Dancing Dragon (2 page)

Where there is Light,

There is always Dark.

And where there is Dark,

There is always Light

Nosferatin Mantra

No one ever said my job was fun. Until a few weeks ago, I was your friendly neighbourhood business banker at the Queen Street branch of the Bank of New Zealand. My dream job, one I was so proud to have successfully earned. And one that I really couldn't have easily described as fun. Predicable. Mundane even. But, because of that lack of surprise, I
did
find it a breath of fresh air. But not fun. Never really fun. Counting coins, though, was my sanity saviour in a world gone batshit crazy. The methodical and consistent task of counting coins and conversing with my local business owners was cathartic and grounding.

Until my night time gig got in the way.

So, now my employment consists of hunting the evil undead creatures of the night. And little else. It is unpredictable, a constant challenge and takes me to any manner of locations at any time of the day. But it is also
not
what I would call fun. It also doesn't pay well. Hell, it doesn't pay at all. It's not like the
Iunctio
, the vampire governing body, offers up a retainer for Nosferatins like me. They may have accepted our role in the supernatural world, begrudgingly, but they certainly aren't going to encourage us with money, that's for sure. No, we're on our own and Nosferatins, or born vampire hunters, like me, make do with odd jobs that fit around our night time hours and responsibilities.

It isn't so bad though. Being joined to the Master of the City means I have it pretty cushy actually. Swanky house, flash car, everything provided for me that I could possibly want.

Except independence and my own means of paying the bills.

Something I have had issue with for some time, but my conscience, that pesky little voice inside my head that keeps me connected to the Light, has meant continuing to take a salary from the BNZ whilst not actually working there, goes against the grain. I mean, I'm supposed to be one of the good guys. Having the Norms I work with constantly glazed to believe I was working that week, when I wasn't, due to injuries, or all-nighters that left little time for sleep before daylight working hours came knocking on the door, or other sundry Nosferatu claims on my time, does not sit well at all.

So, I have been forced to take a break from my normal human working arrangements. No job, no income, no independence. Not a happy camper, but what can I do?

Reluctantly I have been relying on Michel, my kindred Nosferatu, to pay my way. Something he was more than pleased to do, hell he was ecstatic about it. But, I've warned him not to get too comfortable with our arrangement. I am job hunting, looking for something that will allow me a little leeway, but provide for a little financial independence too. Also, something that won't condemn me for the tattoo-like
Sigillum
on my neck. One of three marks that Michel has placed on me, claiming me as his own, but this one on my neck is hard to miss. Laced with a little of my Nosferatin Light, it looks more like a colourful tattoo, swirls of iridescent colours and a geometric design surrounding the tiny fang marks of his bite. So far, no luck with a prospective job that doesn't mind the decoration, but I am a positive sort of girl, I won't give up on the dream just yet.

Considering that my night time job has also started being an all day, any time of the day kind of job, means finding an employment opportunity outside of those rather demanding hours, is likely to be an impossibility. And turning my back on the task at hand, or the pull as we call it, just isn't an option either.

Especially, when faced with proof of what an evil Dark vampire can do when not policed, such as tonight.

I am usually pretty good at what I do. I can fight a level one
Sanguis Vitam
vampire and more often than not walk away from the encounter relatively unscathed. I can even take on more than one at a time, what with the plethora of Nosferatin skills I have accumulated over the past two and a half years. And, on top of that, I am the Giver of Light, the one Nosferatin tasked with the job of calling all Dark vampires towards the Light and balancing out the universe.

Sounds good in theory, but in order to do that, I have to get close to the most evil, most vile, most Dark of all vampires. And that is never a nice thing. The one facing me now was evidence enough of that. Just because they are evil though, did not mean they didn't know how to dress.

This one was tall and swarthy looking, with long black hair and exceptionally good dress sense. His muscular frame was clothed in designer jeans, tight fitting black T-Shirt and a well cut leather jacket, that accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He had a thick black leather belt on and solid looking, expensive shoes, poking out of the bottom of his perfectly placed jeans cuffs. It was all made-to-measure and he knew he looked damn good in it too.

His cocky and sure, deep topaz gaze, travelled the length of me, but God knows what he actually saw, because I wasn't really here. In fact, he shouldn't have been able to sense me or smell me, let alone see me. Tell that to him though. He cocked his head to the side and smiled, a wicked smile that vampires seemed to be able to master so well.

I swallowed under his heavy scrutiny and felt the beginnings of unease trickle down my spine. The human he had been feasting on lay discarded at his feet. Dead. Drained dry. Done and dusted. He had obviously been hungry, this well groomed harbinger of death, because he hadn't bothered to hide his efforts from prying eyes. We had an audience, not something I was familiar with, but clearly something he found rather amusing. Maybe he planned on dealing with me and then tucking into dessert with one of the three pub crawlers held by his glaze, standing watching in horror, at the end of the narrow lane we were in.

What to do? He reeked evil from every pore, it was like treacle, thick and viscous, sweet smelling, but slightly burnt. Coupled with the amount of
Sanguis Vitam
rolling off him, he was no two-bit player. A master in every aspect. In fact, I had a sneaky suspicion, he was more than just your average level one master. I'm not quite sure what tipped me off about that fact, but my inner monologue was whispering,
tread carefully, very carefully
inside my head
.
I usually listen to that voice, it's pretty damn perceptive.

“Another Nosferatin. How droll.” His accent was upper-crust British. Not surprising, considering I was in London. Knightsbridge to be precise. Not all vampires have well bred accents, but when you've been dead a few centuries you learn to pick up the accent of your choice. This chap had been around close to a thousand years, not a usual age for a vampire - usually they don't make it that far, a stake in the chest will do it - and he had established himself in the upper echelons of society, I should think. “Have your brethren not passed on the memo?” he purred.

What memo? I chose to ignore his urbane question and just glanced down at the dead human at his feet and then slowly up the length of his tall body to finally rest my very hard stare on his face. He noticed the move, creepy but true. Until now, there were only two other vampires who could see me in this realm - this Dream Walking realm - and to them I appeared as nothing more than a hazy outline, a representation of my aura. This vampire, somehow, could see all of me. I don't know how, but I sure as hell would like to find out.

But, first things first, show no fear. Rule number one on the Nosferatin charter of behaviour.

“You seem to have over indulged this evening, vampire. Tsk. Tsk. It is against the rules, you know.” I fingered my stake, allowing the silver of it to catch his eye. He just smiled more broadly.

“You are on my turf now, Hunter. My rules. My world. You are not welcome here.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” I answered and spun in the air towards his right hand side.

Spin fighting is one of my learned talents, it's not inherited, not inherently Nosferatin, just a skill taught to me by my former Nosferatin trainer, Nero. He had been the master of the manoeuvre, a stunningly brilliant move he made look mesmerizing. We have enhanced speed, courtesy of our ancestors and joining with a kindred Nosferatu, making the spin appear nothing more than a blur and the time taken to cross the space between where I had been standing, to where he hovered over the remains of his supper, only a split second. Usually enough to get the drop on the vamp I was after. Not only because of the superhuman speed, but because the move is spectacular and even the undead have an appreciation of beauty.

Of course, occasionally it can go wrong. Like tonight.

I landed to the side of the vamp and had my stake up ready to make the killing blow, when he simply thrust out a hand, taking advantage of my continued momentum, casually flicking me away. He would have used a fraction of his full strength, nothing more than a slight movement of his fingers, like you would if you were swatting a mosquito away. But, it was enough to send me over ten feet down the paved lane and crashing against the glass of a boutique shop window, tumbling through the enclosure and across the polished concrete floor of the shop.

Clothes stands went flying, designer garments crashing to the ground and the ornate counter providing a shockingly non-absorbent landing pad. I felt the bones in my right arm, my fighting arm, shatter on impact. Crap, but it hurt.

He didn't fly after me in that preternatural speed they have, he simply stepped over the carnage of the window, the scattered outfits worth thousands of pounds and glided across the mess with slow purpose towards me. I struggled to right myself, using only my left arm, transferring my stake to my non-dominant side and pushing up off the ground, turning to face him.

OK. So he had some clout, but I don't give up that easily. One handed I still had some tricks up my sleeve.

I started gathering my Light, preparing to blast the Darkness out of him and turn him from something completely engulfed in evil to something with a choice. Usually, they chose to carry on with their nasty ways, but occasionally they did the right thing and walked away a new vampire, ready to start a life well within the rules. When he made it to within two feet of me, I began to release my Light, as though I was physically touching him, prepared to bring him into my line. I wouldn't have to do that though, it was all in the intent. I have one vampire already in my line, but that didn't mean I had to have more. As long as my intention was to bring the Dark vampire under my wing, the Light would do the rest.

I really didn't want to add to my stable, so avoiding physical contact was essential in this little routine. As long as I didn't touch the object of my Light's focus, they would simply be balanced out and have a choice to make. Good versus Evil. Light versus Dark. I could live with that. If they chose the wrong way, I'd just stake them. If they made the right choice, I'd let them go on their merry way with a rap across the knuckles.

Easy.

Except, when they try to grab you as the Light flees your body. Of course, the outcome would be basically the same, although they would no longer have a choice, they would simply be under my command, under my line, subject to me. Their new master. But, they would be good and not evil any more. I did not want that. I really needed to get over this little aversion to adding to my family line, because I immediately flinched as the vamp's hand wrapped around my wrist, painfully tightly and changed my Light from a balancing the universe power, to simply its natural manifestation in an instant. A natural reflex action to the abhorrence of adding to my line.

Damn.

The vampire collapsed to his knees, a small moan escaping his lips, with me in tow. Unfortunately, my Light has a habit of including me in the experience when I don't temper it at all, when I let it do its thing in its natural form. And unfortunately, its natural form is rather an embarrassment.

Heat washed over us and wrapped around our bodies, sending shockwaves of pleasure through the length of us, melding us together in an erotic maelstrom of desire, lust, hunger and need, taking us on a high like no physical intimacy ever could. The after effect was always one of sated bliss, a post coital experience without having to get dirty to achieve it. Yuck. I hated that this was my natural Light's ability. Sure, occasionally it was fun, but only when I did it with my kindred.

This guy was not my kindred, not by any stretch of the imagination.

He recovered faster than most, but then maybe finding release through physical contact was just par for the course in an evening's adventures for this chap. He rolled over the ground, covering the distance between us in a split second, to press my body into the scattered garments at my back, making a surprisingly comfortable bed. The hard length of his body moulded to mine, his hands securely fastening my arms at my side, a simple twist of my wrist and my stake was gone. The break in my other arm screaming, but the voice in my head drowning it out. Shit. This was not good.

He leaned in slowly, his face at my neck and inhaled. Vampires love scent, it's very personal and very revealing for them. They can hunt you by your scent alone, they can recognise you, taste you, be captivated by you, all because of your scent. It is erotic to them, enticing, enthralling and in some cases, absolutely addictive to them. If your scent just happens to be the one that hits their buttons, you're doomed. I held my breath and prayed to every god I knew, that this guy didn't have a penchant for candied apples, sunshine, honey and Spring. My signature scent.