Title: Caress of the Night Authoress: Lunar Rose E-mail: ayfl@hotmail.com Rating: R Genre: Alternate reality -------------------------------------------------------------- COMING SOON TO A USAGI & MAMORU FANFICTION ARCHIVE NEAR YOU... The following preview has been rated PG-13. With eyes rimmed with layers of kohl and darkened into a pool of pure black, he watched. From the comfort of the shadows, he licked his pale, pale lips, his long, black fingernails flexing in anticipation. Dinner had arrived, and how sweet it would be. She sat there innocently, all gloriously pale and ethereal. Her platinum blonde hair cloaked around her lithe body. The moonlight caught the edge of her heart-shaped face illuminating its porcelain paleness. Her ashen eyelashes brushed her smooth cheek as she closed her eyes, preferring to suck her lollipop in solitude. He watched the lollipop move as she twirled the plastic stem between her deft fingers. In, the red lollipop went into her pouty mouth, and out it came a moment later. The motion continued, smearing her mouth unceremoniously with a sticky cherry red. He knew that the pretty child would be as sweet as candy when he tasted her, as sticky and sugary as the cherry lollipop. He couldn't wait. -------------------------------------------------- She was a child conceived in love and prophecy; He was a child born into a world of violence and lust. She saw into the hearts of men, seeing things that no one else saw; He only saw the gratifying surrender of his victims to death. She had met him in her dreams; He met her in the moonlight. Neither were prepared for one another. She could be his salvation, But sometimes, souls did not want to be saved. --------------------------------------------------- Tsukino Usagi had first seen him in her dreams, a vision of horror and darkness tainting her mind with seductive whispers. She whimpered in her sleep. Her fingers clutched the quilt tighter as though the thin sheet could protect her from the creature of the night. There he stood wrapped in shadow. His kohl-lined eyes gleamed as he crooned, "Pretty child, ghost child, sweet little thing." A callused hand threaded through her pallid hair as he beckoned, "Come to me, come into my world." His dry lips touched hers in a chaste kiss. "Once you've tasted its ecstasy, there will be no need for you to foolishly dream of me, and of saving me." He smiled then, his sharply filed teeth coming into view. There were no more pretenses between them, and he knew it. Obligingly, the predator whispered into her ear, "You will not be saving me, pretty child, because 'tis I who will be your saviour." "No," she whispered. "No!" Long and razor-sharp fingernails dug into her flesh, tearing at her throat with monstrous accuracy. He smiled, licking her blood from his finger. "Blood for blood, pretty child," he hissed. "Blood for blood." With dark head bent at her throat, he drank, sucking her into a shadowed abyss where evil voices caressed her with forbidden promises. "NO!" she screamed, as Usagi awoke drenched in a sheen of sweat. She could feel him nearby, leaving a trail of destruction. He was coming. SALVATION COMING SOON -------------------------------------------------- The following preview has been rated PG. Indiana Jones is the collaborated brain child of Spielberg, Lucas, etc. Okay, so I'd always known that if I met Indiana Jones, I'd ask him to marry me. Then, we'd go traipsing around the world in pursuit of archaeological treasures. Yeah, like that would ever happen to me. I'd be considered lucky to see James Bond roaring through the Coast on one of his international missions. Still, Indiana was THE man. She was a girl obsessed with marrying Indiana Jones. Well, here I was in Africa and still no sign of Indy. Ugh! Mental head slap. Must keep mind off Indy; must listen to tour guide. Oh, great. This region happened to be named "Snake Rift." Maybe I should tell hulking tour guide that I hate snakes. I really, really hate them with a passion. Burning was too good for them. But, of course, Indy would save me from the poisonous snake pit of "Snake Rift." *Dreamy sigh* She was hoping to meet the famous Indy in Africa. But all she met was.... Who the hell was that guy? Ugh! Thick red paint had been streaked onto his face and upper body. He was dancing around a puny bonfire, waving a large piece of driftwood. I was getting weird flashes of "Lord of the Flies meets Teenage Mutant Tarzan." Was he spitting at the fire or was he just drooling? Maybe he was a primitive? Or maybe he still hadn't figured out that there was a lake nearby? Anyway, he'd be perfect as Indy's arch-rival, the retarded run-away tribe member. Can "the retarded run-away tribe member" win "Indiana Jones' self- proclaimed future wife's" heart? Find out in RUN-AWAY ---------------------------------------------------- The following preview has yet to be rated. She was boldly going where few women had gone before... She was going to annihilate the man who had forced her to become an official "bowl-wiper"... She was going to conquer the world... After all, she was BOLD, BEAUTIFUL AND BOWL-WIPER ----------------------------------------------------- LEGALITIES Warning 1: The following fanfic contains graphic violence, profanity, and suggested sexual activity. Read at your own risk. The fanfic is severely rated R. Warning 2: The sailor senshi will not be making an appearance in the fanfic as the work is set in an alternate reality/universe. And no, this is not a first-season fanfic. Warning 3: The following fanfic is self-edited. I apologize in advance for any spelling or grammatical errors. Warning 4: Ms. Takeuchi's characters may not be faithfully rendered in personality and the such in the following fanfic. It's for entertainment purposes, and not to be seen as a direct slur on any one character. Warning 5: Any psychological trauma suffered from said fanfic is the reader's own liability. (Refer back to Warning 1 for further details.) Warning 6: There may be changes to author's writing style that may have not been anticipated by the reader. Disclaimer 1: I do not lay claim to any of the Sailormoon characters. They all belong to the very talented Naoko Takeuchi and all associated companies and corporations. Disclaimer 2: The following fanfic was inspired by the incomparable Laurell K. Hamilton's 'AB:VH series.' Author's Notes: I guess you could surmise that this is the long-awaited "companion" piece to 'Dance of Death.' However, it really does not refer to 'D.O.D.' (at least I had the foresight to not end up with the acronym 'D.U.D.') in any way since this happens to be a stand-alone fanfic set in the same universe. Enjoy! ---Author's Notes are continued at the ennd of the fanfic (and you may not pass GO on your way there since Lunar Rose cannot afford to pay two-hundred dollars to each reader). That was said under the assumption that there are actual readers. And now for our FEATURE PRESENTATION... The following text has been (hopefully) formatted to fit your computer screen. Imagine a world where monsters were considered legal citizens. It was a world in which vampires dined with our country's politicians, werewolves taught our kiddies, and zombies were raised from the dead for a price. Everything had a price. The boogiemen of our nightmares became our neighbours, the men and women to whom we lent flour and eggs. We, humans, were responsible for the safety and health of these monsters on a day-to-day basis. The terminally furry were our friends, the dead were our past, and the undead, the key to our future. In the midst of this world, I worked for a zombie-raising company on the outskirts of the glittering metropolitan city of Tokyo. Yep, I raised zombies for a living (and moonlighted as a vampire executioner on the side). The boss was a chauvinistic pig who still thought that he was hotstuff, the work was dirty, but the pay was good. I'm Tsukino Usagi, and welcome to my world. ----------------------------------------------------- CARESS OF THE NIGHT ----------------------------------------------------- Chapter 1 "Ma petite, do you really think that the gun is necessary?" I felt bad, grumpy, restless. So, what if it was pointless to hold a vampire at gun-point? This was no ordinary vampire, anyway. Chiba Mamoru, Master Vampire of Tokyo, had always been anything but ordinary. More like a hormone-raging, blood-sucking sadist. So, why the gun? The man, rather walking corpse, had been playing mind tricks on me - again. I had specifically told him to end his little cat-and-mouse game the last time we had unfortunately met. But, no - the immortal pain-in-the-arse had chosen to ignore my polite attempt at peace. So when all facades were set aside, violence worked best; hence, the gun. "Ma petite?" Mamoru quirked an amused eyebrow at what he regarded to be my endless antics. "Go to hell," I muttered, not in the mood to be the butt of his own personal amusement. "Been there, done that, and it was boring compared to the infinite pleasures that could be shared on Earth," he said, winking suggestively as if I could have been ignorant enough to not have understood his naughty train of thought. "Ma petite," he whispered again. His voice sent shivers of undisguised delight down my spine. I looked at the gleaming vampire, my gaze inexplicably seeking his fathomless blue eyes. Mamoru's eyes reminded me of the seemingly endless night sky, in which silver specks floated effortlessly in ruthless defiance of gravity. "Mamoru," I began. Damn, my voice sounded shaky and uncertain even to me. Some tough as nails vampire slayer, huh? "Oui?" Soft black hair curled at the nape of his starch white collar. God, I wanted to run my hands through his thick hair. The sensory image of running my hands through his hair while his head lay obligingly on my lap popped into my mind. At the same time, I realized that it was yet another of his mind tricks. "I'm not interested in playing your childish games," I managed to bite out through gritted teeth. I knew that he intended for his mind tricks to seduce me into wanting him. I also knew that he was dangerous. I just didn't know how lethal he could be to my being. Silly me, I chided myself, to have underestimated the immortal bastard's abilities. "Oh, ma petite, you are interested, so very interested." He smiled, white teeth gleaming in the moonlight, fangs expertly hidden. It took several hundred years for a vampire to perfect such a sickeningly normal smile. Everyone needs a hobby, I guess. "I'm neither interested nor available," I retorted. His eyes narrowed speculatively. I prided myself for not shirking away from the intensity of his gaze. I tried on my version of the blank cop face, but it just wasn't working that well. Blank wasn't one of my better expressions, but maybe if I practised... "How are you 'unavailable,'" he asked. His mouth had hardened with displeasure. So glad to finally piss you off, Mr. Chiba, I thought. Of course, a gloatingly sweet smile was in order for this momentous occasion. It wasn't everyday that I had the pleasure of pissing off a master vampire. "I have a boyfriend," I choked out, my head nodding to the affirmative for further confirmation. "Who?" It wasn't a gentle inquiry into my love-life; it was instead a demand by one very possessive vampire. Chiba Mamoru, lust object extraordinaire, had set his sight on me the day I had accidentally crossed his path. If I had known in advance that going to that gaudy vampire strip club would result in Mamoru sniffing at my arse, I would never have gone. My curiosity be damned. It was my immunity to his seductive appeal that had first brought me to his attention. Being a necromancer (a.k.a. zombie queen for the less informed) did have its advantages despite the all-too-frequent need to scrub off chicken blood and zombie juices. I, unlike his countless paramours, had failed to become bespelled by his heavy-lidded gaze. At the time, Mamoru had then tried to bespell me with the force of his power. Whatever the reason, his unearthly power had brought my own necromancing power to the fore in rebuke. What did you expect from someone who had a natural affinity for the dead? My own power was similar to that of a vampire's since they were both "cold" powers. For lack of a better description, they both feel like the icy winds on a cold winter's night. Anyhow, by some cosmic catastrophe, I had intrigued the oh-so-mighty Mamoru, and the rest was history. "Who?" Mamoru growled. The guttural sound reminded me that it was fun and all to piss off a master vampire, but it was another thing to tame one. "I don't kiss and tell," I replied, putting the Uzi in my shoulder holster. What was the point of holding the mini-machine gun when Mamoru wasn't the least bit intimidated? The vampire wanted to play footsie, not Pin-the-Bullet-on-the-Vampire. Although the latter seemed more fun to me. "You let another kiss your delectable lips," he snarled, his eyes held by the sight of my "delectable" lips. He frowned; I smiled. "Yeah, and it was well done, too," I quipped helpfully. Curiosity killed the cat and maybe, if I were really lucky, it would kill a master vampire, too. At the sudden gleam that entered his eyes, I knew that it was time for a certain necromancer to go "poof." Of course, being mortal, it was hard to manage a disappearing act on such short notice. ----------------------------- Chapter 2 I tried. I really tried. How was I to know that the Master Vampire of Tokyo had the ability to fly among his stash of secret weapons? One minute, I was racing down an empty alley, my arms pumping and my chest heaving; and the next minute, I was in the arms of a dreaded flying corpse. The gun would have come in handy had both my hands not been hanging onto Mamoru for dear life. I was terrified of heights. So sue me, I wasn't perfect. Mamoru chuckled at my predicament. I glowered and wondered why I was always the one who lost our customary exchanges of witty repartee. I had a degree in Preternatural Science, and had probably failed to notice a rather neglected course called "Witty Repartee 101" during my university days. I was sorely tempted to yell at the blasted man to put me down. But knowing the vampire like I did, he would probably drop me to my death, my body smashing onto the hard ground below. I quite liked my body in one piece despite the popular notion that more was better. "I would never hurt you, ma petite," he whispered, his breath surprisingly warm against my ear. However, his borrowed warmth shouldn't have surprised me at all. There would be people willing enough to exchange or donate body fluids with the Master Vampire. For some odd reason, the image of a voluptuous woman allowing Mamoru to suck her anywhere he pleased left me disturbed. Go figure. I was attracted to the vampire. He was classically handsome, but looks weren't everything, right? So, what if Mamoru had nicely rippling muscles, which happened to be within my grasp at this particular moment? I knew that Mamoru would accept me. All of me, lock, stock and gun, without question. But I just couldn't accept all of him. Aside from being a manipulative and selfish bastard, he was a walking and talking corpse. I raised corpses for a living. I knew the extent of their limited capabilities. The sight of death haunted me enough on a daily basis that I was not seduced by Death. Nor would I ever sleep with Death, which had lately become epitomized by Mamoru. Mamoru had finally decided to land on a deserted rooftop. My body slid down the long length of his physique before my toes finally reached solid ground. I would have kissed the ground had I been alone, but doing it in front of Mamoru would be undignified. His larger form towered over my petite figure. Stiletto heels, nine inches high, wouldn't have helped me bridge the height gap. His body had remained pressed close to mine. The smell of his new leather pants wafted into my nostrils. His head lowered towards mine. His intent was clear. I must have looked like a cross between a cat in heat and a rabbit caught in a trap. I had had thoughts of kissing the vampire...but only in my dreams where I was safely in control. His lips met mine. As a piece of advice, when kissed by a vampire with a cute butt, do not stand there paralyzed like a blow-up doll; nor when coming to your senses, do you mash your mouth to said vampire's for a searing French kiss. The truth of the matter was that French-kissing a vamp took practice. A lot of practice. I felt the nick on my tongue from Mamoru's fangs and pulled away instantly. I really did not feel like having my blood syphoned by Mamoru, period. Under the curtain of his ebony eyelashes, his eyes surveyed me knowingly. Great, just great. I had responded to his kiss, and now I would never rid myself of Chiba Mamoru. See what happens when you give into your lust? You end up as prey for the local Big, Bad Vampire. "How could you kiss me like that, and expect me to believe that you are entirely content with your 'petit ami?'" So said, Mr. Terminally Anemic. I sighed. My so-called "petit ami" was actually a boy my mother had set up to be my steady date for the following two months. Antonio Icuador the Third (a.k.a. Antonio the Ick) was perhaps the dullest person that I had ever had the displeasure of meeting in my entire life. It took an entire lapse in personality to beat out mute and obedient zombies. Anyway, Antonio could be my cannon fodder for all I cared. If only I could erase this sense of moral obligation that compelled me to not hand the humans over to the monsters... "Ma petite," Mamoru said, "I shall pick you up tomorrow night at eight o' clock." In a whoosh of white and black, Mamoru disappeared. Caught up in the backwash of his wind and still dazed by his ability to fly, I did not fully understand his meaning until too late. "Show-off," I muttered. I closed my eyes. I was stuck on a rooftop in the middle of nowhere. I was seeing Antonio tomorrow night as well as Chiba Mamoru. Wonderful. I could get set to watch the premiere of "Icky meets Bloodsucker." Now why couldn't I disappear into nothingness? -------------------------------- Chapter 3 Tomorrow night had arrived a little too quickly for my taste. Between Mamoru, Antonio and I, I'd probably be the only one bitching about that technicality. What did one do when Boyfriend A met semi-Boyfriend B in the living room? Semi-Boyfriend B had a tendency to kill while Boyfriend A killed through his monotonous conversations. I figured that if I was going to be lugging someone's guts tonight, I should at least be dressed for the occasion. I had finally decided on a rather short black dress. The black was still chic, and as an added bonus, any spilt blood would not show clearly. Cruel, but true. I had worn a black teddy underneath just in case I happened to flash the room. Flashing seemed to be my specialty. The Lord must have some weird sense of humour. The mini Uzi was small enough to stuff in my rather large handbag. So what if the handbag looked ready to burst? I was a woman. And I really did need the gun, the little knife, the stake and a few clips of silver bullets. Preternatural creatures were not happy campers when a round of silver bullets were pumped into their body. Bully for me. I clipped the hair back from my face. At least the face was still pretty, eyes defined with eyeliner and lips coloured a light pink. I looked surprisingly innocent. An old high school boyfriend of mine had once said that I looked like a young Grace Kelly. If only he knew what I did for a living...Zombie raising was not a profession tailor-made for princesses. Mamoru knew about my habitual zombie raisings and vampire slayings. Antonio thought that I was some interior decorator. He had seen me with chicken blood smeared across my forehead, and thought that it was a clever fashion statement. I wondered briefly if I should tell him that I was a professional, with a capital "P," slayerette and zombie queen. The difference between professional and amateur slayers was simple: amateurs killed for all the wrong reasons. But you'd still be dead. I killed stray vampires because it endangered us - the human race. I had no real wish to see a vampire being elected into office, nor one running the country. They were the undead, and we were the living. The gap between mortality and immortality should not be bridged. And here I was gearing up for a date with a vampire. ------------------------------ The door bell rang. I covered my white couch with an unwanted bed- sheet on my way to the door. I had hoped that there would be no blood spilling tonight, but it never hurt to be prepared. The door opened, as did my jaw. In the hall stood one spiffy looking Chiba Mamoru. A peekaboo blue shirt, tailored to make his shoulders seem broader, was tucked into a pair of tight leather pants. My gaze didn't make it all the way down to his shoes. I had noticed the chain he held in his hand, and realized that it was connected to a dog collar. The owner of the dog collar portion was standing beside Mamoru. He was a few inches shorter and devoid of shirt. He was wearing vinyl pants that seemed to be painted onto his lower body, emphasizing...um, a certain strategic part. The shorter man smiled at me, blonde hair stuck in unruly curls. "Now, ma petite," Mamoru began. I felt the sudden urge to gnash my teeth together into a crunching sound. God, why did I have to be connected to these people? Why couldn't I find an understanding, normal human? "Jeez, a dog collar, Mamoru," I said unintelligibly. "Ma petite, I want you to meet Jed. He's my bodyguard," Mamoru explained. Well, since he was on the subject of explaining, he may as well explain to me why he needed a bodyguard. Jed the Bodyguard smiled. I glared. Clint Eastwood would have been proud. "Is there a reason why you brought your pet wolf, Mamoru?" I asked. I wasn't dumb. I could feel the unearthly aura surrounding Jed. The aura was definitely not human. It was a burning warmth that pricked the surface of my skin like tiny needles. To my knowledge, only werecreatures had that particular aura. In addition, Mamoru had the ability to call wolves. I had discovered that little fact when I had nearly been mauled by one of his "pet wolves" when I had drawn the gun on him several weeks ago. "He's my bodyguard," Mamoru repeated. Jed's smile widened. I could have sworn that both men were amused with me. I seemed to have that effect on certain people. It was most disconcerting. "I see," I replied, but I didn't see at all. "Ma petite, would you be so kind as to invite us in," the vampire suggested. Considering that he had never been in my apartment, I was sure that the curiosity was killing him. Perhaps it was petty vengeance on my part, but I chose to ignore his suggestion. "No," I said. I had no need to see Mamoru enter and exit my apartment when he pleased. I did not want to see him waiting for me when I came home late at night. Nor did I want any of his wolves anywhere near me. Inviting any vampire home was a big no-no in my book. Jed mumbled something so low that I couldn't catch his words. Obviously, Mamoru had understood Wolfboy's drift because he grinned, his lips curving into a seductive smile. Knobby knees be still, I commanded silently. "Jed thinks that it would be easier for you to satiate your lust for me by inviting me into your little home, ma petite." Growling was not a feminine attribute, but I growled nevertheless. I was never going to survive the night. Slamming the door in their faces seemed like a good option. And where did the bodyguard get the audacity to even suggest that I was sleeping with his Master? Had it ever occurred in his pea-brain that I might actually refuse his Master's lusty attempts? But then, Mamoru was such a confident, little thing. According to him, I was the first to ever refuse him anything. Lucky me. ---------------------------- I was saved from giving Mamoru an answer when Antonio strode down the hall, a large bouquet of red roses in his arms. Red was the colour of passion and undying love. Maybe Mamoru would misinterpret the situation and step back graciously. Yeah, and strippers don't gyrate. Antonio Icuador the Third was dressed for the occasion in a full tuxedo ensemble. His violet eyes offset his dark hair. At least, Mr. Ick knew how to dress. "Darling," Antonio called, "why don't you tell the dog collar salesman that you aren't interested?" Who said I wasn't getting any smarter? I knew when to keep my big mouth shut. I stepped back into my apartment, prepared to close the door at any given moment. Mamoru turned to the intruder, a tick had formed in his sculpted jaw. He was seeing dinner, and poor Antonio wasn't even aware of his predicament. I sighed. I was going to step in and attempt to salvage the situation. "Mamoru," I said, "could you please see if the dress is zipped up properly?" I then walked into the hallway and turned around. I would never have turned my back on a vampire, but desperate circumstances called for desperate measures. Mamoru, for his part, turned his attention to my back. I felt his touch on my spine, on my hips, and then I was pressed to the length of his body. His arms wrapped around me possessively. Mine, he seemed to declare through his actions. The only thing that registered in my mind was how nice it felt to be in his arms. Bad Usagi, I admonished. Bad, bad Usagi for liking Mamoru's touch. Needless to say, Antonio had stopped in his tracks. Jed looked ready to pounce on the poor man at Mamoru's command. The bouquet of roses had fallen to the floor. He turned sad eyes towards me, his face contorted into a mask of betrayal. I closed my eyes. I didn't want this. "Antonio," I said, attempting to push away from Mamoru. The damned vampire tightened his hold on me until it was useless to escape from the iron wreath that had engulfed me. Superman, I was not. Antonio gave me one last dirty look and stalked back down the hall. I was going to be expecting a call from Mama shortly. On the bright side, no blood had been spilled. On the bad side, I was stuck with Mamoru and Jed for an entire night. ----------------------------------------------------- Chapter 4 "Ma petite, I have some work to do, and then we can enjoy the night together," Mamoru said. I could tell that he was gloating without even turning around. "Damn you," I cried. Fury had seeped into my bones. Antonio had not deserved that mock show. Antonio, despite his dullness, was a nice enough guy. And I had just hurt that nice guy. I felt the urge to engage in one glorious knock-down fight with Mamoru. Just who did he think he was turning my life inside out? I was not his puppet to command. "We've already been through that, ma petite. I'm already damned," he said evenly. "Let go of me." I had to talk to Antonio, at least apologize. Guilt was a bitch. "So, you can run after your boyfriend? I don't think so," Mamoru said. Obviously, being a vampire also expelled any feelings of guilt. However, I was not so privileged. I had had enough of Chiba Mamoru for one night, and it had been less than fifteen minutes. ----------------------------------- Chapter 5 Ever since Bill 245 was passed and vampires were considered legal citizens of Tokyo, they had decided to try some entre-preneuring. Thanks to their efforts, we had what we politely referred to as the "Strip" smack-dab in the heart of Tokyo. The Strip was the vampire community's business gem, ranging from night-clubs to strip clubs. Neon pink lights flashed gaudily, but humans continued to stroll down the Strip's blood- red carpet. Go figure. Mamoru's "work" stood at the edge of the Strip. You could call it "male strip-club of the damned and furry," but Mamoru had infamously named it "Caress of the Night." Funny, but I always thought he should have called it "Gyrators of the Night" 'cause that was what strippers did. Mamoru was not a stripper, but the owner. Gee, I felt a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach already. After all, I was dating a vamp who owned a strip-club, which as far as I was concerned, a little too unwholesome for my taste. Loud cat-calls hit my ears with a vengeance as I entered the premises. I was left alone with bodyguard Jed since Mamoru had disappeared to catch-up on supposed work. I had nothing to do but surreptitiously watch the strippers dance and publicly exhibit themselves. I felt my face going hot with embarrassment. I wasn't a prude or at least I didn't think so. But around midnight, I was ready to blindfold myself and plug my ears. I had had more than enough of my share of screaming women with uncontrollable lungs and hormones. If that wasn't enough to make any proper girl sick, then the costumes on the strippers were getting more and more ridiculous. I swore that the last stripper looked like a grown and rather oddly shaped carrot. And that "Care to nibble?" part had been damned corny. I would have left if I didn't think that Mamoru would punish Jed for my impromptu exit. After all, Mamoru had noticed Jed's...uh, appreciative glances in my direction earlier tonight. "There is no need to worry, ma petite, because Jed will behave himself," Mamoru had said. Jed had nodded and Mamoru had glowered. I swore that Mamoru was too damned complex. He had dozens of ulterior motives, and motives behind those motives. -------------------------------------------- Chapter 6 "You like to flirt," I finally said. I was trying to make small talk with Jed (to forget the free strip show I was getting), but it wasn't going too well. I was holding the leash while Mamoru disappeared to "do work." I'd been getting weird looks from absolute strangers all night long. I wasn't thrilled. "No kidding," Jed replied. He smiled at me. I gritted my teeth and refrained from personally wiping that smile off of his face. "You like to smile," I finally managed. "Don't you?" Great, two-word answers. I wondered briefly if Jed needed a vocabulary expansion. I smiled sweetly. "Of course," I said. I'd decided to start asking better questions. Maybe then, I'd get better answers. "Why do you hang around Mamoru? Surely, you don't like being his lap dog." "I'm his lap dog by choice, anyway. I'm not that high up in the pack structure. I figured that I might learn a few things from Mamoru instead. Plus, Mamoru's way cool." I rolled my eyes. It was no wonder that Mamoru's ego was that bloated. "So, what do you do when you're not playing lap dog?" I glared at the woman who had been openly staring at me. Jeez, that was rude. Hadn't she seen a woman with a grown werewolf on a leash before? "I like to flirt," Jed said. I groaned inwardly. We had come full circle to the beginning of our conversation. ------------------------------------------------ Conversation between Jed and I had dwindled into nothing as the night wore on. Instead, I had been forced to watch the prancing of the fanged Chippendales. There was still no sight of Mamoru. "So you're the little human that Mamoru fancies," a woman drawled, coming to stand beside my front-row table. Turning around, I could feel her vampiric aura shimmer with an underlying layer of jealousy and bitterness that seemed to be directed at me. As my mama would say, 'Trouble' should have been my middle name. Jed perked up immediately. Oh, goody. I was getting the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to watch Jed ricochet into flirting action. Why me? "And you're the little vampire that Mamoru doesn't fancy," I replied since Wolfboy had failed to respond. Jed had either fallen into an open-eyed coma or had been rendered speechless by the woman's -and I hesitated to even call her such - trashiness. Fishnet blouse and micro-leather mini just weren't my cup of tea, but that was just me. For all I knew, she could be a transsexual stripper working for Mamoru. "And you're Mamoru's soon-to-be-dead human," she snarled, flashing fang. She had yet to feed because she was terribly pale under the expertly applied make-up. I had no intention of opening a vein for her. "Look at me," she commanded. "No, look into my eyes." You'd think that after several hundred years of existence she'd come up with a better pick-up line. I knew that I would have, had I the same length of time to think of one. The blond wolf-boy was growling at the female vampire. I certainly hoped that that wasn't a manifestation of his mating urge because I had no real desire to witness a scene that should be kept exclusive to the Discovery Channel. Nevertheless, I obliged the female vampire. I looked into her eyes and felt nothing. They were just a pair of eyes, and not particularly captivating. "You're supposed to be under my spell," she hissed. "I am?" "They said you were a necromancer, but I didn't believe," she shrieked. "I believe that you are a vampire if it makes you feel any better," I said. "You are mocking me. Me?! How dare you!" Her fist slammed into our front-row table. "I'll make sure that you'll never be able to mock me again," Ms. Hissy-fit promised. Ah, such a show of sensitivity couldn't be missed. Meanwhile, I had drawn my trusty gun underneath the table-cloth. Without warning, she was gripping my head in one hand while a razor-sharp nail from her other hand pressed dangerously close to my eye. The blood-red nail inched closer to my eye, and I knew that if I blinked, I could kiss that eye good-bye forever. "Why don't you mock me?" she drawled, a pout forming for good measure. "I'm waiting," she added. I held my eyes open, but the sheer effort was killing me. Blinking wasn't exactly the most controllable of body functions. I widened my eyes. The first sign of arm fatigue came when her elbow dropped momentarily, her nail inching away from my eye. It was all I needed as I pulled the trigger from its position under the table, hitting her kneecap. And down she went. The moment would have been reminiscent of the Titanic if the female vamp hadn't decided to wail like a banshee, halting all action in the establishment. "You're not the only one with a gun," she shrieked from her position on the floor. Apparently, she had traded her ear-drum piercing wail for coy threats. Her kneecap was healing in front of me, ligaments reattaching, skin reforming and the whole nine yards. "I also have a few friends that want to meet you," she cooed. I guessed that human lackeys were all the rage since the vamp hadn't opted for the normal vampire flunky entourage. As far as I could tell, the night was looking up. I'd rather exchange blows with a human than with a vampire who could easily bench-press a truck. Nevertheless, the human lackeys - all three of them - were big, and had been big for most of their lives. I bet that it made them feel tough. However, being rather petite, I was outweighed and outmanned. Where the hell was Mamoru? "What do you want us to do to the little girlie, mistress?" the largest of the Chub Club asked. I took the moment to let go of Jed's leash. "Don't kill anyone," I whispered to Jed. I had no intention of spending the night in jail. Jed bared his teeth but said nothing. At least, the smile was gone. "Kill her," the female vamp hissed. Naturally, the club of once-enthusiastic patrons moved far, far away from me. You'd think that one of Mamoru's employees would be inclined to help his master's current object of affection. It was just too bad that I had no such luck. The tallest of the bunch who personally reminded me of a bulldog pointed the trigger at me and fired without warning. I thought that I merited at least one measly warning. Just when I could almost taste the speeding bullet, a mop of blonde hair whirred past. Jed had taken the bullet like the good bodyguard that he was. The bullet apparently didn't contain any silver content since Jed's body spit the small metallic bullet back out. After flashing me a brief smile, Jed rounded on Mr. Tall. As far as I could tell, the other two bozos were gun-free hired muscle. The beefy one with the stringy hair rushed me, his blubber wobbling. I aimed the gun, not wanting to kill the man for mere stupidity. "Freeze or the back of your head will be plastered against the wall," I said. I was deadly calm. Killing I understood. You either killed or waited to be killed. It was a game of survival. I had honed my skills throughout the years and I was good, damnit. In a blur of motion, the gun was knocked out of my hand and flew across the club. Shit. Female vamp came accessorized with a personal werecat attendant in leopard form. The beefy one kept on coming as I took a defensive stance. In the distance I could hear the crunch of a joint breaking. Hopefully, Jed was a much better bodyguard than conversationalist. I ducked as the beefy one finally made his way across the room followed by Mr. Beer-gut. Funny, how I seemed to be getting more popular by the minute. I ducked under Beer-gut's arm as he tried to pull a punch, but got hit in the shoulder-blade by Beefy. Beer-gut lost his balance and fell, a knee becoming hyperextended as he toppled. Smarting from the pain in my shoulder-blade, I kicked Beer-gut's knee hard. A low popping sound followed by a howl of pain was heard as Beer-gut's hyperextended knee took an unlucky break. I was breaking a leg, and hopefully my performance would be memorably triumphant. Beefy, however, had taken the time to reach out for me as though to give me a smothering bear hug. "You're not so tough without the hardware, girlie," he sneered. I caught his right arm and swept the legs out from under him. Holding him in a joint-lock, I replied, "You're not so tough when you're on the ground, big guy." A whistling sound caught my attention and I immediately jerked my head down. The werecat went leaping over my head, claws dangerously outstretched. Jed had taken care of the other human and was arm-wrestling with the female vamp. The werecat joined her owner. Noticing my handbag lying open a few feet away from me, I dragged Beefy, still in the joint-lock, towards it. I smiled sweetly at the beefy one, and gave him his ticket out. "Go home and all this will end," I said. "Go fuck yourself," he jeered. Fishing in the handbag with my free hand, I found my pocket-sized knife. Some people were too stupid to survive. Taking the knife, I drew a thin line across his neck carefully in order to not knick the juggler. The smell of blood was attracting the attention of a certain someone. The female vamp perked up at the scent of food and made her away towards Beefy. I scurried out of the way and stared at the club's emptiness. Turning my head, I muffled a gasp. Jed had been pushed through the fan at the back of the club, the fan's stainless steel blades whipping him into a gruesome caricature of a being. Lycanthropes were able to heal at an accelerated speed, but even at that, Jed wasn't going to be guarding anyone for a few days. The poor boy was lying in a mesh of his own blood and flaps of destroyed tissue. While the werecat and her mistress were busy with Beefy, I hunted for my gun. It wasn't a pretty sight. I knew I was flashing the room as I crawled under tables in my search, while simultaneously avoiding the glowering Beer-gut and the other unconscious man. Finally my hand stumbled over the butt of my gun, and I triumphantly attempted to stand up. Thunk! My head hit the table that had been looming over me. Embarrassed? Who, me? "Where did the little necromancer go?" A sickeningly saccharine voice vibrated in my ear-drums. Coming out from under the table, on my hands and knees with a dress that had ridden up to my hips, I wasn't the happiest of little necromancers. The Uzi was pointed directly at the vamp's inflated chest, my hand on the trigger. "Esmeraude," Mamoru said, looking impossibly fresh and untouched by the floor scrimmage that had occurred in his club. He was standing in the club's entrance, leaning casually on the doorframe. I could have cheerfully pulled the trigger on Mamoru had he not brought back-up. A formidable band of vampires stood right behind him, ready to tear dear Esmeraude to a million microscopic pieces. "Mamoru," she cooed, eyelashes batting like a hummingbird's wings at supersonic speed. I gritted my teeth at the disgusting scene. "Long time no see," she pouted. "Leave," Mamoru ordered, his power flaring and his eyes glowing threateningly. Esmeraude smiled, licking the blood off of her lips while thrusting her chest forward. I wasn't normally trigger-happy, but Esmeraude seemed to affect me that way. I took a deep breath and let it out, heroically fighting the urge to pull the trigger. With a tilt of his head, Mamoru commanded his army to escort Esmeraude and her pet leopard out. I guessed that she wasn't going to be getting any caresses of the night. "I have a message for you, Mamoru," she said. "Out!" Mamoru roared. The Master of the City was in tip- top shape -- unlike Esmeraude. "Fine," she huffed. "I see you're still as tight-assed as you used to be." And out she went with her leopard in tow, nose in the air while the suggestive coyness of her shrill voice lingered like a foul after-taste in my mind. I frowned as I realized that Mamoru had slept with dear Esmeraude. It wasn't a pleasant thought, and I was hoping to banish it from the recesses of my mind when Mamoru's voice cut through the strangely quiet club. "Ma petite," Mamoru said, his voice caressing the air. "Are you alright?" His eyes were wandering down my body and I involuntarily shivered. Pulling the dress down from around my hips, I was inwardly thankful that I had worn the teddy. I frowned at the intimately warm smile that made its way to shape Mamoru's face. Trust Mamoru to embarrass me within moments of occupying the same surface area. "Lingerie, ma petite. You never wear lingerie, yet tonight it graces your body. It suits you," Mamoru said decisively. "Did you have some plans for tonight that you failed to mention, ma petite?" Please not that suggestive look, I pleaded. Unfortunately, my plea went unheeded. My face was alarmingly warm. Damn the man. I couldn't possibly tell him that I wore the teddy so I wouldn't flash the room, and that it conveniently matched my dress. He wouldn't understand. "I think Jed needs help," I finally said, my voice sounding too soft for my liking. ------------------------------------------- Chapter 7 Blood gushed from Jed's wounds, dripping onto the bedsheet covering my once white couch. I had brought both Jed and Mamoru back to my apartment for recovery time. Actually, I had wanted to bring both of them to the hospital. Nowadays, the hospitals were well-equipped with the needed facilities to treat its preternatural patients. Alas, the overzealous Mamoru had taken it upon himself to fly Jed straight to my apartment where I had grumbled over the vampire invitation ritual. So, here we were. "Ma petite," Mamoru said. His voice was softer than usual. I could have sworn that there was something in his eyes akin to tenderness. But we were talking about Mamoru, and tenderness was never part of his vocabulary much less his palette of showable emotions. "What?" I was ruder than usual. I had been shot at, threatened, and had taken a few punches. I was cranky and it showed. "Both Jed and I will have to stay the night." "What?!" "Ma petite, look outside. The sun will be out soon. Vampires don't like to move so close to sunrise," Mamoru supplied. I flushed. I had forgotten. Me, the big shot vampire slayer. "Don't you need a coffin or something?" I asked, hoping to persuade Mamoru to return to the comfort of *his* own home. Nevertheless, I had to face the facts: Wolfboy was wounded saving me, and his Master still had the primal urge to jump my bones. But Mamoru, even if he wanted to, wouldn't be jumping my bones so close to dawn. I was safe -- for now. I was going to have houseguests, unwanted houseguests. At least one of the houseguests would be out for the rest of the night. "A coffin would be more secure, but no, I only need total darkness," Mamoru said. He gave me a look. There was no mockery in his look, only an intensity that both thrilled and repelled me. "You're not afraid that the drapes might open, and you'll become crispy fries?" I asked. "I know you, ma petite," Mamoru said. All of a sudden, he was right behind me, arms on my shoulders. The dead made no noise. It was creepy as hell, both what he said and what he could do. It scared me that he knew me well enough to know that I wouldn't kill him. There it was: the sordid truth. I honestly didn't know if I could kill the vamp. I knew that if it came down to him or me; I was going to choose me. But otherwise, I didn't think that I could kill him. Go figure. Mamoru's touch was cold, chilling yet comforting. He knew me; I knew him. Wolfboy I did not know. From the occasional come-hither smiles I got from Jed, I didn't think it would be safe for him to stay alone with me until he recovered. Actually, I wouldn't be alone with Jed because Mamoru was also staying. I sighed. How did I get myself into these messes? I was almost delighted when Mamoru had decided to take a shower. But then a naked Mamoru in my shower wasn't exactly peachy keen. ------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 8 My jaw dropped and my eyes grew impossibly wide. I was sure that my face had turned a fiery crimson. I should have known that Mamoru was up to something. But, fudge buckets, I could never have dreamed that he would dare to expose himself *completely* like that. Lust swirled through my body. Talk about bad timing. "W -Well," I stammered miserably, "I -I'm...impressed." Mamoru grinned, his wet body making its way towards mine. I pinched myself hard, hoping against hope that this was one of my embarrassing fantasies. The pain told me otherwise. "What's the matter, ma petite? Don't you want me?" A pout played on his sexy mouth. I gulped. He wasn't supposed to look that good. And I wasn't supposed to drool at his feet. I edged away from the advancing figure. Unfortunately, I was running out of space and my hands were itching to touch his body. "Ma petite, you must stop fighting me," the Devil crooned. With triumph imminent, his eyes gleamed suggestively. As far as I knew, Mamoru had never worked at his humble stripping establishment, but I was sure that he could easily have fit in with his string of well-endowed employees. "Go away," I whispered. For someone who had just been drooling, my lips had become suddenly parched and dry. Obviously, my plea had been met by deaf ears. "My mama," I continued, hoping to stall for time, "said that if I wished hard enough, then my wishes can come true." "I can make your wishes come true, ma petite," Mamoru promised, his midnight blue eyes looking deep into mine. "I wish...for you to go away," I whispered. "Go away." "That, ma petite, I cannot do." "Then don't promise me things that you cannot possibly give me." He must have seen the desperation in my eyes because he smirked. The damned vampire smirked at me! "Ma petite, there is no need to fear me." His voice was huskier than usual. I could almost see the imaginary hangman's noose slide around my neck. Mamoru wasn't going to be biting the dust; I was. And unfortunately for the both of us, I wasn't a gracious loser. "Look, Mamoru, I-I'm not the least bit interested, so you can take yourself - all of yourself - back to wherever you go at night. Or else..." Mamoru smiled. A hint of fangs winked at me. He came closer, one hand touching his rather broad chest suggestively. I figured that a rude "bite me" would be misinterpreted in this instance. Now, if only I could restrain myself from licking the droplets of water making their seductive pathway down his marble-white chest... "What, ma petite? You are silent," he remarked. "That is not like you." "What would you know about me, anyway?" I said absently. As long as he was busy talking, he wouldn't have time to think about anything else. His answer, however, surprised me. "I know you, ma petite. I know that you fear me. I know that you want me. I know that when we come together in the fury of passion that it will be glorious, indeed." I trembled as I searched his face. My eyes were arrested by the promise that swirled in his eyes. God help me because for one moment, I'd been prepared to leave all my beliefs and all that I valued behind. I'd wanted to be in his arms, knowing all that he foretold. "Get the hell out," I snarled. His words had cut a little too close to home for comfort. "Ma petite, you are vexed," he replied. "I could make you feel better." Usually, I would have thought persistence to be a virtue, but this was ridiculous. I had to wonder if Mamoru was Machiavellian as a result of becoming undead or if that was just him being himself, which in itself was a scary thought. Or perhaps Mamoru had met Sigmund Freud. It would explain how Freud coined the epithet "pansexualism" if nothing else. "Take the bed, Mamoru," I finally said. His arms wrapped around my waist. I could almost feel the purr of satisfaction he was feeling. He was enjoying the warmth of my body, and no doubt, he wanted more. However, I had other plans. "I won't be sharing the bed with you," I added. "Why not, ma petite?" There was real puzzlement in his voice. The seducer couldn't figure out why his prey was reluctant. It was naturally ego-shattering time, but I just couldn't. I was too tired, barely able to stand up. Things were bad when I gave up perfect opportunities for bruising Mamoru's ego, especially when he was in his birthday suit. "I think you should go to bed now. Take Wolfboy with you," I said. Mamoru turned me around to look at him. I felt a cool hand caress my jaw before a chaste kiss was planted on my forehead. Surprisingly, there was no protest from Mamoru about the sleeping arrangements. "Ma petite, stay with me," he whispered. "You know I can't," I replied. "Just stay with me until the sun rises." Mamoru was the Devil. He knew that I couldn't resist such an offer. I'd always wanted to see what happened to vampires at dawn. Did they go to sleep? Did whatever animating magic they possess leave the corpse? Now my answers would be answered. Seeing the triumphant quirk of his lips, I knew he knew that he had me where he wanted me. I nodded, not entirely trusting my voice. Manipulative bastards never changed. He grinned. ---------------------------------------- My bedroom was plunged into total darkness. The drapes were closed. Hopefully, the stuffed toy rabbits in the corner would go unnoticed. I would never live it down if Mamoru knew that I had a weakness for those fluffy companions. Mamoru lay on my bed, his hand firmly clasping my own. His body had returned perhaps to its most natural state. It was stiff, cold and unyielding. He was still, except for his glazed blue eyes that were trained on my face. He was watching for my reaction. It was almost adorable how vulnerable Mamoru seemed to be. I had never seen him turn to anyone for approval, much less actively seek someone's particular reaction. I was flattered. I smiled tentatively. I could feel the sun rising in the sky as Mamoru's hand tightened its grasp. "It hurts," he whispered. Pain contorted his face for a brief moment before his face lay slack and peaceful on my pillow. He was gone for the day. My hand was still entwined in his larger one. ----------------------------------------------------- Chapter 9 I had spent the afternoon cooped up in my office, going over tomorrow night's assignments. I was going to raise one Mr. Dingo in order for his family to hear from the man's own mouth the true heirs to his will. That was simple enough as far as I could tell since the man hadn't been dead for very long. The police, however, wanted me to raise Honshu Ava, the teenager that had been murdered a week ago. I guessed that the police had ran out of leads and were relying on the girl to tell them the name of her murderer. I just hoped that Ava would be cooperative. Half the time, victims of brutal murders were so mentally scrambled that they had difficulty recalling their own name, much less the name of their murderer. Gratifying myself with an extra large caffeine dose, I made my way home, relieved that I was off zombie-raising duty tonight. I was dreading the return home to my apartment. Nevertheless, I was not prepared for my houseguests' greeting. After searching the rather small apartment, I finally figured out that both men were still in my bedroom. Jed lay on his back on my bed, his wounds mostly healed. Scars were the only indication that he had been in critical condition the night before. Being lycanthrope, Jed was able to heal at an accelerated rate. Bully for him. Jed was also somewhere on cloud nine, a blissful smile plastered on his face. That was fine with me, but the lack of clothes appalled me. Wolfboy was dressed in one very skimpy-looking pair of briefs and nothing else. From the way he was sprawled on my bed, his relaxation disturbed me. It was almost as though...he were enjoying the aftermath from one large orgasm. The source of that orgasmic pleasure was surveying me quietly. I had heard that vampires had a tendency to roll their victims as they stole their blood. The rolling by a vampire was close to sex, which was why Mamoru was never going to do me. I didn't need any more confusion in my life. Fang marks on Jed's neck became more prominent as he turned his head to look at me. He smiled. Did this guy ever stop smiling? "Ma petite, come here," the Devil invited. There was no way I was getting any closer to any of these two men. But when you're ass deep in alligators, there was really no choice. I knew that Mamoru took armies of vampires into battle which suited me just fine. I'd take back-up into hell. I moved closer, careful to keep an arm's length away. Scared? Who, me? In a blur of motion, Mamoru sat up on my bed and proceeded to stalk towards me. "Tsukino Usagi, you continue to elude me," he sighed. "Maybe you should take the hint, and leave me alone," I said. Jed remained quiet. He was the perfect lap dog. He was seen and not heard. However, his clear blue eyes were joyous like the fresh spring skies. He followed Mamoru's movement faithfully. Mamoru smiled. Like magic, a stuffed bunny appeared before me in his hands. I groaned. It had been too much to hope that he would not discover my obsession. But the stuffed bunny was just too cute. I had the sudden urge to grab the bunny and hug it, its soft, furry body pressed between my chest and arms. The bunny in question was pure white with floppy ears. A velvet pink ribbon was tied in a bow around its neck. Mamoru's eyes glowed knowingly. "A truce, ma petite, until our little problem is solved," he said. "What's the rabbit for?" The ingrate knew that I wanted the bunny. There was no use hiding it. "A token of my appreciation, ma petite." -------------------------------------------- Chapter 10 The stuffed rabbit must have special powers. It was the conclusion that I drew when Mamoru had somehow managed to con me into another date. I was hoping that we were going to do the traditional dinner-and-movie date. I didn't think I could handle another "stripping good time." Strolling down the street with Mamoru was a novel experience. It was almost normal once I conveniently forgot that he happened to be vampiric. However, "normal" wasn't going to define the rest of my date. Standing under a dimly lit street lamp, Esmeraude stood waiting for us. She was alone, and impatiently tapping her foot. Mamoru had stiffened and I wished that I had brought my gun. The angular features of her face came into view as we inevitably neared the ugly, green witch of the East. The witch thrust her chest out invitingly in welcome. I looked down at my chest. It seemed a little diminutive compared to Ms. Well-Stacked. Of course, it bruised my ego to know that the villainess was better shaped, but then, when she was dressed like "Barbie Does Porno," what did one expect? At least she was in the economy of material conservation. Why else would her top look suspiciously like plastic wrap bandaged several times around her chest? "Chiba Mamoru," she drawled, "my Master would like a word with you." She glared at me. "Alone." As far as I was concerned, that would be fine with me. Mamoru straightened and the vampire facing Esmeraude was every inch Master Vampire of Tokyo. The mask of indifference and power had subtly slipped back on. He was no longer Tsukino Usagi's persistent vampire suitor who, at certain times, bordered on humanity. And I unconsciously mourned the loss of my Chiba Mamoru. "Esmeraude, I'd like ma petite to accompany me, or you can tell your Master that he shall have to wait," Mamoru said. I could have walked out of this mess unharmed, but Mamoru was persistently dragging me into a foreign den of vampires. If dear Esmeraude was the Master's lackey, then the Master must be powerful, indeed. The unknown Master could have enough juice to do Mamoru, and then where would I be? A whole lot happier and free of a randy vampire. Riiight. "Maybe you should ask the little girl first, Mamoru. She doesn't look too pleased with you," Esmeraude remarked. Gee, if she was any more perceptive, I would have honoured her with a roll of additional plastic wrap. Plus, I was a big girl, not as old as her per se, but still old enough to tell Mamoru off myself. "Ma petite has no qualms about accompanying me anywhere." Mamoru squeezed my hand in warning. He wasn't oblivious as to what my big mouth could spew. Obviously, we were going for a show of solidarity. Yippee. Excuse me while I jump for joy. ---------------------------------------- Chapter 11 Distant from the rest of Tokyo, the building lay in a shroud of darkness, its abandonment proclaimed in a visual let-down of disappointed opulence. The building had once been Honoko-san's unparalleled funeral home, but once Honoko-san had died, the building, too, had passed away into a sorry state. The columns were lined with mazes of spider-webs as shadows cut across the face of the funeral home in an alarming multitude of obsidian. Esmeraude's master, affectionately known as the White Prince, had turned the cavern of the funeral home's viewing chamber into his throne room. I guessed that he couldn't feel too princely in his coffin. What was a vampire without a flair for the dramatic? I'll tell you when I finally meet one. ------------------------------------ Didn't anyone ever tell the mighty White Prince that it was rude to stare? His ice blue eyes were fixated on me. To be more precise, his eyes, which seemed to be tinted a pale, pale blue were covered by a thin film of an unidentified viscous white material. Personally, it gave me the creeps. If he continued, I'd probably embarrass myself by developing a nervous twitch. Twitchy Tsukino, that would be me. The White Prince a.k.a. Absolutely Anemic sat stiffly on a custom- made throne. The throne was an ornately carved masterpiece, and so dark that it only made the Prince seem that much more paler. His hair was a starch white, devoid of any colour. The Prince, despite his royal title had yet to feed that night. He was a bloodless corpse with so much power that it made my head ache with the dull knowledge. He was old, older than Mamoru and as scary as Dante's hell. The silver bullets weren't going to work on him. They may make a few dents here and there, but the White Prince would still be in good health and bad humour. I wasn't going to single-handedly kill a vamp that powerful. It wouldn't be entirely legal, anyway. "Chiba," the White Prince began. His voice was a cultured baritone that resounded in the nearly empty throne room. The sound show was impressive. I couldn't wait to see the light show, but alas, there would be none. "Oui?" Mamoru cocked an eyebrow. He was the image of the bored vamp with only a mild interest as to what the White Prince had to say. I had learned early on that Mamoru was all illusion-- but damn, he was good. I was almost glad that I was still holding his hand. "We meet again. This time things will be different, hmmm?" Oooh, another cryptic vampire, I thought. The White Prince was still openly watching me, his cold eyes running the length of my body. Without warning, he lifted a finger and a slash of power erupted across the room, slashing Mamoru's shirt. Thin trails of blood began to run across Mamoru's clothed chest. I could almost feel the blood lust in the mausoleum. Three vampires, no gun. I'd be lucky to make it through the night with minimal damage. "You want this, Demando?" Mamoru wiped the rivulets of blood from his chest with a long finger. He then proceeded to lick the blood slowly from his finger, his eyes riveted on the White Prince. I guessed that blood was also finger lickin' good. Demando's cold eyes had returned to watching me. Please, I prayed silently, let that not be lust that I see in his eyes. The White Prince nodded once. Out of the darkness, Esmeraude emerged like the good, little puppet she was. "Now, Mamoru," Demando ordered, "you will follow Esmeraude like the insignificant little slave you were. She has missed you." Esmeraude's emerald eyes lit up like the tacky lime green Christmas lights on Christmas Eve. She was happy to see Mamoru. Very happy. I couldn't wait to stake the horny bitch. Jealous; who, me? "I am not going anywhere without ma petite," Mamoru answered. His voice was deceptively calm. In contrast, I could feel his rapid pulse beneath my fingers. I closed my eyes. "That is too bad, is it not? I'd like a few moments alone with your precious lady," Demando said. He stood and proceeded towards us. His footsteps echoed in the chamber. Mamoru squeezed my hand in reassurance. "Courage, ma petite," he whispered. A watered-down version of his usual come-hither smile flashed briefly. "I never thought to see the day when you, mon ami, would actually become infatuated with the fair sex - and with a human," the White Prince sneered. I narrowed my eyes. I'd had enough of the White Prince. If I were to die, I may as well die with courage. With that thought, I straightened and stared straight back into Demando's wintry eyes. "Well, well, well. What have we here? A little girl able to withstand a vampire's gaze. How interesting," the White Prince remarked. "Not really," I said. My voice wavered slightly, but under the circumstances, I was damned proud of myself. "It becomes terribly dull looking into a vampire's eyes. They are hardly as interesting as those of a human's." "Ma petite has a mind of her own," Mamoru supplied, suppressing what suspiciously looked like a grin. "Dull, is it? I can assure you that my eyes are anything but dull," Demando assured. I gulped. I was never really that good at staring contests. The throne room grew colder, the air solidifying into ice crystals in the farthest corners. Demando's eyes began to glow a strange white light emitting raw power. I was about to be forced into his submission. I could almost feel my mind collapsing from the sheer force of Demando's gaze. My legs wobbled unsteadily as I bit down hard on my lower lip. I tasted blood, but didn't care. As long as I could still feel something other than Demando, I might be able to survive his gaze. But maybe the blood was a bad choice... At the puncture of my lip, the smidgen of blood had attracted three very hungry-looking vampires. Demando had stopped his onslaught of force. I heaved a sigh of relief. He was staring at my lip, and without warning, his arm shot out to grasp my upper arm painfully. "A taste," Demando ordered. "I want to taste the little necromancer." "I don't think so," Mamoru bit out. He pulled me as close to him as possible. "She's mine." Actually, I belonged to neither the White Prince nor Mamoru. I was my own mistress. I just didn't think that it was quite the right time to voice my thoughts. I licked the blood from my bottom lip, the distinct coppery taste filling my mouth. Three vampires watched on in mute fascination. ----------------------------------- Chapter 12 Being the centre of attention wasn't nearly as fun as I had thought it would be. The idea of being food for three hungry vampires seemed to dim whatever kick I'd get from being Ms. Popularity. Things were pretty bad when I actually begin missing my zombie tea parties. "Necromancer, I think that we can reach -" Demando never finished his long-winded speech. He was more absorbed in the matter of self-preservation. Howls ricocheted in the funeral home, announcing the arrival of Mamoru's wolves. Ah, Mamoru's telepathy at its best. The link between master and wolf consolidated into a solid, symbiotic relationship geared towards the mutual goal of survival and power. I figured that I was becoming more receptive to Mamoru's wolves because I almost fought the urge to hug the furry monsters. And we were talking about large werewolves in all their glory, fur glistening and claws arching. Who would have thought that Mamoru would be leader of the pack? "Ma petite, you may thank me later as befits the white knight in shining armour," Mamoru grinned, tugging my arm towards the exit. I rolled my eyes. In the background, Demando's vampire flunkies weren't faring too well with Mamoru's rowdy pack. The flunkies had appeared at the sound of the wolves in the interest of protecting the White Prince. However, it was probably in the flunkies' best interest to run. Limbs dangled and teeth snapped with enthusiasm. The werewolves weren't going to eat their vampire prey. This was just for fun. I bet Mamoru had platters of fresh meat waiting somewhere for their pleasure. Despite the foray, Demando and Esmeraude appeared before us, blocking the door to our liberty. It was time for Plan B, whatever that may be. I thought it was about time Superman tore his gaze away from Lois Lane, and rescued a few worthy citizens in Tokyo city. Since chances of that occurring seemed next to nil, I was going to take matters into my own hands. Doing a mental inventory, I had one silver cross on a chain, a vial of holy water, and a ton of bravado. Yanking the glowing cross from my neck, I watched it flare. Mamoru stepped away from me even though the cross had been relatively inactive during our date. The silver cross only flared like a beacon in the night when I was in the proximity of danger where danger came in the form of sadistic vampires such as Demando and Esmeraude, the Tweedlefreak and Tweedleslut of vampiredom. Esmeraude was cowering at the sight of the cross while Demando remained untouched. Swinging the cross jauntily, I advanced towards the two vampires. Stopping mid-way, I began swinging the cross' long chain in broader and broader circles. "Mamoru," I called. "You can still fly, right?" "Whenever my lady wishes," Mamoru replied, although the response was muffled by the werewolves' snarling foreplay. I smiled sweetly. The Terrible Twosome were surprisingly still, lacking the hyperactivity of mortality. I couldn't have asked for more --for the moment. As the chain's circling motion widened into a large arc, I aimed it at the shrunken form formerly known as Esmeraude. Letting go, the cross sailed over the distance hitting her, the cross burying itself snuggly in her abundantly displayed cleavage. The smell of burning flesh soon followed. I found Mamoru behind me, and somehow our minds were in sync at that particular moment. Demando still stood in front of the exit, ignoring the flailing Esmeraude. The White Prince was no longer smirking. I was. Mamoru grabbed me as I took out the travel-size vial of holy water. However, he let me go as soon as he saw the contents of the vial. Mamoru turned disbelieving eyes towards me. "You brought holy water on our date?" he whispered. I nodded and gingerly opened the lid. "I have a surprise for you, Demando," I said. The Anemic One arched a brow in response as he remained stoic in his pose, a lone defender. In a sudden burst of speed, I rushed the pale vamp and threw the holy water at him. Without turning around to see the damage, I grabbed Mamoru's hand and high-tailed out of the funeral home, hearing the howling of wolves that followed our trail. I was feeling brave enough to let him fly me home like express mail. Once out in the open, I wasn't feeling so confident, my bravado drizzling. Maybe if I had done my "Singing in the Rain" routine along with the sprinkling of holy water, I'd have felt better. Maybe. Feeling Mamoru's envelop me in his embrace, I closed my eyes. When I opened them, I was seeing Tokyo city from a bird's view. Shit. "Ma petite, I cannot believe that you brought holy water on our date," Mamoru hissed close to my ear, his breath tickling my skin. I wondered if I was going to be getting any of those exclusive Frequent Flyer Miles. "Mamoru," I said evenly, "I was just doing us both a favour. The beverages at the cinema have gotten dreadfully expensive, and I know you get thirsty on a nightly basis, so..." I gulped. "Just don't drop me," I finished lamely. "I wouldn't do that, ma petite. You are my holy water-carrying lover, after all." "You're pissed," I said, closing my eyes. It wasn't so bad with my eyes closed. Blackness was almost a blessing compared to the nausea of seeing Tokyo's irregular pattern of twinkling lights, generated by the city's prominent night-life district. "And why do you think I'm 'pissed,' ma petite?" Mamoru landed on the ground beside my apartment complex, but I was still flailing madly in the air as he held me above the ground with relative ease. I opened my eyes and gazed straight into midnight blue depths. I narrowed my eyes. He was angry with me. Tough. He was the one who had insisted on the date, and on dragging me to meet the hostile White Prince. He was lucky that I hadn't aimed the holy water at him. "Put me down," I commanded. I had been air-borne long enough. There was no need to delay my sorely needed landing, especially since I happened to be vertically challenged. "Not until you answer my question, ma petite," Mamoru replied, unperturbed. For a man who could bench-press my car, I must be as light as a feather in comparison. It was just too bad that his precious manhood was within kicking range. "Answer it, ma petite," he hissed. I hated it when people ordered me around like their personal slave while they adopted undeserved airs of superiority. "Put me down, Chiba Mamoru," I gritted from between tightly clenched teeth. "No." "Nuts!" I cried, kicking him as hard as I could in the groin. I figured that even immortal bastards like Mamoru could learn to keel over with pain. I sincerely hoped I damaged something. Like Mamoru's ability to procreate. Without a second glance, I ran towards the apartment building with one thing on my mind: self-preservation. ----------------------------------------------- Chapter 13 Resting my head against the wall of my apartment, my bravado slipped. The adrenaline rush was gone, and all I felt was scared. The wolves had saved me tonight, but there was no guarantee that they would save me again. The White Prince would always be waiting, lust in his eyes. Even though Mamoru could call his wolves and bring his vamps, I doubted his ability to protect me from the pale fanged boogieman. So, I was going to call for my own share of back-up. Motoki, a man with no apparent last name, was going to be my back-up. He was a killer who only took high-paying jobs. I guessed that you could call him my mentor, and what better way to reacquaint ourselves then by staking the White Prince? I had gotten his answering machine. I wasn't surprised since Motoki was the ultimate mystery man. I'd been ecstatic when he had finally given me his phone number. That had been the last time we met, and when I finally understood that I may have been his only friend. Friends stood together, right? "Motoki, this is Usagi. You still interested in roasting a master vamp's cojones? Call me a.s.a.p." ----------------------------------------------- Chapter 14 Lying in a fitful slumber amid tangled sheets, I dreamed that night. I lay on a bed fit for a princess. Blood-red satin sheets covered my nudity. Mamoru advanced towards me, slow and predatory. His eyes glowed a piercing midnight blue. His ebony hair was appallingly dark against his pale skin. He was wearing linen pants dyed a dark navy blue. The pants were stretched so tight that I knew that there was nothing under them but him. His lips curved into a knowing smile as though he was witness to all my naughty thoughts. I pressed the satin sheets closer to my body. "A kiss, ma petite. That is all I ask," Mamoru drawled as the bed dipped under his weight. "It is never just a kiss with you," I said. I finally noticed that my hair was arranged in dainty sausage curls. With a dispassionate eye, I looked like a porcelain doll. "Oh, ma petite," he whispered. There was really no need to continue this seduction because as hard as it was to admit, I was already seduced. A warm hand came to rest on my chin, tilting it upwards to look into his eyes. The glow in Mamoru's eyes brightened until it was almost unbearable. It was as though I had been caught staring at the sun for too long. A sweeping darkness dominated my vision. In the tunnel of darkness, I could feel my heart beat faster and my breathing become laboured. I could feel Mamoru's mouth on my own. There was an urgency to his kisses that took my breath away. Then my vision cleared as the storm of darkness o faded. Mamoru was looking at me, a hand caressing my cheek. There was regret in his eyes. "Ma petite, please forgive me," he whispered. The next thing I knew, Mamoru had disappeared. I tasted blood and realized that I was sinking in a sea of blood. I awoke from the dream abruptly. The image of Mamoru doubled over in pain outside my apartment building did not reconcile with my dream Mamoru. Something wasn't right. I reached for my gun, my trusty bed companion. When I couldn't find it, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes in panic. The gun was on top of my dresser when it should have been under my pillow. What the hell? My sleepiness vanished as I caught the scent of roses drifting aimlessly in my bedroom. Surrounding me like the sea of blood, crimson roses, deep in bloom, covered me from head to toe in a blanket of undeniable red. A note lay delicately on top of the roses. In an elegant scribble, I read the following words in disbelief and wariness: Next time, I shall put my lady down when she asks. But for now, ma petite, enjoy the roses that caress your fair skin. Someday I shall hope to take the place of those fortunate flowers, and surround you with caresses of my own. Mamoru hadn't even bothered to sign the note. He was so confident that I'd accept his gift with welcome arms. However, I was more disturbed than flattered. I didn't want to know how Mamoru had managed to enter and exit my apartment without my knowledge. I especially did not want to even think what Mamoru had been doing in my bedroom. I sighed. Hopefully, the vamp would be kind enough to tell me what he wanted from me because I was at a loss of clues. Closing my eyes, I drifted back to a thankfully dreamless sleep. --------------------------------------------------- Chapter 15 Honshu Ava hadn't been cooperative. She had widened her doe eyes in fear the moment she rose from the dead community. The police officers had been pissed, so naturally I bore the burden of their undeserved flack. Was it my fault that more than half of Ava's brain was missing? Nevertheless, the plastic smiles that I had been forced to give all night were taking a toll. My sore facial muscles and trashed panty hose were making me crabby as I packed up my necromancing paraphernalia. "So we meet again, little necromancer," Demando crooned in the depths of the cemetery's darkness. I felt his aura rush over me. He stepped out from the shadows although the shadows seemed to continually cling to his tall figure. I was going to get a creak in the neck very soon if I kept hanging around my seemingly growing collection of tall men. I knew that vampires, at least master vampires, had the ability to call a certain animal. I had no clue as to what animal Demando could call, but I was hoping that it was the dove. The dove seemed like a peaceful bird, and I could live with being bombarded with birdshit. But I digress. Demando's pale face gleamed. With chicken blood smeared across my forehead and on my chest, I must have looked damned appetizing to the vamp. "I can't say that the pleasure is all mine," I said. There was no where to run unless I wanted to play hide-and-go-seek in the coffins of the new dead. Sleeping with the new dead was not a pleasant prospect. However, doing whatever Demando had in mind seemed the greater of the two evils. A girl had to do what she had to do. But did it have to be so gross? "I believe that Mamoru has failed to properly introduce us." The vamp garbed in pure white advanced towards me, his eyes promising a colourless oblivion. "Why would you think that?" There was one live chicken left and a good quantity of remaining cold chicken blood. I hadn't chosen the dead for playmates; they had chosen me. My fear flared briefly, my power coming to the fore. "Very nice," Demando praised. "Your power is like wine, strong and heady." My cross was beginning to glow at Demando's proximity. Still, Demando approached. Soon, the cross shone like a captive star in an eye-blinding burst of light. Demando didn't flinch. Amid the rustling leaves and the cool breeze, I called my power. Call it instinct or the need to survive or anything else you like; but my power had never deserted me in my time of need. Without a second thought, I slashed the last live chicken's throat. The chicken did its headless chicken dance before slumping into a heap on the ground. I smeared its warm blood onto my forehead and my chest. "What are you doing, Usagi?" I nearly winced at the sound of my name on his lips. It had sounded so wrong. "What do you think I'm doing?" I gave him my most innocent smile. See, dear Demando, I'm innocent. Trust me. Somehow, living to a thousand years old seemed infinitely pathetic when one did not gain anymore brain power. I'd have thought that it was perfectly clear what I intended to do: call the dead then surround myself with their presence as I ran like hell out of the cemetery. All I needed was a good sized troupe of zombie back-up. It was wrong of me to use the dead as vampire fodder, but this was not the time to hold an ethical debate with myself. I figured that I'd buy them all flowers if I survived the night. And if I didn't, then the flowers would be on my grave. With the warm blood, I closed my eyes. My power flooded the cemetery, the scent of fresh chicken blood making its way across the headstones and tombs. Despite the popular image of the zombie in Hollywood B movies, they are not nearly so pretty. They're a rotting bunch of corpses, alright -- just not so dry. Every now and then, you get one with a juicy ooze running down its shriveled face. The worst were those who had died in accidents. Other than for business purposes, I had vowed several years ago not to raise a decapitated zombie. It was far too messy and far too complicated. It was hell trying to make the head talk while keeping the body from running in the opposite direction. The tabloids enjoyed calling me "the zombie queen" and I was sure that half of the reporters on the "Tokyo Dispatch" would have killed to see the sight that both Demando and I beheld. Mamoru had once told me that my power was stronger when I was angry or scared. I had never really believed him until now. The ground churned as though caught up in a tidal wave. Bony hands and other body parts began to make their way up to the surface. "Smell the blood. Wake and come to me," I whispered. The ground began to return to its normal state of flat and still. My band of merry zombies started towards me. They were an ugly lot, but who was I to complain? I had no need for anorexic supermodels that were too prissy to be vampire fodder. "Impressive," Demando finally said. Popping sounds of torn ligaments trying to move and creaking bones filled the night. "Circle me," I commanded my zombies. Hey, if I had to have daily slumber parties with these creatures, the least they could do was take a few commands. "Truly incomparable, Usa," Demando drawled, his eyes following the bumbling movement of my zombies as they attempted to form a circle. "Don't call me that," I snarled. No one called me "Usa" except my mama. Not even Mamoru dared. "Usa, I believe that one of your creatures is having difficulty with your order." Amusement was not the reaction that I had hoped to stimulate. I was about to snap at Demando when I noticed the gauche zombie. Zombies were terribly literal creatures. Unfortunately, this particular zombie had taken it upon himself to form a circle with its deteriorating body to please his mistress. "Cease," I whispered. All the zombies ceased their action, one of them tumbling to the ground as she failed to support her weight. I sighed. "Now form a circle around me," I ordered. Finally satisfied with the formed circle, I said, "Move with me." I was moving at a sluggish pace but I was protected on all sides by my loyal followers. A girl had to be satisfied some time. "Usa," Demando said, "I fail to see what you are trying to accomplish." Funny, I could have said exactly the same thing to him. "I am Ms. Tsukino to you, Demando." A few more metres and I would be in the relative safety of my beat-up convertible. The first ding on the car had been hard to accept, but after the first damage, all the other dents and scratches had been accepted more graciously. Yeah, right. "Usa, my dear, there is no need to be stubborn. I thought that I'd personally come to tell you that Mamoru has been keeping me company for the past few hours, or rather he has been keeping Esmeraude company." "What do you want from me?" I asked. Demando had been expecting this question from the beginning. God, a stake was too good for him. "Naturally, Mamoru would like to say a few words to you before he officially dies," Demando answered smoothly. "And I'd enjoy the undoubted pleasure of your company afterwards, my dear." Mamoru was going to die. Damnit! Where was the relief, the feeling of freedom? "Cease," I growled. The zombies stopped. Zombies weren't going to help Mamoru. I was. "With my blood, I bid you all to go back to rest. Back to rest," I ordered. The zombies lay back into their emptied coffins, and the ground tucked them in for their eternal rest. "You'll have to excuse them for their sluggishness. They've been dead for most of the day," I said, standing awkwardly alone. Obviously, Demando hadn't gotten my attempt at humour. "Shall we, my dear Usa?" he asked, standing at my elbow without warning. I supposed that "Ewww" would have sounded a trifle childish. "And don't call me 'Usa,'" I growled although it sounded a bit strangled. "Would you prefer 'pretty, blossoming flower?'" Ugh! Mental head slap. The undead were giving me a headache or maybe it was just Demando's power bearing down on me. Nevertheless, I didn't think I could take one more vampire term of endearment. Stifling a grimace, I asked the million-dollar question: "Where is Mamoru?" ---------------------------------------- Chapter 16 Demando wasn't prepared for the tableau that greeted us. An already pale vampire turning as white as a sheet was always a neat trick. I figured that it should have been designated an official Kodak moment. Esmeraude lay crumbled on the ground, her own blood coating her face. What looked suspiciously like a whip had been thrown across the room. A liquid was splattered across the marble floor and puddling in a corner of the room. Mamoru threw back his head and laughed, his voice breaking like shattered glass. "Esmeraude," he said, "you cannot show me anything that I have not seen before. I have seen you at your worst, or have you forgotten?" "I may have once been your plaything," Mamoru bit out, oblivious to anyone but the broken vampire that he had once been forced to call "mistress." "And I may be cowed soon, but not by you. Never by you again! I am Master!" The roar of his voice reverberated and my heart beat faster. He was master; hear him roar, I guessed. "Get up, Esmeraude," Demando barked. "I see that you have failed me." How astute of the White Prince to notice, I thought. With clenched jaw, Demando bit out as only royalty could, "You will excuse me, my little necromancer, while I see to dear Esmeraude." With that said, the White Prince dragged Esmeraude out the door. The door slammed shut, leaving Mamoru and me alone. A female scream pierced through the thick wooden door. I'd have felt some sympathy for Esmeraude if I hadn't seen the whip marks that scarred Mamoru's naked torso. "Ma petite," Mamoru warned, "do not pity me. Don't ever pity me." As though released from my paralysis, I went to Mamoru. Esmeraude had used silver because the wounds were still bleeding and unhealed. I didn't want to know what had happened. I didn't want to know at all. "Why didn't you call your wolves?" I finally asked, breaking the silence that had sprung up between us. Mamoru closed his eyes, a mirthless laughter rumbling inside his throat. "You do not know, ma petite?" "Know what?" I asked, more confused than ever. "Then I am a fool, indeed. I did not call my wolves because the White Prince had insisted that they would endanger your life, ma petite. I had hoped to be your knight, but it seems that you may be more suited to that particular role." "Please don't," I pleaded. I had yet to fully comprehend Mamoru's meaning, but his apparent self-mockery was touching me in mysterious ways. I didn't think I liked this bitter Mamoru. It hurt too much to see him this way because I had always associated the damned vamp with deviousness and sensuality. And it made me realize that even Mamoru the Invincible had emotions. ------------------------------------ Chapter 17 I supposed that there should have been the customary drumroll of doom played at Demando's re-entrance. Esmeraude, however, was nowhere to be seen. I was hoping that she was a pile of ashes. My thoughts scattered when Demando returned to his intent bout of staring, his eyes grazing the length of me. Wasn't I the lucky ducky? Demando's eyes narrowed. "Mamoru, you naughty boy, you've given her the first mark. How very interesting." A white eyebrow arched and a smirk promptly appeared. "Usa," he murmured, "you have agreed to become Mamoru's human servant?" Human servant? Oh, goody. Now what the hell did the first mark have to do with a human servant? "Mamoru," I said, never turning around to face him. Never turn your back to the vampire in front to look at the supposedly friendly vampire at the back. "Ma petite," he hissed, heat lacing his words dangerously. Great, just great. Mamoru was using his I-will-tell-you-later-but-not-in-front- of-company tone. Even though Mamoru radiated strength, I knew that he was weak in his present condition. I could feel his aura lose its shimmer. "Touch me, ma petite," Mamoru said. A cold, cold hand touched my shoulder. I shivered involuntarily from the unexpected coldness. Mamoru had always tried to play the human for me with his borrowed warmth and buried vampire abilities. It was almost easy to accept his human pretense, but it was times like these that reminded me that he was anything but human. "I don't think so," I croaked. My cross was glowing and my heart was pounding. Demando looked like a blank, empty doll. Everything had become surreal. "Please, ma petite," Mamoru whispered. Annoyance made its way to Demando's face, reshaping his features. "Usa," he finally said, "be a good girl and step aside. Mamoru and I have some unfinished business to attend to." As an afterthought, he added, "I will allow you to say good-bye to your bed-mate, Usa." Lucky me. "I'm not sleeping with him," I sputtered defensively. Demando smirked --again. Why did everyone automatically assume that I was sleeping with Mamoru? Maybe it was a case of the lady protesting a wee too much. Maybe. A slash of power emitted from Demando, tearing my sleeve. "Move, Usa," Demando repeated, his nostrils flaring with anger. "Or I will physically remove you." "Ma petite," Mamoru added, "please move. There is no need for you to become hurt." Maybe it was the plea in his voice that made me move to the room's farthest wall. Mamoru never begged or pleaded. I stood there as a near-powerless spectator, watching two grown vampires face each other. If evil could be incarnated, I figured that it would look like Demando at that moment. I trembled and didn't know why. "I'll take care of Usa when you're gone," Demando promised. I wasn't flattered. The White Prince began glowing, cold pervading every corner of the room. His aura danced across his skin, growing brighter by the second. Mamoru, too, was glowing but I couldn't feel his aura no matter how hard I tried. My head began spinning wildly as Demando's blinding brightness burned itself into my retina. Blind and screaming, I fumbled around on the hard ground in a belated state of incomprehension. I had no recollection of falling even though my butt was kissing the ground in unquestionable proof. "Why can't you be a good boy and die?" Demando's voice, harsh with anger, cut through the blindness. Dots swam across my vision as I continued to shiver uncontrollably. "Because I've never been a very good boy," Mamoru retorted, smirk forming on his lips. His upper torso was a bloody mess, but he was still standing. I could feel his hand - no, my hand - moving outward in a slash of movement. Power erupted and goosebumps scattered across my body. Demando looked shocked, his mouth open and his skin oddly diaphanous. When Mamoru's radiant orbs met mine, I felt the knowledge prickle along the length of my spine. He was channeling my power. The power that erupted had been mine. My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, then I crumbled weakly to the floor. --------------------------------------------------- Chapter 18 I had never fainted in my entire life prior to meeting Mamoru. I guessed there was always a first time for everything. However, it did nothing to promote my reputation as a vampire executioner. Smelling salts weren't for me. I was back in the throne room, sprawled across the marble floor. Mamoru and Demando were both still alive or as alive as they would ever be. They hadn't killed one another during my blackout. Instead, Demando had tired of our presence and was willing to bargain for our freedom. "A taste, necromancer, and I shall give the both of you your freedom tonight," Demando offered, noticing my return into consciousness. Everything had a price, and this was the price for our freedom: opening a vein for His Pasty White Highness. "And if I don't?" I croaked, my voice raw and hoarse. "I kill the both of you," Demando responded smoothly. I had no doubt that he could kill us. It was just a matter of time. Time that both Mamoru and I wouldn't have if Demando did us in that night. Funny, how all that Darwinian theory came back to haunt me after university. Survival of the fittest when the shit hit the fan. Without glancing at Mamoru, I nodded, cursing inwardly at my weakness. I had once vowed to never let a vampire do me, but I wanted so much to live. To breathe, to experience, to live. I needed life to sing in my blood, not a cheap animating force and what not. "Come here," the White Prince commanded. There was a gleeful luster behind the vamp's thick cornea. Apprehension was a mild word that finally meant something. It clustered in the pit of my stomach as I slowly approached the throne. Demando reached out his hand to assist me up the throne's dais. I ignored his hand and finally stood beside the seated White Prince. I swallowed hard, prayers flying through my mind. The White Prince flashed a demonic grin before staring hungrily at my neck. Pulling me closer within his reach, Demando's head rested against the curve of my left shoulder, his pale hair glaring in the relative darkness of the chamber. "You'll like it, Usa," he soothed. "I promise." That was what I was afraid of. I looked at Mamoru, but his face was as blank as the perfect poker face. Demando's head reared back slightly before his fangs sank into my neck. The sharp pain from the piercing of flesh receded as pleasure washed over me. The world looked golden for a moment, perfect and attainable. There was no worry that I wouldn't live another day. No hunger, no sorrow, no pain. There was only a mind-numbing pleasure. I closed my eyes hoping to savour the moment. As I opened my eyes, I knew that I had been rolled magnificently by a master vampire. And I was more scared than I thought I ever would be. I could easily get addicted to this overwhelming pleasure. I could spend my whole life trying to regain that moment. I would be bound to the monsters for the rest of my life in psychological shackles. Was I just another monster-lover? Another lost soul? Fear - not terror, not horror, but a gripping fear - seized me, and it wouldn't let go as the feeling solidified and intensified relentlessly. Demando was leering at me while Mamoru was still curiously emotionless. The world, as far as I was concerned, was still tinged lightly with gold. And I knew, deep down in my gut, that Demando had to die. Only then would I be rid of this addiction, this fear. Fear wasn't going to dictate my life; I was. That was one of my rules, not Demando's. -------------------------------- Chapter 19 I fumbled clumsily with the key in the lock. Mamoru had left abruptly after Demando had granted us our freedom. Opening the door, a sensation at the back of my neck made me wary. Flipping on the lights, Motoki was lounging on my couch, gun drawn. Motoki was a predator's predator. He hunted everything and anything that was dangerous from shapeshifters to humans. At least no one could accuse Motoki of being discriminatory. We'd grown close to one another. He liked a challenge and I got stuck with daily doses of challenges. It was almost natural that he would volunteer to rid the world of one White Prince and Company. Plus, if I let him into the game, he'd bring me some new toys. That was nothing to complain about. "Death," I greeted, a genuine smile playing on my lips. If the vamps called me the "Executioner," then Motoki was surely called "Death." This was a guy who actively used a torch-blower to annihilate. Even I had yet to reach his sociopathic standards. "Usagi," he grinned. Motoki looked like the regular guy-next-door, non-descript and friendly. It was all an act. Sometimes when I looked in his eyes, they were empty, wiped clean of any emotion. It terrified me. But we all paid a price to stay alive, and Motoki had paid his. "New toys?" I wasn't known for beating 'round the bush. Motoki chuckled at my enthusiasm. I was forever amusing him. My eyes grew as large as saucers as I saw the full array of arsenal and weaponry that Motoki had brought. Oh well, you could never have too much firepower. I personally carried a 9 mm Hi-Power Browning. I was comfortable with the gun because it was small enough to fit in my hands, unlike the majority of guns that were made with macho, bulky and hulking men in mind. "Here," Motoki pointed, my eyes following his finger. It was a pump action sawed-off shotgun that had been banned from Japan years ago. I should have known that Motoki wouldn't sweat the legalities. "As long as you don't shoot the owner," I said. I didn't think that I would be that happy to see him, but I was. The vampire wound was forgotten for the moment. "You're no fun, Usagi," Motoki replied. He was used to seeing me look like shit. "Who's the soon-to-be-roasted master vampire?" he asked. Business as usual. "The one who bit me," I said. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "You need cleansing," he stated. "Sadistic son of a bitch," I chided but nodded. I needed the holy water cleansing. It was known that uncleaned vampire bites could lead to a greater susceptibility to said vamp's influence. I had no intention of letting Demando call me to his side like a wayward puppy. -------------------------------------------------- Motoki was holding me face down on the linoleum floor of my bathroom. He was pouring a healthy dose of holy water to cleanse my vampire bite. It was hard to believe that I was putting myself through this torture willingly. "Argh! Fudge buckets!" I cried, hoping to muffle my shrieks of pain in a towel. "Fudge buckets?" Motoki chuckled. As far as I was concerned, this was no laughing matter. Once Death was done pouring the holy water and if I had yet to pass out from the pain, then we were going to do what he had always wanted to do: draw down on one another. Maybe Mamoru would have been a better choice. With him, I could at least scream without feeling like a class-act wimp. With Death, I had to be tough, the tough as nails slayerette. I'd be tough if it didn't hurt so damn much. The seemingly innocent holy water hurt like a bitch. It was like branding the wound with fire where the fire twisted and turned like a sharp sword. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're enjoying yourself," I muttered, my eyes narrowed. "You'd do the same for me," Motoki replied, his eyes thoughtful. "Yeah, but I wouldn't laugh at your choice of euphemisms." ---------------------------------------------- Chapter 20 While Motoki had disappeared after the cleansing, Mamoru had reappeared for the remainder of the night. I was beginning to seriously consider revoking Mamoru's invitation to my apartment. The damned vamp came and went whenever he desired. I was hoping that my apartment would not end up being a home-away-from-home for Mamoru. That would be the pits. Chiba Mamoru's eyes widened as he struggled to retain a choir-boy's look of innocence. He was failing miserably in my humble opinion. Mamoru was many things, but innocent was not one of them. "Moi?" he said, attempting to retain the grandeur of a seraphim's purity. "Yeah, you," I gritted. The least Chiba Mamoru could have done was tell me that he was making me his human servant a.k.a. "bound to him until the end of his god-forsaken life." But then I'd have never agreed. "Ma petite," he soothed, "it was for your own good." "You could have asked me." "And you, my stubborn little one, would have told me to go rot in hell." "No, I would have told you to go take a swim in holy water," I muttered. I was beginning to pace the length of the room. I could feel Mamoru's eyes following my every move as he lounged on my bed, all scrumptious and devious. "Oh, ma petite, you are precious." If Mamoru didn't have nine lives, I'd have been surprised, considering I had been giving him my entire plethora of killer-looks the moment he had arrived on my doorstep. Nevertheless, he somehow managed to persuade me to allow his grating self into my apartment. Watching him, I came to realize that no one should look so elegant when sprawled so unceremoniously on my bed. The vamp seemed a little too much at home for my liking. Propping himself up, he chuckled at my glower. With an ease borne out of frustration and annoyance, I cussed at him in long strings of unrepeatable epithets. "All that, ma petite?" He was laughing at me, his eyes dancing with merriment. "I'm going to go take a shower," I huffed. I figured that if I made a grand enough exit, I'd still look like a winner. The smile that crossed Mamoru's face could only be described as diabolical. "Ma petite, I could help you reach those hard-to-reach places." Riiight. We were talking about a man who had difficulty comprehending the look-but-do-not-touch concept. I wasn't about to let him within a nine foot radius of the shower. "No thanks." I smiled sweetly. Grabbing a towel and a bathrobe, I sauntered to the bathroom, feeling the weight of Mamoru's gaze every step of the way. "Ma petite..." "What?" "Call if you need me." "Pain in the ass," I muttered. "Ah, but I could be a pain in so many other places, ma petite," the vamp quipped. It took me a moment to gather his meaning, but when I did, I blushed an unseemly scarlet. I slammed the bathroom door behind me, locking it for good measure. ------------------------------------------- Chapter 21 When I emerged from the bathroom, the sight of a lone candle glowing greeted me. Mamoru was sitting cross-legged on the bed, his head supported by my toy bunny. At that moment, Mamoru's face was unguarded, devoid of the smirk and the blankness that characterized a vampire's preternatural facial expressions. To me, he looked like a lost little boy hoping that the stuffed rabbit would guard him from the cruelties of the world. Closing my eyes at the sight of Mamoru's vulnerability, I realized that this was a time for truth. I wanted answers and I was sure that Mamoru understood. After meeting the White Prince, I'd been bursting with questions. I needed to sleep, but I wanted the answers first. Once the caffeine high and adrenaline wore out, I was going to crash and it wasn't going to be a pretty sight. "What did the White Prince mean when he said you were once his slave?" I asked. I knew it was personal, but I didn't care. Mamoru had dragged me into this mess. The least he could do was give me a few honest answers. "Ma petite, you realize that this will forever tarnish your image of me?" he said. His eyes were tired. It wasn't the fatigue from lack of sleep but the fatigue when one had seen and experienced too much. I nodded. "Ma petite, you know that vampires are usually brought over for a reason. Some are brought over for the hunt, others for beauty, and yet others for lust. I was brought over for sex. At the time, I was a fledgling and anybody's meat. I paid court to the Vampire Council -" Mamoru stopped, noticing the furrow of my brows. I didn't know that vampires had a council. In a few more years, vamps were probably going to also have a twelve-step recovery program from their vampiric blood addiction. It was no wonder they were taking over the world. "The Vampire Council," Mamoru explained, "is made up of the most powerful of vampires. The Court is in France, which explains why most vampires are fluent in French. "But I digress. I was ordered to serve in the White Prince's court. Esmeraude had taken a fancy towards me and so, it was she I served for three years. Her taste ran, and no doubt still runs, towards the bizarre. I wasn't the master vampire you see today, ma petite. I was weak and I paid the price for being weak. Demando had had enough of my 'antics' or so he called them. He had been in love with a mortal. Averia was her name. She had golden hair and bright blue eyes. You must remind Demando of her, of Averia. At the time, Averia had also taken a fancy to me. Things finally got so out of hand that Demando had ordered his brother to kill me. I killed Demando's brother, and Demando demands vengeance. He wants me dead, and you for himself. A life for a life." I knew that Mamoru was not giving me a fictionalized tale of his encounter with the White Prince. He'd never have concocted a story where he would be in a position of weakness. My mind still reeled at the thought of Mamoru being brought over for sex and acting like a sex slave. It made sense, considering I thought that he could easily be the world's biggest lust object. But it also disturbed me because it made his mask of indifference and manipulation seem almost reasonable. "Let me get this straight," I finally said. "You killed Demando's brother and he wants to kill you. I look like his ancient unrequited love, but both Averia and I seem to be more interested in you than him, which continually gripes his ass," I finished. "Ma petite, you have such a way with words," Mamoru grinned, his eyes dancing with amusement. "But all that you have said is true." "Then why the hell did you drag me into this mess?" "Because I need you, my competent, little necromancer. I was hoping that you would save me from Demando the Impaler." Mamoru batted his outrageously long, dark lashes like an insipid damsel in distress. And just because I felt terribly mature, I stuck my tongue out at him. Mamoru grinned. I stifled a curse. Sitting there in silence - the silence that had wormed its way into our non-conversation - wasn't my strong suit; it was Mamoru's. "Are you always that arrogant" I asked stonily. "I prefer the term 'confident,' ma petite," he said. Maybe he should try the term "insufferably over-confident" on for size instead. After a pause, I looked at Mamoru's profile, soft and impossibly romantic in the candlelit room. "Tell me about Averia," I asked. It was evidently still a sore subject since a tick developed in his jaw. I guessed that even bad habits didn't escape the undead. Maybe it was the beseeching plea in my voice or perhaps he felt a softening in my resistance towards him that finally made him say, "Averia was nothing like you. She was a gentle creature, so full of laughter and light and life. Her eyes sparkled and her smile - her smile was glorious. She was a babe in the midst of monsters, and both Demando and I were the monsters. "She was music in the oppressive silence that had filled the empty void of my world. Averia was magic," Mamoru finished, deep in the memories of a time and place that I had never seen, and would never know. The way he caressed her name made me inwardly recoil. Mamoru had been in love once, and had evidently never recovered. "You love her," I said. Silence ensued as I studiously stared at the dancing flame of the candle. After everything that I had lived through, I was hardly worthy of Averia's magic. I was not life nor light, but death and darkness. I lived on the borderline of life and death daily. Truth be told, I was not magic. Low self-esteem? Who, me? "I loved her, ma petite," Mamoru finally said, breaking the silence. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, Averia is gone. I am still here. Living, ma petite, as best as I can, and the world continues on despite the sorrow, the laughter, and the regret that continues to haunt mankind." After a pause, Mamoru continued, his voice hypnotizing and surprisingly rough with something I couldn't quite define. "My life or rather my eternal after-life has changed the day I met you, ma petite. You have managed to resist me, and it is damned frustrating. No, do not look at me thus, ma petite. It is frustrating to us both. It would be beneficial to the both of us if you stopped dancing out of my reach. If you would but let me, we could dance together and it will be incomparable - magical! You may as well give me the next dance since I have already given you my heart, ma petite." "You do not love me, Mamoru," I said. It was a statement that sounded curiously flat. I felt Mamoru tilt my face to look at his. What I saw in his eyes took my breath away. Gruffly, Mamoru admitted, "You must believe me when I tell you, ma petite, that I love you as much as I am able." Looking into his eyes at that moment, I believed. ------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 22 Another afternoon smothered in paperwork sent me scurrying home. I had been hoping that work would be the answer to my confusion. If I was working, I wouldn't be thinking of Mamoru and the implication that I was well on my way to becoming his human servant. It didn't work. As I opened my car door, I noticed a certain blonde sitting in my back-seat. "Motoki," I greeted, giving him smile. "I see you've found my car." He returned my smile with a crooked grin of his own. "It was easy. I looked for the one with the stained seats and many dings." I rolled my eyes. Sadly, Motoki had not exaggerated about the sorry state of my convertible. "I could use some coffee," he said. "And we could discuss what we failed to discuss last night." I shrugged. I wasn't even going to ask how Motoki managed to jimmy my car door. It would have given him a good laugh, and I'd had enough men laughing at me to last me a good long while. "So, home it is," I said, starting the ignition and smacking the dash- board several times. "No comment," Motoki said. He was a wise man. -------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 23 Mamoru emerged from my bedroom looking deliciously rumpled. He had stayed the morning in a napping state. I figured that he couldn't do too much damage if he was asleep. Sometimes I wondered how I managed being the scourge of vampirekind when I let the head honcho sleep in my bed. Mamoru had convinced me that it made him feel safe among other unmentionable things. Like Motoki would say, I'd been a softie. I sighed inwardly. Motoki's head snapped up. I guessed that his predator signal was blasting loud and clear in his mind. The tension mounted in the room, and I fought the urge to hide in the bathroom. Motoki had never liked Mamoru, viewing him as game rather than a potential suitor for Usagi-chan. After all, Motoki had once tried to kill the vamp. It was hard to say that there were no ill feelings between them. Yeah, right. "Usagi, I thought I told you to guard your back while I was gone," Motoki said, his hand on the butt of his gun. I was betting that the gun was loaded with silver bullets. "I did," I replied. "Obviously, you didn't guard it well enough if fang-face is sleeping in your bedroom." Even undead, men still hadn't lost the primitive impulse to prove their masculinity. I wrinkled my nose in distaste. My white couch was no longer white. I didn't need Mamoru and Motoki to destroy the rest of my apartment. Plus, I had no desire to have a few bullets indenting in my wall just for machismo's sake. What would the neighbours think? "We don't have time for this macho shit," I said, plopping down on my stained couch. "Ah, ma petite, do you not care that your uncomely friend has wounded my soul with his harsh words?" Mamoru asked. I was seriously considering the possibility that Mamoru's pout could launch a thousand saviours. But I was probably a tad biased towards the damned vamp. I would have bet my entire stained couch that Motoki wouldn't have thought the same thing. "You don't have a soul, Mamoru," I said at last. "Ma petite, you do not know what you are saying," Mamoru replied. Motoki was thankfully silent, sipping the strong brew of coffee that he had made. The man was simply comfortable everywhere and anywhere. "Yes, I do. Before you were gone for the day, I felt something brush me before your big sleep, and it wasn't a soul. It didn't feel like a soul." I could almost see the wheels churn inside Mamoru's head as he figured out a singular way to dig himself away from the possibility of failure - namely, his failure to seduce me into complacency. After a brief pause, Mamoru shrugged that impossible shrug of his, the one that seemed to mean everything and nothing. "Is there a plan?" Motoki asked. Trust Motoki to not get suckered into conversational tangents. "No," I answered. How were we going to kill the White Prince without a plan? I seriously did not know. Neither did Motoki because he was frowning with disapproval. I figured that now wasn't the time to tell Motoki to turn that frown upside down. Maybe later - if 'later' did exist for the both of us. Mamoru lounged on the pristine white of my love seat like a dark cloud before a thundering storm. Like the vamp would say, he didn't drink - coffee; which was an entirely good thing since I wasn't going to allow any more stains on my furniture. "Ma petite," Mamoru began, his face deep in thought. Since Motoki wasn't going to answer under that endearment, I figured that it was going to be me. "Yes?" I said. "Demando has brought a small army of vampires to guard his lair. They are supposedly strong unlike the weaker ones that my wolves had destroyed. Their presence is a challenge to my authority as it is, but his desire to make you his presents yet another challenge. He will take you from me if he can." "How do you know about Demando's army?" I asked. The part about Demando marking me as his own bothered me more, but I wasn't going to dwell on it. I learned early on that dwelling on the horrors of life would only leave a person one choice: to run screaming into the night. Here was hoping that that wouldn't be happening to me anytime soon. "I have my ways," Mamoru said. "So, ma petite, it would be better for you and your friend to try your plan during daylight hours. The earlier, the better. The old ones do not sleep long." "First of all, we don't have a plan. Secondly, when are you going to participate, fang-face? It was you who dragged me into this in the first place," I bit out, annoyance clawing at my insides. If I hadn't met Demando, I wouldn't be here right now discussing the size of his army. I'd be listening to Antonio yakking away on his favourite subject: himself. But my life expectancy would have been prolonged. "Must you resort to name-calling, ma petite? Your creative energy would be best suited to thinking up a plan. As for the second issue, you are my human servant, ma petite. And as my human servant, you are my eyes and ears, extensions of myself." I was bristling at Mamoru's condescending tone. "So what you're trying to say through all that mumbo jumbo, is that whatever I accomplish in the future will be done because you will it so?! All I've been was some pawn in this master game of yours?!" Motoki remained strangely silent. No threats, no insulting comments. But the curious gleam of laughter in his eyes told me that someone was home and that someone was suppressing a chuckle. "Ah, ma petite," Mamoru said, his eyes wary. "You are not my pawn, but my queen." Sorry, buster, but that wasn't going to placate me. "And I am not your human servant. I will never be your human servant," I gritted through bared teeth. It took four marks to become a full-fledged human servant. I was already given the first mark. Damnit. "As you will, ma petite - although you've gained from the first mark already. You are faster, stronger and harder to hurt. It is nothing paltry." Yeah, whatever. I figured that there would be some benefits to being a human servant. Unfortunately for Mamoru, nothing in the world was going to persuade me to be bonded to him for an eternity. Nothing. And the first step to ending Mamoru's moronic process was to get rid of said vampire. "I revoke my invitation, Mamoru," I said despite the widening of the vampire's midnight blue eyes. "Chiba Mamoru, you are no longer welcome here in my humble abode." I met his gaze before he went spiraling out the door in a wind of black and blue. The wind's keening sound vanished as my door slammed shut with finality. ---------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 24 Motoki and I were armed to the tips of our teeth in modern-day warfare as we waited for the approach of the sun. Hopefully, all the vamps would be tucked in their coffins because there was still no actual plan. I was going to take care of the big cahuna, while Motoki removed any and all threats barring my way. Tokyo was bathed in the warm orange glow of the rising sun as the tattered darkness of the funeral home bled away into nothingness. It was show-time. I glanced over at Motoki as we steadily made our way across the over-grown patch of unattended lawn. His eyes were empty of humanity. They were the eyes of a killer. I shuddered, thankful that Motoki was on my side. The elaborate doors of the funeral home were carelessly thrown open. I guessed that the rumour that Honoko-san had buried his family somewhere in the funeral home was true. Rotting corpses did have a tendency to smell among other things. Inside the double doors, wereleopards prowled effortlessly as their sinew muscles contracted and relaxed. They seemed to be guarding the door to a separate viewing chamber. Having inherited some brain with the mock bravado, my guess was that the vampires were beddy-bye beyond the guarded door. It was anyone else's guess as to how many other human attendants were on the other side. And there were others behind the door. I could hear their movement and smell their shed blood. The first mark and its enhanced abilities did have some use after all. How nice. I gave Motoki the hand signal, signifying the presence of the wereleopards. Alright, so the hand signal was one stiff middle finger in Motoki's direction. It was the only one I could master with one hand grasping my gun. Motoki would understand its meaning, hopefully. Motoki advanced towards me, his eyes watching the two wereleopards' methodic horizontal movement. They met in front of the door before moving apart in their respective directions. He was going to take out both cats while I surged forward. Or at least that was what I understood from his pointing extravaganza. Man, I sucked at hand signal translation. Thirty feet from the leopards was a long distance but Motoki had come prepared. His rifle was conveniently loaded with plated silver bullets. Not everyone could be johnny on the spot all the time. Motoki sighted down the barrel, and shot. One leopard went down with a whine while the other started towards us without any momentary delay. The cat was moving too fast. Motoki would never be able to hit it accurately at that rate. Damn. Rolling across the floor away from Motoki, I was going to play decoy. I hated being decoy. The cat took after me, skirting Motoki. "Here kitty, kitty," I taunted seeing the cat consider Motoki once more. My finger was on the trigger of my Browning. The leopard charged at me, pouncing in the air as I ducked. I rolled away from the feisty feline and watched with dispassionate eyes as the cat rounded on me again. Bang! The cat went down in mid-flight, paws flailing before slumping. Motoki was still here; I was still intact. Life was good. The noise had, however, sent the human flunkies scurrying out of the guarded chamber. They were large and meaty-looking. I slid myself into the convenient shadow of a pillar. The humans ran past, targeting Motoki. Being the smart cookie that he was, Motoki took the humans for a morning jog outside. It would be a morning jog to remember. The doors were open, and the humans were gone. I slipped into the chamber, wrinkling my nose at the musty smell of cooped-up vampire. The coffins were aligned in a row. They were all sleek black and identical. I cussed softly. I was going to have to peek in all ten coffins until I found the White Prince. Why couldn't he sleep in a white coffin as befit his inane title? Prying open the lid of the first coffin, a sleeping blonde lay at rest. She smelled like roses. I sighed. The only sure way to make her sleep eternal was the silver stake. The silver stake was my own invention. I figured that a silver coating on my favourite stake couldn't hurt. It would, at least, guarantee that I would never get splinters if nothing else. I figured it was a win-win situation, anyway. Removing the stake from my sweatshirt-of- many-pockets, I slid the stake home. Right through the heart. A pile of ashes lay in her place. The coffin continued to smell like roses. One down, nine to go. ---------------------------------------------- Chapter 25 I was pretty sure that I should get a move on the trio of remaining vamps, but I was feeling sick. Motoki had yet to return. Shaking my head in an attempt to clear it, I opened the coffin to find good ol' Esmeraude. She was in the buff, a cross burned low on her chest. She had traded the plastic wrap to go au naturel instead. Hopefully, the economy wasn't suffering. Closing my eyes, I plunged the stake into her chest. May flights of angels not sing thee to thy rest, I thought. I was hoping that she was headed for an after-life with a hot climate. I had no problem turning Esmeraude into ashes. I figured that trying to kill me, maim Mamoru and supersonic eyelash-batting were reason enough. I wasn't here to be Ms. Congeniality, but a cold-hearted bitch. And a bitch was a bitch was a bitch. Moving to the next coffin, I lifted the lid to find the White Prince staring at me. Sleeping Beauty, he was not. "Averia," he whispered. My heart was pumping somewhere in my throat. My eyes were probably wide, the white showing a little too much. My stomach felt queasy. I stared wordlessly into Demando's eyes and felt power, but the power was subdued. How Demando could still be awake when all the good little vampires were supposed to be dreaming about blood and dramatic airs was beyond me. One strong arm came to pull me into the coffin with him. I quickly slipped the stake back into my pocket as Demando absently stroked my hair like a precious child. There was no need to antagonize him publicly with the stake. But lying in a coffin with the White Prince was raising goosebumps at a constant rate. "Averia," he murmured again, his lips against my hair. I wondered if there would ever be a good time to tell His Pasty White Highness that as far as I knew, I was not his darling Averia. Luckily, the lid was still on the floor of the windowless chamber. I didn't think I could stand being locked in a coffin with the vamp. I'd be getting more than the creeps since Demando seemed in the mood for some touchy-feely action. In all honesty, I was not touchy-feely material. As this charming inner monologue continued without end, the White Prince had a case of wandering hands. I wasn't flattered. Resting on my stomach across the cold and hard body of a blood-sucking corpse, who should have been asleep was making me twitch. Yes, the nervous nose twitch had returned as the ceaseless quivering of my nose would attest. "You have grown, my Averia," Demando commented. It could have been a harmless comment with no suggestive implication, but it seemed questionably salacious to me. It could have been the way the White Prince had 'accidentally' brushed my chest. The undead were certainly perverted if nothing else, if Mamoru and Demando were to be taken as examples of vampiric poster boys. And I was tired of being mauled as the magical Averia. I pushed off of Demando, my hands stationed on his chest. Again, his power seemed muted, which made me believe that the sun's presence limited his power. "I'm not Averia," I said, scowling as he tried to pull me back down. He arched a white eyebrow in response before smiling lewdly. "Then who are you, my dear?" My hand was inside my sweatshirt pocket, clasping the Browning tightly. Here was hoping that Demando was highly allergic to silver. Fatally allergic. I pulled the trigger, and a flash of light erupted in the musty chamber. There was a hole in my sweatshirt, and a hole in the middle of Demando's chest. Blood blossomed on his white dress shirt. I would have pumped another round of bullets had I not been gasping for breath. A strong pair of hands was locked around my neck, squeezing and crushing my neck. I would have screamed if air could actually be pushed out of my lungs. I stared in Demando's eyes and I realized two things. The reflection in the White Prince's eye enabled me to see the savage face of my killer. His hair was a flaming red like the heart of a fire, and his eyes were a deep, deep green. It was almost as though his mother had fooled around with a green-eyed cat. Secondly, Demando wasn't officially dead. Black spots spiraled into my vision as my fingers fought to pry off Carrot Top's death-grip on my neck. My mouth opened in a mute scream, and my fingers glowed a pale blue. I could taste my power clouding the chamber. I was leaking it in desperation. The chamber's temperature chilled abruptly. Please, I prayed, someone help me. Please. Someone up there must really like me because for some reason or other my prayer was answered. The red-head let go, and I sputtered. Breathing in and out, I greedily sucked air into my lungs. Since the White Prince seemed wounded enough to not be moving anywhere soon, I turned around to look at my saviour. My eyes widened as I recognized the man. It was Honoko-san...and his entire family raised as obedient zombies. The combination of my power and Demando's blood was all it took. Shit. The zombies were patiently waiting for my command while the red-head, who must have been one helluva a light sleeper, tore into them. Closing my eyes and breathing deeply, I sealed the bestial vampire's fate. "Kill him," I whispered. The zombies responded and they closed in on the vampire, knitting a tight circle of death. They were clawing and growling, tearing and destroying. Honoko-san's family had turned into a pack of snarling killers...all because of me. I choked back a strangled sob. "Usa," the White Prince hissed. Oh, great. Demando seemed more alert and more insane. "The old ones didn't sleep long," Mamoru had said. He could have at least warned me that some of them suffered from insomnia. The White Prince's power rode mine, trying to strip it of its strength. I pushed out of the coffin, not caring. I ran, and I could feel Demando right behind me, levitating like an avenging daemon. "Duck, Usagi!" I ducked as a shot of fire blazed past my head, barreling into Demando. I turned around to see the White Prince slam his hands out forcefully. "Duck, Motoki!" I screamed, praying that Motoki was fast enough. The flame rolled over my head again, hitting my killer friend. Motoki rolled immediately trying to put out the flames that were licking at the edges of his coat, his torch-blower on the ground. "Usa," Demando hissed again, his voice reverberating in anger. I grabbed my gun and fired, bullets clanking uselessly as Demando blurred past at superhuman speed to knock the gun out of my hand. He grabbed my right arm - my firing arm - and squeezed. If he squeezed any harder, I could kiss my arm good-bye. I had begun this pissing contest, and Demando was going to finish it. "I will not kill you, Usa, but I do not extend this courtesy to your friend. If you relent, I will give your friend a ten second headstart before I go after him. Relent, Usa," Demando commanded. "See, Princey, this is where Averia and I are different. I don't back down -- ever. Not for you, not for anyone. I won't relent," I retorted. A slayer never backed down. It just wasn't done. "Fine." The White Prince wasn't pleased. Crunch! My arm hung limply at my side. There was no use examining it because it was broken alright. I gritted my teeth hard, hoping to keep the pain and its accompanying tears at bay. I was going to have to kill Demando with my left hand. I was going to need more time. The pain began to gnaw at my insides. The White Prince glared at Motoki and Motoki's jaw clenched. I had brought Motoki into this. And he was getting out alive no matter what. Motoki glanced at me and I mouthed, "Go." He nodded, and silently watched Demando. "I-I'll relent, Master," I whispered. God, I hated sniveling and groveling. But for Motoki, I would. If we were friends, we'd be friends to the bitter end. The White Prince frowned at me. I figured that if I could pull off an Averia impersonation, I'd be looking at a minutely longer life. Now if only I had known Averia... "I'll relent," I continued, vaguely aware that numbness was setting into my useless arm, "if you let my friend leave unharmed. You are a most gracious master, are you not?" I was ready to gag myself with the submissive words I was spouting. I sighed inwardly, and batted my eyelashes insipidly. I figured that Demando must like that since he had kept Esmeraude around. May wonders never cease. Demando shook his head. "Fine, Usa." When I turned back to look at Motoki, he was gone. "Lay your zombies to rest, Usa," the White Prince ordered, his voice imperious. I bit my tongue to stop from retorting rebelliously. I looked at my faithful followers. I'm sorry, I thought. And I was. The red-headed vamp was a pile of ashes, having been impaled on a loose plank board. "Back to bed, everyone," I whispered, feeling empty. The zombies disappeared, leaving me alone with the White Prince. The White Prince, for his part was looking at me with barely hidden anger. "Do you wonder why I let you live, necromancer?" "Because you are too kind, Your Highness," I said. My teeth were aching with the sugary sweetness I had added to my answer. Slowly, I walked away from the pale vamp and picked up Motoki's torch-blower, cradling it awkwardly with my left arm. "I let you live, necromancer." "I'm quite aware of that." "You may look like Averia, but you are nothing like her," the White Prince mused. Well, there went my Academy Award winning impersonation. I kept my back to Demando, studiously avoiding him. I was staring at the peeling paint on the heavy wooden doors that led into the chamber. "I mean to have you, necromancer, as *my* human servant. I will possess you and you will like it." Oh, I highly doubted that. Biting my lip, I chose the words to my response carefully -- just in case that they would be my last. "In the end, you may have me, Demando, but what use is a dead body? -- because, mark my words, I will die before I let you have me. And if I die, I'm not going to die alone." Not looking back, I walked to the wooden doors. I was done being scared, done being manipulated. "What are you doing, Usa?" Maybe the bullet had affected Demando more than I expected, or maybe he was tired - the fatigue gained by those who have lived too long. Or maybe the memory of Averia was more potent than any silver bullet. For whatever reason, Demando did not stop me. "I'm feeling cold," I murmured. I walked out of the wooden chamber. It had been constructed to be air-tight, windowless, and wooden. The torch-blower still lay cradled in the crook of my left arm. "I could warm you," the White Prince offered. His power was still weak in comparison to the heebie-jeebie inducing capability he displayed at night. Vampires were made to be nocturnal, period. "I can warm myself," I replied. Using my right leg, I slammed one double door shut. The White Prince started advancing towards me. He'd never make it in time to stop me. I kicked the other door shut, and turned on the torch-blower. I felt empty. "Usagi!" Demando screamed from within the chamber. I watched as the torch-blower emitted flame, and directed the curl of fire towards the closed double doors. The door caught flame and began to burn. "Usagi!" The White Prince howled. Both doors were burning, the acrid smell of death rising beneath the smoke. Demando was trapped in a burning inferno with no escape. The fire would contain him inside the chamber. Dropping the torch blower on the ground, I walked down the funeral home's foyer and paused. Cursing myself for the uncontrollable tears that made their way down my cheek, I looked at the burning chamber one last time. "I'm sorry, Honoko-san. I'm sorry," I whispered, and walked outside to be greeted by the sun. I saw Motoki waiting, his finger on the trigger of his rifle. I managed a weak smile before collapsing on a bed of weeds. I was alive. Life was good. --------------------------------------------------- Epilogue I crawled into bed, my arms wrapping around my stuffed bunny. I was wishing for sweet dreams to filter into my sleeping mind tonight. It had been a while since I could close my eyes without seeing Demando screaming as his body burned in the inferno. The White Prince was gone but not so easily forgotten. Tucking my feet underneath the quilt, I huddled in a small bundle at the side of my bed, bunny pressed close to my chest. As a floppy rabbit ear tickled my nose, I could still smell a faint whiff of flora hugging the surface of my skin. I had paid Honoko-san a visit earlier, laying flowers atop his charred funeral home. It was the least I could do. The rabbit reminded me of Chiba Mamoru. I hadn't seen him since the Demando incident, and frankly, I wasn't sure whether I was worried or relieved. The blasted vampire was biding his time. He knew me too well. Mamoru knew that I could be pissed one minute, and absolutely willing to enter into a forsaken relationship the next. Even I couldn't gauge what I would be feeling next. Exhaling the air noisily in a whoosh, I flopped onto my back. Sleep would come just as surely as the dreams. -------------------------------------------------------- I was sitting uncomfortably on a bejeweled throne with a corset digging into my ribs relentlessly. The room was dark save for the illuminated throne. Chiba Mamoru appeared like magic through the darkness, his lithe body coming into the light. "Ma petite," he whispered, and my breath caught in my throat. He was so beautiful. No one could be that beautiful. He was wearing a lacy dress shirt with so many frills that it would have looked feminine on anyone but Mamoru. He made it look utterly masculine. The shirt hung loose, the antique beads undone at the collar. Tight black jeans hugged his lower body as thigh-high leather boots hugged the jeans. I could feel the pull of his body, and I cursed myself. Mamoru's eyes raked over me, assessing and provocative. I tilted my chin slightly higher. I was on the defensive and I didn't know why. The vampire's face softened as his eyes spiraled into a drowning blue. I shivered in response, and I knew I was lost. Lost in desire; lost in feelings that perplexed me. They were feelings that I should never have felt for the vampire. Never say "never," I guess. "Why are you here?" I whispered. I barely recognized the raspy husk of my voice. "In your dreams, ma petite? I cannot see you any other way," Mamoru replied, his voice rubbing against me soothingly like velvet and fur. It was obscenely tantalizing. A devilish smile crooked his lips upwards as his midnight blue eyes met mine. "Plus, ma petite, you are far more receptive when you are dreaming." I felt my face turn a burning crimson, and the vamp had the gall to chuckle. Licking my lower lip nervously, I watched as Mamoru followed the trail of my tongue in mute fascination. The seducer was becoming seduced by his prey. "Why do you always dress me like...like this?" I choked out. "And why do you get to wear the jeans?" Mamoru's eyes danced with amusement and I glared. "As you wish, ma petite." Mamoru's whisper echoed wildly in my dream as I began to fall into a tunnel of shadow and mist. ---------------------------------------------------------------- The good news was that I had landed on my feet. The bad news was that I managed to recognize the deserted rooftop. Looking up, Mamoru watched me. For a brief moment, he looked scared and vulnerable. He blinked, his dark eyelashes swooping downwards in a graceful arc. And the vulnerability was gone. Chiba Mamoru, Master of the City, was looking back at me, amused and perfectly blank. "Haven't we done this before, ma petite?" I was holding Mamoru at gun-point. The vamp arched a dark brow. Sighing, I put the gun up. Shooting Mamoru in my dream was pointless. Knowing the damned vamp, he'd only come back to haunt me and that would be infinitely worse. "Are you happy with your jeans, ma petite?" he murmured. Mamoru advanced towards me and all I could do was stand rooted to the rooftop. Trust Mamoru to paralyze me in my own dreams. "Ah, ma petite, trust you to want to wear the pants in our little relationship." He laughed, but it seemed like so much more. "I mean to have my way with you," he whispered. The moon that had been glimmering in the night sky vanished as the form of Chiba Mamoru obliterated its brightness. His mouth descended, and I turned my face at the last minute. His lips were silken soft as they pressed against my jaw. "I shan't miss again, ma petite," he whispered huskily. And he didn't. His mouth found mine and.... ------------------------------------------------ I bolted up from my bed, the bunny falling from my clutch. I felt fevered and threw off the quilt as the faint scent of roses lingered in my bedroom. Only Chiba Mamoru and his devious mind could have concocted the dream that he had sent me. Only him. Breathing deeply, I closed my eyes. It had been a long week with a few too many surprises. I was a quarter of a way in to becoming bound to the immortal bastard. Fudge buckets. And despite everything, it seemed likely that I might even end up dating the Master of the City. So, could I still be the scourge of bad, little vamps everywhere, and help the fanged ones bite the dust while I figured out what to do with Chiba Mamoru? You can bet your stained couch on it. The end (or is this the beginning?) --------------------------------------------------- Author's Notes (continued): I thought I'd take the time to thank everyone who has kindly written me something in encouragement and possibly frustration. I'm quite aware that my hiatus wasn't exactly peachy keen. On a second thank-you note (yes, there are seconds to this unwanted thank-you helping), I'd like to thank Sakura Girl for being my one and only pre-reader. Her analysis gave me the ego-boost that I had needed to publish this monster. Fanfic Update I guess I should really stress the fact that I do happen to be an impulse-writer. I write when the idea hits, and if it doesn't then it doesn't. In other words, don't hold your breath for my series' completion. I am truly hoping to finish them, but it's easier said than done -- considering "series" is probably the scariest word you can throw at me right now. Now that I've said all that, I would genuinely like some feedback. I'm alive and e-mail is good. So, without further ado, promptly e-mail all questions, concerns, comments, criticisms, flames, and (dare I hope?) compliments to the following address: ayfl@hotmail.com In case, you failed to read the previous paragraph, the e-mail addy (I'm sorry but the flash isn't working) is here once again for your viewing pleasure: ayfl@hotmail.com Since Lunar Rose isn't above using cheap gimmicks to generate some activity in her e-mail box, it's poll time (and do make sure you have a final answer)! Poll ------ 1) What did vampire Mamoru do for you? a) I'm still wiping up the drool. b) No comment. (Was he circumcised?) c) That piece of fanged dog turd?! d) I couldn't care less. 2) Tsukino Usagi should... a) stake, baby, stake, and return for a sequel. b) buy some leather pants to go along with the silver cross. c) what do you mean she's still alive?! d) become a baby-sitter 'cause zombies just wanna have fun. 3) What did this 'fic do for you? a) It made me realize how much I love Cookie Monster. b) It gave me stomach indigestion that even Pepto-Dismal couldn't cure. c) It was -- wait! No comment. d) I think Cupid has finally hit the bull's eye and I'm experiencing love at first sight. e) Wasn't what I was looking for, but it was okay in the end, I guess. f) Absolutely nothing. I'm still stuck on the prologue. E-mail your answers to ayfl@hotmail.com. Pretty please?