Kiss of the Dragon (17 page)

Sounds slowly returned to us. Movement in the periphery of my vision. But like Amun, I was only interested in the person before me. The vampire who still held me in his arms, but had stopped feeding from my vein, already having licked the wounds closed. He looked different and then... not. He was still Amun, who bore a striking resemblance to Nero. But he was no longer laced in Dark. Light shone from his cinnamon and copper - and could that be flecks of gold? - filled eyes. A small worshipful smile graced the corners of his lips, softening his features, making him devastatingly handsome, as only Nero had been and Amun never was.

I sucked in a breath and returned the smile. My eyes running over his features, which were at once new to me and so very familiar as well. I searched for something of the Master of London City. I searched for something I knew should be there, but couldn't find. I'm not sure what it was I was looking for, but I kept searching for it all the same.

Amun just continued to hold me, cradled me as though I was a precious treasure in his arms. His guards all knelt around us, heads bowed, hands fisted over chests. My guards watched on in slight confusion and growing interest. But all of this was superficial, barely registering on my mind, because something was missing from this equation. And I needed to know what it was.

For several stretched moments no one spoke, no one moved, no one breathed. Light still pulsed in the air around us. Mine, but maybe Nut's, I was sure she hadn't left just yet. Which meant this wasn't over.

I started to frown, my brow furrowing as I tried to determine what was out of place. It would have come to me eventually, but I was starting to feel the effects of the fight and the loss of so much Light, coupled with depleted blood. I was so tired, all of a sudden, and the nausea that had begun to plague me earlier made a startling return. I hadn't even been thinking about Sophie and Amun's little entanglement, so it wasn't that causing the queasiness in my stomach. Maybe it was the sensation that something was missing. I started to think I'd never figure it out and then Amun sucked in a tortured breath of air.

It was as though he was sucking it right out of me. I felt like I was suffocating and the emotions that accompanied it included panic and a fair amount of alarm.

I wasn't lacking air, but I had abruptly realised what I'd been searching for and couldn't find.

Amun did not wear my
Sigillum;
the iridescent star-shaped, tattoo-like design on his right cheek. He was not part of my
Lux Lucis Tribuo
line. He was not
my
vampire to care for and love. I'd always hold his Dark, I could see that he only had a smattering of it left. But he was not mine.

Then whose was he? What had happened? What the hell did this mean?

I didn't get an answer to those questions. If Nut was listening, she chose to remain mute. What I did get was one hell of a shock. The type of shock that rocks your soul, tears through your heart and leaves your body in tatters of ribbons in its wake.

Amun swallowed visibly. I watched his Adam's apple bob up and down in his throat. He frowned in consternation briefly, then licked his lips and let out a shaky sound in one long expulsion of air.

Then he said, in a broken but also somehow hopeful voice, "Kiwi?"

Oh my dear Goddess, what have you done?

Stunned silence followed Amun's statement. Stunned for me maybe, just confused and intrigued for everyone else.

Sergei and Natalyia had never met Nero. He had died before I brought them under my line. Sophie may have known of him, I'm unsure. He had kept his community of Nosferatins in Cairo hidden from the world, though. Some knew of him through the website he ran, a place where Nosferatins could meet online and get support. But if she knew
of
him, she certainly would not have known him. And neither would his vampires. They knew Amun Nadeem.

And as for the dragons, they would have been completely in the dark.

None of them knew the Nosferatin who had become a loved friend... and nicknamed me 'Kiwi'.

"What did you just call me?" I croaked, as I scrambled backwards like a crab to get some semblance of space between us.

Amun sat back on his heels comfortably and cocked his head to the side. His eyes running over the length of me, taking everything in. My physique, my bruises and scrapes, the pallor of my skin - which would have been ghostly white with a mixture of shock and heartache.

"I called you Kiwi," he said softly, looking and sounding just like Nero did. "My Kiwi," he added, making me stifle a gasp of surprise.

"That's impossible," I whispered, shaking my head from side to side. He must have found out what Nero used to call me, and was using it now to take back control of the room. Even though he was no longer Dark and I needn't have feared him in that way anymore, he was still vampyre and capable of doing whatever was needed to survive. Maybe he still felt threatened. Any second now he'd choose good or evil, securing his fate. Now I held his Dark dear, he had that choice to make. And if he went evil, I'd ask Sophie for a stake and I'd thrust it in his heart.

Or get her to. Right now the jury was out on that one, because staking Nero just felt wrong.

"I remember it all," he said, still in that soft voice that pulled at my heart and threatened to make me cry. "The moment I first laid eyes on you. How you fought, with such courage, so many vampyres at once, yet lacked the skills to survive the encounter unscathed."

I knew what he was referring to. I had been facing off against a corrupt Nosferatin and a dozen vampires at once, while Michel fought the Nosferatin's kindred. Nero appeared Dream Walking, the first time I had realised there was another with the same talent as me. And he came to my rescue, spinning in the most beautiful way, as he staked vampire after vampire, turning the courtyard we were in to dust.

"I remember training you," he continued and I had to bite my lip to prevent myself from screaming at him to stop. It would do no good to show my fear and weakness. He may have sensed it, but I'd never let it show. "Fighting in a copse of trees in your Auckland. How beautiful you were, how much you could take. I almost pushed you too far. I didn't realise, you never let me see until it was too late. Such courage. Such determination. Even then I knew you were something special. More than just a Nosferatin who stole my breath away."

I could feel myself panting slightly. Sucking in air in an effort not to break down. I needed to stop this charade. I needed to tell Amun he was wrong. That I didn't believe a word spilling from his mouth. That it was lies and a cruel and inhuman way to punish me.

But then, he was no longer Dark. He wasn't doing this as a Dark vampire would, he was washed in Light. So why was he hurting me so much?

"I remember fighting the
Cadre of Eternal Knights
at your side on the rooftop of the Coptic Museum," he went on, cruelly to my mind, yet his words sounding so soft to my ears. "I remember your house in St. Helier's Bay, the huge coffee machine on your bench. The way you looked as sun filtered through your kitchen window in your small flat. I remember waiting for you at your workplace, how uncomfortable those chairs were, but how I felt there was nowhere else I wanted to be. I remember drinking Apple Tea with you when you Dream Walked to me. I remember kissing you. The taste of you. How you smelled."

"Stop!" I all but shouted, my hand up to emphasise the point. "Just stop." That one was more of a plea.

"It is me, Kiwi," he insisted, still softly though. "Can you not tell?"

I stared at the vampire before me. He was definitely still a vampire and not a Nosferatin. But he was Nero. Or at least looked like him, sounded like him, acted like him. And had his bloody memories as well.

I shook my head, biting my bottom lip, struggling for some form of composure. It wasn't working, so, like with most things emotionally crippling in my life, I chose to run away.

I sprang to my feet, hands gripped into tight fists at my side and said the first thing that came to my head.

"I demand you release London's Nosferatins immediately, Master of the City."

Amun/Nero stared back at me, a look of deep seated pain etched across his face.

"Kiwi," he said placatingly.

"Don't," I gritted out between my teeth. "Just don't. You do
not
get to call me that."

He nodded slowly and rose on puppet-like strings to his feet. Nero was graceful and ancient, but even he couldn't pull off that vampire move.

I kept my back rigid, when all I wanted to do was collapse in a ball and cry the rest of the night out. I would not show anything other than strength before this vampire. Dark or Light, he was just playing unfair.

"Very well," Amun said with a smattering of defeat. "For now, I shall leave it, but do not think this is over, Lucinda Monk, Prophesied of my Goddess. You have set me free. I do not understand it, but it is so. Our Goddess has willed it so."

I sure as hell didn't understand it either. Something had happened, something other than washing his soul with my Light and holding his Dark dear. He
should
have been under my
Lux Lucis Tribuo
line by now. But he wasn't. Something had definitely happened that I did not understand.

I needed to gain some perspective, seek counsel and then deal with the fallout then.

"The Nosferatins," I reminded him.

He turned to one of his vampires, a look passed between them, but no words. In seconds the vampire had left the room through the door I knew went straight to Amun's cells. No one said anything while we waited. Amun purposefully avoiding my eyes. Occasionally I saw him flick a glance towards Sophie, who, rightfully so, kept her head down and eyes firmly cast on the floor.

Moments later the vampire guard returned followed by my Nosferatin comrades. Arthur looked a little worse for wear. Cuts and days old bruises scattered across his broad face. The blond of his short hair looked dirty, matching the pallor of his skin. His wide mouth was in a firm thin line and his bright blue eyes took in everything the moment he entered the room. Trevor had some scrapes, but nothing major and was as filthy as his boss. Marie looked worn out and scared, but thankfully was bruise and scrape free from what I could see. She huddled behind the bigger hunters, both men placing themselves between the timid Nosferatin and any vampires, including mine, in the room. Her hands shook slightly as she pulled her mousy brown hair off her face.

My heart ached for her, but the feeling was lost in amongst the pain already setting up home there. I looked towards Amun, forcing myself to face the cause of that pain head on. He held my gaze, and if I wasn't mistaken there was a fair amount of pain in his eyes too.

"As the Champion's envoy this night, I remind you that these Nosferatins are part of your world," I said in a voice laced with unbidden anger. "To have harmed them and prevented them from doing what they are born to do, you have broken age-old covenants between your kind and mine. The Champion wishes all to know this night, that he supports the Nosferatins. And he expects all Masters of Cities and those subject to their rule throughout the world to do the same. Do you understand, Amun Nadeem, Master of London City?"

I couldn't punish him for this. He was a Master of a City and above such penalties. But I could send a message home, backed by the Champion of the
Iunctio
which would do just as well. Words mean something to vampires. Words from the Champion carry weight. I may have been the one speaking them. They may have formed in my brain and not Michel's, but they carried some of the Champion's weight all the same.

Amun bowed his head and fisted his hand above his heart. A move the vampire would have never before done, but one Nero would have made without pause. All his vampires followed suit immediately. I stood, a little numbed to the bone, before them. I could feel the surprise and slight confusion coming from the Nosferatins to the side. I could feel the pride and support coming from my vampires at my back. I could feel the intrigue and amusement rolling off the dragons. But inside I was numb.

"Very well," I said finally, a signal for Amun and his line to stand up. "We're done here."

I turned without waiting for a response and forced myself not to run from the room. Our group followed me silently, the dragons' claws clicking softly against the floor, clearly not thinking we were out of danger yet, so unwilling to change back to human form. Sergei returned my Svante, stakes and knife to me without a word. I returned them to their rightful places, my mind elsewhere though. My body just acting on autopilot. Sliding the Svante sword home down my back, sheathing the dagger in my waist band, slipping the stakes in each side pocket. Fully armed again I should have felt complete. But there was a gaping hole in my chest, where the part of me that loved Nero used to be.

Come to me, ma douce
, Michel whispered in my mind interrupting my morose thoughts.
Get home to the house and Dream Walk here. I have already instructed Marcus and Matthias to be vigilant. They will inform your vampyres, you need not waste time instructing them if you do not feel up to it right now.

How was it that my kindred could tell exactly what I needed the most? Michel knew me, he sensed my emotions, we shared a Bond. But his comfort and support always seemed to surprise me. Because it was exactly what I needed, when I needed it the most. He pushed me to be a better person when a firmer hand was required, and he knew just when to be my pillar, and offer open arms and unconditional love.

Thank you
, I whispered back. Vaguely aware that Marcus was talking to Sophie, Arthur and the rest of the Nosferatins, as Matthias thanked the dragons and sent them on their way. Whether they had told my vampires what was happening yet, I wasn't sure, but Sergei had the car door open when we arrived and Natalyia was shepherding me inside with great care.

I don't remember the drive back to Michel's house. I just knew that dawn was approaching and everyone was silent in the car. Natalyia led me to Michel's bedroom on the top most floor. She helped me strip off my jacket and Svante holster, my shoes and dagger followed swiftly behind the rest. She bathed the room in soft and warm light from the side table lamps, ensured the curtains were closed, even though the shutters would come down in due course. And fluffed pillows, filled a glass with water and set it by the bed, then pulled the covers back and helped me climb beneath the crisply laundered sheets.

She left just as silently, the door clicking closed softly at her back. I lay there for a moment and just breathed. Staring at the ceiling and the pattern of light cast across the surface from the lamp beside the bed. My thoughts were in turmoil, my heart split in two. I didn't want to be as affected as I was by what had happened. But how could I not? I didn't understand it. I didn't believe it was possible.

But part of me knew that Nero had in fact come back.

I needed Michel and he was waiting. So, I let myself fall into that black nothingness and Dream Walked down the joining and Bond connection into my kindred's open arms.

"Shhh," I heard him murmur soothingly against the skin at the side of my neck. "Shhh, my love, you are safe. Nothing can harm you here." Through his softly spoken words I heard myself crying,
unaware I had dropped my guard to that degree and let the tears flow. Michel's warm hand rubbed circles over my back repeatedly, his hot breath washed down my skin in a familiar and welcome wave, his lips brushed lovingly across my flesh, whilst his other hand threaded his fingers tenderly in my hair.

And his
Sanguis Vitam
pulsed at my shields, asking to come in. I let them down and let him heal me, wiping away the pain of the battle not just from my body, but also my heart and mind.

"Michel," I managed to get out between hiccups.

"Be still,
ma douce
. Just let it all out. I have you. I will not let you fall."

I tightened my arms around his waist and buried my face into his chest, savouring his signature scent; fresh sea salt air and newly mown grass. My body shuddered, releasing the last of my tension and I sagged into his hold. He continued to rub circles, to softly kiss and caress my skin. He murmured words in a mixture of French and English, all of them as indecipherable as the next, but meaning so much in that exact moment.

Time stalled. The world ceased to exist. Seconds turned into minutes as I came back to myself at last. Michel did this. Brought me home, centred me, made the bad in the world fade into him; all that is good in my life. I could never survive what I was forced to face on an almost daily basis without this man beside me. He was my rock. The scales that balanced my world. My anchor in a storm tossed sea.