Giver of Light (16 page)

He nodded slowly as I stepped into the circle of light on our back lawn. I could sense vampires all around us, but they were holding back, unseen in the shadows. I worked hard to ignore them, blocking their signals out, ignoring their
Sanguis Vitam
pulsing in the air. I rolled my shoulders and bowed when Michel did, never taking my eyes off his. When we stood up straight again, he winked.

I stifled a smile and fell into a fighting stance. When I had learned to wield a sword Erika had made me repeatedly practice Weapon Dance moves again and again and again, until they were instinctive, requiring no thought, just an extension of who I was. She had damn near made me collapse with those moves and how far she had pushed me, but now I just thanked her silently in my mind because they all came crashing back into me and settled over my skin like a well made glove.

Michel was the first to move, he always is. I don't think he lacks patience, I just think he likes to show his aggressive side and advance before his hand is forced. I know his moves pretty well by now and I'd forgotten how good it was to fence with him. My arms had lost conditioning over the past month, so the sword did feel a little heavier than usual, but the moves were all pure joy. I danced through strike after strike, unable to land much more than a glancing blow or defensive parry, but it was fun. Hell, it was magical. To be fighting again, even if it was just Michel whom I had no intention of hurting.

He must have heard that thought or perhaps he decided I'd had enough of a warm up, because his next strike landed, slicing my top down the front and grazing my flesh. Adrenaline shot through me and suddenly the fight took on a whole different meaning. His eyes flashed amethyst and his fangs dropped down. I bit my lip and renewed my efforts.

Of course, he didn't let me get near enough to threaten a slice of his skin which only made me more and more angry, the longer the fight went on. I had managed to hold off any further contact from his sword, which looked like it was beginning to frustrate him slightly, but it was still not the reward I was looking for. If I was going to face Jonathan, holding off his strikes was not going to be enough. Not nearly enough.

After about ten minutes of beautiful swordsmanship on both sides, I'd had enough. I was tiring, sweating, my T-Shirt's rip was widening and as I didn't have a bra on underneath, I was conscious I was flashing the odd vampire in the backyard. They had all come out in the open after I had started sparring for real, sensing when my head was well and truly in the game. They no longer concerned me, not scaring me, nor threatening to send me down a slippery slide of memories, they just existed on the sidelines, firmly in the category of Michel's vampires and no hazard for my mind to negotiate at all.

Michel still looked picture perfect and I think that was what did it for me. I've always felt I look a little clumsy when I fight, not that I stumble or lose my balance too often, but I don't have that suave appearance and devil-may-care display that vampires often do, especially vampires like Michel. He was, however, no longer looking smug. I think he had expected me to have given up by now, not necessarily by choice, but because of exhaustion and he was still unable to land another blow, so I took what advantage I could. He'd settled into a routine of just countering my every move, no longer attempting to strike, I think he had decided to just wait me out until I collapsed. It was a good strategy, I was starting to see double, but I made myself continue with the same moves over and over and over again, lulling him further into a sense of monotony before I used the last of my reserves, all the while playing the repetitive Weapon Dance motions over and over and over again in my mind - and nothing else.

So, he hadn't heard my thoughts, he didn't know my plans, until I sprung them and even then I feinted a spin dance to the side, allowing him to hastily change position to counter it - he's fast and he knows how I can dance my spins in a fight - but it wasn't what I was going for, not really. The moment his stride was altered to counter my feinted spin, I struck him fair and square in the chest with a bolt of my Light and as soon as he landed on the grass I had the Svante's sharp tip at his throat and my foot on his chest holding him prone.

“Do you concede, vampire?” I asked casually.

He swallowed, no doubt trying to get the after effects of the Light blast under control and use the time to determine possible escape paths. I pressed the sword a little firmer into his skin, not breaking it and all the while smiling at him. He licked his lips then, his eyes flashing violet, indigo and then amethyst, the only hint that he was going to try something, the magenta that followed in their wake. Before I even registered the colour change, he had grabbed my ankle, the one attached to the foot on his chest and flipped it out, then used his sword to brush mine away. The clang of metal on metal distracting everyone from the fact that I had sliced his skin at the throat because of his stupidly idiotic attempt at escape.

It was only a nick, enough to draw blood, but not really damage. But it was all it took for me to hesitate. The blood running down his neck, not just dripping, but looking like there was way more blood than there actually was. For a moment all I could see was blood, so much blood, but it wasn't on Michel, it was on Nero and that's all he needed to spin me around, disarm me with one hand and hold the length of his Svante sword at my throat with the other.

“Never,” he whispered in my ear.

I registered the shouts of his vampires in support of their master. I felt his hard body encasing mine at my back. I even smelt his sweat mingling with his scent of fresh sea breezes and clean cut grass, but all I could see was blood.

He must have seen and heard my thoughts a moment later, maybe he had not been paying attention to what was playing through my mind, too involved in his escape from my blade. But he stiffened now, a split second before I elbowed him hard in the stomach, making his grip loosen and sword lower and then I ran Nosferatin-fast down the side of the house and to freedom.

All I heard in my head was the pounding of my feet on the pavement and my heartbeat thumping in my chest and Michel's desperate cry after me...

“Lucinda!”

But all I could see, was blood.

Michel found me not long after, sitting in the front garden of a church a few blocks away, squashed between a statue of the Virgin Mary and a sign that read: “
For the life of the flesh is in the blood... for it is the blood that makes atonement for the soul. Leviticus 17:11

He walked up to me silently, hands in his pockets, then slowly lowered himself in a graceful move to the ground next to where I sat. His eyes taking in the statue and the sign with a slow measuring gaze.

“Coincidence?” he asked, eyebrows raised as he looked at me properly for the first time, no doubt taking in the streaks of dried tears on my cheeks. Fucking tears.

I didn't answer him. Our Mother of Perpetual Help had this sign up longer than I had been living in the neighbourhood. I'd memorised it as I drove past on the way back from various hunts. So, no, not a coincidence.

Michel sighed next to me, but didn't add anything else. We sat in silence, just the night time sounds of a suburban neighbourhood swilling around us. I was guessing he was quite happy to wait me out, let me be the first to talk, but I had nothing to say. Nothing at all.

Finally, he cracked first. “I am sorry. I thought you were ready.”

“Don't you dare apologise,” I said through gritted teeth, my hands bunched in fists at my side. “Don't you dare.”

He took a slow breath in, held it for a moment - like he was counting to ten or something - and then let it out, his whole body relaxing incrementally.

Silence slipped back between us like a possessive pet, unable to share its owner with their loved one.

It wasn't so much the apology, as the excuse for what happened. I couldn't face the fact that I wasn't fully healed, that I was still a fucking mess not only from the loss of memories, from what Jonathan had done, from the vampires' attack in Denver, but also from losing Nero. Would I never be able to just be strong again on my own?

“You may not wish to hear this, but I will say it anyway. You are the strongest person I have ever known.”

It wasn't the first time I had heard him say that.

“Is it enough?” I asked quietly. “I'm not some average human battling average nightmares. I'm supposed to be the
Sanguis Vitam
Cupitor,
the friggin'
Prohibitum
Bibere
and the
Lux Lucis
fucking
Tribuo!
” My voice had risen towards the end of that little lot, but I brought it back under control and managed to quietly add, “It's not enough.”

Michel's lips were twitching slightly at the edges, but he didn't laugh, his voice was earnest when he spoke again. “It is, if you choose for it to be.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” I asked incredulously. “Some bloody yin and yang philosophy? Get a grip, Michel. Nut chose the wrong girl.”

“
You can be incredibly infuriating, you know that, Lucinda!” he burst out. “And self absorbed.” I cringed at that one. “So, you've been burdened with a Prophesy and there is absolutely fuck all you can do about it, yet you still battle it at every turn. Life is not easy.” His words were laced with bitterness. “It is a constant challenge, but you have been given the chance to make it better, not just for yourself, but for others of your kind, for others in this world. You have been given gifts and powers beyond any mortal's imagination. And you scoff at them, disregard them, ignore them.” He stood up swiftly then, in one smooth motion, the old vampire puppet-on-a-string fall back. He ran a hand through his hair, still obviously frustrated with me then and turned back to look at me. “I love you. Do you know that? I absolutely adore you. And I want to protect you, to take care of you, to save you from everything and anything that may harm you.” He paused and took a deep breath in, his words so much softer when they finally came. “But, I am beginning to think it is not someone else I need to save you from at all. And no matter how I try, you won't let me save you from
you
.”

He took a few steps away and then turned back, reaching inside his back pocket and pulling out a dark object. He threw it towards me, my reflexes making me catch it with ease. “You shouldn't be unarmed when you're out and about.” And then he turned and disappeared. Poof. Gone. And all I was holding was a silver stake wrapped tightly in black felt.

Fuck! Arrogant, demanding, know-it-all vampire! Haven't I been through enough shit lately to warrant a get-out-of-jail-free card? Does he have to ride my arse too? And like he's so perfect. He's egotistical, self-absorbed and power hungry. Not to mention a fucking exhibitionist too. The guy is definitely not perfect. Sexy, dangerous, maybe even a little hot. Shit, who am I kidding, he's super hot. But, he's not fucking perfect.

Neither are you. That is my point.

“Come back here and say that!” I shouted into the eerie silence outside of my head.

I didn't get a reply.

Coward!
I barked inside my mind. Add to the list coward, self-righteous and pompous.

Pompous! Ha!
His voice echoed in my head.

“Are you going to leave me alone to contemplate my many failings, Michel, or continually interrupt my train of thought?” I answered aloud.

“I seem to be unable to walk away from you.” His resigned voice came from just a few feet away.

“Does that mean I win this argument?” I asked as he stepped out from behind a tree.

“No, not at all. You
are
incredibly infuriating, there is no argument to that.” He sighed loudly and reluctantly added, “I, however, am nothing without you. I couldn't even run my line while you were gone, Jett has been handling everything.”

Holy shit. I flicked an apologetic glance at the Virgin Mary towering over me and then looked back at Michel.

“I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

He tried not to laugh. “And you expect me not to baulk at your apology? It is my failing, not yours.”

I stood up stiffly and walked towards him. “It's not a failing to be fucked in the head, Michel, because of circumstances.”

He did laugh at that. “Shouldn't you take your own advice?” His arms came out and wrapped around me, his head resting on my forehead. I sighed against him. He was right. Of course he was right, he's always fucking right.

“Once I thought I was wrong, but I was just mistaken,” he whispered. I punched him playfully in the stomach receiving a grunt in return.

We stood like that for a while, just enjoying the closeness of each other. It was me who spoke first.

“What am I going to do, Michel? I can't fight this battle if every time I see blood I think of... Nero. I relive that moment.”

“What do humans do when faced with a mental block?”

I thought about that for a moment. “I guess they see a therapist.”

“A therapist.” He rolled the word around his mouth as though he was tasting it. “Maybe you should see a therapist.”

I started laughing. “Yeah, I can really picture how that would go.
Hey Doc, my vampire hunter trainer got killed by a goddess who wants to kick my butt because I'm the Prophesied and I'm having trouble getting over it. Can you help?
Yeah, that'll work.”

“We do not have therapists in the vampyre world.”

“No I guess not, your little sojourn into La La Land while I was gone is a prime example of
not
needing therapy.”

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, my dear.” But, he wasn't being serious, his lips kissing softly on my forehead told me so. “Is there someone you could talk with?” he asked, his lips sliding across to my temple, his nose nuzzling into my hair.

I thought about that. Was there? Erika and Amisi were good for girl chats, but I needed someone a little removed from my day to day life, but also someone I felt wouldn't bullshit me, wouldn't indulge me I suppose. I could think of only one person in our world who fitted that bill.

“Oh no. Definitely not.” Michel had stopped kissing and nuzzling and stood before me with a scowl on his face. “I will not let you go to him.”

“He'd put me in my place, Michel, you know that, he'd also know where I'm coming from. I can't explain it, but Gregor understands about the Nosferatin thing, he just gets it.”

“I will not let you anywhere near your former lover and that is final.”

Former lover. I slept with him once and only because I was pissed off with the world and Michel and had let the Dark too far into my soul. I regretted it immediately and have never had the urge to repeat that mistake ever again.

“I need him, Michel. I can't put it into words exactly, but Gregor would help me.” It's not that I wanted to cause Michel pain and I knew what Gregor meant to him, but I couldn't explain it, Gregor just understood the Nosferatin side of me. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that our blood calls to him, I don't know, but Gregor does have a connection with Nosferatin, not just me, but all Nosferatin. I knew he could help me, I just knew it.

“I... I can't let you go to Wellington again. I just can't.”

“Then invite him here. Better still, lets have a party.”

“A party?” he asked a little incredulously, eyebrows raised, head tilted - sexily I might add - to the side. “We are in the midst of war, your abductor no doubt about to make an appearance and you want to party?”

Well, when you put it like that...

“Your line has not see you for a while, have they? And they certainly haven't seen me. Don't they need to get all touchy-touchy, feely-feely with us to reinforce the love, or something?”

He laughed. “Reinforce the love.” But that's all he could get out, he was laughing too hard to form any more words right then.

I pushed on regardless, a party felt bloody good to me, there'd been too much death and heartache and God awful crap lately, I wanted light hearted and loving and full of fun.

“The crew need a bit of bolstering. No better time than right before a battle to lift the spirits and get them eager.”

Michel brought himself back under control. “Granted, but I would prefer to just have family for that, Gregor is not family.”

“Neither is Enrique and I'm guessing you've got him hanging around for the same reason. The impending battle.”

“Well yes, but...”

“You could show me off.” That made him stop mid sentence. “You know, let everyone know I'm...” I paused and took a deep breath in. “That I'm yours.”

“Are you mine?” His voice was very quiet, hopeful.

I swallowed picking up on the colour change in his eyes. “Yes.” My voice was more quiet than I had intended.

He looked at me intently then, just stared for a moment, as though he was looking for an answer. I don't know if he found it, he didn't smile or whoop for joy or kiss me passionately, he just stared at me for a bit and then nodded. One short nod, almost to himself.

He cleared his throat before he spoke again. “And you would let me
show
you off?”

“Yes.” I answered too quickly on that one.

“Be careful how you answer that, little Hunter.” Michel never called me little Hunter. It was usually
ma douce
or
ma belle
or Lucinda or even my dear, but not little Hunter. That made me pause for breath.

“
What is your interpretation of
showing
me off?” Best to get this straight first methinks.

He did smile at that, then reached up and took hold of a few strands of my hair, wrapping them around his fingers. “It would involve me picking your outfit out for you.” His eyes flashed amethyst. “I would insist on certain privileges.” His eyes moved to violet. “It would definitely involve some public display of affection.” And there was the magenta.

“I'm...” I licked my lips and swallowed. “I'm not having sex with you in front of the team, Michel.”

“Of course not, I wouldn't dream of taking it that far.”

I scoffed. He lowered his face to kiss behind my ear, his hands running the length of my body - just to push my buttons even more, I was thinking.

“Are your guards here? Watching this now?”

“Of course." I could hear the smile in his voice. He was just loving this. "I am not at full strength yet.”

I pushed against him and looked in his eyes. “How much PDA?”

His smile was wicked. “Some things are better left as a surprise,
ma belle
. If you wish for your Gregor
and
a party, then concede to my demands.”

Well, there you go. Vampire wheeling and dealing at its best. Michel was a consummate politician, able to exact precisely what he wanted out of a situation and make you think you still held all the cards. I did want a party, I wanted to feel happy and have all my friends around me and also, I admit, flick a middle finger at the Queen of Darkness and Jonathan the Prick. A party, in the face of everything that had happened, was one big
fuck you
.

“All right,” I said carefully. “You can show me off.”