The Taste Of A Warrior

Part 2

Posted: October 2003
Author: Dhvana

*****

I hear voices.

Not homicidal killer voices that urge me to go on a deadly rampage, but worried, angry voices. Voices I don't recognize. Why are these voices near me? But most importantly, why are they keeping me awake?

Not that I am giving up. I am holding on with every fiber of my being, with the very last of my strength.

But I am so tired, and it's so warm, that a little rest cannot hurt. I only want to close my eyes for a second, sleep for a few minutes, and then I'll be able to continue with my fight.

"Hey! Hey, wake up! Don't you dare fucking close your eyes!"

Damnit! It's the voices again. Correction, a voice. Male, I think. American. Impatient.

Typical.

"How much longer till we get there?"

"Just a few more minutes," answers the other voice, softer, gentler, also American, but feminine this time.

"I don't know if he's going to last that long."

"He's made it this far."

"We should have gotten him there an hour ago."

There is an accusation in his voice, and the woman grits her teeth.

"Look, I said I was sorry! Leave it the fuck alone!"

"I called you the second they went into the pub, Liv. Where the fuck were you?"

"I was busy."

"You're supposed to be doing your job."

"I was doing my job! I was in the middle of a chase when you called."

"What chase?" he asks, though he sounds as if he already knows, and his counterpart sighs.

"I almost had him, Lighe," she says, her voice wistful and a little annoyed. "I was so close, I could see him, I could almost touch him."

The man laughs darkly, shaking his head. "You never had him, Liv, and you never will. George will always be at least a hundred steps ahead of us. He will tease us till the end of time, but he will never truly let us near him. And when Marton and Sean find out you left a life in danger because you were out chasing a fantasy, they're going to rip you a new one."

"They'll understand."

"No, they won't. Give up on George, already. You're wasting time that could be better spent killing other vamps."

"You're one to talk. I didn't see any smoldering remains when I pulled up. What did you do, microwave some popcorn, set up camp on the lawn, and spy on them through the blinds?"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me, right? Do I look suicidal to you? I am NOT taking on Orlando alone. That's why I called you. You're supposed to back me up."

"I'm here now, aren't it?"

"Fucking lot of good that does us. Orlando's gone and this guy--shit! He's fading again. Come on, man. Don't give up now!"

The voice must be talking to me, because it is followed by several pats to my cheeks.

I want to tell him to cut it the fuck out, but my mouth has grown too heavy to form words, so I have to work with what I can manage.

"Are you growling at me?" he asks, laughter in his voice. "Good--keep it up! He's a tenacious one, Liv, I'll give him that."

"He would have to be for Orlando to take an interest in him."

"That's one vamp who always did have excellent taste in victims. Nothing but the best for him."

"I can't believe you're complimenting the bastard."

"Hey, if he didn't have great taste, this one would be gone by now."

"Well, tell him to hold on for just a few more seconds. We're here."

I wonder where ‘here' is. My eyes see nothing but blurs of gray as I am pulled out of the vehicle and placed on a stretcher. There is a slight pressure in my arms as needles are inserted into my skin, but otherwise, I don't feel anything.

"Think he'll make it?" my female voice says as I am wheeled away from them.

"Yeah, I think he will. He's a fighter."

"LIV! ELIJAH! GET YOUR ASSES IN HERE--NOW!"

"Oh, fuck," the male voice mutters, and then I can't hear them anymore. Now that my anchors are gone, I find I can close my eyes without interruption and am finally allowed to rest.

When I wake up, my body feels as if it has been immersed in concrete. It is a struggle to get my stone laden eyes to even open, but somehow, I manage.

"Oh, yeah!" a triumphant voice screeches to my left as a young man jumps to his feet. "I knew you'd pull through! They had their doubts, but man, I knew!" He runs to the door and throws it open. "Paul, you owe me fifty bucks!" he shouts down the hall, then turns back to me.

A pair of blue eyes embraces me, or so it seems. I've never seen such a large pair of blue eyes in my life--they give the impression of taking over half his face. I try to pull away as the blue eyes carefully hug me, but I am too weak to resist.

"How are you feeling?" he says, finally moving back and I test my mouth out for the first time since I woke up. My tongue feels swollen, my throat dry, and I don't know if I can speak.

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry--here."

He places a straw between my lips and I suck on it, drinking every last drop of water from the cup.

"Better?"

"Yeah, thanks," I say, my voice barely audible, and my eyes widen at the sound.

Now this is a new experience for me. I've never been forced to be quiet before. Hell, half the people I know would pay good money to be here right now, laughing at me, knowing I can't say a thing to shut them up.

"So? How are you?"

The blue eyes are talking again from the chair where he is waiting, and I turn my head to look at him. "I hurt. Everywhere."

"Being drained will do that," he nods. "Anything else?"

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know," he says with a nonchalant wave of his hand, avoiding my eyes. "Sensitivity to daylight. Extreme aching in your gums. Overwhelming need for blood. . ."

"No."

He laughs at the finality of my answer. "Good to hear it. Just thought I'd check. So Orlando didn't give you anything to drink?"

"Orlando?"

"The vamp who attacked you."

Images flash through my mind of laughing brown eyes, an innocently seductive smile, of a body that sends a pulse of desire through my weakened veins.

Orlando.

So there is a name for the too-beautiful face, for the creature who let me fuck him so thoroughly, who brought me more pleasure than anyone else before, and then took everything from me. We never exchanged names. It was never meant to go beyond that one night, and now I know why. I wasn't supposed to live.

"No, he never gave me anything to drink, other than buying a few rounds at the pub."

"Good. Well, Colin, it looks like you're going to survive."

"How do you know my name?"

"Grabbed your wallet while waiting for help to arrive. Thought you might want it when you woke up."

"If I woke up."

"Well, yeah," he shrugs. "But I figured you would. You seem like the type."

"What sort of type is that?"

"Like me. We don't give up easily. Someone hurts us, we want to hurt them back, and we'll keep trying until we do."

There is a fierceness to his voice that tells his entire story. Fuck, he seems too young for such lethal determination. He should be at a university somewhere, studying for exams and getting pissed every night, not looking at me with death etched into his face.

"One of them hurt you?" I ask and he looks down, picking at the upholstery on the chair with stubby fingernails.

"Not in the way they hurt you, no. I've never been bitten, knock on wood. They just pulled one of their usual selfish stunts--kill an entire family and leave one alive to suffer the loss, most likely driving that one mad at the horrible violence they've been forced to witness."

"You were the one?"

He nods. "I was the one. It's all a game to them. We're just a means to keep themselves amused as they wait for eternity to end. If we get lucky, we're the ones who put an end to their eternity."

"Did you get him? The. . ."

"Vampire," he suggests helpfully, eyes dancing with amusement.

"Whatever." Vampire--I can't say that word aloud, not yet. That would turn nightmares into reality, and it's not a reality I'm ready to face. "Did you get the miserable fuck that killed your family?"

"I got her. And once I got her, I decided to stick around and help get all the rest."

"How's that coming?"

He shrugs. "Not so good. They're tough fuckers to kill."

"Need a hand?"

The blue eyes lock onto mine, a predatory smile growing on his face. "I knew you were like me. Listen, why don't you get some rest. No need rushing into this. Once you're better, I'll take you to Sean and Marton, and then we'll talk."

He rises to his feet, taking my hand in his and squeezing it gently. "If you need anything, just yell. There's always someone within earshot. And if they give you any shit, just tell them to send for Elijah, and I'll knock some sense into them."

"Thanks, Elijah. Not just for this but for. . . you know. . . for saving my life."

"You're welcome," he says with a gap-toothed grin. "Now sleep. I'll be back to check up on you in a couple of hours."

I watch as he leaves, expecting that after everything I've learned, everything I've been through, I won't be able to sleep. Too much has happened. But before I can even begin to inventory the drastic change in my life, I find myself nodding off and fall fast asleep.

I am humming as I walk through the hotel lobby, stopping sharply in the middle of the floor when I realize that the tuneless noise is, indeed, coming from me. Chuckling, I continue towards the elevator and return to my mindless hum.

He must have been better than I thought. I haven't hummed after a kill in over a decade, though it's probably the fucking he gave me that's adding the bounce to my step more than anything else.

God, he was incredible.

At least part of him will now live on forever inside of me, a worthy tribute to such a fine warrior. No other vampire could truly appreciate him the way I can.

Sliding the key into the elevator panel, I press the button for my floor and the elevator shakes into life.

I feel like dancing.

I wonder if the people watching me through the security camera would enjoy watching me dance.

Too bad--they don't deserve it. I'll wait until I reach my room.

The door slides open and I step out onto my floor. Unlocking the door, I kick of my shoes and begin whirling around the room, dancing to the hum that is singing through my veins.

"You're in a good mood tonight."

"I've had a wonderful evening," I say, pausing long enough to kiss his cheek then go spinning off again. "And you?"

"It was. . . entertaining."

He watches me with his amused brown eyes, fingers steepled in front of him, left leg crossed over the right. Such a dapper gentleman, in his fine Armani suit and carefully styled dark gray hair. His tailored appearance, however, is softened by the easy smile and the laugh lines around his eyes. Not to mention his outright demonic sense of humor.

"Our favorite nuisances are in town."

"I know. My little cherub was stalking me tonight."

"I enjoyed a game with my porcelain goddess as well. I'm surprised they caught up with us so quickly."

Oh, fuck. I know what that means. "You think we should leave."

He nods. "I think we should leave."

I sigh, feeling the weight of our existence settle on my shoulders. Suddenly, I no longer feel like dancing and instead slump into the chair across from him. "But I like Ireland."

"I know you do, and we can come back, in a hundred years or so."

"Is that why you're here? To kick me out?"

"I'm afraid so, little one. But this might cheer you up--Gale and Eric are in Venice."

"Venice!" I jump up from my chair and begin spinning again. "You know how much I love Italy!"

"I know," he smirks.

"All the memories, the buildings, the people--it's like my second home." I pause, frowning. "Or is it my third? Oh, fuck, maybe it's my first. It's not my first home, is it, George?"

"No," he chuckles, "it isn't."

"Okay. Good. Italy--my second home!" I grin, dancing around the room. "And Eric and Gale--I can't even remember the last time I saw them."

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me."

"I wonder what they've been up to? Mmm. . . I can't wait until they're up me."

George rolls his eyes and rises to his feet. "You can stop right there. Keep your sordid little details to yourself."

"You know you love my sordid little details," I tease, running a finger over his chest.

"You want to lose that finger?" he asks, arching an eyebrow.

"Depends on where you plan on having me lose it."

George sighs, and shakes his head. "Do you ever give up?"

"Not until I have you on my knees in front of me begging for more."

"I've never gotten on my knees for anyone."

"Then it's past time you started to live a little."

"I'm twice your age."

"Age means nothing to us," I say in my sultriest voice.

"And in all the time we've known each other, have I ever given you the glimmer of a hint that I might one day accept your outrageous proposal?"

I frown, biting my lower lip, as I quickly rush through all of our centuries of friendship. Of course, my memory isn't what it used to be, because I don't care, but then I give an exultant grin. "Once. It was during my seventies glam stage when I absolutely sparkled with glitter makeup and was wearing those tight leather pants and that ridiculous puffy shirt."

He cocks his head with a questioning look. "Wasn't that last week?"

"I like to reminisce," I laugh. "But as I was saying, you gave me a hint then."

"If you're thinking of the incident I think you're thinking of, you're wrong. I'd just eaten a woman whose blood had more chemical substances in it than red blood cells. I would have sworn on my own grave that I had two heads, fourteen fingers, and that the grass was made of Jell-O. If I seemed to be even the tiniest bit interested, I assure you, it was a mistake."

"Methinks the lady doth deny that she propositioned me too much."

George gives me the strangest look, then starts to laugh, a sound that lets me know he's not even going to try arguing with me. "You know, some of us mature with age, become wiser and more powerful in our stillness."

"If I wanted to stagnate," I grimace, "I'd be human. I'm much better off being a vampire and slightly insane."

"I think so, too. Otherwise, I never would have chosen you," he says, taking my face between his hands and kissing my forehead. "I'll call Eric and inform him of our plans. We leave tomorrow night. Be ready on time for a change."

"Bitch bitch bitch," I say, rolling my eyes. "I'm a little bit late one time—"

He snorts. "A week. A month. And then there was the time you were late by an entire fucking year."

"—and I never hear the end of it."

"Just. . . be ready."

"Yes, master," I say, bowing low before him.

"You know, I like that. You might want to make a habit of it."

I stick my tongue out at him as he heads towards the door.

"But not that," he says, opening the door, then pauses. "You know, I have been trying to place that smell ever since you walked in here. Cinnamon?"

"And cloves," I nod.

"I'll bet he was delicious."

I smile, remembering my beautiful warrior. "You have no idea."

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