Kiss of the Dragon (19 page)

"Who?" Michel immediately shot back. "Who knew that he'd kissed you?" Of course that would be the one supposed memory Amun had mentioned that Michel would pick.

Nero had come to my aid when the Dark had been encroaching and Michel could not reach me. The only way Nero could call me back to the Light was to kiss me. Or so he said. Michel did not like it, neither did I for that matter. But Nero made no excuses and let his enjoyment be known.

No one else, other those who were present - Nero, myself and Michel - knew about that kiss.

"Holy fuck," I whispered into the silence.

"Holy fuck indeed," Michel replied, making me smile involuntarily.

I let a long breath of air out, Michel began to rub gentle circles across my back.

"What now?" I asked, relaxing into his touch again.

"What do you wish to do about it? He has not joined your line, he is merely washed in your Light. There is nothing required of you. You can walk away."

Of course that would be what Michel would want most of all. For me to have nothing to do with Nero. And even calling Amun, Nero felt wrong, but it didn't stop me from wanting to see him again. And to say I did would only harm Michel. But how could I not see my old friend and trainer again? Even if he was inexplicably a vampire now instead of a hunter.

I needed to know how it happened, what the repercussions would be. But also needed to make sure he was OK. Nero would have done the same for me.

"All right," Michel said and I picked up on the agitation in his voice, or maybe his touch, or maybe I just knew him so well, I knew he'd be feeling it. "The Ambrosia is in London, he, out of all of us, would know. Perhaps he has already felt the power change in the city. I felt it, but I am the Champion. He is your best bet anyway."

"You felt a power change? And what exactly is that?" Had Amun lost his position of Master of the City? Who got his power, I only got his Dark.

"The Light is stronger than the Dark, you know this,
ma douce
. Amun Nadeem, or Nero, whatever name suffices, is now almost all Light. He is stronger."

I digested that information. Perhaps Amun - I couldn't call him Nero yet - was strong enough to break free of Viktor Davydov now. Perhaps Amun would
now
be able to aid us in uncovering what was going on in London.

Michel's body relaxed into mine like a well fed cat basking in the sun. "Now do you see why I insist you are a natural at politics,
ma belle?
"

I pushed playfully against his shoulder, but my mind was whirring with new possibilities. Amun had never been an ally before; too Dark, too dangerous, too much under the influence of a crazy, vengeful, powerful vampire. But now he just might. The Master of London City would be a strategic vampire on our side. On the side of Nosferatins. On the side of the Champion.

Michel may not have liked the idea that I would have to see Amun/Nero again, but he couldn't deny the benefit of doing so, politically.

But before I did that, I needed to be prepared. And knowledge was power. It would be daylight in London now, so I couldn't seek out the Ambrosia until the sun set. But I could arrange to meet
with him.

"Can you..?" I began to ask and Michel shushed me with a well placed kiss on the lips.

Then he murmured against them, "Leave it with me. I shall contact the Ambrosia on your behalf."

I smiled against his lips and then kissed him back. We kissed and cuddled for several minutes, pushing thoughts of politics and supernatural anomalies out of our head.

But, I guess, for Michel, the threat of Nero would never be far from his mind from now on. Because as I prepared to Walk back to my body, he whispered against the skin above his latest
Sigillum
...

"You are mine."

I came back to my body with a start. Usually, after having spent time with Michel on a Dream Walk, I would languidly return to the here and now. But too much was happening. Too many consequences to consider. And if I was honest with myself, Michel's last words had cut my heart in two. I hated that he felt threatened, even remotely, by Nero's possible return. He had no reason to. When Nero was my trainer, he had never really stood a chance. And now he was a vampire, with Nero's hunter memories. The idea that I would be tempted away from Michel by this new version - Nero 2.0 - was ludicrous.

But I could also understand Michel's reaction. Were the tables to be turned, would I not act a little jealously too?

I resolved to put his mind at rest, but how I was going to accomplish this, I didn't really know. I couldn't leave London without seeing Amun again. Without seeing
Nero
again. I just couldn't. And although there were political reasons why seeing him and cementing a relationship with him immediately was essential, I wasn't going to lie to myself either. I wanted to see Nero for me. And I knew Michel would know this.

I truly hated hurting him. But what else could I do?

I lifted the sheets on the bed and stared at my now naked body, letting a few delicious sensory memories wash over me from Michel's touch. Then, because sleep would be impossible, decided to run a bath. Mandarin bubbles would make everything so much simpler. I thought about phoning Amisi and letting her know what was up. If anyone needed to know Nero had returned, it was Amisi. But I truly felt that a personal visit was called for with this, plus I needed to confirm a few things first. After I revisited Amun, I'd Dream Walk to my best friend.

I turned my wandering mind to Sophie's reaction to Amun. I'd thought, at the time, that had Amun not been Dark, and had he not been about to execute London's Nosferatins, that I would wish her well. None of those obstacles existed any longer. Amun was now almost all Light and Arthur and his team were free. But, and here is the part I proved just how much of a woman I really am, Amun is now Nero. So how did I feel about the Parisian Nosferatin mixing it up with my former friend?

I grimaced at the instinctive reaction to protect Nero and drill Sophie with an Inquisition style confrontation. Was she good enough for him? Goddess! I was pathetic. Not even three hours had passed since Nero's supposed return and I had already claimed him as one of mine. I have a small group of friends. I am loyal to them to the end. I would lay down my life for each and every one of them. Just as Nero had laid down his life for me.

And now he was back. Could I finally pay back that debt? My mind blanked for a moment and then clarity came rushing back in. If Nero wanted to join with Sophie, I would do everything in my power to make it so. It was the least I could do.

But first, I wanted to make sure she was worthy.

I dried off and dressed in comfy yoga pants and a T-shirt, then went in search of the Nosferatin.

Despite daylight having arrived and the shutters all being down to protect from the sun, Sophie was still awake. And sitting with Marcus and Matthias in the parlour, playing... poker? I shook my head as I entered, then just watched for a few moments as she proceeded to clean the floor with them.

"Read 'em and weep, boys!" she exclaimed, in her adorable French accent, as she fanned out her cards on the table between them.

"Bloody hell!" Marcus swore swiftly, running a frustrated hand through his blond hair. "Where did you learn to play like that?"

Sophie shrugged, pulling the wad of cash from the centre of the table towards her. "Many vampires in Paris like the game."

"And you just happen to have been taught by the best?" Matthias guessed.

"It was either learn to play and win, or suffer unimaginable shame. The kindred vampires of my Nosferatin friends are very good at making you feel small. I refuse to feel small for anyone."

Point one to Sophie.

"Hey, Luce!" Marcus said, noticing me at the doorway for the first time.

"Hey," I said as Matthias nodded and Sophie stashed the cash in her jeans pocket.

"Wanna play?" Marcus asked, shuffling the cards.

Before I could answer, Sophie stood and dusted herself down. "I think I shall head to bed." Was she avoiding me? "Thanks for the game."

"I'd say you're welcome," Matthias drawled, "but I appear to be one hundred Euros lighter, so don't hold your breath."

"I reckon we could take her again," Marcus suggested. "Best of three?" he asked Sophie with a wink.

Sophie's gaze flicked to me and then the floor. Yep, avoiding me. "I'm really quite tired. It's been a long night," she said.

"Yes," I agreed. "But you're not going to bed just yet."

I hadn't said the words with any particular weight behind them, but my two personal guards knew me well. Within a second they were standing and walking for the door, both muttering various excuses about showers and sleeping and I think, one of them said something about checking on the sun. Their eagerness to vacate the room not lost on either myself or Sophie.

Sophie sighed into the silence left by their departure and turned to face me, shoulders back, head held high.

"I suppose you wish to discuss my behaviour." She didn't wait for me to reply, but went straight down on bended knee, hand fisted across chest, head bowed. "I apologise, Prophesied, Kindred of the Champion, for my... unacceptable response and actions in front of the Master of London City. I do not know what came over me, but I take full responsibility."

I stared down at her for a long moment, battling not to growl. I never did like it when my friends - or in Sophie's case, equals - bowed to me.

"Don't be ridiculous." She flinched. "You never need to bow to me."

Her eyes shot up to my face. I smiled and threw myself onto a couch, legs up on the seat, stretched out and getting comfortable.

"So," I started. "Do you like him?" Did that sound pyjama party-ish or what?

Sophie slowly stood up from her kneel and took a tentative seat in an armchair across from me.

"I'm not sure," she replied carefully.

"Well, it looked like you liked him," I offered.

"I do not know him well. How can I like him?"

I stared at her for a second. "Sophie, who is your betrothed kindred?"

"His name is Gerard
Piqué. He is three hundred and twenty years old. He has known my family for generations."

"An arranged joining?" I asked softly.

She hesitated only briefly, then nodded her head. "I was promised to him before I was born." I frowned at that notion. "It is how it is done in Paris," she added, obviously feeling the need to explain. Or justify.

I licked my lips. I didn't want to offend anyone's cultural beliefs, but I couldn't help digging deeper.

"Do you love him?" I asked and watched her mask fall into place. That Nosferatin mask you wear in front of vampires, to never let them see your fear.

"I love him like a brother," she replied, a little woodenly.

"That's good," I said casually, hoping she'd relax a little and let me in.

For a long moment neither of us spoke and her mask stayed firmly in place.

"Can I ask a very personal question?" I didn't meet her eyes. Looking instead into the fire burning in the hearth. It would allow a moment for her to school herself.

"Are you not already?" she asked back. I smiled, but still stared at the flames.

"One thing to learn about me, Sophie, I never beat about the bush."

"Beat about the bush? I do not know this saying."

I turned to look at her finally, my face still smiling. "I'm direct. If something is on my mind, invariably I'll spill it. Michel thinks it's amusing. Gregor, the Master of Wellington City and a friend, thinks it will get me killed."

"Ah," she said, a small smile of her own appearing. "Yves is like that."

"He is?" I asked, surprised. "Yves appeared more diplomatic than that."

"Oh, he can be, but among friends, he - how do you say? - tells it like it is." She nodded to herself, pleased with her command of English.

"Well, then, you'll be used to it."

"Yes. I also know how to avoid answering him when needed." Her eyes met mine in a challenge. "So, ask away."

I was liking her more and more. Sophie Delacroix was not a pushover.

"How did you react to Gerard using power to say the name of our kind?" It
was
a personal question. A Nosferatin could react in any number of ways, some of which could be quite embarrassing. And extremely private.

She sucked in a breath at my audacity. Maybe Yves wasn't quite as brutal as me when it came to
telling it how it is
.

"I...I..." She moistened her lips, hesitating, maybe finding the courage to answer. Deciding whether I deserved to know this personal thing or not. We weren't friends. But I think we could become friends. Given time. "I simply fell to my knees at his feet. Head bowed." Her pale cheeks flushed a crimson red. It was delightful, but I did not like the reason why it happened at all.

I think we had both stopped breathing. Me, out of shock and horror for the implications her reaction meant in the long term should she join with this vampire. And her, out of shame and mortification that I now knew.

I slowly let my breath out, which must have been a signal to Sophie to do the same, because I saw her chest deflate even as her hands clutched the armrests of her chair.

I struggled to think of what to say. Offer sympathy? Empathise? Outright tell her to get away? What would do the least damage? What would I want to hear?

"What are you going to do?" I finally asked. She knew I felt shocked at her situation. She would have guessed I wouldn't want to be where she now is. And she would appreciate me respecting her own decisions, her own arguments in this regard. It was Sophie's life. Her
eternal
life at risk here. Not mine.

Her whole body relaxed immediately. Each finger releasing the armrests individually, like claws being plucked from the bark of a tree.

"I do not know," she said softly. "This is the first time I have considered disobeying my family in this. The consequences could be harsh."

"Does Yves know your position?"

She shook her head. "No one was there when Gerard tested if we were compatible kindred and he made me..." - she paused and blinked a few times - " he made me promise not to share what happened with anyone else. He said it reflected poorly on me. That it showed a weakness other vampires would exploit."

I felt my Light thrum inside me menacingly. I forced it to remain hidden, to not frighten the Nosferatin in front of me. Who had changed from the fierce warrior of earlier that evening, to a small and lost young girl.

I would meet this Gerard one day. And I would make sure he knew I knew. And he would never think to
exploit
the fear in a Nosferatin again.

Sophie had just made my small group of friends list. She was mine now, for the rest of my life.

Silence stretched between us, but I don't think either of us cared. Sophie was lost in memories and consequences, and I was trying to think of how to convince her to run as fast as her Nosferatin legs could carry her, without getting her Nosferatin stubborn back up in the process. The fire crackled, the old Grandfather clock in the hallway struck ten. We should both be asleep by now, but sleep wouldn't come easily.

"Nero trained me," I said out of nowhere. "Taught me most of what I know." Sophie's stunning blue eyes met mine, an invitation to keep going obviously there. "I'd corresponded with him for over a year via emails and the forum on his website, before I laid eyes on him for the very first time."

My mind wandered back to that day, when he appeared Dream Walking and saved my arse, not to mention Michel's in the process. Although Michel would have you believe he had it all under control. And he probably did. But Nero appeared like an angel and put on quite a show.

"He was... magical. Spinning like a panther through the air. So swift and silent. I remember thinking he was poetry in motion. I remember thinking I wanted to be just like him."

I smiled at the memory, at the feelings he evoked in me that day. And I didn't really know him then. It wasn't until much later that we spent time together and became fast friends.

"He was over five hundred years old when I met him. His eyes flashed gold in amongst the copper and cinnamon, just like a vampire's." Only truly ancient Nosferatins did that. "He could obviously Dream Walk. And he was the fastest and most proficient hunter I have ever met. But there was more to him than age and experience. He had a heart so big. Along with his kindred Nosferatu, Nafrini, he kept a community of Nosferatins safe in Cairo, hidden for centuries while all other maturing Nosferatins died out. He was the first person to make me feel confident that my decision to join was correct."

For centuries the Nosferatin had denied the Nosferatu their power, by hiding and allowing their first borns - hunters like me - to die at age twenty-five, unjoined. They considered the sacrifice worth it, because the vampires had been turning so Dark. Without our joining power the vampires were weakened. But we died. Only in the past century have the Nosferatins come out of hiding and started to rejoin. Rebuilding our numbers is going to take time. And my particular line of hunters have lost all chance to live on after me. My parents only had the one child. The sibling they would have had after me - who would have borne a first-born hunter one day - never eventuated, because my parents were killed shortly after my birth.