On the Far Side of Darkness (25 page)

It was then Diane noticed something odd. She could feel where his hands touched, feel the emotions he raised, but her body didn’t reflect this. Neither her nipples nor her clit became engorged. Her skin didn’t slick with sweat to respond to the heat that filled her. Her vagina didn’t release the lubricants needed to aid penetration. In fact, she didn’t feel the need to be penetrated at all.

Now the discovery struck her. She was dead. Her body couldn’t respond. She had passed beyond it.

She broke their kiss with a frightened gasp. Diane looked into her lover’s eyes and knew her face held the shock she felt.

“Shh,
cher
,” he responded. “It doesn’t matter. You still exist, still feel, still love. People such as us have a different consummation. Let me show you.”

He sat up, cross legged. Lifting her up, he set her in his lap, her legs gripping his hips. He played again. Mouth working, lips nibbling, hands fondling, he played again at her sensitive spots. He cupped one of her ass cheeks to pull her close, rubbed her cleft against the skin of his stomach.

Diane felt it. He was right. Her body didn’t matter, its state didn’t matter. She still had all the emotions of the living and that was the significant fact. Kissing him hard once more, she returned his gestures, worked to make him feel as good as she did.

He pulled away. His hand wrapped around her left wrist and he bought it to his mouth. At the same time he raised his arm to her.

Diane knew what to do, what he offered. Without thought she grabbed his limb, extended her fangs and sank them into his flesh. At the same instant, he started to feed from her.

An ecstasy as great as any she had known exploded in Diane. The blood she drank was full, full of the man she loved. She could taste his intellect, his learning, his courage, his restraint, his warm emotions, his love for her. Laced through it was his darkness, his hunger, his rage, his cold malevolence, his tenebrous joy. It was delicious beyond anything Diane had ever imagined. She wanted to drink until there was nothing left.

A voice drifted through her carnal haze. It spoke a name. She cared not at all. The word made no sense to her, was of no interest.

The voice spoke more forcefully, demanding her attention. She knew it was her name that was called. Her awareness returned to answer that call. What the voice said now made sense. “Diane, you’ll destroy me. And yourself.”

Her will took hold of her hunger and slammed it into the recesses of her mind. The thirst snarled there, and waited for the next time it came out. Diane knew it would come back. She’d never be free of it.

With another effort of will, Diane pulled her head away from his wrist and leaned back. His eyes caught hers and she saw he was proud of her. She smiled, knowing how much he thought of her, believed in her.

“You see, my love?” he said. “You’ll always have a choice. You’ll always be strong enough for that.”

They embraced again. Diane snuggled into him. Her mind was a swirl of emotions and she held tight to her anchor, her maker, her lover. She felt her love for him and his for her. She felt the expectancy of a new and very different world waiting for her. Finally she felt the being she had become in all its malignant delights and baneful wants. All this filled her with such a bitter joy she wanted to cry.

But she knew she’d never cry again.

Table of Contents

As they’ve all been for the last ten months, it’s been a good night.

Diane and I rise with the setting of the sun. We bathe together, a ritual that binds us, reminds us of what we feel. After that we dress, chatting. We rarely run out of things to talk about. When we do the silence is warm and full, not empty, begging to be filled with words. Her French is now as good as my English. We’re at the point where we change languages in mid-paragraph. It gives our conversations a delightful shading and rhythm.

Then we go to the large loft we’ve rented. We’ve set it up as a training ground. Diane needs to become accustomed to the physical abilities of our kind. As with humans, the more an ability is used the more potent it is.

Diane can now lift more dead weight than any human save the most dedicated weightlifters and she could knock three seconds off the world record in the 100 meter dash, assuming they held it at night. I’ve also devised exercises for balance and agility. Both those traits of hers are now impressive, even for people such as us.

Other tests are designed to use these traits at less than their maximum. If they are used to the full in public it can be very dangerous to us. The first few times she used the heavy bag she punched a hole in it. It’s been months since we’ve had to replace it. Her control is now fine tuned.

She still hasn’t manifested some of the more outré physical powers. She can’t form claws, create a veil of shadows or sink into the earth yet. I don’t know when they’ll appear, but they’re handy skills, not necessary ones. Her empathic abilities are coming along well, but she can’t yet directly affect a person’s mind.

Diane can use the power that lets her move at a speed far beyond any living thing. It takes a great deal of concentration, and blood. I make sure to have some available when I test her, to make sure the monster doesn’t take control through hunger. Still, my accomplished lady can press the timing buttons I’ve set up in each corner of the loft in under three seconds.

I’ve also been training her in hand-to-hand combat. I’m hardly an expert but conflict has often been a part of my existence. It will be for Diane as well so I help her with the skills she’ll most likely need. She is a very good pupil and a rather nasty infighter. I’ve had to heal more than a few broken bones. I hurt her less often, but those occasions allow her to practice repairing herself.

We exercise for an hour and then proceed about our night. As we wander the streets of Paris the two of us watch the humans as they go about their lives. Buskers, street artists, tourists, natives, all give the my love and I something to observe and enjoy. We stop in a jazz club to listen to a band visiting from America. They’re very good and the quiet joy of their music enriches us.

We also find our evening meal there, a lovely young lady from Rome. I let Diane lead the seduction, an exercise in using her empathic powers. She has a natural skill at it. We end up in our prey’s hotel room. Pleasuring her to the brink of madness, we feed at the moment of her climax.

As we feed frequently, Diane and I don’t take much. When done we leave the woman sated, happy and weak. It will be a very pleasant memory for her.

I’ve made sure the two of us hunt together. This early in her existence it’s too easy for the monster to slip her control. Bitter experience taught me this fact. I don’t want her to carry the burden of someone’s death. Also, bodies can raise questions so I stay close to make sure the monster in her remains contained.

Now we’re sitting on a bench at the bank of the Seine, relaxed, full, watching the water flow past us. As always, we’re snuggled together, enjoying the presence of the person we love.

However I sense a tenseness in her. I recall she’s often had a pensive look on her face over the last month. I don’t inquire, she’ll tell me her thoughts when she’s ready.

Which is now.

“Georges?” she asks. Her arms draw me tighter as she does.

“
Oui, cheri
?”

“I want to go home.”

This isn’t good,
I think.

“I’m not sure that’s wise, love,” is what I say out loud.

Diane squeezes me tightly. “I know. But I feel the need. I want to see where I grew up, visit friends and family. I want to see them, remember who I was. I, I feel me fading, Georges. Who I used to be doesn’t seem quite real anymore. That scares me. I’ve never worried about losing touch before. Maybe if I can make who I was more real I won’t be scared anymore.”

For a moment I prepare arguments to turn her from her goal. Then, as always, I find I can’t refuse her. She means too much to me.

“All right,
cher
,” I assent, placing a soft peck on her forehead. “We’ll go see Marcel tomorrow.”

Diane smiles brightly, sits up and gives me a loving kiss. After a minute she pulls away. Her eyebrows rise in curiosity. “Who’s Marcel?”

“My travel agent.”

Table of Contents

The door to
The Lavender Pit
opened and a cool night breeze wafted inside. The puff of wind bought a woman with it.

She paused at the top of a short flight of steps and looked around the dark club. Her eyes didn’t squint to penetrate the dim light.

What she saw was a room balanced in size between small enough to be intimate and large enough to be capacious. The bar was just a few steps away and parallel to the right wall. There were two servers, a willowy blonde and a full figured brunette, working behind it. They filled their orders from a large selection of liquors lined up on several sets of shelves on the wall behind them and beer taps protruding the bar. Ten stools, all but two occupied, sat in front of the mahogany wood counter. The left hand wall had a shelf waist high running along it with another row of stools. A small dance area had a few women on it writhing to a techno beat.

Every patron of the bar was female. Their ages ranged from barely old enough to drink to those who might be grandmothers. Their appearances covered an even wider range, some dressed and coifed almost mannishly, some very feminine with most somewhere in between. Many of them were paired, holding hands or snuggling close. There were a fair number of singles as well.

One group of four women stood out, the aforementioned butches. They sat in the middle of the left wall from which vantage point they could see the entire bar. Their loud laughs and forceful gesticulations made it appear as if they owned the place. One was a large woman, heavily muscled. She was dressed in a sleeveless T-shirt, black jeans and combat boots. On her right forearm was a tattoo that read ‘Semper Fi’ against an ornate background. A knife entwined with snakes was on the left. Her upper arms had a number of inked in marks, upright singles and sets of five delineated with a horizontal line. These covered her right biceps and triceps. The other side had only one five and three uprights.

The woman who just entered saw all this in a quick glance. Her movements were smooth, self assured and without wasted motion. She noted everyone who turned to look at her.

What they saw was a petite lady with a fair, bordering on pallid complexion. Her auburn hair ran in a cascade of waves to her shoulders. She had a pretty, thin face; her nose was narrow and a little long. The eyes gazing over the bar were sea green and alert. Her lips were lean and a shade paler than pink. A loose silk dress shaded deep black with spaghetti straps holding it up covered her torso and hips. The garment reached to mid thigh. Beneath its hem a pair of slim and beautiful legs showed. Her pretty feet were in black sandals laced to her calf. The attractive redhead gripped a small clutch, the same color as the rest of her garb, in her right hand.

The woman at the door drew in a sniff of air. Her head swung a little as if testing every odor. That was followed by a smile, one that skirted wicked. It seemed the auburn tressed lady had found what she was looking for.

A person stood away from where she was leaning, at the wall next to the foot of the stairs. She was a tall, brawny black woman in a red leather bustier and breeches with her blonde dreads tied back in a pony tail. She placed herself in front of the person who had just entered to look the new patron over. The woman’s gaze ran from face to shoes and back again. Her grim mouth and hard eyes spoke of her suspicion.

The redhead looked back and gave a sweet smile.

The bouncer relaxed and stepped aside. The woman in black sauntered down the steps and into the bar.

She walked with an easy, almost feral grace. Again there was no wasted movement. Her head scanned about in a manner similar to that of other women here. Yet there was a pointed regard in her eyes that implied this person was looking for something else.

As the pale lady passed the butches the big woman called out, “Hey! Sweet thing! Come ‘ere. I’ve got what you’re looking for.” She emphasized the words by grabbing her crotch. Her right hand moved to the opposite biceps and tapped it. “I need to add to my collection,” she added. Her cronies laughed.

The woman in the black dress stopped and looked at them. She tilted her head, her lips pursing. After a moment’s contemplation she replied, “Thanks, but no.” Her voice was colored with a southern U.S. drawl. “I’m not impressed with people like you anymore.”

Snorts of laughter sounded from those nearby. “Nice one,” muttered someone.

The butch turned red with fury. “You cu…” she started to snarl, leaning forward.

“Roxy,” interjected a loud voice from the spot near the door, “there’ll be no trouble here.”

Her face still crimson, Roxy fell back and drew a swig of her beer.

The auburn haired woman turned away, unconcerned with what had just happened. Her gaze fell on a young girl seated with her left side to the bar, watching what was happening around her while her left hand tapped topaz colored nails on the countertop.

That person’s tresses were a rich chestnut reaching to mid-back and her skin was a few shades short of olive. A bit taller than the woman looking at her, the girl had wide shoulders and a full ass. Dressed in a white halter top only just large enough to hide her full breasts her smooth skin was on display, as it deserved to be. A mini-skirt, also in white, was wrapped around her hips and her graceful legs were shod in stilettos of the same color. The stool next to her was empty.

A tiny, sharp smile shaped the lips of the redhead. She hastened across the room, dodging the other patrons with ease and sat next to the brunette.

The girl watched the woman approach with a mildly perturbed expression. She faced forward and hunched her shoulders as the seat beside her was occupied. Both hands gripped the stem of the wine glass in front of her. Her eyes flickered towards the just taken stool and her mouth was set in a neutral line.

“What’ll it be?” asked the slim bartender.

“Bourbon, straight,” replied the just seated patron.

As the server turned away, the easy grace the pale woman held herself with disappeared. Her back slumped a touch, her shoulders drew in. The cast of her face sobered while her mouth tightened. That instant of doubt faded, she sat straight. Her expression relaxed and she swiveled towards the quarry she had chosen.

She fixed her eyes on the lovely femme in the next chair, and they never left. Even when her drink arrived and she took what appeared to be a tiny sip of it, she watched.

The sultry girl being appraised didn’t react at first. Her gaze stayed on the white wine she had been sipping. She started to fidget, squirm in her seat. Her eyes kept flitting in the direction of the stool just occupied while she chewed on her lower lip. After a minute her head turned and her brown eyes met the other woman’s green ones. A shiver ran through the girl. Her throat worked as she swallowed with nervousness. The muscles of her stomach tightened. Her legs squeezed together for a second.

The woman with the auburn hair spoke. “Hi,” was all she said. Her lips formed a smile as she lifted the tumbler of bourbon to them.

The dark haired girl’s mouth opened in a little gasp. A light film drew across her eyes and she pressed her thighs together again.

“You’re very beautiful,” the fair skinned woman went on. Her smile grew firmer, a touch of wicked amusement played across her face.

Another shiver rippled and the femme hissed in a soft breath.

The redhead spoke again. “What’s your name, darlin’?”

“C, Cindy,” was the reply.

“A sweet name for a sweet girl. I’m Diane.”

Cindy’s mouth moved without making a sound. Her body made a tiny twitch. A flush filled her face and her skin began to gleam as a thin film of sweat appeared on it.

Diane’s green irises darkened for an instant. That enigmatic smile grew stronger still.

A hand attached to a tattooed arm fell on Diane’s left shoulder. “I saw her first, bitch. Back off,” snarled Roxy.

Diane turned to look into the butch’s face. The petite lady’s expression became impassive, not a trace of emotion showed save a flicker of something dark that flashed through her eyes.. Her right hand came up and placed itself around Roxy’s forearm. The slim fingers barely reached halfway around the solid muscles, and they squeezed.

Roxy’s eyes widened and she grunted in pain. She jerked her arm away from Diane to stare at the livid marks where the other woman’s hand had rested.

The bouncer came up in a rush. “Roxy,” she gritted, anger clear in her voice, “You don’t own anyone in this place so sit down and behave yourself.”

The mannish dyke did as she was told. But her eyes glared at the woman who hurt her.

“You okay?” the black woman asked Diane. Her face was hard. She ran her suspicious gaze over Diane once more. The stern look faded, became laced with uncertainty. She crossed her arms and drummed her fingers against her biceps, showing her vacillating thoughts about the pale woman sitting in front of her.

“Yes, thank you,” was the reply as the bar’s guardian was again shown a sweet smile. The bouncer relaxed, although not much, before returning to her spot by the door.

Diane refocused her gaze on Cindy.

The brunette stared back with wide eyes. “How,” she stuttered, “how’d you do that?”

“Mind over matter,” the older woman replied. “If I don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.” The smile gracing Diane’s lips grew mocking. “Roxy thinks she’s frightening. She has no idea what real fear is.” The deriding expression fell away. Diane’s features and eyes blanked for a moment, looking somewhere other than the place she was in now.

Cindy swallowed. Her legs twitched. One foot went to the floor and her thigh tautened as the femme started to stand. She paled a little, her lips were set in a grimace of unease.

Diane’s smile returned and she refocused on her quarry. “Enough about me. How about you? What do you do?”

Once again, the brunette’s eyes glazed while the hot blush reappeared on her cheeks. Her legs ceased twitching and they moved apart a little. Ripples appeared in the surface of her wine as the hand gripping the stem of the glass trembled. “Stu, student,” the femme managed to spit out. She turned in her seat to face the woman beguiling her.

“What do you study, pretty girl?” was Diane’s next query. Her oblique smile grew some more and her eyes glinted with hunger; a hunger similar to but not quite the same as the girl she was chasing displayed.

A sound bubbled in Cindy’s chest, a sound of need. Her breathing sped up and quivers raced through her body. “Psychology,” was the shaky word that passed her full lips.

“The human mind,” noted Diane, “a very interesting thing isn’t it? And emotions. Such an important part.” Her left hand went down, stroked the smooth skin of Cindy’s right thigh. “I can tell you’re experiencing a lot of emotion right now, aren’t you?” Once more the redheaded temptress’s eyes clouded with a hint of malevolence, there and gone in an instant. A certainty settled on Diane’s features as she pulled in another small sniff of air.

The femme shuddered at Diane’s touch. Her skin broke out in small beads of moisture. A fevered whine leaked out of her mouth. Her eyes fluttered and her mouth quivered.

“What brings you here tonight, Cindy?” was the pale woman’s next question. Her hand didn’t stop its gentle petting.

The brunette slumped a little, released a quiet moan. The sweat grew thicker on her skin. Her mouth worked although nothing emerged. Her eyes were locked on the other woman’s face and shone with heat.

“Let me guess,” Diane went on. She leaned closer and whispered, “You were looking to get laid.” Her face lit up in eager expectation.

“Oh!” gasped the girl being teased. Her body shivered. Cindy gave an addled smile and a weak inclination of her head.

“What a coincidence,” grinned her seducer, “so was I.” Diane’s teeth were very white and her upper canines seemed a little longer than normal. “I think we should take advantage of that coincidence, don’t you?” the woman in black asked.

Again, Cindy nodded weakly. Her breath was short and fast. The brunette squeezed her legs together and a subdued groan oozed from her.

Diane opened her clutch and placed a ten dollar bill on the bar. She stood up, took Cindy’s waist and drew the brown haired girl from her stool. The femme wrapped her arms around the woman holding her and huddled close. The pair headed for the front door.

A snarl came from the small pack of butches. Diane glanced towards the source to see two of them with their hands on Roxy’s shoulders, holding her in her chair. The tattooed woman’s face was twisted in rage.

Diane smiled a mocking smile at the big dyke and faced front. She guided Cindy to the stairs. When the couple got there, she turned to the bouncer and said, “Thank you.”

The black woman frowned a little. Her mouth grimaced. It opened for a moment, then closed again to a thin line. “Good night,” she replied through tight lips.

With her catch still in her arm Diane climbed the stairs and opened the door. She and Cindy stepped out into the empty, dark street. The second the door closed Diane turned, pulled her quarry close and kissed her hard.

The brunette femme answered with a tremulous moan. She clutched the other woman tight. Her mouth opened and she groaned at the sensation of her seducer’s tongue teasing around inside. Cindy’s pelvis pumped, running a damp, demanding vulva against the thigh pressed to her.