Blood Life Seeker (28 page)

How long will they leave us here waiting?

Michel did his elegant shrug. He was sitting reclining in one of the upright wooden chairs, making it look way more comfortable than it possibly could have been, watching me pace the room. He seemed relaxed, unfazed, well into his consummate act as a politician. The only evidence of any heightened emotional upset, was a small smattering of indigo in his deep blue eyes. He'd played this game before, he was probably in his element. I kind of disliked him a fraction right then.

They have no reason to leave us here, other than to unsettle us, do not give them the satisfaction. Our rooms will be already waiting, we were well expected. This is just a game.

I may have mentioned before, that patience is not my greatest virtue and that would be true. But I had been working on it lately, so I bit my lip and kept walking my well travelled path around the room, to keep from wringing my hands and in a vane attempt to stop the shivering. It had progressed to abrupt spasms now, involving my entire body, almost like I was epileptic, having a seizure as I walked. Or perhaps more like the ticking of muscles Tourette's Syndrome patients have. At least I wasn't having phonic ticks, I could hold my tongue well.

It had reached a ridiculous length of time, maybe two hours, maybe more. I was tired, I'd walked the length of a marathon in this now seemingly tiny room and my body was simply starting to shut down with all the shivering. Michel's flecks of indigo had increased as his concern for my wellbeing heightened. I finally came to the conclusion that they were waiting for something. Certainly a reaction, but from Michel or me? And that their patience would undoubtedly last longer than mine. I knew I couldn't continue pacing and if I sat down now, my body would give over to the shivers completely and I may well have a full blown tonic-clonic seizure in the end.

So, as I normally do, when backed into a corner, I thought to hell with this and I lay myself down on the floor, in the middle of the room, on my back. Stretched out completely flat, hands clasped together over my waist, my hair spread out around my face, no doubt in stark relief to the light grey of the stone floor.

What are doing, ma douce?
Michel whispered in my mind. His voice very even.

Giving them what they want.
I fought to control the shivering in this more relaxed pose. It was a catch 22. I needed to relax, but letting go would let the shivers take over completely, distracting me from my task. I had been unable to
seek
since the shivering had got worse, unable to concentrate on more than just throwing the odd thought to Michel and pacing. I had no idea if I could do this, but I had to try.

What would that be, pray tell?
Michel still sounded very even in my mind, but I could tell he was becoming a little concerned. Just a sensation down the link we shared, nothing else.

Just keep an eye out on my body, I'll try to time this right.

At that Michel stood up abruptly. He didn't come near me, but his whole body screamed the tension I had begun to sense in his mind-voice.

Is this wise, ma douce?

Don't know, don't care. Someone has to take that first leap of faith.

With that I shielded him out and allowed myself to fall into the blackness of nothing faster than I have ever tried before. Racing the shivers, stretching my abilities to the extreme, in order to cross the line first.

I found myself outside the room, standing in front of the guards, on either side of the door. The Dream Walk had coalesced quickly, faster than usual, maybe because I had allowed myself to fall into it quickly too. They couldn't see me or sense me, of course. That allowed me an illusion of calm. Had they been evil bastards, I could have staked them. Probably wouldn't have, considering my current predicament, but the thought
was
a balm to my ragged nerves anyway.

I looked around, no one was coming running. I put my senses out, now being free of the shivers and able to concentrate on my powers, first to the room Michel was in, to make sure no one had entered through a secret door. No, it was empty aside from Michel and no one approached from any secret passage way. Then I sent my
seeking
abilities further afield. I found them all. All the vampires in the building, every single one of them. I knew where they were, how to get to them, how many were in each place, how much Darkness they had within. It didn't scare me, like I thought it would. There were a lot, but my earlier
seeking
had prepared me and I just washed over them all, feeling,
seeking
, sensing.

I had several options open to me. Simply stand here and wait for them to come, once they noticed my body had gone still, no more shivers now I wasn't in residence. I'd begun to put it together, about an hour into being in the room. It had taken me another three quarters of an hour to come to the final conclusion, shivers can be distracting, but I realised eventually, that the shivers had been placed on me purposely. This was the first test. A good one too, subtle, appearing a consequence of the heavy wards, enough to make me dysfunctional and Michel panic. But Michel had held it together longer than even I had thought he could and I had managed to think through it.

So now, wait for them to come, or go to them? I knew where the Champion was, she wasn't alone, but she also only had two others with her. They were watching, I couldn't tell this from my
seeking
talent, but I just knew. Gut instinct, Nosferatin know-how, I'm stuffed if I can label it, but it's true. I knew she was watching and waiting.

Part of me wanted to go to her, to scare her just a little. Turn up in her chamber with a stake in my hand, but I am not stupid, contrary to popular belief in some quarters, I would not walk from one trap into another. But, she was expecting something and it's not that I wanted to show off - well maybe just a little - but I also wanted to end this torture. I'd had enough shivers to last a lifetime and although I could Dream Walk for hours, Michel
was
cracking.

So, option three. I gathered all my Light inside me, this time letting it build to such a height, such a depth, such a density, I had never attempted to contain before. A small part of me, momentarily thought, perhaps this was a bad idea, showing my cards, before the hand had really been played, but right now, I was at the end of my patience. Any longer and I would well and truly crumble. Crumble in front of the enemy; show that fear? Or give the best offence I can muster?

What do you think I chose?

I'm a vampire hunter. We don't show fear.

I let my Light flow out from me, touching every vampire in its path, which I decided would be a very round-about way to its target, to ensure the maximum effect. Why touch two or three vampires, when you can touch 120? So, it took a few minutes to reach her. Surprisingly, it was as strong as it had been when next to me touching our guards at the door beside where I stood in the Dream Walk, when it did finally arrive.

I wrapped it around her two companions first, allowing her to sense it and see what effect it had on them. They, like all the other vampires in the building, collapsed to their knees, not in pain, but in safety and warmth and love and happiness. I made sure not to make it any more than that. Vampires may like to spread desire like butter on toast, I'm a little more reserved. And then I let it engulf her. She tried to shield, she tried to push it away, she even almost succeeded. And I admit, I even almost let her. Would it have been good to let her think she was stronger than me? Safe from my attack? Probably. But I was also a tad pissed off. She had kept me waiting, after all.

So, I gently, slowly, slid passed her walls and lay a kiss against her skin. I tried something then, that I had never attempted before. I had no idea if it would work, but it felt right and if there is anything I have noticed in the past with my new skills, it is if the feel is right, it usually works. I whispered in her ear,
With respect Champion, greetings from New Zealand.

I withdrew my power, letting it caress down her arms and pulling it back to where I stood. I did stagger slightly, not a good sign. It had been a mammoth undertaking, on top of a strained and exhausting 24 hours. Before the weariness could fully envelope me, I fled back to my body, through the comforting blankness of nothing and woke up with Michel holding me in his arms.

It took me a moment to focus on those swirling pools of indigo and violet, with hints of magenta around the edges and before I could smile up at that beautiful sight, he said aloud,

“What have you done?”

“She's coming.” Michel's voice was flat, neutral, well contained. His
Sanguis Vitam
was not.
She
was obviously the Champion and he didn't need to tell me she was on the way, I could feel her too.

“
You need to rein your
Sanguis
in, it's leaking everywhere,” I offered.

“
I can
not
imagine why.” Ah, now a little inflection to the voice. Michel's trademark sarcasm.

I sat up and pushed away from him. He was still kneeling on the floor, I was sitting on my rear, legs straight out in front. I glared at him.

“It's not like she didn't know I could Dream Walk and get away from the spell she had cast. It's not like she didn't know I could
seek
her out. She knew all of this, Michel, it won't be a surprise.”

He looked like he was about to blow a gasket, I don't think I had ever seen him so riled, yet so desperately trying to hold onto control. If Michel got this angry, he'd normally just give in to it. Why contain the emotion when you can use it to demonstrate your strength to those of your line?

“And I suppose your Light touching her wasn't a surprise either?” he gritted out between clenched teeth.

He knew the answer, he was just being facetious. She may have had an idea of what I could do, but seeing it, feeling it, was way more impressive than just believing it. I suddenly had little desire to tell him I had whispered in her ear.

He suddenly stood, in that puppet-on-a-string kind of way the older vampires have, a fluid motion that no normal human could ever master unless harnessed to a stunt wire and hauled to their feet using pulleys. I just scampered to my feet in the usual human way, with a little bit of Lucinda-lack-of-grace thrown in for good measure and dusted myself off.

I could feel Michel pulling his
Sanguis Vitam
back in, tightly wrapping it around himself, containing it, controlling it. I could tell though, that this conversation was not over. Not by a long shot. I was hoping he'd get the opportunity to tell me off later. Strange, but true. The Champion was not shielding her anger as she streamed towards us, so the jury was still out on that one.

The shivers had returned with a vengeance, as soon as I had entered my body and now I was having trouble standing without toppling over. I grasped the nearest chair and gritted my teeth. Michel was streaming a string of thoughts at me; angry, ugly, frustrated thoughts, with flashes of images of what the Champion could actually do to us because of my
attack
on her body. I hadn't even realised he could project images, I didn't think he had either, both of us too angry right now to acknowledge how cool that really was.

I could feel the Champion getting closer, but still Michel was ranting in my head. He was pacing backwards and forwards, not really looking at me, just being in his little manic moment. Finally I'd had enough. I had ended up on the floor again, the shivering now so uncontrolled I couldn't support my own weight. Or the Champion was having an effect on me, the closer she got.

If you've finished lecturing, a little help wouldn't go astray right now. Please?

Michel turned in a blur to look at me for the first time since he started ranting and raving in my head. He immediately cut off his mental tirade and came across to look down at me. He sighed and shook his head, reaching down to lift me to my feet, pulling me into the warmth of his arms and holding me close.

As soon as his body engulfed me I let my shields down, without him even asking and he came tumbling in, in a healing rush. Washing away the shivers and coating my body in heat, not quite enough to start a flame, but enough to focus on and warm the coolness the shivers had set deep inside my soul. I took a big deep breath in, smelling the freshness of him, the salty sea spray and clean cut grass of the meadows back home on the farm; centring me, grounding me, bringing me back from the edge.

What am I to do with you, ma douce?

Then he stiffened and turned me in his arms to face the door, still holding me against his chest, in front of him. His arms casually wrapped around me, not shielding me from what was about to come through the door, but supporting me, backing me.

She's here
.
His words, just a whisper in my mind.

She glided through the doors as though she was a few centimetres above the ground, floating. Her aura flashed around her in angry colours; the red of fire ants, the orange of an open flame, the yellow of a glowing hot poker tip. She slashed her anger out at the room making me double over, falling to the floor from Michel's arms at the force of it, but he hadn't feared better. He landed next to me, one hand on my back. Just touching, keeping the connection there, helping each other to battle her rage.

I vaguely thought, through the stabs of pain darting down my body, that she really needed to go to anger management classes or maybe take a chill pill, because, come on! It wasn't that bad.

“Wasn't that bad?” Her voice, a hint of a French accent, was like thousands of tiny icicles dancing against my face, freezing cold and sharp as a pin, stabbing over and over and over again. I brushed my hand against my cheek and checked to see if it came away with blood. I wouldn't have been surprised if it had, the pain felt real, but there was no blood and even that thought didn't help me. No shields I could muster could stop her metaphysical pursuit for revenge.

I couldn't lift my head from the floor to look at her, my forehead now resting against the stone, not even registering the feel of it. I had no idea if she was beautiful, ordinary or scary as hell. And right at that moment looking at her face seemed like a really bad, bad idea. I did know that abasing myself at her feet was right, even though this movement was not voluntary, it felt right. I was in my rightful place, beneath her, begging for forgiveness. I almost opened my mouth to say I'm sorry, to tell her I had made a terrible mistake, I deserved to be punished, I welcomed her rage, it was because of me she was angry and I had to pay.

But I didn't and she just got madder.

And the madder she got, the calmer I did. And I felt the Light settle within me.
I am the Light to Your Dark. You call to me as I call to you. I will always hold you dear. I am the Light to Your Dark. You call to me as I call to you. I will always hold you dear. I am the Light to Your Dark. You call to me as I call to you. I will always hold you dear. I am the Light to Your Dark. You call to me as I call to you. I will always hold you dear.

It took me a while to even register the words in my head. It was as though I was reciting a prayer, a mantra, something you might repeat to yourself at the end, when you face the final hurdle, when you need the courage to take that last step. It wasn't about monsters, it wasn't about Darkness, it was about taking that last step and the courage needed to make it so.

Whether it was the words, or the fact that I wasn't scared, or the fact I wanted to take that last step, but her anger receded and the pressure to be flat on my face at her feet lifted. I could breathe, I could think and now I wanted to see her face, because nothing could be as scary as what she just did and I had survived that.

Michel helped me stand, of course he'd got to his feet first, swiftly, smoothly, elegantly, but with his aid I didn't do too badly. I dusted myself off, a nervous gesture usually reserved for post hunting dust downs, but it's a ritual I can live with. I took a deep breath in and raised my eyes to hers.

She was short. That was the first thing I noticed. About my height, but I didn't think we'd be bonding over it somehow. Then it was as though there was too much to comprehend at once, because it took me several seconds to get the picture straight in my head, to be able to acknowledge that what I was seeing made sense.

Her aura had toned down, but she looked like she was a projection, she wasn't even here. A ghost, or a shadow of herself. She was translucent, but at the same time glowed with an inner light, not my Light, this was darker, but lighter too. Hard to explain, which is why I was having trouble getting my head around it. It was as if you tilted your head one way, she'd be more solid and shining a white light, but if you looked at her from your peripheral vision, she was see-through and surrounded in black. She was both Light and Dark, both solid and clear. Was she real or just an image projected here, to protect her own body lying somewhere else? Not really here at all.

“What do you see, Hunter?” Her voice no longer stung like needles, but it did scald, like a flash burn; there one second, gone the next.

I shook my head, I didn't understand the question.

“When you look at me, what is it you see?”

I really wanted to answer, not because looking dumb was not one of my favourite pastimes, but because the less she spoke, the less painful it would be. I didn't want her to have to rephrase the question again.

“You are both Light and Dark, clear and solid, here and not here.” I was glad my voice was steady, a miracle under the circumstances, but Michel was holding my hand and I could feel his
Sanguis Vitam
pouring through the Bond. Not something that had happened before. My shields were in place, so he shouldn't have been able to help me. But then, the Bond chose what help I needed and sometimes just took without permission. Maybe he didn't even know he was helping me right now.

“Interesting.”

I don't get it.
I threw the thought at Michel.

I think he would have answered, but the Champion can read minds, apparently. No need to throw the thought, no need to shout it in your head, no need for a Bond, she can simply hear every thought in anyone's head. Damn.

“How I am perceived is a clue to who
you
are. You see
Light and Dark
, because that is what you were made for. You see
clear and solid
, because you only partially understand what I am and what I can do. You see me
here and not here
, because you both want me here to face me and also do not. Interesting.”

I had managed to get a better look at her while she was talking, never waste an opportunity to assess your enemy. She was still all of those things, but because I had sorted out what I was seeing in my head, I could now look past it to her. She was dressed in a period dress; floor length lustrous material, hooped skirt, tightly boned bodice. She was petite and looked a little like a china doll. Her skin so pale, when it could be seen, unblemished and perfect, not only in hue and tone, but in her finely honed features; delicately cupid mouth, arched eyebrows and piercingly blue, blue eyes, like the Mediterranean Sea. An azure I didn't see often in Michel, but occasionally was blessed with. Her dark lashes were long and curled and her hair a mass of dark, dark hair - black I think, but it was hard to tell with the here and not here - in a mass of curls piled high on her head. She was stunning, but I also wondered just how old she was when she had been turned.

She was more of a child than I was, but she was over 1000 years old. The weight of her
Sanguis Vitam
flowing over me as I thought of her age, showing me clearly how long she had been here. It wasn't painful, it was more a curtsey you could say. I thought the question, she answered it. She just hadn't answered it the way I had asked. I still didn't know how old she was when she had been turned.

“Why are you not shivering?” She cocked her head delicately to the side as she asked that question.

So far, her attention had been entirely on me, Michel was merely an attachment. But, she turned her head slowly, like a predator following its prey; methodical, quiet, unseen, until she was looking at him. I wondered what he saw when he looked at her.

Her mouth curved into a knowing smile, she'd heard my thought and knew the answer and it looked like she liked what it was he saw, but held her tongue. Such control.

“Let go of her hand, Michel.”

He did what she asked without hesitation. He had been well trained. The moment his touch left me I convulsed with a shiver, then another and another, until I was on the floor gasping for breath and unable to do a thing to stop it.

Her laugh echoed around the room and finally she'd found something to make her think of desire - always a fall-back for any decent vampire - because I was suddenly gasping with more than just shivers, but a need so raw. I found myself crawling across the stone floor towards Michel, painfully, but determined to satisfy my lust.

I was no longer shivering, it was as though one spell had been replaced with another, but I couldn't stand. The thought to stand just wasn't there, the need to touch him though was and the quickest way to do that was to crawl along the floor directly to him. I needed him, I wanted him, I had to touch him.

I looked up into his face from a few feet away on the floor, still crawling, he had his hand out to me in a stop motion.
Don't, ma douce, do not touch me
, he whispered in my mind. I hesitated, but then saw the hunger in his eyes. He wanted me too, but was fighting the spell. The look alone was enough to cloud my thought processes and I pounced.

My hand touched his shining leather shoes, smoothing up over the top of them, over his sock until I felt his warm skin. As soon as my fingers touched his body, unhindered by materials, he collapsed on the floor next to me. Grabbing my arms at my shoulders, fingers digging into flesh and pulling me towards him.