Dancing Dragon (33 page)

A part of me suddenly worried that Michel would not be able to maintain his control and would forfeit the fight with a slip of his hand and a dose of his powers. I fingered my silver knife inside my jacket and toyed with the idea that I'd make that decision for him. Save him the guilt and forfeit the fight on his behalf, before it got too far. All I could see was him losing, Lutin claiming me as his and my life as I knew it over. If the fight was to be forfeited, then I'd make damn sure that Lutin no longer existed to take his prize.

I hadn't even realised I'd taken my knife out of its hidden sheath inside my clothes, but it caught the light of a nearby lamp and made me look down at my hand. My knuckles were white where I gripped its handle too tightly. I tried to loosen my hold, but my hand would not obey. Panic had started to wash through me, uncontrolled, wild and destructive. My heartbeat was pounding in my ears, my breath coming in short bursts and my throat was so dry I could barely swallow.

Michel was starting to stumble, losing his precision of earlier, now relying on strength alone to make his blade sing. It looked messy for him, but I was sure if you didn't know how beautiful Michel's sword could be, you wouldn't have really noticed. He was still fending off most of Lutin's strikes, still able to land the odd graze or nick to Lutin's flesh, but he was tiring. I knew he wouldn't normally have been, even with the amount of blood he had lost. I had caused this weakness in him, when I had forced him to heal Avery from the effects of my stake. This was all my fault.

I stifled a sob at that thought, shifted the knife in my grip and prepared to throw it when the opportunity arose. I'd only get one shot, I had to make it count. Part of me was aware of the risk, part of me just didn't give a damn. My need to protect my kindred outweighed all reason now.

Unfortunately, Michel's stumbling steps had taken him to exactly where I did not want him to be. His body now stood between me and Lutin. I could not get a clear shot without shifting. I began to move along the pavement I was standing on, trying to get a clear sighting of the Fey Prince, but as I stepped sideways, Michel shifted in response. Every single time I made a move to gain a better viewpoint, Michel just happened to move in time to stop me from releasing my knife. Eventually, I made it to the other side of the street, having made no progress in my positioning at all.

It was at that time, when I found myself standing directly opposite where I had been before - now looking at the front of
The Genie's Bottle
, rather than having it at my back - that I realised Michel had been doing it intentionally. He did not want me to interfere. To forfeit the battle on his behalf. I took a slow breath in. If he was lucid enough to act in this manner, to thwart my attempts at intervening, then he must have still been in control of himself. I had to trust that he had this in hand.

I sunk down to the ground, a building at my back and pulled my legs up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. I rested my head on top of my knees and concentrated on breathing. In, out, in, out. All the while holding onto my knife as my fingers would simply not obey my commands to release.

I watched in dull horror as Lutin landed another blow, then in ever increasing terror, watched as Michel's eyes changed from magenta, to a dark, dark mauve. A colour I had not witnessed on him before, but the Darkness in his eyes, I had. I lifted my head at the sight of that Dark, so familiar, usually so unwanted and let myself sink into the nothingness I use to
seek
. I found his Dark signature, so solid, so bleak and yet also so strong as though it sucked in all Light around it, consumed all the good and pulsated with just Dark.

Michel was not using a power, but he was using a vampire's natural leaning towards the Dark to fortify his reserves. I have fought with Dark streaming through my soul before. It is a worthy tool. It takes every emotion, every sensation you feel, whether they are good or bad and recycles it, reuses it, in whatever way it can to meet its end goal. It is an economical warrior. The Light is stronger, but the Dark has found ways to use what it has to its best advantage. I had been appalled and equally intrigued when I had fought with Dark instead of Light. Its strength was not inherent, but learned. Did that make it better or worse when fighting for your life?

I had feared that the Dark would consume my soul when I had used it in that fight. But I have more Light in me than most and when the fight had been won, my Light banished the Dark and righted my soul. Michel does not have as much Light as me. When this battle is over, would he be able to banish the Dark on his own? Could he fight it and stay sane?

I didn't have a chance to contemplate those questions, because Michel used the formidable strength of his Dark then and breached Lutin's defences, slicing a wound down his torso, opening his chest to bone. The gash was from chin to navel and when Lutin jumped back, gaped open like a torn sack. I could see his internal organs, his rib cage, his intestines. Blood, muscles, tendons, bones, all of it on display, all of it so grotesque I couldn't breathe for fear of what I would smell.

Time seemed suspended as Lutin looked down at his stomach and chest, his sword fell from his grasp and clattered on the asphalt of the road, as his hands came up trying to force his internal body parts back inside his gaping flesh. Michel took a step closer, Svante raised enough to threaten. His hand clasped so tightly around the hilt that I could see the whites of his knuckles, just like mine on my still firmly held knife. I wasn't sure if he was going to land a killing blow, I think he intended to, but it didn't matter. Lutin knew he had lost and invoked his fey magic to disappear. His Light sprang out around his body and the fallen sword, and within seconds he and the sword
popped
out of the air. A small acrid smell of ozone was all that was left in his wake with a hint of peaches on the air.

Neither Michel nor myself moved for a moment and then he slumped to the ground in a pile of soaked material, blood, skin and bones.

I ran to Michel's side, gathering my Light inside me ready to blast his Dark as soon as I reached him. His hand came up and grasped my arm, painfully tight, as I fell to my knees at his crumpled body. The shock of him moving at all, after what he had been through, surprised me enough to make me lose hold of my Light. I struggled to pull more Light together but Michel's hoarsely whispered command distracted me again.

“We need to get out of here. The ghouls are gathering.” His hold on my arm intensified as I struggled to look about me for approaching threats.

I couldn't sense the ghouls he could, I couldn't see them either. But, I trusted he knew what he was talking about, so slipped a hand under his arm and helped him painfully to his feet. Leaning the bulk of his weight on my shoulder he managed to hobble to the Rover. I helped him in through the rear passenger door. Falling on top of him as he collapsed across the entire length of the back seat.

He was out cold. No response as I lay flat on top of him, feeling the wetness of all that blood seeping into my T-Shirt and Jacket. I hastily pulled myself back and off him, grabbing his feet as they dangled over the end of the seat and out the door, and shoving them inside the car so the door would close behind him. As I raced around the front of the car I stripped off my jacket, now covered in Michel's blood and chucked it onto the passenger seat next to the driver's, as I slid in the front door.

I frantically started the car, my hands shaking and so very cold, but the sight of ghouls rounding the rear of
The Genie's Bottle
with intent looks of hunger gracing their harsh faces, had adrenaline pumping through me. The engine ignited and I accelerated away from the marauding ghouls. Half a dozen chased after us on foot, but none were thinking clearly enough to chase in a vehicle so they soon all fell behind.

I watched the rear vision mirror for the next few kilometres, taking one turn then another and another until I had absolutely no idea where I was or where the hell I was going. Nothing looked familiar, no famous landmarks to give me reference. Just street after street of houses and shops and office buildings until the neatly tended façades changed to ugly uniform terraces and then proceeded past functional to down right worn-out and tired. Litter graced the streets, graffiti spread across every surface and stray dogs roamed the footpaths.

It was at the time of feeling totally lost and almost beyond the ability to think clearly, that I realised the sun had risen and was now glaring in the front of the vehicle and touching Michel's skin. A burnt biscuit smell started to fill the interior of the car. Michel is a level one
Sanguis Vitam
Master vampire, he can handle a little sun for a little time, but I was guessing his reserves were at an all time low. Or, he was so close to the final death that the sun was merely doing its job and releasing him from his torment.

I scanned the area for somewhere to hide. A warehouse, an abandoned building. Even someone's empty garage would have helped, but no one seemed to have garages in London. All their bloody cars parked out on the streets, clogging the roadways and getting broken into at night. The houses were so close together, the buildings all boarded up in this neighbourhood and quite frankly, exiting the car right here did not seem like a good idea.

Finally I started spotting taller buildings, slightly better maintained streets and pavements. A library. A community centre. Then, thank Nut, a multi-storied car park. I took a hard left across two lanes to enter the car parking building, cutting off a black cab and a motorcycle courier, but avoiding a collision at the last moment due to their superior driving skills, not mine. Horns beeped, fists waved and more than a few choice words were thrown my way, but I didn't care. Darkness enveloped our vehicle as I grabbed my ticket at the booth and began the slow trek down level after level until we were several metres below the earth.

I parked in a far corner of the garage and turned the Rover off and just listened to my heart beating. It sounded so loud, like the thundering hooves of an approaching stampede of horses. Not even the loudly ticking cooling Rover engine managed to breach the sound of my heart. After a few minutes of concerted effort to calm myself I was finally able to turn my attention to Michel.

I climbed between the two front seats into the rear area where he lay face first on the back seat. I struggled to right him onto his back. The small enclosure actually aided, rather than hindered my efforts though. I was able to use the back of the driver's seat as leverage against my body in order to force him over onto his back. He wasn't breathing, but then I hadn't expected him to. His body had shut down in an attempt to heal himself. I was unsure if it was, he was still bleeding profusely, all over the brown leather seats and the cream coloured floor of the car. The metallic smell of blood filled the air and made me choke back a sound of disgust. Blood might be an aphrodisiac for the Nosferatu, but their fairer kin, the Nosferatin, were not so inclined.

I had to stop the bleeding, but I didn't have a first aid kit. Well, as far as I was aware, maybe Range Rovers come with something in the boot, but it would hardly be enough for this if it did exist. I only had my jacket and what we were wearing and that wouldn't have been enough to stem the multiple gashes and slices to his body. No mundane medical treatment I could perform would make a blind bit of difference. Michel needed to heal himself and to do that he needed blood.

I knelt down in the gap between the back of the driver's seat and the rear seat where he lay and placed my hand under his neck, lifting his head up off the padded bench. Then I gently lay my wrist above his mouth in an effort to get his attention and hoping he would just latch on like a baby vampire and suckle at my vein. Nothing happened. He was not responding to a thing.

I called his name. I shook him. I tried to blast him with a shot of my Light, but even that didn't make him stir. With all this blood about you'd think he would be foaming at the mouth, fangs down, glow on, ready to devour a free vein when offered.

Then it hit me. It was all his blood, no one else's. His body wouldn't respond to that, other than to shut down and try to heal the cuts. I removed my hand from behind his neck and took my knife out of my jacket. A quick breath in and a slice across my wrist and blood began to well at the cut. It smelled like all blood smells to me, metallic. No different from that which already filled the enclosed space of the car, but Michel stirred.

I returned my hand to behind his head and moved my wrist above his mouth, turning it so the blood began to drip down onto his closed lips. I thought nothing was going to happen again, but then his tongue came out and licked up a drop of my blood. So quickly, almost like a lizard catching a cricket that ventured too close to its hiding spot. His lips peeled back, revealing lengthening fangs. I watched, mesmerised as they continued to extend, longer than they would normally. And so slowly, as though it took more effort than he had to make them come out and down.

Another drop of my blood landed just inside his mouth and a low growl-come-purr came up from the depths of his throat to fill the quiet of the car. I smiled at that sound. His vampire knew what I was offering, even if Michel wasn't quite there.

“Come on!” I encouraged. “Take a bite. You know you want to.”

Another drop, another growl-come-purr. Another millimetre of length on his fangs. But, still he didn't latch on. I pressed my wrist against his mouth firmly and open and closed my fist, trying to make the blood drip faster down his throat.

“Come on, Michel! Drink. Don't you know it's rude to keep a girl waiting. Grab a hold now and...”

He bit. Hard and fast and so not what I was used to Michel doing. This was all vampire, survival at all costs. His hands came up and encased my wrist, squeezing my flesh in a grip that threatened to overpower the sting of the bite. He didn't temper either. Pain shot down through the puncture site, down through the veins and flooded through my body. I arched back against the driver's seat and shoved my other hand, fisted, into my mouth to stifle a scream. Oh God, it hurt.

I bit down hard on my knuckles forcing myself to concentrate on something other than the draw of my blood through my wrist, the sound of Michel drinking, slurping at my vein, the growl in this throat rising to an unnatural sound. A predatory, proprietary sound. This was his blood vessel, he wasn't going to share.

I knew it was because he was so weak, so near the final death himself. For a moment I allowed myself the belief that as more of my blood went into his system, the more able he would be to stop and take control. But as the minutes passed and my head became more and more dizzy, the world blurring and a humming began to settle inside my head, I knew this wasn't going to be the case. I fumbled with my cellphone, trying to get it out of my jacket pocket by reaching over to the front passenger seat. It was almost too far away, but I got two fingers on it and slid it from the wet material. Then just as it came free and I lifted it up off the seat, I lost it forward. Into the front footwell of the passenger’s seat.

Phoning Samson was out, so I tried to focus on the connection we shared. I can't talk telepathically to him, like Michel can those of his line, but I did get the responding tug back down that line. Samson had felt me and sent an answer to my call. He would follow that tug, but it would take time. Not only because he would have to keep homing in on the response his repeated tugs got down the connection, but also because it was daylight outside. Samson is only a level four
Sanguis Vitam
Master. He can venture out in the day, but only if it is overcast and only briefly.

I was on my own. No one else to rely on but me. It was getting harder to reason out a possible solution. I was shaky and dripping in sweat. Chills rushed down my body followed by sharp stabbing pains and then dizzying dots of light before my eyes. I lay my head down on the seat next to Michel and almost allowed myself to sink into the darkness that called. That darkness made me think of my Light and as soon as I did I felt it thrumming, already gathered waiting for my command.

I had no idea if a blast of my Light would make much of a difference to Michel. He might be too far gone. My Light might only add to the enjoyment he was obviously receiving drinking my blood. I didn't have the strength to alter it from its usual manifestation, so it was certainly going to be a thrill for him, but what choice did I have? I was so close to passing out, this was all that was left for me to do.

I took one last deep breath in and as I exhaled it, let my Light rush from me to him. I wasn't directing it as I normally would. It probably just filled the back of the car, anyone nearby would have felt compelled to come over and see what was making all that light, but I had parked far away from other vehicles on the bottom-most level of the car park. Chances of a Norm approaching were slim. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or bad.

I tried to redirect it towards Michel, I tried to command it to go to the vampire. I may have even said something out loud, but all I could see, just before my eyes closed shut and my body and mind succumbed to unconsciousness, was a bright white light all around me. I couldn't even feel Michel holding my arm any more. I couldn't feel his fangs in my skin, the draw of my blood or even the chill that had set into my bones. Just the white light. So comforting and also so final.

Like the light people see just before they die. The White Light that leads them to Heaven. I knew my Light would not lead me to Heaven, but I wondered if it was leading me to Nut.

I don't know how long had passed before I woke up. Not in
Elysium
with Nut, but still on the floor in the back of a once pristine, brand new Range Rover. My head resting against an unconscious, bloody, but at least no longer feeding, vampire. I ached. My head pounded and when I lifted it off the seat it threatened to explode. My throat was parched, I couldn't swallow although I tried and just ended up coughing which made my head pound even more. I did manage a groan.

My arm was still lying across Michel's chest, his hands protectively cupping my wrist and elbow respectively. He was still not breathing, but the cuts that had been visible on his face and neck had healed. And when I gently pried my arm free of his grasp - noticing he had somehow sealed the fang marks on my wrist - and checked the rest of him, there was no longer any sign, other than the drying blood, to indicate he had been sliced and diced at all. My blood, or maybe my Light, had helped heal him, but why was he still out cold?

I tried to get myself up from behind the front seat, but I had no strength in my arms and my legs were just like jelly. And I couldn't move without making my head pound more, or making my body scream out in a dull ache from top to bottom. I felt a little trapped where I sat, but at least I was alive.

The car parking garage gave no indication of what time of day it was and I couldn't peer around the front seat to see the dashboard clock, so I had no idea how much time had passed. I was hungry, I knew that much. I had missed dinner the night before and been up until dawn. That, with the loss of blood, made my stomach grumble. Despite my aches and pounding head I could so have gone a hamburger and fries. The greasier the better.

Every now and then my cellphone would chirp from its discarded spot on the floor at the front of the car. Someone had phoned and left a message. Probably Samson. I couldn't shift, so there was no chance in reaching for it to see, so I just sat there for a while and waited for the pounding to ease and the aches to decrease. After half an hour my head was almost back to normal, but the aches were getting compounded by cramp. I took a deep breath in and attempted to shift my weight again.