Vampyre Blue (13 page)

Cleo's eyes swept across the room to where Teresa was picking herself off the floor.

'You only got away with that because I wasn't expecting it, too busy having fun with Jayne over there.' Teresa smiled a manic evil smile and sideways glanced Jayne.

'You need to die.' Cleo announced to as she drew her samurai sword.

'You first,' retorted Teresa, 'I haven't played with swords in oh a couple of days. Hope you're not too rusty and give me a good fight.'

'Just worry about yourself, you fucking whore.'

Cleo leapt at her again, the katana extenuating her dangerous limbs, each strike more devastating than the last. Teresa realised that she was fighting someone who was a worthy opponent, she was unfamiliar with her fighting style. She should have been more thorough with her homework on Cleo, now she had to bring her game or she was finished. Teresa had underestimated her opponent. She had to leap over furniture and kick objects at Cleo right and left just to get the hits in. Cleo just ducked and dodged the heavy items that were flying her way. Their swords met once more, the lightening speed of their kung fu style, metal on metal, clanked and hissed. They parried, dodging one another's sweeps, returning strikes with fierce anger. It seemed like hours they were fighting, to the two women behind the blades. Cleo was clearly the better fighter, but Teresa was the underdog and it looked like she could win too, that was until Teresa made one fatal mistake, and Cleo took her sword.

With both kantana trained on Teresa, Cleo enjoyed the moment cornering the bitch that had hurt her friend. She had reduced her to a quivering mouse. Jayne, over in her torture seat started murmuring quietly, then louder.

'Please Cleo, please don't kill her, please don't.'

Cleo looked over to Jayne and at that second Teresa pulled a secreted knife and went for Cleo. Cleo was a seasoned agent with over a hundred kills to her name, of course she was expecting such a cliché manoeuvre. The knife glanced off the samurai swords Cleo held in front of her, she brought up the swords and Teresa's head came off.

'Fix that. Bitch.' Cleo said, she wasn't smiling, she was sad. She didn't want to have to kill people just so she could be left alone. When they recruited her years before they never told her,
'If you want to get out of this you'll have to kill everyone who ever comes near you again.'
If she'd have known, she didn't think she'd have taken that path. She thought back to how she used to be and decided that she would have probably gone that way anyway. She really had changed since the boys were born.

As Teresa's head flew through the air Jayne screamed,

'NOOOOOOOOOOO!'

She was still tied to the chair, helpless, degraded and humiliated. When Cleo cut the ropes that fixed her in place she fainted into Cleo's arms. Jayne must have been exhausted after the huge ordeal she had just gone through.

*

Rome was so beautiful thought Star, she especially loved eating in the most exclusive restaurants in the city. The paparazzi took hundreds of pictures of Star with the Prince, she loved the attention, the Prince was becoming very annoyed with it. She appeared in papers across the globe. The Italians loved Star, everyone loved Star and she loved the whole crazy media hyped way she lived. She loved signing autographs and having security. She loved that everyone knew who she was. The Prince was just about sick of it all. He flew her to Rome for a romantic getaway, but they hadn't gotten away from the media circus her life was. He couldn't stand it any longer. He had them driven to the airport, to his personal jet.

'So back to mine?' Asked Star as she emerged from the limo.

'Oh no. I have something much more interesting in mind.'

'A surprise?' She enquired.

'Yes a surprise,' The Prince winked at her and gave her one of his dazzling smiles, 'You will love it.' He held her hand, comforting her and lead her onto the jet. She would be really cold where she was going he thought to himself. Really, really, really cold.

*

Blue woke up in the middle of the night and had a feeling she wasn't alone. On her bed, in her dark room, she had a cold arm around her. It had to be either a corpse or,

'Pierre?' She said aloud.

He lay there staring at her, he was watching her sleep before she woke up.

'Pierre are you really there? Or am I dreaming again?'

'Of course I'm here. I've been here all night.'

Blue wanted to scream at him, hit him and wring his bloody neck! More than that though she wanted some answers and she wanted them ninety seconds ago!

'What the fuck happened? Where the fuck did you disappear to?' Blue yelled as she pushed him off the bed, punched and kicked him.

'Whoa, whoa.' Pierre was trying to dodge the sudden violence. 'I'm sorry I've been gone.'

'SORRY!' Screamed Blue, 'FUCKING SORRY! Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?'

'No I really am very very sorry.' He began running away from her, she wanted to kick his head in.

'Just stay still, so I can punch you some more!' She yelled, she was red with anger.

'Let me explain will you?' Pierre was running around the room and spinning out of her way. She was becoming infuriated.

'I guess you haven't been testing out your new vampy powers?' Pierre mocked, 'Or else you'd be kicking my ass. You must be twice as strong as me and twice as fast.'

She moved to him so fast and pinned him up against the wall by his throat, about a foot off the ground.

'See.' He gurgled, and went on, 'Can you let me down please?'

She dropped him. Tear's formed in her eyes, she had given herself away.

'You bit me.' She mouthed.

'No, no, no. I didn't Blue,' He got to his knees before her, 'I promise I didn't bite you. It was someone pretending to be me. If I bit you, you'd be like me. I didn't get to you in time to stop it all.'

'Why?' She said softly.

'I hadn't fed in a while and needed some sleep, the Oracle spiked my blood source and because I was weak it was more potent and I slept for hours. I awoke to find out I'd missed the beginning of the party and by the time I got to the Manor you had been bitten.'

'Why was I bitten? Who bit me?' She asked.

'You remember the dream? The one with me in it?'

'You're in all of them.'

'The one when I spoke back.' Pierre didn't want to argue, he wanted to be like they were on her birthday. 'I told you it wasn't me, but I didn't get chance to tell you, to warn you in time...' He paused, there was a look in her eyes, fury, anger and betrayal all mixed into one. 'You know who it is.'

'Daen.' She mouthed, shocked and sickened.

'Daen.' Said Pierre.

*

The morning after the night before Brett was beside himself. He'd gone back to Eliza's hotel but she wasn't there. He couldn't get in himself although the concierge on the desk assured him that she hadn't returned. He had no other choice than to go back to the dig site to look for her again and this time he was determined that he was going to be better prepared. Unfortunately for Brett it was a Holy Day in the local village and all the workers weren't there, neither were the western anthropologists or archaeologists, so he was all on his own again.

Isis watched Brett, he could cause rifts in the prophecies, if he drew any attention to the library or the greater part of the temple and got more people involved, the rituals wouldn't and couldn't be performed and destiny would be rewritten. She couldn't have that, she would not have that, so Isis would have to intervene once again. After all she couldn't have people poking around her library that weren't invited.

All of a sudden Brett had an overwhelming need to walk into the ruins Eliza had disappeared into. He couldn't understand how he seemed to know where he was going. He felt like a man on a mission. Down one corridor, another, a left here, a right, left, right, right. Like a labyrinth he knew like the back of his hand. It started to frighten him. An overwhelming grip of terror was seizing his mind.

'Is this what happened to you Eliza?' He said quietly to himself.

'Something like that.' A beautiful voice told him.

Brett looked up to see a black face looking back at him, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. There was a luminance about her, her bright white eyes illuminated her iris's, the colour of shimmering emeralds glistening in the dark. He was completely overwhelmed and all of a sudden he fainted.

*

'She knows an awful lot about us doesn't she?' Asked Amelia as walked around her sister.

'Yes she seems to.' Said Eliza.

'And why do you think that is? How does she know so much?'

'I don't know.' Eliza was becoming annoyed with her little sister, the tomes that Isis had let her see were comprehensive guides on every ancient ritual Eliza had ever been curious about and there were hundreds she had never even thought could possibly exist, she was trying to digest all the information, but Amelia kept interrupting.

'You're the expert on everything ancient, why don't you know?'

'I'm not a God!'

'Ohhh,' She mocked, 'No need to shout!'

'I didn't shout! Why do you have to be so impetuous all the time?'

'It's what you love about me best-est!'

Eliza's eyes rolled,

'I swear if you weren't dead already I'd have killed you by now.'

Amelia kept walking around the desk on which Eliza's current reading materials lay strewn. The light was just perfect, candles were in glass holders, safely away from the precious papers. Eliza could have stayed there forever, this was no prison, this was her paradise.

Chapter Twelve.

'You know Daen? How do you know Daen? Try to start from the beginning, like when I came on the scene.'

'When you came on the scene,' Pierre smiled, 'Wow, well this could get quite interesting.'

'Go on,' Blue sat up in her bed, 'Tell me everything.'

'I’m not sure when Daen first started interfering in your life, but I wasn’t aware until he asked me to watch over you last year.'

'What the fuck!?!' Blue was completely taken aback, 'Last year? He asked you to watch me?'

'Yes.'

'And how the hell do you know Daen?' She asked again.

Pierre took a cigarette out, rolled it in his fingers,

'Do you mind?'

'No, go on...' She waited for his explanation.

Pierre lit the cigarette and took in a couple of breaths.

'It was 1808 when I first met Daen…' Pierre started.

'1808 as in the year?' Blue interrupted.

'No, ten past six in the evening you moron, of course 1808 as in the year. Would you like to hear my story?'

'You don't have to be such an ass hole about it. 1808 was a long fucking time ago and I'm still not used to this kicking around for a long time drama. It was such a long, long time ago, well for me anyway.' Blue half smiled and shut up.

'I was born into wealth,' Pierre paused, waiting for the interruption. Blue just smiled at him, so he carried on.

'When I got to my late twenties I decided I was going to go on the tour, you know, Rome, Prague, Budapest, Moscow. Everyone was doing it and I couldn't be the only bourgeoisie to have the shame of not going. In Romania I met Daen, he was an older version of myself back then. We were out and out ladies men and we became the best of friends, he took me to the finest Artisans and institutions, he paraded me around like his new play toy. He introduced me to the finest brothels Europe had to offer. I learnt that there was so much more to life than I had ever imagined. We were so close, I think he thought I was the brother he never had. I was having the time of my life, drunk and drugged up. One night he bit a girl in front of me, it was so dark and sexual, we both made love to her that night. She didn't change, there is a lot more to changing a person. I found that out. He walked around in the day, like you do, I thought he was a really strong man. Then he talked me into the change. He made it sound amazing. He made me like him, immortal, but unlike him I can’t go out in the sunshine.'

'You can’t go out in the sunshine?' Blue asked, 'but I can.'

'You're different Blue, special. But no, I would burst into flames, it's way too hot for me out in the sunshine.' Pierre explained, 'So he turned me into a Vampire, a night walker. He didn’t expect me to turn out like I did, he hoped I would turn out like him because usually the night-walkers are just mindless drones. We did get up to quite a lot of devilish things back then, but I became melancholy and insufferable to him. He left me in Paris in the late 19
^th
century, it was a good time for the melancholy in France, I got on well with the painters. A good friend of mine died when he was only 47, I think he got shot. I love his paintings, they have inspired a lot of people over the years but I digress. Daen went on with his precious Oracle. Of course he always knew roughly where I was, and I him, the blood tie. He would appear every so often, looking in on me. He was always looking for the reincarnation of his maker, Isis.'