— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
читать дальшеChapter 22- Return by nicola71
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Sorry for the long wait between chapters. RL continues to chew on me. Special thanks to Submissively Asher's for all of her wisdom, editing skills, and ready ear. She has truly been a good friend which is, above all else, the best trait of a great beta! *hugs*
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It must be necessary. It IS necessary. It's necessary. Anita kept repeating this mantra to herself silently. At least she thought it was silently.
"Of course it must be necessary, Anita. Jean-Claude's power comes from sex after all, duh." Jason spoke softly and slowly to Anita but couldn't take his eyes off what was happening on the bed a few feet from him.
Jean-Claude had Penelope's naked body in his arms, his lips gently, but passionately kissing her while he ran his long fingers through the brown waves of her hair. Pollux was pressed to her back with his hands caressing her flesh, kissing her shoulders. Since he was still naked, his arousal was plain for everyone in the room to see. He growled softly and gently grazed the creamy skin of her neck with bared teeth that for a split second seemed more like the fangs of a vampire than the teeth of a hyena.
Castor, however, was suddenly at the opposite end of the bed, cowering as if his greatest fear had manifested before him. The terror on his face was real, as were the tears that glistened in his hazel eyes. Jason and Anita had not even seen him move.
Penelope's eyes opened with a start, and she pushed herself away from Jean-Claude with a small gasp. Pollux's arms caught her, but as the moment passed over them he looked down at her, and then across to his brother with a puzzled expression. When he realized his hands were touching her bare skin, and that his erection was pressed into her back, he quickly reached for the sheet and covered her. He then quietly extracted himself from the bed, and began to gather his clothes, careful to shield his groin from everyone. Try as he might to appear nonchalant, he stumbled. Jason was there to catch him.
"Hey, buddy, it's okay. First time feeling the ardeur?"
"The what?" Pollux's face was contorted in confusion, his eyes glassy and unfocused.
"The ardeur, brother." Castor materialized to steady his sibling and whispered, "you are well aware of that power. It has been a long time, though." He cast a warning glance at Jason.
"Hey, if you don't want to talk about it, it's fine with me. Just get him something to eat, okay."
"I know how to take care of him, wolf."
Jason backed off, surprised by the the condescending tone. Castor had never exhibited anything but a jovial, if somewhat serious, nature. Jason filed this information away for future investigation and cast a curious glance at Anita.
Castor ignored him and instead looked back at Jean-Claude, "May we be excused?"
"Oui, of course. You served us well today. I will be sure to inform your master of your unwavering devotion." There was something else in Jean-Claude's tone, but for the moment he was letting it go.
"Thank you," Castor led his brother to the door, even though he was only half dressed.
Jason watched them carefully and looked back at Anita. Both of them silently agreed to do some investigating on the hyena brothers as soon as things calmed down. Which with their crew, might be never.
Penelope sat up, suddenly very alert.
"Castor! Pollux!"
The brothers stopped and Castor held on to Pollux tightly as he strained to go to her.
"Thank you, thank you very much." She reached out to them, wanting to embrace them but knowing they would come no closer at the moment. There was an odd feeling in the room, masked only because of the magical residue that remained. But Penelope felt something strange from the brothers. Something she felt she should have recognized, but for the moment she was too tired to care.
"Your welcome, my lady." Pollux managed a half bow, Castor nodded curtly and turned him towards the door quickly.
When they were gone, Penelope reached for Jean-Claude's hand.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"I did no more than what you allowed me to do." Careful now that the power receded, Jean-Claude simply kissed her hand.
Penelope had a dim memory of a conversation with Jean-Claude on the other side, but could not remember the details. There was something about it she felt she should have been able to recollect. Something important about Asher, and London, and her. But for now it was lost.
She gazed into Jean-Claude's eyes and saw something there she had not seen in many centuries, but as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone.
"So, you guys want to tell us what the hell happened?"
Anita sat on the bed and took Jean-Claude's other hand. She was feeling a bit territorial, and although she was truly happy to have Penny back, there was no need to loan her boyfriend for longer than necessary. Anita had worked very hard to conceal the jealousy that burned through her as she watched Jean-Claude kiss his former lover. She let herself wonder for a moment if he had ever kissed her so tenderly. As soon as she thought it, she was ashamed. Of course he had, even if she had been too hard-hearted to notice. One thing she knew for certain now though, was that his connection to Penelope was more than she had led herself to believe. She filed this feeling away with the rest of the truths she was reluctant to acknowledge.
Penelope's face darkened, "I took a foolish chance, Anita. A chance that yielded less than I'd hoped."
"Not quite, ma cheriè." Jean-Claude smiled, "you have bought us some time. That is something we can always use."
Penelope looked around, "Speaking of that, what time is it? Where is Asher?" She knew she would have felt him if he was awake.
"Asher will be awake soon, within the hour I think." Anita motioned towards the other bedroom. "He and London were pretty shaken by what you did. I think you will have a bit of explaining to do after they get done hugging and kissing you to death."
"I would not be surprised if hugging and kissing is the last thing on their minds. What I did, what I used them for, was..."
"Was the only choice I left you." Jean-Claude said as he placed a finger to her lips, "And they will know that."
What was between the former lovers would remain unspoken as yet in this world, but for now they had reached a new level of understanding. With all the metaphysical at an end for the moment, Penelope was suddenly very aware of her physical needs.
"I think I'd like a shower, and maybe something to eat?"
Jean-Claude laughed, "Of course. I'll have something sent in."
"I can help you shower if you're feeling weak." Jason piped up.
Penelope laughed and brought him in for a hug.
"How about you wait out here until I'm done, and keep me company until my lovers awaken to throttle me?"
"Aw!" Jason playfully whined, but smiled as she wrapped herself up in the sheet and disappeared into the bathroom.
"I think we can make ourselves scarce," Anita smiled and tugged on Jean-Claude's sable sleeve. "I mean, you're up and around and all, and I don't think anyone is expecting you at work anytime soon."
"True, ma petite, very true." Jean-Claude smiled slyly. "I could get used to staying up all day."
The comment was not intentionally meant to jab at Anita, but if it did he didn't care at the moment. As usual, Jean-Claude pressed his luck.
"As a matter of fact, I think I could do with short nap. I have not napped in centuries."
"A nap!" Anita felt the jab, and knew it was not entirely unwarranted. "Well, if the Master of the City needs a nap, far be it from me to distract him." She got up in a huff and stalked out of the room.
Jason couldn't help himself, "uh, you think she's a little pissed?"
Jean-Claude looked over at his pomme with an almost boyish glint in his sapphire eyes.
"She'll be waiting for me in my bed, of that you can be certain."
Jean-Claude was still feeling quite a rush of power from raising the ardeur, and the need to quench it. He knew his servant felt it too. Besides that, he knew Anita too well not to know that she would need to re-mark her territory.
"I wouldn't be so sure if I was you. You know how she gets. I bet she's in her car already." Jason laughed, but something in Jean-Claude's face made him believe.
"Come to my room in about an hour, mon lupe. If I don't need to feed, then you can have the rest of the week off. Paid in full." Jean-Claude smiled his best badly behaved boy smile.
Jason was at work that night, and every night for the whole week.
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After her shower and something to eat, Penelope fell into a light sleep. The image of her grandmother's face lingered in her mind, but some of her words were fading.
What was it Helene told me? Why can't I remember everything?
As deeper sleep claimed her, she found it didn't really matter. The charm, however, was clear and ingrained in her mind. She could perform it as if she had always known how.
Penelope? A soft voice caressed her mind.
Asher.
"Penelope, wake up, ma mei."
Asher was lightly stroking her arm. He was dressed and sitting next to her on his bed.
"Oh, Asher!" Penelope threw herself into his arms, "Forgive me! Forgive me, please!"
"Shush," he stopped her pleas with a kiss. "There is nothing to forgive, as far as I am concerned. Jean-Claude has spoken to me."
Asher's face turned reflective and in a tone tinged with regret he continued, "I just wish you had told me how much pressure you were feeling. I would have had words with him, had I known."
He pushed her back so he could look into her eyes as his voice turned stern.
"I do not want you to keep difficult things from me again, Penelope. I know you have the ability to shield your anxieties, but I do not want you to because we are supposed to share such things. Your fears and desires should be my fears and desires. I thought we were past hiding from one another." He stroked a stray hair from her face, " You must give me your word that will never keep anything so important from me again. Your solemn word."
Jean-Claude had been there when Asher awoke, sitting beside him and gently caressing him. For a split second Asher thought it was because he had the worst of news. His memory of waking up another night long ago with Jean-Claude holding him was still very strong. But the moment his eyes opened he felt her. She was alive, and well, and in the next room breathing softly. He clung to Jean-Claude and cried. When he was done, Jean-Claude told him everything and took the blame for driving Penelope to such a desperate act. Asher was too grateful to quarrel with him, and he could feel that Jean-Claude was truly contrite. Instead they discussed and marvelled at Penelope's ability to create and divert that much power. The implications were intriguing, but they both agreed that now was not the time to explore the possibilities of such power. Despite that agreement, Asher knew that the wheels turning in Jean-Claude's mind would not forget so easily.
He looked down into his servant's eyes, and all his concerns disappeared. Penelope was here and alive. What powers she possessed were immaterial to him.
"I give you my word, Master." Penelope bowed her head.
For this once Asher did not correct her of her old ways. He tipped her chin back up and kissed her, gently at first, but then he unleashed his desire. Desire, and something altogether more intense. Perhaps it was primordial in nature, but he felt the need to show his dominance as well as his love for her. He was not gentle in this display, not even taking the time to remove his clothing.
But afterwards, as he softened inside of her, he caressed the quickly healing bruises on her wrists and licked the rivulets of blood that ran down her white skin, and felt more in love with her and more love from her than ever before.
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Later that afternoon Asher got up to go over the figures from last night's opening at Veritas and to read the reviews in the paper. He promised to bring them in to Penelope if she promised not to get out of bed. Which meant staying home from work. He declared that he and the rest of the staff were more than capable of running the show for one night.
After he left, Penelope drifted in and out of sleep, but was awakened by the feeling that someone was watching her. Someone was.
Far away from the bed, in the corner, London stood staring at her. He had on his signature black pants and a black silk shirt and, were it not for the pale glow of his skin, he would have blended in with the dark surroundings. Penelope sat up and reached for him.
"London?"
She rubbed her eyes to make sure she was not dreaming. She wondered why he was not there when he first awoke, but figured he wished to give Asher private time with her first. Now, she needed to touch him.
London was as still as vampires could get. His voice devoid of the lilt she was used to hearing when they were together.
"Why, Penelope? I have heard Jean-Claude's explanation, and Asher's, but I need to hear it from your lips. Why? Why would you risk your life? Our new found happiness?"
Penelope had expected this reaction from Asher, but not from her knight.
"London, I had no..."
"No what, Penelope? No choice? NO CHOICE?" For the first time ever his voice was raised in anger towards her. "We all have choices, Penelope. Choices that do not include using the people we profess to love. Choices that include not leaving them behind."
Penelope jumped out of bed and moved towards him, thankful that she was no longer naked but had on a pair of pale pink silk pajamas. Her sudden movement prompted London to take refuge on the other side of the room with his vampire speed. Although the distance was only a few yards, it may as well have been miles. Penelope's heart throbbed with a dull pain as she realized the effect of her actions on her lover.
"London, I never meant to hurt you. I love you."
"But you meant to leave me. To leave me behind." He turned from her so she could not see his face, could not see the pink tears that brimmed in his eyes. His voice was steady though, and fierce, and angry.
His voice changed again, this time effused with an intense sadness."You are not my servant. I have no ties to you, no connection that affords me the luxury of going to my death with you. At least Asher knew he would never awaken if you died. At least he had that."
"I would have released him, London. I had no intention of taking him with me."
"Your power to do so is well known, but what you do not know is that Jean-Claude agreed to take his life if you did not survive. Asher would not have opened his eyes again had you died. But I, I would have been forced to go on. Go on, or take my own life. Can you imagine a knight of the Crusades plunging a dagger into his own heart? Committing the worst of sins? Damning the already damned?"
He laughed, but not because he thought it was amusing. "I was prepared to do it, too. I would not have lived to see another nightfall. You say you would have released Asher, but you would have damned us both and Jean-Claude too. Damned us all in a way our sires never could."
London's words reminded her of what Jean-Claude had told her. He had given his word to kill Asher in the event she did not survive. She began to shake with the knowledge that Asher had said nothing to her about his Devil's agreement. Penelope looked to London. She had to make him understand.
"Please don't say those things," her voice trembled, knowing in her heart that all of her excuses were meaningless. "Can you not try to see it from my point of view? I had to do something, London. You at least have purpose here in this place, your powers contribute to the strength of the kiss. This charm was all I had to give."
London turned and moved with lightening speed, intending on grabbing her shoulders, but stopping just short. He could not bear to touch her right now because he was afraid of what might happen. His voice bellowed and filled the room.
"That is exactly the problem, Penelope! You do not know your true worth to those who love you. Do you think I give a damn about the fucking charm, or Marmee Noir, or even this kiss? Were you my servant I would have taken you away from all of this and happily lived with and loved you in a secluded cottage for all eternity."
The truth of his feelings was suddenly clear. London knew that although he could have Penelope for all time if they wished, it would never be just them. It was not Asher who he resented, but rather the entire vampire community and the way things were, and the world in general. Asher would never leave Jean-Claude, which meant Penelope would always be in the line of fire, and London had no intention of ever leaving Penelope. He had thought all afternoon that perhaps he would have been better off loving her from afar and in secret. But those thoughts quickly dissolved when he remembered how good it felt to feel her body next to him, or to hear her laugh, or to watch the expressions on her face when they were together. It didn't matter that he could not "feel" her in the same way that Asher could. What they had was different, and allowed him to experience what was left of his humanity in ways he never thought possible.
No. Leaving her was not an option. Not loving her was impossible. But for now, he had to get away from her.
"I have to go."
London turned and went for the door.
"No, don't leave like this, please!" Penelope reached to grab his arm, but London moved too fast for her.
"Think about this moment the next time you foolishly risk your life and our love."
The door slammed shut and Penelope ran to the bathroom as sickness and sorrow overcame her.
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Asher stared in disbelief.
How? How did this happen?
The tabloid floated lightly to the floor. On the cover was a photograph of Penelope and London locked in a passionate embrace with the headline:
"Debauchery! Devastatingly deformed Master Vampire loses servant to Darkly Handsome Knight: A tale of sex and servant swapping in St. Louis"
He covered his face with his hands and slumped over the desk.
Back to index
Chapter 23- A Modern Strike by nicola71
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Many thanks to Submissively Asher's for her eternal support and superior beta skills!
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"Well," Anita sighed as she crumpled up the tabloid and threw it to the floor, "is it wrong of me to be relieved that at least it's not my picture on the front page this time?"
She was being sarcastic and trying to lighten Jean-Claude's very dark mood.
"Ma petite, please. This is no time for your special kind of, what do you call it? Humor?"
Jean-Claude appreciated her attempt, but was not inclined to respond in kind. He was standing by the fireplace with both graceful hands on the mantle staring up at the portrait of he and Asher and Julianna. The painting had recently been re-hung when the landscape of Asher's ancestral home was moved to Veritas. He was still processing the events which had come to light in a most violent and unexpected way in the last hour or so. Is it too much to ask that things might actually run smoothly in my life, at least for a little while, Jean-Claude thought to himself.
Asher had burst into his office an hour earlier in a murderous rage, cursing and screaming in French, ready to bleed out whoever was responsible for the outrageous story in the papers. It took a lot of power for Jean-Claude to calm his temoin. Not only power, but soothing, and promises that he would do everything he could to ensure things would be made right. But even Jean-Claude had no idea what that was at the moment.
The blaring headline said it all, but the story inked inside was even seedier. Someone had leaked Asher's most private pains to the media. Julianna, the Inquisition, his years of torture, and his sexual proclivities.
"A source who wishes to remain anonymous, to protect his life, says that the vampire Asher, Master of the City Jean-Claude's sometime lover and second in command, is a frequent visitor to Narcissus in Chains, the very expensive and up to now discreet home of some of St. Louis's most depraved sexual appetites. The source continues to say that Asher developed his love for inflicting pain on sexual submissives, sodomy, orgies, and trans-gender sexcapades while he was a denizen of the elusive vampire Belle Morte in France."
Jean-Claude, of course, saw nothing wrong with any of Asher's proclivities. But to have them spattered across both tabloids and mainstream American newspapers was not exactly the kind of publicity he was looking for. That was not the worst of it, though. Asher was never ashamed of sex, or of his sexual appetites, but what was reported next cut him to the quick.
“The source told our reporter that Asher's recently taken servant, Penelope, (consequently the sister to Asher's first servant who was burned as a witch because of her liaison with him), was so violated by the deformed vampire, who we understand forced her into becoming his servant, that she ran to the safety of another Master Vampire of Jean-Claude's kiss, named London. A gallant and handsome knight, intent on rescuing his lady from a life of sexual slavery. The two can be seen in a passionate and loving embrace in the photo-spread on pages 8 and 9.”
Lies of course. But now the whole country saw Asher as a monster that trapped a beautiful woman into a freak show of sexual horrors.
"At least the proper newspapers did not run the quotes," Jean-Claude sighed.
The tabloids printed several quotes from an apparently overheard conversation between London and Penelope. The alleged quotes read just like a tawdry romance novel.
"London, or the Dark Knight as he is known, pleaded with his lover to forsake Asher's debauched sexplay, 'Don't go to him tonight! Please! Darling! Do not submit to his twisted desires for one more moment!' 'Be with me, my love!' 'Run away with me!'"
Anita sighed again as the door opened and London walked in. His all black attire which usually heightened his handsomeness, made him appear more morose than usual. Morose, and deadly.
"I suppose you have heard?"
He nodded.
"Does Penelope know?"
"She has locked herself in her room refusing to see anyone, even Asher. She believes this to be her fault...the reporter..."
"Yeah," Anita snarled, "I guess we now know who sabotaged the cameras. But that still doesn't explain where he got all his Intel. Or who he is working for. Or why all the trouble for a fabricated story for the gossip rags."
London sat down with the grace of his kind, completely in control of himself. At least on the outside.
"We have a traitor." He said straightforwardly.
Jean-Claude looked up from his desk, "Oui, I know. But we also know who may be behind this. There is only one person I can think of on the planet who would take pleasure in this kind of attack. Who would smile knowing she had struck at his heart once again. A heart that she had heard was recently healed."
Belle Morte.
"I guess Belle has joined the 21st century after all." Anita sighed.
"More than you know." Jason ripped through the door carrying his laptop. "The blogs are buzzing."
"Fuck." Anita sank into the sofa.
"Yeah, you could say that. There are photo-shopped pictures all over the net of Asher with Penelope, Asher with Jean-Claude, Asher with Narcissus, Asher with me, Asher with you, Asher with...well, with many. Things even the lowlife papers would never print for fear of being sued." Jason joined Anita on the sofa.
"I don't want to see!"
"Jason!" Jean-Claude said sharply. He rarely addressed his pomme so frigidly.
"Please."
Jason closed the laptop.
London rose slowly and moved towards the door, but his magic flared so suddenly and so violently throughout the room, it struck everyone in it squarely in the face. His anger was so great he didn't even bother to hide it.
"London!" Jean-Claude, cautioned sternly. Because of his connections to London, both as a friend and as his master, he had some idea of what was going through his head.
"I forbid you to do anything rash."
London looked back, his eyes on fire with rage. They gave away what his body language did not.
"Do not try to stop me from, at the very least, locating the man. He may be just a pawn, but often enough the pawns are aware of the identity of the King."
"Or, queen, as is most likely the case." Jean-Claude seemed to lose himself in thought for a split second.
"Master, on my word I will not kill him."
London looked down in deference, reverting to the old ways in the hope that it would convince Jean-Claude of his sincerity. His immediate fantasy was not to damage the reporter too badly, at least not at first. But after he had squeezed every drop of information the man had from his brain, he imagined killing him slowly, first driving him to madness in the process. It was a road that London was not afraid to travel, and one he had been down before.
"I cannot trust you, mon ami, I am sorry. Your love clouds your judgment in this. I have already had to remind Asher of this tonight, and I am afraid you do not quite hold for me the same affection. Do not force me to restrain you in silver, for it would kill me to do so. But I will do it."
London turned to face him. Both Anita and Jason rose slowly, unsure of exactly what lengths London was willing to go to. They were more than a little terrified at the dead calm of his tone. Anita instinctively felt for her gun just in case, but she was starting to use her head a little more these days, especially with those she loved, or in London's case, liked a whole lot.
London stood very still once again, clearly suppressing the human desire to pace the room frantically, throw furniture, and destroy things.
"I will not sit here and do nothing while someone I love becomes target practice for Her ego. I will not. I have endured the last of her taunts, her vindictiveness, and her bile. Must she be allowed to terrorize us for eternity? Are we not free, Jean-Claude? I thought we were free."
Although practiced in hiding his emotions, London was unable to disguise his anguish. Jean-Claude looked away, well acquainted with what the other vampire was feeling. As he searched for words, he heard the soft and calming voice of his servant. Where it came from was anyone's guess.
"She is a two-thousand year old vampire, London, a ruling member of the Council, and we are not even sure it is she behind this. "
Anita was certain that it was Jean-Claude channeling through her, because she could not believe how rational she was being about Belle. A vampire she would just as soon eviscerate than negotiate with. Despite her disbelief, she approached London carefully, reaching for his arm. She figured of all the people in the room she had the best chance of getting close to him without losing her head or a quart of blood.
"You can't fight her alone," she said quietly.
London let her touch his arm, and his magic, which felt like it was burning through the surface of his skin, was cooled by her touch.
"I have no intention of fighting Her, Anita. But do not ask me not to make someone pay for this."
"Someone will pay, mon ami, someone will pay."
Jean-Claude was doing his best to remain his cool and calm self, but inside he was boiling as much as his dark knight. His heart was bleeding for Asher, for Penelope, and for London. But mostly for Asher. The look on hischardonneret's face when he came into the room earlier broke his heart. It was the same anguish Jean-Claude had seen centuries before. The same hopelessness, the same fear, the same rage. It was a look he had thought he would not see on Asher's face ever again.
Anita stroked London's arm.
"Go to Penelope, London. Go see her. Be with her."
Her voice was as soft as she had ever been with him. Even when she fed from him, she often worked very hard to avoid too much emotional contact. Anita did a lot of things wrong, but with London she had been determined that the feedings would not cause him more pain than necessary. She liked him very much, and recognized the abuse reflected in his eyes. It was something in the eyes of all of her men.
London looked down into Anita's face, feeling grateful but undeserving for the tenderness. She did not know about the harsh words he had dealt Penelope only hours before the scandal was revealed. How he had hurt her, intentionally. He tried to push his words from his mind, but all he could see was the look on Penny's face as he turned and walked out her door. He had meant to hurt her. He struck out at her because of his own fear and pain. It was petty and it was childish, but he still had not come to terms with how he felt about what she had done when this new pain settled in on top of it.
She had been selfish, in his opinion. But she was alive and that should have been all that mattered. In the end it was something that could be addressed later. When he searched his soul all he wanted was to see her. To hold her. And to rip the throat out of that reporter. To rip the throat out of Belle Morte. The latter was a death wish, but the former was a real possibility.
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Penelope was all cried out. Again.
The flames from the gas fireplace started to blend together, but by this point she could care less if the whole room burst into flames. Her naïveté had cost Asher, had cost London, and had cost Jean-Claude. Cost them much more than she was worth, in her opinion.
Since there was no doubt in her mind that she could not get any more stupid than she was, she had drained almost an entire bottle of cognac. Her servant's constitution made getting drunk a difficult endeavor, but somehow she had managed it. She didn't even hear Asher break the lock and come in.
He stood for a moment watching the flames halo her. He had put his anger away in that secret place where he contained his rage. It was a place he had not visited for quite a while, but once there he felt utterly familiar and at ease. There were compartments for all the pain he had endured over the long centuries, but the largest room by far was reserved for Belle Morte. His maker. His one time lover. The former goddess to his worship. His constant tormentor.
The scent of cognac filled his nostrils. He had experienced his servant's feelings more and more the drunker she got, and there was no hiding anything from him now. She wasn't even trying. He recognized the feelings of inadequacy, the helplessness, the stupidity. They were, of course, all the same things he had felt for most of his life.
You are far from stupid, ma mei. He whispered through her mind. But you are quite drunk.
Penelope spun around. Her own senses were hindered, and Asher had hidden his presence. She tried to focus on him standing a few feet from her, with hair falling golden and mussed around his face. He looked like an angel. He walked forward until he was behind her and reached around to lift the empty crystal glass from her hand.
"I see you found the cognac."
Penelope nodded and mumbled something about being sorry she drank most of it. Then something occurred to her.
"Oh, my word! Are you? Did I make you?" She spun in her chair again, and even though her body stopped, the room continued.
Asher laughed, caught Penelope's shoulders to steady her and came to kneel in front of her, stroking the hair from her face and smiling at the pained expression she wore. He could already feel the enormous headache that was about to descend upon her.
"No, my love, I am not drunk. Although I was wobbling a bit coming down the hall, and I fear if I take your vein I may pass out far before dawn." He smiled and sniffed the air. "As a matter of fact, I think simply your breath may do almost as much damage as your blood."
She fell sloppily forward into his arms and made an attempt to put a sentence together.
"You don't have to say anything, Penelope. I know." Asher just held her.
The anger that pounded through his body was not directed at her, and she knew that. It was for another woman, one who was thousands of miles away, but whose blood red fingertips seemed to always be inches from his throat.
When he looked up from her he saw London standing in the doorway. With a subtle eye movement, Asher motioned for him to close the door and come in.
He came in and knelt next to Asher. His hand instinctively went to Penelope's hair, and he too began to stroke her, with one arm around Asher's shoulders. The three of them stayed that way for some time, just touching. No magic, just the three of them joined by the threads of humanity they shared.
When Penny finally looked up into London's eyes, she only had one thing to say.
"I am so drunk."
Now it was London's turn to laugh. His earlier anger had gone somewhere else for the time being and he was strangely okay with that.
"Yes, love, you certainly are." He kissed her forehead and made a face as he caught a whiff of cognac and smiled. "We must keep you away from open flames tonight!"
Penelope was too far gone to enjoy the joke. Right now the room was revolving at what seemed like impossible speed. She needed to be prone, and attached to something solid.
"I think I need to lie down," She said pathetically.
Asher moved and let London take Penelope up in his arms. He carried her to the bed where the three of them snuggled in together with Penny in the middle.
"This is so nice," she muttered as she gripped tightly to each of their shirts until she peacefully passed out.
London leaned up on one elbow and looked Asher straight in the eyes. The love and compassion the two men felt for the woman between them had changed to something much more sinister.
"I know we are of one mind, you and I." The knight said to the courtier.
"Jean-Claude must not know until it is done." Asher's ice blue eyes flared with power.
"This reporter did not work on his own. He had to have inside help." London had an inkling as to who, but was not saying what both he and Asher were thinking.
"Well, mon ami, we will have to persuade him to let us in on his little secret."
The two vampires gracefully rose and simultaneously lay a gentle kiss on each of Penelope's cheeks. They hoped that by the time she awoke with her head in tatters, the deed would be done.
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Chapter 24- Discussions by nicola71
Chapter 24- Discussions
Jean-Claude was outwardly irate.
Inside he displayed his most gleeful and sinister smile. A smile he had not shown in many years, but one he still derived a certain degree of pleasure from. For more than a second he imagined exactly what he would be doing to the shivering man before him if Anita had never come into his life. He was a vampire, after all.
For her part, Anita had gotten over her initial anger at Asher and London, but mostly she was pissed off that they didn't invite her along on the hunt. The scumbag was human, but he had played a part in hurting people she loved.
"Better not involve the servant of the Master of the City, and a Federal Marshall, in a somewhat less than legal borrowing of this man from his motel room", Asher said with a sneer.
London and Asher used their heightened senses, as well as their street contacts to locate the reporter, who was going by the name of Mark Fontaine. Apparently he was still using his phony press credentials to have a good time in St. Louis before he returned to wherever he came from. He obviously did not think his ruse would be discovered so quickly. Stupid man.
London gently persuaded one of the coat check girls from Veritas to admit that she spent the night with Mr. Fontaine after the opening party. He had seen her give her cell phone number to Fontaine in one of the surveillance videos that he and Asher had poured over after they left Penelope. They had vengeance in their hearts, but both were intelligent enough to use modern technology to make their quest easier. Castor and Pollux added two extra sets of preternatural eyes, as well as drove the SUV with dark tinted windows to the seedy motel where the girl said she met Fontaine.
Sharise was her name, and she gave them a wealth of information about the elusive Mr. Fontaine. It seemed he was feeling rather proud of himself as he left Veritas that night. So proud, in fact, that he felt the need to brag to her about how rich and powerful he would become after the ruse he'd been able to orchestrate, and that "wouldn't she like to be the mistress of a rich and powerful man?"
Even though London had used his powers, Sharise's natural idiocy still managed to leak through. London and Asher learned another modern phrase. TMI.
"When I saw that hotel, I thought, 'Oh. My. GOD!', I am not going in there no matter how cute you are! And I thought maybe we could just do it in my car or in the alleyway where I think I would have felt safer if you can believe it! But I couldn't help myself. He looked in my eyes and I was his. I did things to him that I had only seen on those videos you get at The PlayPen, and Oh. My. GOD! He asked me to put my..."
London quickly put her to sleep and wiped not only the memory of him, but also of Mr. Fontaine. As far as Sharise knew, she went home that night and fell peacefully asleep.
It had been easier than they could have imagined to find Fontaine. When they burst open the door they found him alone, naked and sleeping soundly, a bottle of twelve year old scotch next to the bed. Asher and London had the same thought. If this guy was working for Belle, he was actually lucky they found him first. Belle did not tolerate slip shod work, and this guy obviously had no idea what he had gotten himself into or he would have left town. It was almost too easy.
"Yes, mes ami, I agree. Much too easy. And not like Her at all." Jean-Claude circled around Fontaine, who was still naked, a little bruised, and securely chained to a chair in the middle of the coffin room.
They had decided to go for drama, and the puddle under Fontaine's chair indicated that it had been the right path. The man was clearly terrified. Another clue that perhaps they had been too hasty when thinking that Belle was behind the newspaper attacks. She liked her minions controllable, but never cowardly.
Anita was sitting on a backwards chair in front of Fontaine. Although she was the smallest creature in the room, her visible guns and knives showed she was as deadly as any vampire, and if he had done any homework at all for this job, he already knew her reputation. She stared at him, while he stared at the floor.
"Well, are we going to paint his portrait, or get down to business?" She questioned Jean-Claude who she could feel was still working out the details in his mind.
Fontaine raised his head, tears streaming down his face, which was starting to purple up from where London had accidentally on purpose punched him in the face.
When the two vampires saw him alone in the bed, London initially held back Asher who tried to rush the bed with fangs bared. He was afraid that Asher had had quite enough of being a victim and was going to start his recovery with Fontaine. Pollux came through the door seconds after them and used all his strength to hold Asher while London easily crossed the room and grabbed Fontaine before he could even think about fleeing. However, as he held him by the arms, something primal took over. It wasn't the vampire who swung his fist, but the man. And it felt good. Of course, even though London knew he could kill him with precious little effort, he just could not help himself. He hauled back and punched him unconscious, swung him over his shoulder and the three of them got out of there unseen.
In the car Asher thanked him.
"I would have killed him. I guess, as they say, I owe you one."
"No, you don't." London looked absently out the blackened window thinking that Asher had already given him more than he could ever want.
"Perhaps a few days in one of our coffins may loosen his tongue." Asher piped up.
Anita's expression didn't change. She knew it was a bluff. At least, she hoped so. A few days in a coffin could cause madness in a new vampire, she couldn't imagine what it would do to this weak human in front of her.
Fresh tears began to roll down Fontaine's face, but the threat finally opened his mouth.
"What did I do? What do you want from me?" he wailed.
It was Jean-Claude who spoke. His voice was calm, and smooth, and utterly terrifying.
"Well, Mr. Fontaine, if that is your name, we were wondering, if perhaps you might feel like telling us one or two things." He came around to Fontaine's back and placed both hands on his shoulders. Fontaine winced as if in pain.
"First," Jean-Claue continued, "I would be very grateful to know who you work for. But I don't expect that even a weak and foolish coward like yourself is willing to give up your benefactor so easily. So let's start with my second question."
He moved slowly around until he was bent over making eye contact with Fontaine. He used no magic, just bared his fangs, and ran his long graceful fingers up and down the man's throat.
"Exactly how did you bypass our security cameras the other night?"
"What?"
Anita huffed loudly.
"Oh, fuck, this is going to be good! You are going to play..."
"Ma petite..." Jean-Claude wanted to do this his way.
He turned his face back to Fontaine. "Let us try that again. You managed to shut down our video cameras and intercept the feed in order to get photographic stills of two of my employees in a private moment. How did you do this?" His fingers dug hard into Fontiane's skin, hard enough that if he used his nails there would have been ten trails of blood flowing down the man's white skin.
"It...it...it...wasn't me. I...I...I was just there to distract her. To...to...to get her downstairs alone."
"To what purpose?" Jean-Claude let up his grip slightly. He felt the man breaking.
"To get some pictures of her...I really don't know what else...really! I swear! She told me that she was just going to run some rumors in the paper, to try and ruin the new club."
"She?" Jean-Claude looked at Asher and then Anita. He silently talked to them.
This is not Belle we are dealing with.
"The chick that runs that other club in town. The one where all the fetish freaks go to."
After he said it, he regretted using the word, 'freaks'.
"NOT FREAKS! I mean the people into that kind of stuff, you know...kinky stuff, leather, and whips, and shit like that. I never meant to call you freaks...I myself have been known..."
"ENOUGH!" Jean-Claude had no intention of listening to his hysterically terrified ramble. He had what he needed.
Anita spoke, "Well,well,well!"
Asher's lips were pressed together in anger. "She" was Narcissus. His own Oba. Leader of his animal to call.
When he calmed down, Fontaine explained that Narcissus came to him with a lot of money, and promises of more, if he helped her ruin Veritas' reputation as well as that of its owners. He was from Tallahassee and had no idea who he was dealing with. He wasn't even a real reporter. Just a man on a business trip who found himself in over his head one night while 'recreating' at Narcissus in Chains. To repay his debt to the Oba, who he didn't even know was a were-hyena, or a hermaphrodite, he agreed to pose as a reporter. He never realized that he was supposed to be the scapegoat, or that Narcissus was probably hoping Asher would kill him before he had the chance to talk.
"Asher," Jean-Claude said quietly, "would you be so kind as to call Castor and Pollux down here?"
"They are already on their way."
Asher refused to believe that the brothers were involved in this in any way. They seemed to have no love for their Oba, and spent all of their time at the Circus. But he had to be certain. At the very least, they might know something.
He felt Penelope awaken.
Ma mei, how do you feel?
Awful. Where are you? Come snuggle with me.
Soon, darling. I am taking care of something at the moment.
Penelope sensed the tension and used her abilities to see through Asher. She saw the room, and Fontaine.
I'm coming down.
Non! There is no need for you to be here.
No Need? That man destroyed your reputation, and that of our new club, and made me look like a simpering fool. Don't I deserve to be there?
There was no stopping her, she was already on her way.
Just then, Castor and Pollux entered the room, followed closely by Claudia, Fredo, and several other guards. Their loylaty was not yet in question, but the brothers had proved enigmatic and powerful, so Jean-Claude was taking no chances.
"You summoned us?" Castor spoke first, his hazel eyes afire. He seemed to know what was about to be asked.
"How much time did you spend with your Oba before you came into Asher's service?" Jean-Claude was asking the questions and mentally holding back both Asher and Anita. It was going to be an exhausting interrogation.
"Not much." Castor did not seem to want to give up to much information.
"I am surprised that she would not want to keep you. You both are exquisite physical specimens, certainly to her taste."
"Not quite, it would seem. She did not want us from the moment she saw us. Service to Asher and to you was offered quite readily, and almost immediately."
"Why is that?"
"I do not pretend to understand the machinations of that mad hyena's mind, Master."
Castor accentuated the 'Master', unafraid to show Jean-Claude that his patience was running a bit thin.
So was Jean-Claude's.
The vampire launched himself at the hyena, pinning him to the far wall, just as Penelope came through the door. Pollux grabbed her and protected her from the debris of the stone wall that shattered into the air as Jean-Claude plowed Castor into it.
In an instant, Asher had Penelope in his arms, snatching her from Pollux who offered no fight. Asher noted to himself that he was indeed truly protecting her.
"Jean," Asher spoke to his lover quietly.
Castor did not make an attempt to defend himself, only stared into the midnight blue eyes glowing centimeters from his face.
Jean-Claude whispered, "Who, and what exactly are you and your brother? The Oba sends you away. Why? She is frightened of you. Tell me why she fears you so much that she sends you to us, only to hire this weakling to do what you could have done with ease, and far more success."
"Brother!" Pollux's words cautioned, but it was already too late.
Castor's hands had morphed into sharpened claws, but his lips pulled back to reveal not the teeth of a hyena, but the fangs of a vampire. His eyes, like Jean-Claude's were alive with brilliant hazel-green fire.
Anita, Claudia and Fredo had their guns drawn, but it was Jean-Claude who held his hand up to them.
He now knew exactly what Castor was.
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Sorry for the long wait between chapters. RL continues to chew on me. Special thanks to Submissively Asher's for all of her wisdom, editing skills, and ready ear. She has truly been a good friend which is, above all else, the best trait of a great beta! *hugs*
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It must be necessary. It IS necessary. It's necessary. Anita kept repeating this mantra to herself silently. At least she thought it was silently.
"Of course it must be necessary, Anita. Jean-Claude's power comes from sex after all, duh." Jason spoke softly and slowly to Anita but couldn't take his eyes off what was happening on the bed a few feet from him.
Jean-Claude had Penelope's naked body in his arms, his lips gently, but passionately kissing her while he ran his long fingers through the brown waves of her hair. Pollux was pressed to her back with his hands caressing her flesh, kissing her shoulders. Since he was still naked, his arousal was plain for everyone in the room to see. He growled softly and gently grazed the creamy skin of her neck with bared teeth that for a split second seemed more like the fangs of a vampire than the teeth of a hyena.
Castor, however, was suddenly at the opposite end of the bed, cowering as if his greatest fear had manifested before him. The terror on his face was real, as were the tears that glistened in his hazel eyes. Jason and Anita had not even seen him move.
Penelope's eyes opened with a start, and she pushed herself away from Jean-Claude with a small gasp. Pollux's arms caught her, but as the moment passed over them he looked down at her, and then across to his brother with a puzzled expression. When he realized his hands were touching her bare skin, and that his erection was pressed into her back, he quickly reached for the sheet and covered her. He then quietly extracted himself from the bed, and began to gather his clothes, careful to shield his groin from everyone. Try as he might to appear nonchalant, he stumbled. Jason was there to catch him.
"Hey, buddy, it's okay. First time feeling the ardeur?"
"The what?" Pollux's face was contorted in confusion, his eyes glassy and unfocused.
"The ardeur, brother." Castor materialized to steady his sibling and whispered, "you are well aware of that power. It has been a long time, though." He cast a warning glance at Jason.
"Hey, if you don't want to talk about it, it's fine with me. Just get him something to eat, okay."
"I know how to take care of him, wolf."
Jason backed off, surprised by the the condescending tone. Castor had never exhibited anything but a jovial, if somewhat serious, nature. Jason filed this information away for future investigation and cast a curious glance at Anita.
Castor ignored him and instead looked back at Jean-Claude, "May we be excused?"
"Oui, of course. You served us well today. I will be sure to inform your master of your unwavering devotion." There was something else in Jean-Claude's tone, but for the moment he was letting it go.
"Thank you," Castor led his brother to the door, even though he was only half dressed.
Jason watched them carefully and looked back at Anita. Both of them silently agreed to do some investigating on the hyena brothers as soon as things calmed down. Which with their crew, might be never.
Penelope sat up, suddenly very alert.
"Castor! Pollux!"
The brothers stopped and Castor held on to Pollux tightly as he strained to go to her.
"Thank you, thank you very much." She reached out to them, wanting to embrace them but knowing they would come no closer at the moment. There was an odd feeling in the room, masked only because of the magical residue that remained. But Penelope felt something strange from the brothers. Something she felt she should have recognized, but for the moment she was too tired to care.
"Your welcome, my lady." Pollux managed a half bow, Castor nodded curtly and turned him towards the door quickly.
When they were gone, Penelope reached for Jean-Claude's hand.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"I did no more than what you allowed me to do." Careful now that the power receded, Jean-Claude simply kissed her hand.
Penelope had a dim memory of a conversation with Jean-Claude on the other side, but could not remember the details. There was something about it she felt she should have been able to recollect. Something important about Asher, and London, and her. But for now it was lost.
She gazed into Jean-Claude's eyes and saw something there she had not seen in many centuries, but as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone.
"So, you guys want to tell us what the hell happened?"
Anita sat on the bed and took Jean-Claude's other hand. She was feeling a bit territorial, and although she was truly happy to have Penny back, there was no need to loan her boyfriend for longer than necessary. Anita had worked very hard to conceal the jealousy that burned through her as she watched Jean-Claude kiss his former lover. She let herself wonder for a moment if he had ever kissed her so tenderly. As soon as she thought it, she was ashamed. Of course he had, even if she had been too hard-hearted to notice. One thing she knew for certain now though, was that his connection to Penelope was more than she had led herself to believe. She filed this feeling away with the rest of the truths she was reluctant to acknowledge.
Penelope's face darkened, "I took a foolish chance, Anita. A chance that yielded less than I'd hoped."
"Not quite, ma cheriè." Jean-Claude smiled, "you have bought us some time. That is something we can always use."
Penelope looked around, "Speaking of that, what time is it? Where is Asher?" She knew she would have felt him if he was awake.
"Asher will be awake soon, within the hour I think." Anita motioned towards the other bedroom. "He and London were pretty shaken by what you did. I think you will have a bit of explaining to do after they get done hugging and kissing you to death."
"I would not be surprised if hugging and kissing is the last thing on their minds. What I did, what I used them for, was..."
"Was the only choice I left you." Jean-Claude said as he placed a finger to her lips, "And they will know that."
What was between the former lovers would remain unspoken as yet in this world, but for now they had reached a new level of understanding. With all the metaphysical at an end for the moment, Penelope was suddenly very aware of her physical needs.
"I think I'd like a shower, and maybe something to eat?"
Jean-Claude laughed, "Of course. I'll have something sent in."
"I can help you shower if you're feeling weak." Jason piped up.
Penelope laughed and brought him in for a hug.
"How about you wait out here until I'm done, and keep me company until my lovers awaken to throttle me?"
"Aw!" Jason playfully whined, but smiled as she wrapped herself up in the sheet and disappeared into the bathroom.
"I think we can make ourselves scarce," Anita smiled and tugged on Jean-Claude's sable sleeve. "I mean, you're up and around and all, and I don't think anyone is expecting you at work anytime soon."
"True, ma petite, very true." Jean-Claude smiled slyly. "I could get used to staying up all day."
The comment was not intentionally meant to jab at Anita, but if it did he didn't care at the moment. As usual, Jean-Claude pressed his luck.
"As a matter of fact, I think I could do with short nap. I have not napped in centuries."
"A nap!" Anita felt the jab, and knew it was not entirely unwarranted. "Well, if the Master of the City needs a nap, far be it from me to distract him." She got up in a huff and stalked out of the room.
Jason couldn't help himself, "uh, you think she's a little pissed?"
Jean-Claude looked over at his pomme with an almost boyish glint in his sapphire eyes.
"She'll be waiting for me in my bed, of that you can be certain."
Jean-Claude was still feeling quite a rush of power from raising the ardeur, and the need to quench it. He knew his servant felt it too. Besides that, he knew Anita too well not to know that she would need to re-mark her territory.
"I wouldn't be so sure if I was you. You know how she gets. I bet she's in her car already." Jason laughed, but something in Jean-Claude's face made him believe.
"Come to my room in about an hour, mon lupe. If I don't need to feed, then you can have the rest of the week off. Paid in full." Jean-Claude smiled his best badly behaved boy smile.
Jason was at work that night, and every night for the whole week.
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After her shower and something to eat, Penelope fell into a light sleep. The image of her grandmother's face lingered in her mind, but some of her words were fading.
What was it Helene told me? Why can't I remember everything?
As deeper sleep claimed her, she found it didn't really matter. The charm, however, was clear and ingrained in her mind. She could perform it as if she had always known how.
Penelope? A soft voice caressed her mind.
Asher.
"Penelope, wake up, ma mei."
Asher was lightly stroking her arm. He was dressed and sitting next to her on his bed.
"Oh, Asher!" Penelope threw herself into his arms, "Forgive me! Forgive me, please!"
"Shush," he stopped her pleas with a kiss. "There is nothing to forgive, as far as I am concerned. Jean-Claude has spoken to me."
Asher's face turned reflective and in a tone tinged with regret he continued, "I just wish you had told me how much pressure you were feeling. I would have had words with him, had I known."
He pushed her back so he could look into her eyes as his voice turned stern.
"I do not want you to keep difficult things from me again, Penelope. I know you have the ability to shield your anxieties, but I do not want you to because we are supposed to share such things. Your fears and desires should be my fears and desires. I thought we were past hiding from one another." He stroked a stray hair from her face, " You must give me your word that will never keep anything so important from me again. Your solemn word."
Jean-Claude had been there when Asher awoke, sitting beside him and gently caressing him. For a split second Asher thought it was because he had the worst of news. His memory of waking up another night long ago with Jean-Claude holding him was still very strong. But the moment his eyes opened he felt her. She was alive, and well, and in the next room breathing softly. He clung to Jean-Claude and cried. When he was done, Jean-Claude told him everything and took the blame for driving Penelope to such a desperate act. Asher was too grateful to quarrel with him, and he could feel that Jean-Claude was truly contrite. Instead they discussed and marvelled at Penelope's ability to create and divert that much power. The implications were intriguing, but they both agreed that now was not the time to explore the possibilities of such power. Despite that agreement, Asher knew that the wheels turning in Jean-Claude's mind would not forget so easily.
He looked down into his servant's eyes, and all his concerns disappeared. Penelope was here and alive. What powers she possessed were immaterial to him.
"I give you my word, Master." Penelope bowed her head.
For this once Asher did not correct her of her old ways. He tipped her chin back up and kissed her, gently at first, but then he unleashed his desire. Desire, and something altogether more intense. Perhaps it was primordial in nature, but he felt the need to show his dominance as well as his love for her. He was not gentle in this display, not even taking the time to remove his clothing.
But afterwards, as he softened inside of her, he caressed the quickly healing bruises on her wrists and licked the rivulets of blood that ran down her white skin, and felt more in love with her and more love from her than ever before.
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Later that afternoon Asher got up to go over the figures from last night's opening at Veritas and to read the reviews in the paper. He promised to bring them in to Penelope if she promised not to get out of bed. Which meant staying home from work. He declared that he and the rest of the staff were more than capable of running the show for one night.
After he left, Penelope drifted in and out of sleep, but was awakened by the feeling that someone was watching her. Someone was.
Far away from the bed, in the corner, London stood staring at her. He had on his signature black pants and a black silk shirt and, were it not for the pale glow of his skin, he would have blended in with the dark surroundings. Penelope sat up and reached for him.
"London?"
She rubbed her eyes to make sure she was not dreaming. She wondered why he was not there when he first awoke, but figured he wished to give Asher private time with her first. Now, she needed to touch him.
London was as still as vampires could get. His voice devoid of the lilt she was used to hearing when they were together.
"Why, Penelope? I have heard Jean-Claude's explanation, and Asher's, but I need to hear it from your lips. Why? Why would you risk your life? Our new found happiness?"
Penelope had expected this reaction from Asher, but not from her knight.
"London, I had no..."
"No what, Penelope? No choice? NO CHOICE?" For the first time ever his voice was raised in anger towards her. "We all have choices, Penelope. Choices that do not include using the people we profess to love. Choices that include not leaving them behind."
Penelope jumped out of bed and moved towards him, thankful that she was no longer naked but had on a pair of pale pink silk pajamas. Her sudden movement prompted London to take refuge on the other side of the room with his vampire speed. Although the distance was only a few yards, it may as well have been miles. Penelope's heart throbbed with a dull pain as she realized the effect of her actions on her lover.
"London, I never meant to hurt you. I love you."
"But you meant to leave me. To leave me behind." He turned from her so she could not see his face, could not see the pink tears that brimmed in his eyes. His voice was steady though, and fierce, and angry.
His voice changed again, this time effused with an intense sadness."You are not my servant. I have no ties to you, no connection that affords me the luxury of going to my death with you. At least Asher knew he would never awaken if you died. At least he had that."
"I would have released him, London. I had no intention of taking him with me."
"Your power to do so is well known, but what you do not know is that Jean-Claude agreed to take his life if you did not survive. Asher would not have opened his eyes again had you died. But I, I would have been forced to go on. Go on, or take my own life. Can you imagine a knight of the Crusades plunging a dagger into his own heart? Committing the worst of sins? Damning the already damned?"
He laughed, but not because he thought it was amusing. "I was prepared to do it, too. I would not have lived to see another nightfall. You say you would have released Asher, but you would have damned us both and Jean-Claude too. Damned us all in a way our sires never could."
London's words reminded her of what Jean-Claude had told her. He had given his word to kill Asher in the event she did not survive. She began to shake with the knowledge that Asher had said nothing to her about his Devil's agreement. Penelope looked to London. She had to make him understand.
"Please don't say those things," her voice trembled, knowing in her heart that all of her excuses were meaningless. "Can you not try to see it from my point of view? I had to do something, London. You at least have purpose here in this place, your powers contribute to the strength of the kiss. This charm was all I had to give."
London turned and moved with lightening speed, intending on grabbing her shoulders, but stopping just short. He could not bear to touch her right now because he was afraid of what might happen. His voice bellowed and filled the room.
"That is exactly the problem, Penelope! You do not know your true worth to those who love you. Do you think I give a damn about the fucking charm, or Marmee Noir, or even this kiss? Were you my servant I would have taken you away from all of this and happily lived with and loved you in a secluded cottage for all eternity."
The truth of his feelings was suddenly clear. London knew that although he could have Penelope for all time if they wished, it would never be just them. It was not Asher who he resented, but rather the entire vampire community and the way things were, and the world in general. Asher would never leave Jean-Claude, which meant Penelope would always be in the line of fire, and London had no intention of ever leaving Penelope. He had thought all afternoon that perhaps he would have been better off loving her from afar and in secret. But those thoughts quickly dissolved when he remembered how good it felt to feel her body next to him, or to hear her laugh, or to watch the expressions on her face when they were together. It didn't matter that he could not "feel" her in the same way that Asher could. What they had was different, and allowed him to experience what was left of his humanity in ways he never thought possible.
No. Leaving her was not an option. Not loving her was impossible. But for now, he had to get away from her.
"I have to go."
London turned and went for the door.
"No, don't leave like this, please!" Penelope reached to grab his arm, but London moved too fast for her.
"Think about this moment the next time you foolishly risk your life and our love."
The door slammed shut and Penelope ran to the bathroom as sickness and sorrow overcame her.
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Asher stared in disbelief.
How? How did this happen?
The tabloid floated lightly to the floor. On the cover was a photograph of Penelope and London locked in a passionate embrace with the headline:
"Debauchery! Devastatingly deformed Master Vampire loses servant to Darkly Handsome Knight: A tale of sex and servant swapping in St. Louis"
He covered his face with his hands and slumped over the desk.
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Chapter 23- A Modern Strike by nicola71
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Many thanks to Submissively Asher's for her eternal support and superior beta skills!
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"Well," Anita sighed as she crumpled up the tabloid and threw it to the floor, "is it wrong of me to be relieved that at least it's not my picture on the front page this time?"
She was being sarcastic and trying to lighten Jean-Claude's very dark mood.
"Ma petite, please. This is no time for your special kind of, what do you call it? Humor?"
Jean-Claude appreciated her attempt, but was not inclined to respond in kind. He was standing by the fireplace with both graceful hands on the mantle staring up at the portrait of he and Asher and Julianna. The painting had recently been re-hung when the landscape of Asher's ancestral home was moved to Veritas. He was still processing the events which had come to light in a most violent and unexpected way in the last hour or so. Is it too much to ask that things might actually run smoothly in my life, at least for a little while, Jean-Claude thought to himself.
Asher had burst into his office an hour earlier in a murderous rage, cursing and screaming in French, ready to bleed out whoever was responsible for the outrageous story in the papers. It took a lot of power for Jean-Claude to calm his temoin. Not only power, but soothing, and promises that he would do everything he could to ensure things would be made right. But even Jean-Claude had no idea what that was at the moment.
The blaring headline said it all, but the story inked inside was even seedier. Someone had leaked Asher's most private pains to the media. Julianna, the Inquisition, his years of torture, and his sexual proclivities.
"A source who wishes to remain anonymous, to protect his life, says that the vampire Asher, Master of the City Jean-Claude's sometime lover and second in command, is a frequent visitor to Narcissus in Chains, the very expensive and up to now discreet home of some of St. Louis's most depraved sexual appetites. The source continues to say that Asher developed his love for inflicting pain on sexual submissives, sodomy, orgies, and trans-gender sexcapades while he was a denizen of the elusive vampire Belle Morte in France."
Jean-Claude, of course, saw nothing wrong with any of Asher's proclivities. But to have them spattered across both tabloids and mainstream American newspapers was not exactly the kind of publicity he was looking for. That was not the worst of it, though. Asher was never ashamed of sex, or of his sexual appetites, but what was reported next cut him to the quick.
“The source told our reporter that Asher's recently taken servant, Penelope, (consequently the sister to Asher's first servant who was burned as a witch because of her liaison with him), was so violated by the deformed vampire, who we understand forced her into becoming his servant, that she ran to the safety of another Master Vampire of Jean-Claude's kiss, named London. A gallant and handsome knight, intent on rescuing his lady from a life of sexual slavery. The two can be seen in a passionate and loving embrace in the photo-spread on pages 8 and 9.”
Lies of course. But now the whole country saw Asher as a monster that trapped a beautiful woman into a freak show of sexual horrors.
"At least the proper newspapers did not run the quotes," Jean-Claude sighed.
The tabloids printed several quotes from an apparently overheard conversation between London and Penelope. The alleged quotes read just like a tawdry romance novel.
"London, or the Dark Knight as he is known, pleaded with his lover to forsake Asher's debauched sexplay, 'Don't go to him tonight! Please! Darling! Do not submit to his twisted desires for one more moment!' 'Be with me, my love!' 'Run away with me!'"
Anita sighed again as the door opened and London walked in. His all black attire which usually heightened his handsomeness, made him appear more morose than usual. Morose, and deadly.
"I suppose you have heard?"
He nodded.
"Does Penelope know?"
"She has locked herself in her room refusing to see anyone, even Asher. She believes this to be her fault...the reporter..."
"Yeah," Anita snarled, "I guess we now know who sabotaged the cameras. But that still doesn't explain where he got all his Intel. Or who he is working for. Or why all the trouble for a fabricated story for the gossip rags."
London sat down with the grace of his kind, completely in control of himself. At least on the outside.
"We have a traitor." He said straightforwardly.
Jean-Claude looked up from his desk, "Oui, I know. But we also know who may be behind this. There is only one person I can think of on the planet who would take pleasure in this kind of attack. Who would smile knowing she had struck at his heart once again. A heart that she had heard was recently healed."
Belle Morte.
"I guess Belle has joined the 21st century after all." Anita sighed.
"More than you know." Jason ripped through the door carrying his laptop. "The blogs are buzzing."
"Fuck." Anita sank into the sofa.
"Yeah, you could say that. There are photo-shopped pictures all over the net of Asher with Penelope, Asher with Jean-Claude, Asher with Narcissus, Asher with me, Asher with you, Asher with...well, with many. Things even the lowlife papers would never print for fear of being sued." Jason joined Anita on the sofa.
"I don't want to see!"
"Jason!" Jean-Claude said sharply. He rarely addressed his pomme so frigidly.
"Please."
Jason closed the laptop.
London rose slowly and moved towards the door, but his magic flared so suddenly and so violently throughout the room, it struck everyone in it squarely in the face. His anger was so great he didn't even bother to hide it.
"London!" Jean-Claude, cautioned sternly. Because of his connections to London, both as a friend and as his master, he had some idea of what was going through his head.
"I forbid you to do anything rash."
London looked back, his eyes on fire with rage. They gave away what his body language did not.
"Do not try to stop me from, at the very least, locating the man. He may be just a pawn, but often enough the pawns are aware of the identity of the King."
"Or, queen, as is most likely the case." Jean-Claude seemed to lose himself in thought for a split second.
"Master, on my word I will not kill him."
London looked down in deference, reverting to the old ways in the hope that it would convince Jean-Claude of his sincerity. His immediate fantasy was not to damage the reporter too badly, at least not at first. But after he had squeezed every drop of information the man had from his brain, he imagined killing him slowly, first driving him to madness in the process. It was a road that London was not afraid to travel, and one he had been down before.
"I cannot trust you, mon ami, I am sorry. Your love clouds your judgment in this. I have already had to remind Asher of this tonight, and I am afraid you do not quite hold for me the same affection. Do not force me to restrain you in silver, for it would kill me to do so. But I will do it."
London turned to face him. Both Anita and Jason rose slowly, unsure of exactly what lengths London was willing to go to. They were more than a little terrified at the dead calm of his tone. Anita instinctively felt for her gun just in case, but she was starting to use her head a little more these days, especially with those she loved, or in London's case, liked a whole lot.
London stood very still once again, clearly suppressing the human desire to pace the room frantically, throw furniture, and destroy things.
"I will not sit here and do nothing while someone I love becomes target practice for Her ego. I will not. I have endured the last of her taunts, her vindictiveness, and her bile. Must she be allowed to terrorize us for eternity? Are we not free, Jean-Claude? I thought we were free."
Although practiced in hiding his emotions, London was unable to disguise his anguish. Jean-Claude looked away, well acquainted with what the other vampire was feeling. As he searched for words, he heard the soft and calming voice of his servant. Where it came from was anyone's guess.
"She is a two-thousand year old vampire, London, a ruling member of the Council, and we are not even sure it is she behind this. "
Anita was certain that it was Jean-Claude channeling through her, because she could not believe how rational she was being about Belle. A vampire she would just as soon eviscerate than negotiate with. Despite her disbelief, she approached London carefully, reaching for his arm. She figured of all the people in the room she had the best chance of getting close to him without losing her head or a quart of blood.
"You can't fight her alone," she said quietly.
London let her touch his arm, and his magic, which felt like it was burning through the surface of his skin, was cooled by her touch.
"I have no intention of fighting Her, Anita. But do not ask me not to make someone pay for this."
"Someone will pay, mon ami, someone will pay."
Jean-Claude was doing his best to remain his cool and calm self, but inside he was boiling as much as his dark knight. His heart was bleeding for Asher, for Penelope, and for London. But mostly for Asher. The look on hischardonneret's face when he came into the room earlier broke his heart. It was the same anguish Jean-Claude had seen centuries before. The same hopelessness, the same fear, the same rage. It was a look he had thought he would not see on Asher's face ever again.
Anita stroked London's arm.
"Go to Penelope, London. Go see her. Be with her."
Her voice was as soft as she had ever been with him. Even when she fed from him, she often worked very hard to avoid too much emotional contact. Anita did a lot of things wrong, but with London she had been determined that the feedings would not cause him more pain than necessary. She liked him very much, and recognized the abuse reflected in his eyes. It was something in the eyes of all of her men.
London looked down into Anita's face, feeling grateful but undeserving for the tenderness. She did not know about the harsh words he had dealt Penelope only hours before the scandal was revealed. How he had hurt her, intentionally. He tried to push his words from his mind, but all he could see was the look on Penny's face as he turned and walked out her door. He had meant to hurt her. He struck out at her because of his own fear and pain. It was petty and it was childish, but he still had not come to terms with how he felt about what she had done when this new pain settled in on top of it.
She had been selfish, in his opinion. But she was alive and that should have been all that mattered. In the end it was something that could be addressed later. When he searched his soul all he wanted was to see her. To hold her. And to rip the throat out of that reporter. To rip the throat out of Belle Morte. The latter was a death wish, but the former was a real possibility.
*********************************************************
Penelope was all cried out. Again.
The flames from the gas fireplace started to blend together, but by this point she could care less if the whole room burst into flames. Her naïveté had cost Asher, had cost London, and had cost Jean-Claude. Cost them much more than she was worth, in her opinion.
Since there was no doubt in her mind that she could not get any more stupid than she was, she had drained almost an entire bottle of cognac. Her servant's constitution made getting drunk a difficult endeavor, but somehow she had managed it. She didn't even hear Asher break the lock and come in.
He stood for a moment watching the flames halo her. He had put his anger away in that secret place where he contained his rage. It was a place he had not visited for quite a while, but once there he felt utterly familiar and at ease. There were compartments for all the pain he had endured over the long centuries, but the largest room by far was reserved for Belle Morte. His maker. His one time lover. The former goddess to his worship. His constant tormentor.
The scent of cognac filled his nostrils. He had experienced his servant's feelings more and more the drunker she got, and there was no hiding anything from him now. She wasn't even trying. He recognized the feelings of inadequacy, the helplessness, the stupidity. They were, of course, all the same things he had felt for most of his life.
You are far from stupid, ma mei. He whispered through her mind. But you are quite drunk.
Penelope spun around. Her own senses were hindered, and Asher had hidden his presence. She tried to focus on him standing a few feet from her, with hair falling golden and mussed around his face. He looked like an angel. He walked forward until he was behind her and reached around to lift the empty crystal glass from her hand.
"I see you found the cognac."
Penelope nodded and mumbled something about being sorry she drank most of it. Then something occurred to her.
"Oh, my word! Are you? Did I make you?" She spun in her chair again, and even though her body stopped, the room continued.
Asher laughed, caught Penelope's shoulders to steady her and came to kneel in front of her, stroking the hair from her face and smiling at the pained expression she wore. He could already feel the enormous headache that was about to descend upon her.
"No, my love, I am not drunk. Although I was wobbling a bit coming down the hall, and I fear if I take your vein I may pass out far before dawn." He smiled and sniffed the air. "As a matter of fact, I think simply your breath may do almost as much damage as your blood."
She fell sloppily forward into his arms and made an attempt to put a sentence together.
"You don't have to say anything, Penelope. I know." Asher just held her.
The anger that pounded through his body was not directed at her, and she knew that. It was for another woman, one who was thousands of miles away, but whose blood red fingertips seemed to always be inches from his throat.
When he looked up from her he saw London standing in the doorway. With a subtle eye movement, Asher motioned for him to close the door and come in.
He came in and knelt next to Asher. His hand instinctively went to Penelope's hair, and he too began to stroke her, with one arm around Asher's shoulders. The three of them stayed that way for some time, just touching. No magic, just the three of them joined by the threads of humanity they shared.
When Penny finally looked up into London's eyes, she only had one thing to say.
"I am so drunk."
Now it was London's turn to laugh. His earlier anger had gone somewhere else for the time being and he was strangely okay with that.
"Yes, love, you certainly are." He kissed her forehead and made a face as he caught a whiff of cognac and smiled. "We must keep you away from open flames tonight!"
Penelope was too far gone to enjoy the joke. Right now the room was revolving at what seemed like impossible speed. She needed to be prone, and attached to something solid.
"I think I need to lie down," She said pathetically.
Asher moved and let London take Penelope up in his arms. He carried her to the bed where the three of them snuggled in together with Penny in the middle.
"This is so nice," she muttered as she gripped tightly to each of their shirts until she peacefully passed out.
London leaned up on one elbow and looked Asher straight in the eyes. The love and compassion the two men felt for the woman between them had changed to something much more sinister.
"I know we are of one mind, you and I." The knight said to the courtier.
"Jean-Claude must not know until it is done." Asher's ice blue eyes flared with power.
"This reporter did not work on his own. He had to have inside help." London had an inkling as to who, but was not saying what both he and Asher were thinking.
"Well, mon ami, we will have to persuade him to let us in on his little secret."
The two vampires gracefully rose and simultaneously lay a gentle kiss on each of Penelope's cheeks. They hoped that by the time she awoke with her head in tatters, the deed would be done.
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Chapter 24- Discussions by nicola71
Chapter 24- Discussions
Jean-Claude was outwardly irate.
Inside he displayed his most gleeful and sinister smile. A smile he had not shown in many years, but one he still derived a certain degree of pleasure from. For more than a second he imagined exactly what he would be doing to the shivering man before him if Anita had never come into his life. He was a vampire, after all.
For her part, Anita had gotten over her initial anger at Asher and London, but mostly she was pissed off that they didn't invite her along on the hunt. The scumbag was human, but he had played a part in hurting people she loved.
"Better not involve the servant of the Master of the City, and a Federal Marshall, in a somewhat less than legal borrowing of this man from his motel room", Asher said with a sneer.
London and Asher used their heightened senses, as well as their street contacts to locate the reporter, who was going by the name of Mark Fontaine. Apparently he was still using his phony press credentials to have a good time in St. Louis before he returned to wherever he came from. He obviously did not think his ruse would be discovered so quickly. Stupid man.
London gently persuaded one of the coat check girls from Veritas to admit that she spent the night with Mr. Fontaine after the opening party. He had seen her give her cell phone number to Fontaine in one of the surveillance videos that he and Asher had poured over after they left Penelope. They had vengeance in their hearts, but both were intelligent enough to use modern technology to make their quest easier. Castor and Pollux added two extra sets of preternatural eyes, as well as drove the SUV with dark tinted windows to the seedy motel where the girl said she met Fontaine.
Sharise was her name, and she gave them a wealth of information about the elusive Mr. Fontaine. It seemed he was feeling rather proud of himself as he left Veritas that night. So proud, in fact, that he felt the need to brag to her about how rich and powerful he would become after the ruse he'd been able to orchestrate, and that "wouldn't she like to be the mistress of a rich and powerful man?"
Even though London had used his powers, Sharise's natural idiocy still managed to leak through. London and Asher learned another modern phrase. TMI.
"When I saw that hotel, I thought, 'Oh. My. GOD!', I am not going in there no matter how cute you are! And I thought maybe we could just do it in my car or in the alleyway where I think I would have felt safer if you can believe it! But I couldn't help myself. He looked in my eyes and I was his. I did things to him that I had only seen on those videos you get at The PlayPen, and Oh. My. GOD! He asked me to put my..."
London quickly put her to sleep and wiped not only the memory of him, but also of Mr. Fontaine. As far as Sharise knew, she went home that night and fell peacefully asleep.
It had been easier than they could have imagined to find Fontaine. When they burst open the door they found him alone, naked and sleeping soundly, a bottle of twelve year old scotch next to the bed. Asher and London had the same thought. If this guy was working for Belle, he was actually lucky they found him first. Belle did not tolerate slip shod work, and this guy obviously had no idea what he had gotten himself into or he would have left town. It was almost too easy.
"Yes, mes ami, I agree. Much too easy. And not like Her at all." Jean-Claude circled around Fontaine, who was still naked, a little bruised, and securely chained to a chair in the middle of the coffin room.
They had decided to go for drama, and the puddle under Fontaine's chair indicated that it had been the right path. The man was clearly terrified. Another clue that perhaps they had been too hasty when thinking that Belle was behind the newspaper attacks. She liked her minions controllable, but never cowardly.
Anita was sitting on a backwards chair in front of Fontaine. Although she was the smallest creature in the room, her visible guns and knives showed she was as deadly as any vampire, and if he had done any homework at all for this job, he already knew her reputation. She stared at him, while he stared at the floor.
"Well, are we going to paint his portrait, or get down to business?" She questioned Jean-Claude who she could feel was still working out the details in his mind.
Fontaine raised his head, tears streaming down his face, which was starting to purple up from where London had accidentally on purpose punched him in the face.
When the two vampires saw him alone in the bed, London initially held back Asher who tried to rush the bed with fangs bared. He was afraid that Asher had had quite enough of being a victim and was going to start his recovery with Fontaine. Pollux came through the door seconds after them and used all his strength to hold Asher while London easily crossed the room and grabbed Fontaine before he could even think about fleeing. However, as he held him by the arms, something primal took over. It wasn't the vampire who swung his fist, but the man. And it felt good. Of course, even though London knew he could kill him with precious little effort, he just could not help himself. He hauled back and punched him unconscious, swung him over his shoulder and the three of them got out of there unseen.
In the car Asher thanked him.
"I would have killed him. I guess, as they say, I owe you one."
"No, you don't." London looked absently out the blackened window thinking that Asher had already given him more than he could ever want.
"Perhaps a few days in one of our coffins may loosen his tongue." Asher piped up.
Anita's expression didn't change. She knew it was a bluff. At least, she hoped so. A few days in a coffin could cause madness in a new vampire, she couldn't imagine what it would do to this weak human in front of her.
Fresh tears began to roll down Fontaine's face, but the threat finally opened his mouth.
"What did I do? What do you want from me?" he wailed.
It was Jean-Claude who spoke. His voice was calm, and smooth, and utterly terrifying.
"Well, Mr. Fontaine, if that is your name, we were wondering, if perhaps you might feel like telling us one or two things." He came around to Fontaine's back and placed both hands on his shoulders. Fontaine winced as if in pain.
"First," Jean-Claue continued, "I would be very grateful to know who you work for. But I don't expect that even a weak and foolish coward like yourself is willing to give up your benefactor so easily. So let's start with my second question."
He moved slowly around until he was bent over making eye contact with Fontaine. He used no magic, just bared his fangs, and ran his long graceful fingers up and down the man's throat.
"Exactly how did you bypass our security cameras the other night?"
"What?"
Anita huffed loudly.
"Oh, fuck, this is going to be good! You are going to play..."
"Ma petite..." Jean-Claude wanted to do this his way.
He turned his face back to Fontaine. "Let us try that again. You managed to shut down our video cameras and intercept the feed in order to get photographic stills of two of my employees in a private moment. How did you do this?" His fingers dug hard into Fontiane's skin, hard enough that if he used his nails there would have been ten trails of blood flowing down the man's white skin.
"It...it...it...wasn't me. I...I...I was just there to distract her. To...to...to get her downstairs alone."
"To what purpose?" Jean-Claude let up his grip slightly. He felt the man breaking.
"To get some pictures of her...I really don't know what else...really! I swear! She told me that she was just going to run some rumors in the paper, to try and ruin the new club."
"She?" Jean-Claude looked at Asher and then Anita. He silently talked to them.
This is not Belle we are dealing with.
"The chick that runs that other club in town. The one where all the fetish freaks go to."
After he said it, he regretted using the word, 'freaks'.
"NOT FREAKS! I mean the people into that kind of stuff, you know...kinky stuff, leather, and whips, and shit like that. I never meant to call you freaks...I myself have been known..."
"ENOUGH!" Jean-Claude had no intention of listening to his hysterically terrified ramble. He had what he needed.
Anita spoke, "Well,well,well!"
Asher's lips were pressed together in anger. "She" was Narcissus. His own Oba. Leader of his animal to call.
When he calmed down, Fontaine explained that Narcissus came to him with a lot of money, and promises of more, if he helped her ruin Veritas' reputation as well as that of its owners. He was from Tallahassee and had no idea who he was dealing with. He wasn't even a real reporter. Just a man on a business trip who found himself in over his head one night while 'recreating' at Narcissus in Chains. To repay his debt to the Oba, who he didn't even know was a were-hyena, or a hermaphrodite, he agreed to pose as a reporter. He never realized that he was supposed to be the scapegoat, or that Narcissus was probably hoping Asher would kill him before he had the chance to talk.
"Asher," Jean-Claude said quietly, "would you be so kind as to call Castor and Pollux down here?"
"They are already on their way."
Asher refused to believe that the brothers were involved in this in any way. They seemed to have no love for their Oba, and spent all of their time at the Circus. But he had to be certain. At the very least, they might know something.
He felt Penelope awaken.
Ma mei, how do you feel?
Awful. Where are you? Come snuggle with me.
Soon, darling. I am taking care of something at the moment.
Penelope sensed the tension and used her abilities to see through Asher. She saw the room, and Fontaine.
I'm coming down.
Non! There is no need for you to be here.
No Need? That man destroyed your reputation, and that of our new club, and made me look like a simpering fool. Don't I deserve to be there?
There was no stopping her, she was already on her way.
Just then, Castor and Pollux entered the room, followed closely by Claudia, Fredo, and several other guards. Their loylaty was not yet in question, but the brothers had proved enigmatic and powerful, so Jean-Claude was taking no chances.
"You summoned us?" Castor spoke first, his hazel eyes afire. He seemed to know what was about to be asked.
"How much time did you spend with your Oba before you came into Asher's service?" Jean-Claude was asking the questions and mentally holding back both Asher and Anita. It was going to be an exhausting interrogation.
"Not much." Castor did not seem to want to give up to much information.
"I am surprised that she would not want to keep you. You both are exquisite physical specimens, certainly to her taste."
"Not quite, it would seem. She did not want us from the moment she saw us. Service to Asher and to you was offered quite readily, and almost immediately."
"Why is that?"
"I do not pretend to understand the machinations of that mad hyena's mind, Master."
Castor accentuated the 'Master', unafraid to show Jean-Claude that his patience was running a bit thin.
So was Jean-Claude's.
The vampire launched himself at the hyena, pinning him to the far wall, just as Penelope came through the door. Pollux grabbed her and protected her from the debris of the stone wall that shattered into the air as Jean-Claude plowed Castor into it.
In an instant, Asher had Penelope in his arms, snatching her from Pollux who offered no fight. Asher noted to himself that he was indeed truly protecting her.
"Jean," Asher spoke to his lover quietly.
Castor did not make an attempt to defend himself, only stared into the midnight blue eyes glowing centimeters from his face.
Jean-Claude whispered, "Who, and what exactly are you and your brother? The Oba sends you away. Why? She is frightened of you. Tell me why she fears you so much that she sends you to us, only to hire this weakling to do what you could have done with ease, and far more success."
"Brother!" Pollux's words cautioned, but it was already too late.
Castor's hands had morphed into sharpened claws, but his lips pulled back to reveal not the teeth of a hyena, but the fangs of a vampire. His eyes, like Jean-Claude's were alive with brilliant hazel-green fire.
Anita, Claudia and Fredo had their guns drawn, but it was Jean-Claude who held his hand up to them.
He now knew exactly what Castor was.