The Taste Of A Warrior

Part 4

Posted: October 2003
Author: Dhvana

*****

Elijah shifts from one foot to the other, watching the closed heavy wooden doors with worried eyes. For the five minutes we've been standing there, we've been trying to pretend we can't hear the yelling on the other side. It isn't working.

"Perhaps we should come back at another time. . ." I begin, but Elijah just shakes his head.

"Marton wants to meet with you now, so we're stuck here. And just a hint for future reference--you don't reschedule appointments with Marton. You're either on time, or you're fucked. He's extremely busy, and if it wasn't for Sean, we probably wouldn't be standing here right now, so leaving is definitely not an option."

"But he's pummeling that poor girl! I don't want to follow this--he'll never even give me a chance!"

He glances towards the door and his body shakes as a chill runs through him. "I adore Liv, I do, but I have to admit, she kind of deserves this. If she hadn't disobeyed orders, we might have gotten to you sooner, and Orlando wouldn't have escaped."

"You don't know that. Orlando might have gotten away even if she was there. This is just cruel," I say, waving towards the doors where a deep voice is drowning out Liv's protests.

"If it'll make you feel better, that wasn't the first time she abandoned her post. Every time George is around, he's her only focus."

"And George is?" I ask, not really caring, but wanting to do anything other than listen to the verbal beating in the background.

"Orlando's creator, and one of the oldest of their kind."

And suddenly I'm interested. Orlando's creator? What kind of monster must he be in order to give life to something like Orlando?

"Liv is obsessed with killing him, but he can't be killed. At least, not by her alone, though I have my doubts he can be killed at all. He's extremely powerful. There's only one other vampire out there in his league, and if you're lucky, you won't meet either of them."

"The other vampire--it's not Orlando, is it?"

"No," Elijah chuckles, "though I certainly wouldn't want to meet him alone in a dark alley. Angelina is George's only equal in power, but in temperament, he's fucking Santa Claus compared to her."

I open my mouth to ask more about George and Orlando when one of the doors flies open. We jump back as Liv storms out into the hall, blue eyes flashing, pale skin shining with tears, cheeks splotchy with anger. She doesn't even look at us as her stomping feet continue down the hall.

"I'd better go talk to her, make sure she's okay," Elijah says, then nods towards the door. "Go on in. I'll catch you later."

I watch as he walks down the hall, unable to believe he just left me here to face Marton alone. Not that I'm nervous or anything, or so I tell myself while trying to control the quivering in my stomach. No reason to be nervous. After all, he's not mad at me, this complete stranger who reduced that poor woman to a tearful, furious mess. He's just the man who can decide my entire fate in this whole bizarre organization.

Nah, haven't got a bloody thing to worry about.

"YOU! Colin, isn't it? Get your arse in here!"

Oh fuck.

Taking a deep breath, I walk inside. The man in question is leaning against a dark oak desk, arms crossed over his chest, dark hair slicked back against his head, tawny eyes snapping with barely constrained energy.

"Nice pants."

He looks down at his leather-clad legs, then arches an eyebrow as he stares at me.

"That's your opening?"

"Apparently so." Actually, I hadn't meant to say that. The words just sort of stumbled from my lips and I couldn't do anything to stop them. Definitely not my classiest opening, but at least it was honest. He looks damn good in those pants. "But I can amend it. Nice pants. You going to help me kill Orlando?"

"Just what I needed," he sighs. "Another smartarse piece of shit tagging onto the bum that is my life. Join the fucking club."

"I'm trying. That's why I'm here."

"Look, kid," he growls, eyes narrowing, and I have to fight in order not to take a step back. The man's like a panther, coiled to strike at any moment. No wonder he's in charge. "This is a serious business, and we do serious work, work that could end up getting you killed, or maimed, or worse. You want to stay, you're going to have to show me some respect and be willing to follow my orders. I'm not asking for blind obedience. You think we should do something different, fine, I'm happy to hear your ideas. I want these things dead just as much as you do, and if know something that will help, I'm all for it. But remember that I've been doing this my entire life. While this organization has been under my command, we've seen a thirty-seven percent decrease in vampire killings because we've created a thirty-seven percent decrease in the vampire population. I know what I'm doing, and if you think you can do better, you're more than welcome to leave, but I can guarantee that you'll have a lot more luck working with us than without us. Is that clear?"

I don't know. I can't tell if he's giving me the welcome aboard speech or the run now while you still can speech. "So are you saying I can stay?"

"I'm saying that I'm going to give you a chance. Elijah and Sean seem to think you're worth the risk, and you did survive an attack by Orlando, so that tells me there's more to you than just a smart mouth. I only hope you can handle it."

"Piece of cake."

He grunts, giving me an annoyed look. "Talk to me after your first kill, then we'll see how you like the taste of that cake. Now get the fuck out of my office," he says, walking around to the other side of the desk and sitting down in the leather chair. "I've got work to do."

"Rightie-o," I say with a sharp salute, then turn to leave. "And Marton?"

"Yeah?" he asks, glancing up from the computer screen.

"Thanks."

He holds my eyes for a couple of seconds, then nods sharply. "You're welcome."

"The sex between those two has got to be fucking out of this world," I say, loading another clip into my gun. "I don't know how Sean puts up with him. Which brings me to another question--wonder if Sean's the top?"

"Please," Elijah says, scrunching up his nose in disgust, "don't even suggest it. There's an image I just do not want to picture."

"You sure about that?" I ask, arching an eyebrow at him, and he grins.

"Well, maybe a little. When I'm alone in bed and there's no one to catch me."

"I'll be sure and walk in on you sometime."

"I'll leave the door open."

Chuckling, I shake my head and raise my gun. "Ready?"

"Ready."

We fire off the entire clip and run to the end of the field to check out our targets. "FUCK!" I shout, punching the bullet-free form of my target.

"Couldn't hit the broad side of a barn if you were standing two feet away from it," Elijah gloats, looking between my target and his. It's easy to tell the difference between the two, because his is the one with the perfectly spaced holes in the head and the heart.

"Fuck you," I growl.

"Aw, don't take it so hard. Firing a gun requires skill, and that's something gained with practice. A lot of practice. A whole lot of practice. A fucking shitload of practice. In fact, you might want to consider moving out here until you manage to learn to hit something."

"Or you might want to try hand-to-hand combat."

We turn to see a man approaching with wavy gold hair, warm blue eyes, and a perfectly sculpted body that turn Michelangelo's David green with envy. He grabs Elijah by the waist and plants a wicked, wet kiss on the pink lips that leaves Elijah breathless and me a little tight in the pants.

"Hey babe," he grins, keeping a grip on the younger man, who looks as if his knees can barely hold him.

"Um. . . hi," Elijah answers, his voice somewhat dazed. "What are you doing out here?"

"Marton told me to come check on you, see how things are going. Doesn't look good, does it?" he adds, checking out my progress on the target.

"I'm still learning," I grumble, not wanting to admit my failure to this walking Greek god.

"There are other methods of killing them. These exploding bullets are nice, yeah, but aren't exactly practical. You can't always count on having a gun on hand. You've got to learn to fight them one on one, and even then, the best you can hope for is to weaken them and then kill them while they're down. Not that this is a great alternative, either. They're stronger than we are, faster than we are, and a lot of the times, smarter than we are."

"So how do we win?"

"We just keep trying, and we travel in packs. That's the first rule--never fight one alone. Always, always send for backup. But, in case they don't decide to wait for your partner, we should see how you'd do. Come on, try and take me," he says, releasing Elijah and taking a fighting stance in front of me.

"Pardon?"

"Paul here's the best we have when it comes to wearing a vampire down," Elijah says, a note of pride in his voice. "He's nearly as strong and fast as they are. If you can take him, you can take any of them. Well, most of them, at any rate. Go on. Let's see what you can do."

"All right," I say, handing Elijah my gun, "but I've got to warn you, I wasn't exactly the nicest kid growing up."

"Meaning?" Paul asks.

"I can hold my own."

"Great," he says, grinning at me as we start to circle each other. "I could use a challenge. Lighe here's only good for wrestling into bed, and I have to admit, he doesn't put up much of a fight."

"Hell, if you were wrestling with him in bed, would you put up a fight?" Elijah grins as I duck under Paul's arm and swing around to grab him from behind.

"Depends on if he's any good," I say, then blink with surprise as Paul wriggles out of my grasp.

"‘Good' doesn't begin to cover it," he says and lands with a grunt when I kick his feet out from under him. "But then, from what I hear, you've had the best, so I doubt I'd compare."

Bastard, I think as his leg swings out and I fall onto my back. He immediately pins me to the ground, his face mere inches from mine as he looks down on me with a triumphant grin.

"That was fun. Thank you."

Thank you. The same words, but in my ears, they're spoken by a different man, a different voice, after he's pinned me to the bed and drained me to the brink of death.

I look up at him, but instead of Paul's blue eyes, I see brown. Instead of his golden waves, I see chestnut curls. The smile remains triumphant, but is also adoring, loving, appreciative. Fanged. I feel those fangs sink into my neck, and I scream, a sound of helplessness and anger.

"Colin!" Elijah shouts, pushing Paul off of me. "Paul, go get Sean! Get Marton! Get anyone! Hurry!"

Suddenly, the vision of Orlando is gone and my mouth snaps shut, cutting me off in mid-scream. Paul stops his dash to the compound and returns to kneel down opposite Elijah.

"What the fuck happened?" Elijah demands, and I shake my head.

"I don't know. It was. . . it was like Orlando was here, leaning over me. I could feel his teeth in my neck."

"It's no wonder," Paul says, taking my chin lightly in his fingers and turning my head. "You're bleeding."

I raise my hand to my neck and lightly touch the skin, feeling wetness there, and two holes. "These weren't here before."

"No, they weren't," Elijah says. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Seems Orlando's not quite ready to give you up, or you're not ready to give him up," Paul says, rising to his feet and offering me his hand. "Come on, let's get you to the infirmary and see what they say."

He pulls me up and stands on one side, Elijah on the other, to make sure I don't collapse.

"Don't worry," Elijah says softly, slipping a hand into mine. "It'll be okay, I promise."

"You don't really know for sure, though, do you?"

"Course I do. Look at what you've survived so far! A couple of holes in your neck are nothing."

"Thanks, Lighe," I smile, squeezing his hand. "I'm sure you're right."

Of course, I'm lying through my teeth. I'm terrified by the thought that he might have any control over me. I can only hope that these people, with their long history of fighting vampires, will know what's wrong and can fix me. That son of a bitch had me in death. He shouldn't be allowed to have me in life.

Warm air blows lightly across my ear. Smiling, I reach up to push the source of the air away, but find only empty space. Someone's playing with me.

"Gale?" I say without opening my eyes.

"No," a voice whispers, and I frown. I know that voice, but I can't quite place it.

"Not Eric," I say, and the voice laughs softly in my ear.

"Not even close, little one, and you've got one guess left before you regret it."

Now I know who it is, and I grin. "My beloved, my darling, my angel, the most gorgeous creature to ever grace the face of the earth, is that really you?"

"Mmm. . . much better," she says, her voice sultry as her lips brush against mine. Opening my eyes, I reach up to pull her next to me into the bed.

"Hi," I say, kissing her softly.

"Hi."

"You look amazing."

"Thank you."

"Doing well?"

"Excellent."

"Great. Now that that's out of the way, what are you doing here?"

"Don't be rude, Orlando," she scolds and I hug her.

"You know I'm thrilled to see you, but it's so unusual to see you that you can't blame me for asking."

"Aren't I free to visit my favorite nephew whenever I want?"

I sigh and release her. "George sent for you." She only refers to me as her nephew when my keeper is involved. Which, technically, I am not, but she prefers to think of us as family, especially when she's about to inflict herself on our lives.

"No. George doesn't know I'm here, not yet, at least. He simply mentioned the last time we spoke that you weren't feeling yourself and, as I know his solution to problems is to let them work themselves out, I figured it would be best if I stepped in before things got out of hand."

"Nothing's getting out of hand, Angelina. George was right--my problem worked itself out, and I'm fine."

"So you won't object to telling me what that problem was," she says, leaning on her arm in order to get a better look at me.

I roll my eyes and slide out of bed, pulling on a robe. "Just some residual essence in the blood from one of my warriors, nothing more."

"Your warriors?" she asks, arching an eyebrow. "Still taking down the noble and the strong, are you?"

"They taste better," I shrug.

"Oh, come on, Orlando. There's more to it than that."

"Yes, there is, but it's personal," I say, hoping she'll drop it. I really don't want to face her laughter when I tell her that my warriors are the only ones truly worthy of me, that everyone else is just a waste of my time. She'll just tell me I'm being picky, that blood is blood, but I know that's not true. When I take my warriors' blood and combine it with mine, not only do I make a part of them immortal, but I'm taking the best of them into me.

The others don't understand this, but then most vampires don't truly appreciate their prey. They only appreciate each other, though I suppose there's absolute nothing wrong with that, especially when that vampire is as beautiful and giving as Angelina.

Hopping back onto the bed, I wrap my arms around her and nuzzle her neck, thinking to distract her. "I don't want to talk about me anymore. I want to hear about you. What have you been doing?"

"Working."

"Working?" I ask, arching an eyebrow. Angelina is the only vampire I know who insists on holding down a job. She says it helps to keep her from growing bored. "What is it this time?"

"Phone sex."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously," she grins.

I look at her, at the lush body, the lips made for kissing, the blue-gray eyes that can seduce with a single look. Letting her out in public is always a dangerous thing, but keeping her on the phone, that works. "Oddly enough, I can see that. You any good?"

"I make more in a month than my callers make in a year."

"Short on money, are you?"

"Just honing my skills. George once said that all he had to do was hear my voice and he was useless for an hour. Can't wait to see what happens to him in person after everything I've learned over the past couple of months."

"You're pure evil," I chuckle, kissing her forehead. "You know this, don't you?"

"I count on it," she smiles, resting her head on my shoulder.

"He's missed you, you know. You should visit more often."

"This continent's not big enough for the both of us."

"Nonsense. You could do it, if you tried."

She laughs, embracing me gently. "You were always the romantic, Orlando."

"Only where you and George are concerned."

"We're too old," Angelina says, shaking her head. "We've got too much between us. Short periods of time are all we can handle. Any more, and we'd drive each other mad."

"Well, there are worse ways to go mad."

"You just want George out of your hair."

"That's not true. You know I love having George in my hair. I'd be lost without George in my hair. I just think he needs a vacation every now and then."

"I'm here now, so I guess he'll get one."

"I hope he gets more than one," I tease, and she pokes me in the side. "All I'm saying is that it's been a while for him."

"And I'm sure listening in on you isn't helping."

"George is not the least bit interested in my love life."

"Oh, honey," she says, kissing my cheek. "He may be a vampire, but he's still male. He may not want you, or your lovers, but he sure as hell cannot resist reacting to the sounds of pleasure, no matter who is making them. Why do you think he leaves every time you start getting busy?"

"Figured he was jealous," I say, then shrug with a teasing grin, "or maybe he was just hiding his feelings of latent homosexuality."

"You wish, hun."

"You bet I do. Now, why don't you go find him and start making me jealous?"

"That's not a bad idea," she says, climbing out of the bed. "And why don't you get something to eat?"

"Oh, god," I groan, grabbing a pillow and covering my face with it. "Not you, too!"

"If you want us to quit bothering you, then you should eat someone and get it over with."

"It isn't like I'm going to die of starvation."

"No, but you'll lose your strength and slowly waste away, and then I'll have to come and kill you because you're driving George insane with worry, and I really don't want to have to do that."

"I know you don't."

"But I will."

"I know you will."

"Good," she smiles. "Glad we're communicating. Now gather your two friends and go find something to eat before I have to start force-feeding you through a straw, and since I'm somewhat lacking in patience, that might not go well for you."

"Could you be any sweeter?"

"You could try coating me in sugar."

"You should suggest that to George--I bet he'd enjoy it."

"Maybe I should," she laughs, kissing me again before hopping out of the bed. "I'm going to go say hello. I'll send in Eric and Gale, and then the three of you can go hunting."

"Yes, Auntie Angie."

"Don't call me that," she growls, and I stick my tongue out at her.

"You get to bug me, I get to bug you."

"I'm your elder. It's my job to bug you."

"That position has already been filled by George. And speaking of positions. . ." I tilt my head towards the door where some very interesting sounds are echoing in from the hall, "sounds like Eric and Gale have started without me."

Angelina's eyebrows lift, her lips curling into a smile. "I'll have to be sure and pass them on my way out. Slowly. Quietly. Staring intently. You know, so I don't disturb them."

"Of course," I chuckle, then grab her hand and pull her back in for another kiss. "I am happy to see you."

"I know," she smiles, brushing the hair from my eyes. "And whatever it is that's hurting you, I promise, I'll do everything I can to make it better. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go get George into a little trouble."

"You do that," I grin. "And if you happen to see a shadow on the balcony watching you, just ignore it."

"The same goes for you," she winks, then puts a finger to her lips and walks noiselessly into the hall. I consider warning Eric and Gale, but decide to let her have her fun. Besides, they won't mind, and Gale loves an audience.

But I will have to remember to keep the curtains closed from now on. Just in case.

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