"I, Vampyre" - Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE: Belli, Berserk

 

I had often wondered what it would be like to feel the silver-edged ‘kiss’ of Bellissima Bladedancer’s trusty dagger again.  To paraphrase a popular proverb: Curiosity killed the bat.

Swirling red mist quickly coalesced into Bellissima’s lissome form behind me, and I spun just in time to feel the burn of her blade as it slashed across my face.  It could have been my throat, I dimly recognized, but that was cold comfort as I imagined a silvery, slippery infestation burrowing into my torn cheek.

“Nevik!  Please don’t hurt her!”

I turned toward that voice, a look of undisguised incredulity on my damaged face as Belli turned incorporeal and misted away again.  VenMeia ‘Spike’ O’Scully, the owner of this vampiric crypt, was staring at me, her wild white hair covering half her pale face, hands pressed to her mouth.  I wouldn’t dare call her by her real name… unless I wanted a reminder as to how she earned her nickname.

“Spike…” I urged, “if you want me to help, start helping ME!”

Talons out, I clawed open a rift in the ethereal, an ‘ether pocket.’  I was going to need a weapon if I was going to deal with Bellissima in her current state of uncontrolled bloodlust… MY weapon.  I knew exactly where it was, and that’s all I needed to know.

I drew the whip out of the ether like I might pull a deadly snake out of its hidey-hole.  Werewolf skin leather, cured in holy water, baked in sunlight, infused with garlic, threaded with pure silver, barbed with wooden splinters, with a holy symbol for a grip… my old Slayer-weapon, Kindred’s Bane.

I was a Vampire-Hunter in another lifetime.  I guess you could say I still dabbled in the profession.

Spike’s bright, light-blue eyes grew wide at the sight of the ‘Bane clutched in my black-gloved right hand.  I watched as a spiral of scarlet fog collected on the far wall, like a crimson cloud-bank that had brought a miniature sunset to the cozy confines of Spike’s lair.  I knew Bellissima too well, though, to fall for such a deliberate feint; I whirled around, toward the opposite wall, just in time to see a just-rematerialized Belli, fiery red hair framing her flushed visage, readying her dagger, preparing to hurl it right at me.  I drew my arm back, the fall-end of the whip stretching out behind me, and…

Next I knew, I was on my back, next to Spike’s double-wide coffin… eyes blurry and blinking, head ringing, the dagger passing lightning-quick overhead and embedding itself somewhere out-of-sight with a ringing thump.  The platinum-haired vampiress pounced, landing in the middle of the ‘bed’ with a plushy explosion of red, pink, and purple pillows.

Spike leaned over the side of the open coffin, her claws scritch-scratching on its edge, grinning wickedly and showing a lot of fang.  “What do you think you’re doing, Pet!?”

I reached around for the grip of the ‘Bane, failing to find it as I shook my head to clear the effects of Spike’s spell.  I blinked again as the sorceress leaned in closer, and I was briefly hypnotized by the swinging of the pendant dangling from her neck -- a pair of crossed red swords superposed on a brass medallion, a token of Malekus.  It had me completely enthralled… either that, or perhaps it was the view of her spectacular, porcelain cleavage, nearly falling out of her nightgown as her silky black robe slipped off her shoulders.

“You have a funny way of helping, Mistress,” I managed to croak, sitting up and gathering my wits as best I could, well aware that a highly skilled, currently highly unstable vampire assassin was still lurking nearby.

“I was helping,” Spike protested, effecting a highly indignant pout.  “If I hadn’t mana-blasted you, Belli would’ve turned you into our newest, permanent wall decoration…”

Spike glanced up, observing Bellissima easily pulling the silver dagger from the wall, gazing back at us with eyes a violent shade of violet.  “I called you here to help me, Nevi, to help us,” she continued, not taking her eyes off the other vampiress.  “Not to carve her up with that wretched old whip of yours!”

I finally got to my feet, spying Kindred’s Bane on the floor nearby.  Placing my bare left hand on Spike’s shoulder, to steady myself -- maybe to calm both of us -- I forced a feeble smile as I tried to ignore the sharp pain in my cheek.  Those same old words sprang to mind, and crossed my lips in a fierce whisper: “Trust me.”

The sorceress barely had time to nod, with begrudging assent, before Bellissima attacked again.  Spike leaped back as Belli landed where she had just been crouching, touching down herself near the top of the wall like a spider.  I executed a clumsy-looking cartwheel, but it served its purpose -- dodging the backhanded swipe of the dagger, and reclaiming my precious whip.

“Le mew??” Spike inquired, in her own inimitable way, as she drew an invisible oval in the air with her crooked finger.  Accordingly, a circular portal opened in the stone wall beneath her… and a huge black jaguar, her feline familiar, Skaar, leapt from it.

Skaar also pounced into the coffin, which had seemingly become the epicenter for this frantic fight.  Bellissima spared a glare at Spike before gracefully back-flipping away from danger (although the ‘bite’ from the great cat looked suspiciously like an attempt at a lick to me).

I took that opportunity to strike, desperately hoping that Belli’s instincts were sharper than ever.  The ‘Bane uncoiled with an echoing KEE-RACK, heading right for her face -- beautiful as ever, albeit twisted in irrational rage.  Sure enough, she sublimated instantly into mist, which the whip passed through harmlessly.

“SPIKE!” I bellowed, lashing out with the whip again, ‘herding’ the dancing mist-cloud as best I could.  “Get a container… a jar, a bottle, something… anything!”

I heard a commotion behind me -- a high-pitched yelp, a growl from Skaar, then arcane-sounding muttering -- but I tried to keep my focus on Bellissima’s darting Mist Form, wind-milling my arms frantically to keep flailing away with the whip.  I couldn’t hurt her while she was incorporeal, not that I wanted to.  More importantly, she couldn’t hurt us… or herself.

“Spike, how about that… um… contain… er…?”  My words trailed off, and my whip-arm dropped to my side, the ‘Bane dragging to a halt on the floor like a sleep-deprived serpent suddenly finding a chance for a much-needed nap.  I watched as the diffuse red vapor that was Bellissima began to collect and compress, pulled into a spherical shape, surrounded by a shimmering translucent energy field.

I dared to look behind me, and Spike was standing there, Skaar dutifully sitting next to her and peering up at me with his bright yellow cat’s eyes.  Spike’s hair was waving slowly in the utterly still air of her inner sanctum, and she was moving her mouth wordlessly with her arm outstretched, hand open and fingers splayed.  The sphere shrunk until it seemed filled with a tiny cardinal-colored nebula, and Spike exhaled with a sigh full of equal parts relief and despair as the now-grapefruit-sized orb settled softly into her upturned palm.

“Great job, Spike!” I enthused, but any further words of encouragement or congratulations died on my lips as she fixed me with a decidedly dour look.  Unbidden, Skaar stood up and turned slightly, and Spike sat down on the jaguar’s strong back with a whimper.

“Oh, Belli, my sweet,” she sniffled, staring into the still-swirling mist as if it were a crystal ball.  “Why… why are you acting like this?”

I reached out to the side with my left hand, and a pyrokinetically-summoned flash of flame blew a chair away from the wall, sending it skidding across the floor toward us.  Sitting down just as it slid underneath me, I rested my hand on Spike’s knee, drawing her sad gaze back to me.

“Spike,” I said.  “Tell me again… what happened?”

Setting the glowing red sphere into her lap, Spike brushed her mane of white hair back over her ears with her fingers, and then carefully tucked the magic pendant into her bosom.  She then rested her hands atop the sphere, her glossy black talons still partially extended.

“I’ve seen berserk bloodlust rages before, Nevi… but never like this.”  Spike glanced down, gently stroking the top of the orb, as if she could somehow impart her carefully-composed calm to the roiling tempest within it.  “Belli came home, in the middle of the night, back from a week-long bounty-hunt.  One that was ultimately unsuccessful, I assume.  She was crazed, feral, she hadn’t fed in days…”

I nodded my head, as I thoughtfully scratched the scar on my chin, a remnant from a decades-old duel.  So, Bellissima was still taking and executing bounties.  I shouldn’t have been surprised, but it was disheartening to hear.  Wasn’t the Great Vampire War supposed to be over?  The Superiors of the Shadow Council -- now numbering five, oh by the way -- had decreed it so.  The Edict was lifted, the ban on creating new vampires revoked.  The number of our Kindred had diminished drastically over the last few centuries; indeed, we were practically an endangered species now.  So who was still setting vampire bounties?

Spike, while not a true telepath like some of our kind, knew me well enough, and could obviously see the train of thought as it chugged ponderously though my distressed mind.  “Bellissima attacked me, acted like she didn’t know who I was,” she continued, deep lines of sorrow etching her brow like acid, aging her in a way that the mere passage of time never would.  “That’s why I summoned you, Pet… I… I knew you’d come.”

A wan smile manifested itself on my face.  ‘Pet’… there was a time that epithet would have vexed me terribly.  But at that moment, truly, it only brought me comfort.

“This moment may be brief,” I whispered, “but it can be so bright…

“I’m yours forever, Spike.  That was the deal, the price, for a taste of you, if I remember right?”  That old joke again, just between us: “It’s still forever, isn’t it…?”

Spike giggled girlishly, and that happy sound chased away the invisible specters of gloom that had been lurking about.  She theatrically glanced at her bare left wrist, shaking and tapping it for effect. “Yep!  Still forever!”

I stood up, still smirking, carefully coiling the ‘Bane and hooking it to my belt.  “We need to find another familiar face,” I declared.  “Someone Belli knows.  Someone who can help us if the ‘genie’ goes out of control again when we let her out of the bottle…”

“Just who did you have in mind?” Spike asked, standing herself, dropping the Belli-ball carefully into the pocket of her robe.  She glanced down at her bare feet, shuffling them almost shyly before looking up at me again -- and I caught the ‘lustful glint of red in her ice-blue eye.  “Thanks for your help, Nevik.  Thank you so much…”

We melted into an easy, fond, familiar embrace.  She kissed me tenderly on the neck, immediately followed by the playful nick of a fang.  “What about Bellissima?” I heard myself ask, even as I lightly pushed the robe off her shoulders again.  I gazed at the mystical tattoos on her arms… shifting, morphing… fleeting images of our past (mis)adventures.

“She’ll be fine,” Spike whispered back.  “Being in Mist Form for this long is very Zen for her, I’m sure.”   I stared at the tasty-looking curve of her exposed neck -- the pulsing jugular, the throbbing carotid.  The anticipation of the bite was almost as good as the fangs sinking in… inside each other, the blood flowing, so full of feelings.

Almost as good.  Almost.

She beat me to it, forcing me to my knees -- she was the Elder, after all -- and sliding her fangs in gently.  Spike took her first, long drink, sighing against my neck, and I knew she was seeing my blood-memories.  Recollections, thoughts, feelings, images of the past and present (and sometimes future)… all this and more, woven into our undead essence, there for the tasting.  Controlling them, twisting them, hiding them… that took great skill, if there were ever need or desire to do so.

I held nothing back from my ravishing, radiant Mistress; she drank to her content, and then some more besides.  Her last question echoed in my addled mind, and as she pulled away at last, inducing a shudder in me as her fangs slid out of my flesh with not-unpleasant friction, she lasciviously licked her lips as she easily intuited the answer:

“Adrianos…”

 

* * *