Chapter One- I Spy
Hello everyone! Usually I have these urges to write these type of stories, and then forget about them, but this time a plot developed in my mind that I couldn't let go. Warning, I do plan to integrate my imaginary character fully into the VD mythology. She might be a Mary Sue, since she is 1000% magical, and responsible for several events you will learn about later. But hey, this is all for fun right? ;) Own nothing myself, just hope to entertain others.
The crowd writhed. A wild mix of colors, hair swaying, brightened eyes and sweat, dancing and drinking, all accompanied by a toxic array of music. Elijah sighed with distaste at the dry synthetic drums, the cloying electronic thread of music. A far cry from what he liked, operettas, concertos, and truth be told, musicals.
I spy with my little eyes, something that can get you high, high high high high. The lyrics wormed inside his head. And I'm gonna suffer watching television, cuz I'm the radio on account of your intermission.
Surely this headache was just an illusion. Elijah nodded curtly at Daniel, a local selected to help him navigate the streets in Jamaica—and also to find his target. They had entered the club a few minutes ago, and stood by the second story railing, looking over the edge at the dance floor below. The furnishings had a hard, rusted, rather drab look, and the floor was beaten and scratched like the walls beside them, but he could not fault the enthusiasm of the…dancing.
"Do you see her?" he asked loudly. Daniel's loud yellow shirt was already stained in sweat, his baseball cap dampening around his ears.
"Why do you need this girl anyway? You know her?"
"My interest is purely professional. I am here simply to enquire about her services." He gave a slight smile at the youth. He could tell that the male cared very little in actuality, and did not bother to elucidate.
"Mmhmm." Daniel gave him a very knowing look. His face splashed purple, then green, under the roving strobe lights. "She's that one," he pointed out. "Red dress. You can figure out which one." He patted Elijah on the back and then took off into the fray.
Elijah blinked, startled. There wasn't much of a red dress, to be sure. Only the shiny halter fit and shiny black boots. And skin. A lot of it.
I spy with my little eyes, something that can get you high, high high high high.
Elijah adjusted his collar. On account of the heat, he had removed his jacket, but still, like always, he was dressed like a businessman. Reputable, trustworthy. To be fair, he was there on such a purpose. He trusted that the girl would find his business proposal amenable. "She can help you on what you seek," he had been told by a witch back in England, purported to have a mostly accurate, if not completely unreliable, clairvoyant ability. "Go to the island. Ask for her spell book."
His target was still swaying with that ridiculous dress. She danced well, if not exactly like a lady. At least she danced with a couple of female friends, while the men gave her a wide enough berth, grinding with other girls, kneading hips and legs. She twirled and thrashed her hips alone. The girl laughed, her long hair tossing in the air. Her dress moved obscenely with the movement.
He shook his head. Enough. He stalked towards her.
She caught his sight while he was still descending the stairs. Her friends immediately parted, disappearing into the crowd. She turned her back to him, heading towards an exit, weaving between bodies, moving away.
Elijah smiled. She really had no idea. He ignored the dancers, reached her with plenty of time before she could get to an exit. Running from him. Like this was possible. Elijah grabbed her wrist, directed her to the corner where they could talk undisturbed. God, this music. There were simply too many generations between him and this current one. He feared he wasn't imagining the pain in his head.
He placed his body in front of hers. A familiar look of fear crossed her lightly bronzed skin, shielding a long body, not much shorter than he was. Her hair was long and dark, slightly curled. Strong nose, teeth, and full cheeks. A pleasant enough examination. "I'm not here to hurt you. A moment of your time, if you would please."
For a moment, the female said nothing at all. "And what purpose would you have?" she finally asked in a strangled voice. She had a light accent, not Jamaican.
"Just to offer a business opportunity." He made his words calm.
She pursed her lips, looking angry. The crowd ignored them, leaving them by the wall. Their writhing continued on unabated.
Elijah tilted his head. "You look familiar."
"Who are you anyway, mister?" she asked, finally looking him in the eyes. She struggled to get back her arm, but Elijah only grasped her more firmly.
"Don't play games with me." She knew, he was sure of it. Otherwise, why would she have tried to leave?
She arched an eyebrow. But still he could smell that fear, stronger than ever. It overwhelmed the other scents in the club, the dirtiness, the sex. "Why? You don't like them?"
"Now, I didn't say that," he murmured, still failing to remove his hand. He trailed them inside her wrist instead. Her breath pumped her chest up and down, and he could not help but sample that spectacular view. She had glittered her chest, and silver bits sparkled under the dark lighting, the washes of color from the strobe. There were manners, yes, but after a thousand years, it paid to take advantage of the uncommon.
She was still looking at him directly, with some unfathomable emotion in her eyes, either rage, or disappointment, then regret.
"So are you Maria?" he drawled, and flipped his hair back.
Her look had turned into a glare. "Yes. Whatever. And why are you here? Douche," she added underneath her breath, for good measure.
"I've heard about you from my sources."
"From whom exactly?" Her voice took on an edge, but her body no longer protested his hand circling her arm.
Cupped the edge of her ribs with his hand, he leaned forward, turning at the cheek, drawing his nose against her neck. Breathed deeply. It had always been one of his talents, scent and hearing. Better than everyone else's, almost enough to rival a werewolf's. He smelled Human. Burning. A strong sickness in Earth, icy cleaving— Cheap violets. Unwittingly, he laughed against her body. His chest lay directly over her breasts. He closed in even more.
"You're messing with my scent." What other powers could this strange being have?
The girl, Maria, gave him a sickly sweet smile. "Well, what does your source tell you? She knows all about me, isn't that right?"
His voice rang against her ear, clear and cultured. "She told me that we—my siblings and I—have need of you. I hope you will honor such a need," he breathed against her, and moved his hand to her neck, caressing it.
He gave a light laugh. Elijah did not bother to tell her she had no choice.