The Taste Of A Warrior

Part 9

Posted: October 2003
Author: Dhvana

*****

It takes me a couple of hours before I am able to find my way back to our headquarters.

Their headquarters.

The headquarters.

That last one will have to do. After all, how can I think of myself as one of them when I encountered a vampire--and not just any vampire, but the very same vampire who attacked me and caused me to join up with them in the first place--and didn't kill him?

Oh, I know, Elijah, Sean, and maybe even Marton would excuse me for my ignorance and inexperience and tell me to be grateful I escaped with my skin still attached, but I don't feel lucky, and I don't think this deserves to be written off without punishment. Why didn't I kill him when I had the chance? Why did I thrust the knife into his shoulder, where it wouldn't do anything other than irritate him? Why didn't I take the opportunity to end it right then and there?

True, he surprised me. I never expected him to be coming around the corner, but damnit, if I'm going to be hunting these things, I cannot allow myself to be caught off guard. I have to be fully aware of my surroundings at all times.

Yeah, right. I can't even find a single building in under two hours when I've got a fucking map. Full awareness is not something I'm going to be experiencing any time soon.

When I do find my way back to the headquarters, no one is around. They're either out hunting, or asleep. I make my way to the kitchen, fix myself a pot of coffee, then take it with me and settle into the library. I'm not going to sleep until I've learned everything I can about that son of a bitch.

Three hours later, Elijah wearily stumbles into the room, tired after a long night of hunting.

"They said you were in here," he yawns, collapsing into the chair opposite mine. Crossing his arms on the table, he rests his head on them and closes his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Research," I say, scanning the page of the book in front of me, keeping an eye out for any mention of Orlando.

"And you're doing it the hard way because. . . ?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, turning to the next page.

"The books are for back-up purposes only, if we need to verify some data with a hard copy. We've got everything you need to know on computer."

He's fucking with me. He has to be. I can't have just spent three hours pouring through musty old tomes when all the information I need is stored in a fucking piece of plastic.

Sensing my impending eruption, he shakes his head, trying to keep from laughing. "You know, forget I just said that. I'm just messing with your head. Please, continue with your mind-numbing, eyesight-depleting research."

With an exasperated sigh, I slam the book shut. "Show me."

He stands up and grabs one of the laptops from the cabinet, then places it in front of me. Turning it on, he opens up a webpage, types in a password, and sits back down.

"Next time, ask," he says, returning to his previous position.

I growl at him, but otherwise refrain from saying anything incendiary. Elijah means well, and it's my own damn fault for wanting to keep my business to myself. I type Orlando's name into the search engine and the blood drains from my face as it turns up with 850,267 results.

"Fuck," I whisper. "This is going to take me forever."

"Maybe I can help," he murmurs sleepily into his shirt. "What are you looking for?"

"Orlando."

"Should have guessed," he sighs. "Are you trying to find anything in particular?"

"No. I want to know everything."

"You're right. This will take you forever. Let's try a different tactic. Tell me where you want to start."

"I want to start with the people he knows. Who are his friends? His enemies? Does he have any family? Has he ever been in love, and if so, with whom?"

"Thank god you started with the easy questions," he grins. "If you go back to the main page and click on vampires, and then click on Orlando, you'll find a list of everyone he's ever been associated with, at least to our knowledge, as well as all the important dates and facts about his life, with links to everything else you might ever want to know. But if you want a quick answer, he has no family, beyond his creator. His enemies are dead. And he has never been in love."

"Never?" I ask, finding this hard to swallow, looking as he does, fucking the way he does, smiling the way he does.

"Never," Elijah answers, his voice solid. "I mean, sure, he's had sex with half the male vampire population, probably a good third of the females, as well as with a victim or two, but he's never shown any strong affinity to one person or vampire in particular. Except for George, but George doesn't count."

"Why not?"

Elijah shrugs. "He's Orlando's creator. It's like a paternal bond, only deeper. Not that all creators refrain from fucking their creations, but as far as we can tell, George prefers women, and what he and Orlando have goes beyond anything physical. I almost envy their relationship. I never had anything like with my father, but then," he adds, his voice taking on a bitter edge, "my father was murdered before we had a chance to truly get to know each other."

"Do you ever wonder what life would have been like if. . ." Here I hesitate, trying to figure out a tactful way to ask this.

"If my family hadn't been torn limb from limb before my eyes?" he asks with a grim smile, arching an eyebrow at me, and I nod. "Yeah, sometimes. But it's kind of futile, isn't it? They're dead, I'm alive, and the people here have been as close to a family as I'm ever likely to get. Besides," he gives me a genuine smile this time, "if my life hadn't gone straight to hell, I never would have met Paul, and he makes all the difference in the world."

"You really love him, don't you?"

The blue eyes take on an additional shine. "Yeah, I do. I know I may flirt outrageously at times. . ."

"No shite."

"Bite me," he grins, "but Paul has my heart. Now, what about you?"

"Does Paul have my heart?" I ask with all innocence. "No. He's all yours."

"Again, bite me."

"I don't think Paul would appreciate that."

"I'm going to toss this book at you," he says, waving a leather-bound volume menacingly at me, his threat broken by a yawn.

"Oh, yeah, that was convincing."

"Shut up. And bite me." He set the book down on the table and lays his cheek against it. "What I meant was, why the sudden active interest in Orlando?"

"Dunno," I shrug, glad he's not looking at me. "Guess I'm just trying to get a better picture of who my enemy is."

"Probably a good idea. Orlando's a tricky little cunt."

"You've been hanging around Europeans too long," I chuckle, reaching across the table to ruffle his spiky brown hair.

"If it didn't require any movement, I'd sock you right about now."

"I'll count my blessings. Lighe, unless you enjoy using that book as a pillow, why don't you go to bed? I'm sure Paul is looking for a warm body to curl up to right about now, and it would be a shame if he had to find a substitute."

"Yeah, I suppose I should," he says, sighing as he lifts himself up into a standing position. "You should get some sleep, also."

"I will. I just want to see what they've got here first."

"Okay," he says and shuffles towards the door. "Night, Colin."

"Night. Oh, and Lighe?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Do they have any spare knives around here?"

He whirls back around, suddenly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. "I knew it! I knew there was a reason for all this research! What happened? What did you do? Did he hurt you? Did you kill him? Of course you didn't kill him, or you wouldn't still be trying to find him. Talk to me, Colin. I want to know everything."

I sigh, mentally cursing my lack of subtlety, though I'd thought I was being extremely subtle. Or at least, devious. I'd hoped that in his barely conscious state he wouldn't even give my question a second thought, just answer and go on to bed. Should have known better.

Elijah sits back down across from me, peering at me with wide blue eyes. "Spill it, Irish boy. What happened."

He's not going to leave, is he? Not until he's heard the whole story. Twice, at least.

I sigh.

Might as well give him what he wants. Besides, it might do me some good to talk about it. "I was out walking, I turned a corner, and there he was."

"I'll bet he was surprised to see you," Elijah chuckles, and I have to grin.

"You should have seen the expression on his face. It was like I'd driven a stake through his heart. He was caught completely by surprise."

"So what did you do?"

"I grabbed my knife and stabbed him in the shoulder with it, pinning him to the wall."

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

"Yes fucking way," I grin, for a change, actually enjoying reliving the night's events.

"What did he do?"

"You'll never believe it--he couldn't for the life of him figure out why I was mad."

"You're shittin' me!" he shouts, slamming his palms down on the table.

"Nope. He was completely baffled."

"I'll be damned," he says, shaking his head. "So then what?"

"I explained it to him, and he still didn't get it. The guy's insane."

"Well, duh. He's a vampire."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean they're all mad, does it?"

"Orlando's a little more whacko than most, but none of them are quite all there. Except maybe George, but then, he has to be if he's going to keep them under control. So what did you do next? Did you call for help?"

"I couldn't. He saw me thinking about it and explained to me that if I tried to do anything to hurt him, he would either kill me or leave."

"So why didn't he?"

Damn. I knew we'd have to get to this part sooner or later. "He said he was staying because he wanted to."

Elijah frowns, running this through his mind. "The guy's got a knife in his shoulder, his former dinner standing in front of him wanting him dead, and he's staying by choice? That doesn't make sense. Did he say anything else?"

"He might have mentioned something," I say with great reluctance, and the big blue eyes stare at me, waiting until his patience runs out.

"AND?! What did he say?"

"He said he thinks he's in love with me."

Elijah starts to laugh. Not just a quick, mocking, harsh kind of laugh, but a full belly laugh that has him bent over in two.

"I didn't think it was that funny," I mutter, and he shakes his head, trying to regain control of himself.

"I just can't believe it," he gasps, taking deep breaths. "Talk about one of the world's greatest mindfucks ever! I knew they played games, but this--this is priceless. Does he actually think you're going to fall for it? I mean, fuck, he tried to kill you once already! Does he really think you're going to buy into his crap?"

"Yeah," I say, nodding slowly. "Yeah, I guess he does."

Fuck. I can't believe I almost fell for it. The fucking son of a bitch deserves an Oscar for that performance. The confusion, the astonishment, the smile, the kiss--he'd almost had me convinced it was all real.

"I'm going to kill that fucking vampire."

"Damn right you are," Elijah grins and jumps to his feet. "Come on, let's go find you a knife, and if you want, we can put in some time at the shooting range in the basement."

"Aren't you exhausted?" I ask, looking at him with amusement. "Shouldn't you be going to sleep?"

"We can sleep when we're dead," he laughs. "Come on, we need to get you ready to kill that fucking vampire."

"All the fucking vampires!" I grin, throwing an arm around his shoulder as we leave the library behind.

"Fuck yeah! Every last one of them! There won't be a blood-sucker left by the time we're through."

"Hell, yeah!"

We look at each other, and both start to laugh.

"Thanks, Lighe," I say, kissing the top of his spiky head. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Easy," he giggles. "You wouldn't be here without me. You'd be a feast for worms."

"Great."

"And maggots."

"Elijah."

"And whatever other creepy-crawlies might find your flesh to be a tasty treat."

"You can shut up now," I growl, and he laughs, giving me a hug.

"I knew you'd appreciate a little perspective. Now, spare knives and other assorted goodies are this way," he says, leading me down the hall and past an opening door. Marton takes one look at us and arches an eyebrow, wanting to know what we are up to, but clearly afraid to ask. We smile innocently, wish him a good morning, and continue on our way.

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