The Taste Of A Warrior

Part 3

Posted: October 2003
Author: Dhvana

*****

I would kill for a cigarette right now. I've searched the entire room from top to bottom, and didn't even find a fucking dust bunny, much less a single flake of nicotine injected tobacco. While Elijah had the foresight to grab my wallet, unfortunately, he didn't think to grab my smokes.

And just when I was beginning to like the kid.

"How're you feeling?"

Speak of the devil. I turn around to give Elijah a running start, then pause, catching a scent the air.

I know that smell. I know that smell better than my own.

I walk over and start sniffing the space around him--it's definitely coming from him. Elijah's blue eyes grow bewildered and he backs up until he runs into the door.

"Colin, what are you doing?"

"You've been smoking!"

His eyes widen with horror. "Shit! Is it that obvious? If Sean catches me again—"

"Where?" I say, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Where are they?"

At first, there is confusion, but the understanding is quick to sink in, and he smirks at me. "I've got them hidden outside."

"Take me."

He looks me up and down. "Well, if you insist. . . Oh, you mean to the cigarettes."

Is he teasing me? A fellow smoker, is he actually daring to risk coming between me and my addiction when he knows the agony I'm in? "Do I look amused?"

"No, you look desperate. Come on," he says, nodding towards the hall, and I grin.

"Good answer."

"Just don't let Sean catch you," he says, taking me by the hand and leading me through the maze they call home. Or headquarters. I'm still not clear on the whole thing, but then, this is the first time I've left the bedroom since waking up. I'm hoping now that I'm no longer an invalid, they'll start being a little more free with the details. "Marton's making him quit and the slightest hint of smoke drives him mad."

"So, because he's suffering, we have to suffer."

"Right. Unless we're careful. Or play dumb. I find that playing dumb helps a lot. He doesn't fall for it, of course, but at least you're doing him the favor of not outright admitting one of the newfound joys of smoking is being able to drive him nuts with it."

"Such a loving atmosphere," I comment as he opens a side door that leads us onto an almost unnaturally green lawn lined by carefully cultivated hedges, and an abundance of roses, gardenias, lilies, all in full bloom. Vampire killers and landscape architects--who would have guessed?

"If you want love, I can always send you back to Orlando."

"Elijah, I swear, if you weren't leading me to tobacco—"

"You'd take me up on that offer?" he asks, his voice filled with innocence, though his blue eyes are twinkling with mischief.

"Forget the cigarettes," I growl. "I'll just set you on fire and smoke you. You've probably got enough nicotine in your blood to substitute for a cigarette just fine."

"Oh, come on, Colin, you can't deny you find him attractive," he says, carefully glancing around and pulling a pack from one of the hedges. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have taken him home and let him have his wicked way with you."

"Because you're feeding my addiction," I say, taking the pack from his hand, "I'm going to resist punching you right now."

"You're too kind."

"Besides," I say, lighting the end of a cigarette, "he didn't have his wicked way with me. It was the other way around."

Elijah's jaw literally drops. "No fucking way."

"Fraid so." I inhale deeply, my entire body shuddering with relief as the smoke fills my lungs. "Oh, god, yes," I sigh, sitting down on the grass. "Elijah, I could kiss you right now."

"In a minute. Did you mean it when you said you. . . I mean, were you serious about being the one. . . that you. . . "

"Why are you looking at me like I've grown a pair of fangs?" I ask, frowning up at him. I'd never seen Elijah so thrown before. You'd think I'd just told him I painted china for a living.

He sits down cross-legged in front of me, looking at me as if I'm the most fascinating person in the world. "It's just that, in the entire time I've been hunting him--even if, in the grand scheme of things, it hasn't been for that long--I've never known him to be the bottom."

"And you would know this how?"

His cheeks turn a bright pink, and I hide my grin behind my hand as I take another drag.

"Look, it's not like that. We can tell from the autopsies alone. But I've studied him. I know him." The blue eyes narrow as he stares at me, searching my face. "There must be something about you that appealed to him, something that made you special."

"Well, this is me we're talking about," I say with a cocky smile.

"Yeah," he says with an absent shrug, "I figure he made a mistake also."

"Hey!" I punch him lightly in the shoulder and Elijah laughs, removing the pack from my hand and grabbing a cigarette for himself. As I watch him inhale, the tension easing from the body as the nicotine hits his veins, I'm once again struck by the terrible contrasts in this boy's life. Half of me feels like smacking the cigarette from his hand and giving him a speech on how smoking is bad from him. The other half knows he's earned it and I'm ready to light him another one.

"Look, I don't know why he chose me, not for any of it, but I do know I can't wait to see him again."

"Oh, it was that good, huh?" he teases, but I don't even smile.

"I plan on ripping his fucking heart out."

"Go right ahead," he shrugs. "Won't do any good."

"Then what will do some good?"

"Fire. Sunlight. Decapitation. And we have these nifty little bullets that, when you hit them just right, releases this incendiary fluid that sets their blood on fire and burns them from the inside out. It is so cool!" His blue eyes are practically glowing, his body bouncing with excitement. "I can't wait for you to see it! But don't ask me what's in them--talk to our research and development department."

"The details don't concern me, so long as it works."

He gives me a hard look. "Do you know how to shoot a gun?"

I stare at him for a moment, considering lying, then shake my head. "No."

"I'll take you out to the shooting range later. It'll give you an idea of what to expect. And who knows? Maybe one day, you'll even be able to hit something."

"Aren't you just a bundle of wit," I grumble, though I'm actually glad for any help he can give me, just so long as it gets me closer to my goal of killing that fanged cunt.

"I try," he winks. "Listen, we should—"

"ELIJAH! Are you fucking smoking in my fucking garden?"

His eyes widen and he stubs his cigarette out in the grass. "As I was saying, we should probably get out of here before Sean finds us. He usually comes out to meditate around this time." I arch an eyebrow and he grins, rising to his feet. "Says it helps him with the cravings."

Reluctantly grinding my cigarette in the dirt, I stand up and follow Elijah towards the tall blond standing near the door with his hands on his hips. Green eyes study our every move and even I can feel the power in his gaze, in the grace of his body. I don't envy the vampires who go up against this one.

"You must be our patient," Sean says as we approach.

"Used to be," I nod. "I got better."

"So I see. Elijah here says you were interested in becoming a member of our organization."

"Are you vampire killers or wiseguys?"

His lips quirk into a smile. "A little of both. Do you really think you're up to this?"

"You mean killing the son of a bitch who tried to kill me? Yeah, I think I can manage."

"You ever killed anyone before?"

"No, but it isn't like I'm killing anything human, is it?"

"Not anymore. Though they were, once, most of them."

When he says this, I have to ask. "Orlando?"

Sean nods. "Several hundred years ago."

Even I'm a little taken aback by the thought. Several hundred years? He barely looked older than twenty, twenty-five, and he blended in so easily. There was absolutely nothing about him that made me suspect he was anything less than a normal bloke, someone I could have easily seen myself becoming friends with, maybe even enjoy a relationship with.

I have got to stop thinking like this. I cannot think like this. I cannot let myself be tricked into thinking he's anything like me, and I refuse to be attracted to him, not anymore, not after what he did. The only thing I want to put in him now is one of Elijah's exploding bullets.

And I know just the place I want to put it.

"I'm guessing from the smile on your face that you haven't changed your mind."

"You guess correctly."

"You'll have to go through a trial period, of course. Elijah, can I count on you to show him the ropes?"

"I'd be happy to," he answers, practically bursting with the energy to get started.

"Great. As soon as we get Marton's approval, we'll get you set up."

"Marton? But Sean—"

"Elijah."

The young man's mouth shuts with a snap. There's no arguing with the tone in Sean's voice. Elijah stares down at the ground, grumbling something under his breath as Sean turns to me with a warm smile on his face.

"I wouldn't worry. You should be fine."

"It doesn't matter," I say, shaking my head. "I'll hunt him down with or without you."

Elijah smirks at my answer. "Told you he was like me."

"You have no idea how sorry I am to hear it," Sean grins, then steps aside, giving us clear access to the door. "Now get the fuck out of my garden. I need to meditate before I go insane. Oh, and you might want to run by your place and pick up anything you'll need over the next few months. If Marton approves, we're leaving before the week is out and I don't know when you'll get a chance to return to Ireland."

"I'll do that," I say, returning his grin, then follow Elijah back inside. First stop, home. Second stop, shooting range. I can't wait to get started.

On second thought, perhaps we should visit the shooting range first. If this Marton bloke doesn't approve of me, I'm going to want to get in as much practice as I can, and maybe even see about nabbing some of those flaming bullets. If these people refuse me, I'm going to need all the help I can get.

I wake with a start, sitting up in the bed and looking around the room, tentatively testing the air. A warm breeze is blowing in through the balcony window, moonlight shining on the polished marble floor. There are only a few people still moving outside, a stray gondola or two floating in the canals, a couple of lost and drunken tourists. The dawn is only a few hours away, but it isn't the approaching sun I smell.

There is the suggestion of cinnamon and clove in the air, which immediately puts me in mind of my warrior.

Carefully crawling out of bed so as not to disturb the two vampires sleeping there, I walk over to the balcony and through the open doors. Raising my face to the moon, I breathe in deeply the night air. It's a pity we exhausted ourselves so soon. We should be outside, enjoying the night, instead of lying in bed. Not that we were exactly lying in the bed, but we can fuck ourselves blind during the day. The night is for living!

A hint of cigar smoke wafts across my nose and I turn my head, smiling at the figure on the balcony next to me.

"You're here?"

"I was out. I'm back." He gives me a sly look. "The reunion was a little too enthusiastic for my ears."

I wink at him. "You should join us next time. You won't even notice the noise, and Eric and Gale would love to have you."

"Thank you, but no." He gives me an appraising look. "Put some clothes on. We'll go grab a bite to eat."

"That's all right," I say, shaking my head. "I'm okay."

"When was the last time you ate?"

I bite the tip of my tongue and pretend to think.

"It was Ireland, wasn't it?"

I shrug, not wanting to answer.

"He must have been truly spectacular."

I nod. "But that's not it," I say, meeting a pair of concerned brown eyes. "I think he's haunting me."

George laughs softly, shaking his head. "Orli, how many times do I have to tell you? There's no such thing as ghosts."

"He's always here, George. In my thoughts, in my dreams--fuck, I even thought I smelled him a moment ago."

"You know how it works," he says, his voice entering accommodating teacher mode. "There are some humans whose essence lingers more strongly in their blood than others, and so long as that blood mingles with your own, their essence may remain as well. You know this. You've been through it before. Come on, once we get you something to eat, the effects will start to fade."

"George?" I ask as he turns towards the doors to his room.

"Yes, Orlando?" he says, pausing in mid-stride.

"What if I don't want him to fade?"

"Then you shouldn't have killed him."

I sigh, lowering my head. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

Of course he's right. He's always right. That's why I need him around, because I'm so often wrong, or at the very least, care so little about the consequences. I've always considered my impulsive nature to be one of my more delightful qualities and, in fact, there have only been three times in my existence when I've considered regretting it.

I guess this makes four.

"Don't worry about it, little one," he says, his voice gentle, sympathetic, as I knew he would be. "You'll be back to yourself soon enough, and next time you find someone who so greatly appeals to you, perhaps you'll take a moment and consider an option for him other than death."

I chuckle softly as I look at him. "We both know that will never happen."

"There's a first time for everything, even for you, my thoughtless child," he says, and then the fatherly gaze gives way to a smug smile. "Now get dressed. If you're going to have the energy for another round with Eric and Gale, you're going to need some nourishment."

"That's what I love about you--you always know just what to say to cheer me up," I chuckle, giving him a cheeky grin. "Should I wake them, too?"

"Don't bother, we're up," a voice yawns behind me as Eric walks out onto the balcony and bundles me in his arms. I raise my head for a quick kiss and then our smiles turn to welcome Gale, who's leaning against the doorframe, his eyes still half-closed with sleep.

"Do any of you have any sense of decency?" George grumbles, rolling his eyes at our undressed state.

"It's Venice," Gale shrugs, then glances at George with a slow, suggestive smile. "And Venetians know how to appreciate a work of art."

"Yeah, well, you three look as if you could use a little restoration."

He heaves a dramatic sigh. "That's what I get for speaking with a layman. If you could truly appreciate fine art, you'd be just as naked as the rest of us."

"Speaking of laying men," I say, eyes wide with innocence as I lean back against Eric, "I could use a bit of a lie down right now."

Eric purrs deep in his chest as he lowers his mouth to my neck, nibbling lightly at the tender skin.

George sighs, shaking his head. "Just make sure he eats something," he says as he disappears into his room, but then we hear his voice carried out onto the balcony, "And I'm talking about blood!"

The three of us laugh as Gale reaches out to take our hands, leading us back inside.

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