. He knew then that he’d gone too far. He’d taken that final hit that would end this all. Even if Ash wasn’t dead, he knew that was the last time he’d ever see her again. It was all over now.

HOT, unwelcome hands were all over his chest. He groaned and shifted, trying to shoo those hands away. His head felt... good. His eyes snapped open, both of them, and he met green eyes.

Oh. The faerie.

His jaw tightened and he gave his surroundings a quick look around, trying to assess his situation. He was laying on his back, naked, in the middle of his cell where he’d been when Lucien head-butted him. But his body didn’t hurt and both of his eyes worked. He knew where he was and remembered everything.

I should be dead.

“You died.”

Tristan stiffened. “Huh
?”

Sebastian sniffled as he stood, looking a little unsteady and holding a rag against his left wrist. When Tristan sat up he noticed the serving cart parked just inside his cell. He couldn’t tell, but the door behind it was probably locked. If he could move easily enough, he was going to try for it.

“You stopped breathing. Your heart ceased too.”

Tristan looked to the fae, shock and confusion in his expression. “Then—”

Sebastian held up a big ass syringe. An epinephrine pen. Tristan’d never used one but he knew a girl in high school once who had an asthma attack and had to use it. Said it hurt like hell.

“I also gave you a considerable amount of my
faerie
blood, monsieur Uruwashi.” He put a lot of emphasis into the word “faerie” as if reminding Tristan not to call him elf again. Right now, it was the last thing on his mind as he eyed the door.

“It was good thing to
o,” Sebastian went on, more to himself than Tristan. “Could you imagine someone like you being possessed by a shinigami… now that’s a nightmare.”

Sebastian—
the stupid fucking faerie
—he had his back to Tristan as he worked at the cart. Now was Tristan’s chance if he didn’t let confused questions about what shinigami where slow him down. He stood slowly, quietly, feeling his body answer freely and started to move for the other man. He was keenly aware of the ache in his belly and the pain in his head that had nothing to do with being knocked around and almost dying. He hadn’t eaten in over a day and it was starting to take its toll on him.

“To be honest, I wasn’t sure if my blood would work for you. When Lucien first sent me to you I was under the impression you were a full Uruwashi, awakened and such. But that’s not true at all. No one really knows what you are, do they, monsieur?”

Sebastian sighed as he finished taping up the bandage on his arm. Tristan was almost to him, ready to grab that little knife on the cart and bury it into Sebastian’s temple. “But my guess paid off and you are well again. Between you and the madam vampire—”

Tristan was inches from putting his hands on the knife but stopped and jerked back.
Oh god, Ash
. How could he have forgotten her? Sebastian turned, smirking as if he knew exactly what he’d been doing. He was only a faerie and couldn’t read minds, but he’d been with the couple long enough to know their weaknesses.

“—I wasn’t sure if I had it in me to heal you both. But Master says and I do.”

The fae had to smile at the look on Tristan’s face: positively horrified. Tristan could still taste lingering blood, sweet, tangy and irony all at once, but with a hint of green plants. It wasn’t a bad flavor and that’s what bothered Tristan.

“She’s not dead?” he whispered. The memory of looking into her eyes in the moment Lucien cut her throat… he would never forget the way she looked and the pain he felt.

“Master wished her to remain alive, for now, as a gift to you. It would do you well to do as Master says too.”

“I’m no one’s puppet.” Damn, he felt good! After spending over twenty-four hours with a severe concussion and bleeding, a battered body and the knowledge that he was to die at any moment, he felt alive again. He was ready to kick some fae ass, put down a bad vampire and get the fuck out of Dodge. Or Chateau de Lune
Ardente, as it were.

Sebastian took the insult as Tristan meant it and lifted his chin to look down his nose at the taller man. “Neither am I, monsieur. But we all have our roles. Some lead, some assist.”

“You mean follow, like fucking sheep.”

The other man was growing agitated. How he ever found this brash American charming he
couldn’t understand. “A wise leader, a strong leader, knows when to ask for help. Mon seigneur, Lucien, he has many plans but needs our help.”

“Your propaganda won’t work on me.”
Knife… need to get to that knife
.

Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest. “You will see, monsieur hunter, you will be made to understand the importance of Lucien’s mission
soon enough.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s this mission all about anyway?”

Sebastian dropped his arms and said very frankly, “Revenge.” Unwisely, he put his back to Tristan again as he fussed about the cart. “Vengeance, monsieur hunter, something I think you of all people would understand.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

The fae shot him a look over his shoulder, his eyes trailing down Tristan’s body for the first time since he’d awoken. Tristan felt the look keenly, very aware that he was still naked from… well, whatever may have happened last night. There was no part of him that wanted to think on that too hard because he felt like if he did, he would remember.

“I know what Malik did to your family. And all to kill just one person, you.” Sebastian’s attention went back to the cart. “Ah, I suppose there is no harm in telling you the script now instead of later. Lucien needs you to help him kill off the shinwa,
all
of them.”

Tristan’s eyes widened. “
What
?”

“Oh, you really didn’t know?” The fae harrumphed and turned to look at Tristan with a stupid grin. “Master Lucien loves being what he is so very much but hates it at the same time just as strongly.”

Now, that sounded familiar.

“With your help, us three—perhaps four, if she can be convinced,
will destroy all of the shinwa. Every-last-one-of-them.”

Was this the prophecy? Was this what the pythia world over had been heralding from their visions?
Never mind that he didn’t know what the shinwa even were.

“…okay. So, say I do help, hmm? What’s in it for me?”

Sebastian’s perfectly manicured brows rose high. “Besides your life? Freedom. Freedom to live in a world free of shinwa. Freedom to live without fear. All those who want you dead will be gone.”

“Except Lucien and you.”

“Oui,” the fae answered with a devious grin.

God, this was all so fucked up. Just what was Lucien thinking, the group of them killing out entire races? Genocide for the sake of avenging his maker’s death?

“Sorry to break it to you, pal, but I’m just human. There’s nothing I can do to help you.”

“You’re wrong,” the fae snapped, looking suddenly desperate. Tristan took a step back, shocked at the sudden outburst. “You are the one the pythia have been seeing, I don’t doubt this. You are the last Uruwashi. And once Master has bitten you tonight and
you awake anew with your powers and the gift of fire you will be unstoppable.”

Sebastian frowned, watching his han
ds as he fussed around the cart. “I think there is something more than what we see though, if I must be frank. Something dark is on the horizon. Death awaits to take us all on swift wings… I fear war is coming. War comes and it will eclipse all wars to be the most brutal in the history of the world…”

Tristan had enough of the shit this guy was spewing and rushed him. “You’re insane!” He reached the cart in two big paces, hand out to grab
that knife he’d been eyeing since he awoke. His fingers were mere inches away when all his forward momentum came to a shocking halt. His side burst into pain, stiffening his entire body. He cried out and dropped to his knees. Faintly he heard Sebastian hiss something as he leaned over Tristan.

Nothing mattered now but the awful pain in his side.
The electricity surged through his torso, up his ribs, his collar bone, even licked his face. It was accompanied by a loud buzzing noise, like that of a—
The sneaky son of an elf tased me!

It was only seconds that the grimacing fae had that nasty little box pressed into Tristan’s bare flesh, but it was enough and by the time Sebastian pulled away, Tristan’s entire body was wracked with pain.

With a satisfied harrumph, Sebastian tossed the taser to the cart and then went to crouch next to Tristan. “I healed you because we need you alive, but alive means you only have to be breathing. Do you understand?”

“
Fuuuuuck,” Tristan hissed as he rolled over to his side, curling up in a ball. Every muscle in his body was tight, he felt like they were going to tear him apart.

“
Tres bien.” The fae stood and went to the cart. “Now, if you promise to be a good boy, I shall feed you. Even give you clothing to regain some decency. Though, you have nothing to hide,” he said, amusement heavy in his voice. The sound of a tray lid being lifted tinged, followed by the smell of food.

Tristan’s stomach growled loudly and he moaned again, his mouth watering in response to the godly smell of food. Shiny leather shoes came into view and
he looked up.

Sebastian grinned and
put a silver tray down in front of Tristan’s face. “
Bon appetite
monsieur hunter. It shall be your last meal as a human. I hope it finds you well.”

Tristan could only sneer in answer as the fae turned away again. A bundle of black cloth was tossed and him and then Sebastian was leaving the cell with the cart. The sound of the door locking behind him was crushing. Tristan laid on that cold floor and stared at the door for a long time, long after the sounds of Sebastian had left, lamenting his chance to break free.

The smell of hot food hit him and he moaned, forcing himself upright. He didn’t even bother with the clothes Sebastian threw at him as he pulled the plate into his lap and started to shove food into his mouth. Of course there were no utensils but it was easy enough to eat with his hands. Red potato halves smothered in butter and herbs, roasted asparagus, and a slab of steak so rare it ran juice and blood so dark down his arms that he looked like he had just killed someone. He had the right someone(s) in mind too.

More than once he choked from eating too fast. Sure, the thought that it might have been poisoned or something had crossed his mind. But they obviously needed him and he was too hungry to care anymore. He grabbed for the big cup and nearly spilled it in his frenzy. He’d taken down nearly a third of the warm liquid before he noticed the bite. It was red wine.
Very
strong red wine, but there was something more to it. Something... wrong.

Tristan jerked the cup back, looking down into it. His vision went double and he swayed. “
Aaaaah!” he groaned. “That son of a bitch bastard elf...”

The cup slipped from his hand and hit the floor, splattering the leftover wine all over the place. He col
lapsed back, hit his head, winced but didn’t have enough energy to bitch aloud anymore. As the drug took him under he thought of every conceivable way he could kill that  goddamn fae the next time he saw him. And enjoy it.

Sharp, biting
, something on his arm. Tristan’s eyes flew open and he came eye to biddy eye with his not so savory cellmate, the kitty-sized rat he’d seen before. He groaned at the jumbo sized rodent and swung at him. To his amazement, and the rat’s by the squeal it let loose, he hit the little monster before it could run out of Tristan’s reach. The rat scurried away and disappeared into a crack in the wall, leaving him alone, once again.

His shoulder was sore where he slept on it against the hard floor. If that was all he could complain about after the past few days, then he counted himself very lucky. The plate of food he never got to finish was taken care of during his little nap. The rat had seen to that.

When he tried to stretch, he realized why Sebastian drugged him again—it was easier to get close to a passed-out person then one who was fully aware and wanted to kill you. His arms were bound out in front of him with a long sleeve of heavy leather that covered him from wrist to elbow. The bindings were held closed by simple toggles, but with his hands right next to each other it was impossible to work them open.

“Damn,” he sighed.

He grunted and groaned to his feet, a little unsteady. The bindings made it hard for him to use his arms to help himself up. And he still had to figure out how to get himself dressed—stupid fae couldn’t even do that much for him. When he reached the far wall where the clothes were, he stopped with a small gasp as he felt that familiar resonance in his blood.

“Oh my god,” he breathed out. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

There was a hesitant pause before she answered. “You sound well.”

“Ah—” he started and then laughed as he bent to pick up the clothes. They were better than nothing. And nothing is what he was still wearing.
He struggled with the pants and bound arms. “Yeah, I’m okay, I—fuck all,” he grumped, “how am I supposed to get these bastards on?” Every time he dropped the pants and had to start over he got more frustrated.