CONTINUITY: Begins at the end of the episode Norman.
DISCLAIMER: The scripted words belong to the creator of the episode "Norman". The characters belong to Tanya Huff, Lifetime Network, Insight Productions, and everyone else involved with creating the series. Most definitely, and sadly, do not belong to me. I hope, should any of them read this, they understand the compliment and are not offended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: In a perfect world we would not have to suffer through the hiatus of the NEtworks as they judge the commercial worthiness of a series that is young and full of potential. I can only hope that the creators and produces will see past any fears they might have and take a stand on not following the 1980's/1990's stereotypical science fiction action show. People want more than just midnless action. They want to be willingly held captive through visual and visceral feelings. May I suggest a primary focus on the characters in the show rather than the plot. Plot will come as the characters work around their issues.
"Who the hell are you?" demanded Norman. In less than a heartbeat, he took the new man's measure; the beige long coat, the dress shirt and tie, the gun pointed directly at him. Cop. By the shift in Henry's stance, the reaction on Vickie's face, it was obvious the two knew him. Still, bullet or no, vampire, or no, there was nothing these three could do to him that would be worse than what he had suffered at the will of Asteroth. He would not suffer it again.
Rising from his seat beside Coreen, he advanced towards the trio, his anger provoked, while his tone remained unconcerned. "You think shooting me is gonna stop me?"
"Might make me feel better," replied Detective Michael Celucci with a grim smile as he adjusted his aim. Only with Henry had he ever felt this burning desire to destroy without thought. It was as if some animal instinct had risen in him and he could barely contain it. He knew what he sounded like, what he must look like, he could even feel Vickie's gaze in his direction, but he had little concern about what she thought of him at this moment for there sat Coreen, an innocent pawn completely at this demon's mercy….In Mike's book, another notch against the bastard son of a king.
Amused by this new man's audacity, Norman ducked his head for a moment, pretending to give the man's desire serious contemplation. Then, with unexpected fury, he gathered his new and hard earned powers, lashing out first toward the cop then, as a second thought, toward the vampire.
Henry, sensitive to the use of the dark arts, felt the surge of power, but had little time to defend himself. Almost faster than the eye could see, he was slammed back against a green painted wood door, the muscles between his shoulders pierced by the nail jutting from the upper panel. The pain, however, was inconsequential to his fear as he realized he could not break free this supernatural grip.
"Now excuse me," said Norman with a careless wave of his black clawed hand. "I have a little ritual thingy here to take care of here, okay?" He beseeched. "We can argue about this later." Then, to keep his victim's off balance, he swiftly turned his attention to his prey. With teeth clenched and his voice reflecting his impatience, he thrust out his hand. "Vickie, would you just give it to me!"
Not missing a beat, Vickie balanced her body weight forward, preparing to strike. In the back of her mind however, doubt was beginning to gnaw at her. Henry had told her to have faith, but faith for her was always in short supply, more so these days then at any other time in her life. She used to believe in herself, trust in her skills, in her heart to guide her true, but how many times in the last few months had she been wrong? How many times had her actions resulted in injury and death to those around her?
And she had believed in Henry as well, believed he had her back in all these crazy scenarios, and yet all that faith in him had been wiped away when he had admitted to not having destroyed Norman's ritual objects.
She looked at Coreen, and her heart shrunk just a little tighter in her chest as she saw her young assistant struggling to keep calm and controlled. They had been here before, the two of them, trapped by Norman's crazed desires; victims of his demented mind. And it was her fault Coreen had been caught by Norman this time as well as the last. If she had made an attempt to phone her as she rode the cab to Henry's. Or, if she had left a note telling her to stay away from the office, Norman would not have found her so easily, would not have dragged her kicking and screaming through a demonic portal to this place and bound her by more than just her ropes, but by fear of something worse than death.
Vickie glanced at the pentagram outlined in burned wood on the floor and marked by unlit black candles. The motion of turning her head even slightly increased the throbbing pain inside tenfold and blurred her vision even more. Exhaustion dogged her, turning her thoughts inside out. She couldn't even remember the last time she had truly slept. Her energy stores were low, her confidence even lower. Maybe she deserved this, taunted that ever present voice inside her head. Maybe she deserved to be dragged into the abyss of Hell. Why not? Her grip tightened on the dagger's tip. Who was she in the grand scheme of the world? Certainly she wasn't anyone so special as to deserve not to die.
Still, whether she did or not, didn't mean that others deserved the same. She stared at the demon and though her faith was not renewed, she still had a smattering of hope within her heart. There was still a slim chance she could stop this tragedy here and now.
"Okay, Norman, we'll play it your way. You want the dagger? Here it is!" Cringing as the motion stressed her already bruised back and shoulder, Vickie launched the dagger at Norman's heart.
A flick of his wrist, a laugh and a nod of appreciation, Norman caught it with ease. "Nice throw." He said with a devilish grin, ignoring the strange tingling he felt as his fingers played with the blade. "All right, here we go."
Easily reading the defeat in Vicki's face, Norman turned his back on her and on the tiniest spark of remorse that struggled to rise up into the last shred of disappearing humanity. Crossing to Coreen, determined to cauterize the bleeding in his soul with this final act of reparation for his own failure, he waved his hand in the air and like a maestro before an orchestra began the ceremony that had begun months ago.
"Corpus. Malefectum. Toto mascuto et obe dire!" Sliding behind Coreen, he laid the dagger directly against her straining throat then turned to watch the results of his power.
A great howling filled the room. Beneath their feet the floor bucked and trembled as if trying to fight the foulness rising up out of its very beams. But it could not. Within moments, the floor gave up its fight and melted away, leaving a maelstrom of swirling darkness in its wake. Shadows and light battled upon the walls like moonlight upon rippling water as paper and small items were sucked into the vortex.
Beneath the cold threat of the dagger's sharp edge pressed against her averted throat, Coreen cringed and closed her eyes. Silently she prayed to all the gods her fear stifled mind and soul could recall; prayed for absolute death and not the threatened promise of demonic resurrection.
Across from her, Vicki, Henry, and Mike each stared in mounting horror as the void stretched its evil outward, undulating and pulsing with a foul dark life even their worst imaginings could not do justice to. For Mike it was nearly inconceivable. He had not witnessed the beginning of the summoning the last time Norman held his girls hostage, and though he was witnessing it all now, a part of him struggled to believe in the veracity of it all.
Vicki on the other hand knew only a cold hand of certainty settling upon her soul. She may have argued with Henry and herself a time or two regarding her disbelief in the influence of Fate, but in this moment, faced with a future that stretched out beyond death, she could see all the events in her life, all the things she thought she had chosen to do, leading straight to this moment and could not escape the harsh reality. This was her destiny. She could only hope it was to continue battling on the demonic forces that threaten her side of the world rather than being a pawn to bring them forth to perpetrate atrocities no sane soul could imagine.
Connected to her as he was, Henry read the direction of her thought. Fear clawed at him. Horror and guilt dogged his heart. He could have prevented this. If only he had listened to the one person he had sworn an oath to protect and destroyed the objects Norman now used with perfectly evil intent. Maurice, would still be hungrily hoarding his treasures like a dragon. Coreen would not be primed for sacrifice, countless others would still be tending to their lives and Vicki would not be facing this greatest threat to her alone. Prince among Men? Bah! More the case of an arrogant fool! He knew what these Dark powers could do, what they were capable of doing. Why hadn't he listened to her?
"It's time, Vicki," rasped Norman. Shifting his grip on Coreen, he shoved the girl forward; his last act of kindness toward the one who had brought him to this. "Go!"
"Run, Coreen! Get out of here!" Vicki cried as she stepped up to take her place. By her count, Norman still needed two more physical sacrifices.
Coreen's feet and heart took her as far as the open door. Turning, she faced her demon and chose. She was no coward. She would not let Vicki make fight this alone as she has seen her fight so many times before. "Not without you!"
She cried.
"That's the spirit!" Mocked Norman. "Use that!" Then, as if he suddenly realized he had wasted enough times on feelings he shouldn't have, he lunged at the woman who had caused him so much grief. Grabbing Vicki's arm, he yanked her towards his altar.
"Now let's finish this, Vicki!" Poising her hand above the ancient stone chalice, he turned his gaze to the black whole to Hell and recited the second part of the summoning. "Apario domi hi ut ego mai proficio minus votum terminus!" Satisfaction filled him as it grew. He could feel the hungry power of Asteroth waiting just beyond his vision. "Yes!"
As if his touch had enough power to render her incapable of struggle, Vicki listened to the foul words pouring past Norman's lips and watched in voiceless horror as he turned the sharp edge of the dagger up against the soft flesh of her palm. Slowly, he dragged the sharp edge downward slicing through the tender flesh of her palm. His reward; an instantaneous well of blood.
Sharp and burning hot, the pain tore a surprised cry from Vicki's throat. The very sound shattered the lethargy of hopelessness that had flowed through her. Struggling against Norman's foul strength, she fought him even as he squeezed the blood from her body.
The instant her blood was released, Henry's rage flowed unchecked through his body. With great relish and an equal part dread, he welcomed the beast within him. Green eyes glazed to black and the fangs he kept retracted slid down with aching swiftness. Mine, his heart shouted as he watched Vickie's blood rain down into the goblet, its life force spilling, wasted. Mine!
Orgasmically focused on his success, Norman watched the thick river of red fill the hollow of the cup. It wasn't until he had all he needed, that he realized the burning sensation invading his flesh was coming from the dagger and not the power of the ritual. With a growing horror, he opened his hand and stared at the glowing blade. A wave of unspeakable sorrow dowsed his growing fulfillment. "Ohh…what did you do?" He cried in disbelief.
Staring at the dagger, Vicki felt a nearly overwhelming urge to shout out; I believe! Instead, she raised her gaze to Norman and over the roar of supernatural winds shouted with simplicity; "had the dagger blessed by a priest on the way over."
As the enormity of her words sank in, Norman stared at the now boiling blood in the chalice. Cold wicked dread slid over him and a glance at the gate he had opened told him all he needed to know.
Lightning swirled and pulsed along the edges of the whole as the gate's mass began to shrink. There was only one word that welled within him at this twisted turn of events. He may not be human any longer, but it appeared Murphy was still attached to his afterlife karma. "Ahh, crap!"
On the heels of the exclamation, the power he had wielded vanished, releasing both Mike and Henry from their invisible bonds. Surprised, Mike staggered and tripped, but Henry, with over 450 years of being blessed with animal grace, landed ready to spring at the demon who had the audacity to take what was his.
"It's over Norman!" Shouted Vicki above the increasing furious roar of Asteroth still bound in his hellish universe.
Rage filling him, Norman lifted the dagger to strike. "Not yet!"
With a bestial growl, Henry launched himself faster than the eye could see, stealing away the dagger and plunging it to the hilt into the demon's chest. Satisfaction filled him as watched Norman realize he had failed.
Recovering quickly from the pain and shock, Norman smiled at his vampire enemy. "You think this is over?" He raked a long black claw up his throat, teasing the beast with the promise of injury, but not following through. Asteroth's punishment was going to be bad enough because of his failure. He did not need to compound it with a second mistake. The vampire was not Norman's to take. Instead, he turned to Vickie, his prize, his future redemption, the ultimate source of this; his second failure. "You felt it. All the crazy things that have been drawn to you since we met…You're the doorway Vicki and whether you like it or not," he continued with sweet persuasion. "Asteroth is gonna come knocking. These marks," he said, grabbing her arm once more. Sliding the sleeve of her jacket down, he revealed the tattoo burned black into her flesh. Unable to resist the power of it, he brought it close to his lips and with an almost lover-like passion, he spoke to her of their meaning. "You think they're a curse? They're a gift. You just have to embrace this Vicki and you can have anything that you want….Even him." His eyes trailed toward Henry.
Vicki followed his gaze to the figure standing stone still at her side. Though a part of her cringed at having her innermost desires being laid out for everyone to see and hear, another part thrilled with the thought of having Henry. For a moment, just a moment, her heart and soul burned bright with selfish desire. To have Henry all to herself, to not have to share him with anyone else…What would that be like? Look at me, Henry, she wanted to say. Tell me you would want that; you and me together.
But he didn't look, didn't even react as if he heard the thrilling promise of Norman's words. And then she remembered his betrayal and the thrill faded to anger. Turning on Norman, hating him for making her see the weaknesses within herself, she yanked the dagger from his chest and slammed her fist into his face.
Staggering backward from the blow, Norman called out in Terminator vernacular, "I will be back!" An instant later, his demonic form of a dozen bat-like creatures was sucked into the whirlpool which collapsed immediately upon itself.
The immediate silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of sighs from all who remained in the room. As the echo of the faded, as the realization that the immediate threat of doomsday had once again been averted Henry, Mike, and Coreen all converged on Vicki; one to gain assurance of normalcy through sarcasm, one to gain freedom and validation, and one to simply, quietly, be beside the woman who had been only heart beats away from seeing the end of her mortal life.
Fighting her weariness, the pain that racked her body and soul, Vicki pulled off her glasses, but refused to look at Henry. Instead, she blindly handed him the knife that had only moments before opened her flesh before his very eyes. Aching with regret, but not allowing any of it to show, Henry took it from her blood stained hand with as much care as one would handle a new born child. With it cradled within his palm, with his heart pounding fiercely against his chest, he turned his back on the trio of humans and began gathering up the three things he had believed once to be out of evil's grasp.
"God, I hate it when that happens," exclaimed Mike as he holstered his gun.
"Vicki--" Offering her bound wrists, Coreen glanced towards Henry. "Thank you," she said with great relief. "I didn't think anybody could stop it." Her gaze drifted once more towards Henry, the man she felt was responsible for once again placing her in death's grasp, the vampire who had been just as weak, just as unable to stop this as she had been. Anger and disappointment flashed through her and she too found herself unable to look Henry in the eyes. Turning her gaze towards the harsh red cuts on her wrists, she spoke her mind. "I thought he was going to kill me and take me with him."
"Let's just hope he stays down this time," said Vicki. With disgust, she threw the rope to the floor.
Reading them all loud and clear and unable to argue against the truth of their blame, Henry did what he has spent centuries perfecting; he slid past the emotion, avoided the heart ache, and prayed no one would notice his pain.
"What are you going to do with those?" Demanded Vicki as she saw Henry standing with chalice, grimoire, and dagger in his hands.
"Same thing I should have done in the beginning," he replied in emotionless tones. "We can destroy them together."
Vicki looked at him, a dark satisfaction filling her voice. "Good."
"Yeah, well that's all well and good, but I've got three unsolved homicides to deal with," began Mike with heavy sarcasm.
"Think of the bright side," replied Vicki, fighting desperately to regain some semblance of her normal self. Standing on the edge of an eternity in hell certainly put a different perspective on life. "It could have been four, five, and six!" She finished, pointing at Coreen, herself, and Mike.
"Yeah, I'll be sure to tell Crowly that," said Mike as he shoved his hands into his pockets.
Vicki winced, the pain of hearing the name Crowly almost overcoming the pain in her hand.
"Hey, how's your hand?" asked Mike, his tone softening with compassion.
"Ahh, it'll be all right."
Satisfied, Mike turned to Coreen. "Hey, come on Coreen; let's take a closer look at those cuts." Gently, subtly, he laid his left arm across her shoulders.
Surprised by both the move and the concern rolling off of Mike, Vicki and Coreen momentarily locked gazes before Mike guided her away, leaving Vicki alone with Henry.
Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, Vicki focused on the continued burning of her palm.
Sensing more than just the pain from the cut rolling off of Vicki, Henry stepped forward. "I'm concerned with what Norman might have done while he was acting as me."
Lips compressing, Vicki denied herself and him the truth of that scene. "Oh, not much. Yeah, I knew it was him right away."
It was easy for Henry to hear the lie in Vicki's heart, and though he knew there were more important things to discuss, he couldn't help but follow the thought. The very idea of Vickie being with that hell-spawned creature both repelled and attracted him. If Norman could have fooled him, then he was absolutely certain the demon had played one over on Vicki as well. "Really?" A small smile hovered about his lips as he watched the flush of blood flow upwards and fill Vicki's cheeks. "Cause he said he knew what you felt like. He said he had just been with you."
Oh, damn, thought Vickie. Quick, get yourself out of this one. "Okay," she admitted. "He might have fooled me for like a second." There, confess the truth and maybe he'll just let it go. Why was she even talking to him in the first place? Why on earth, when she was so angry with him, was she feeling so flustered? Because she knew what she had confessed, whispered a little voice inside her head. Because she had confessed to the demon believing it to be Henry, one of her most secret fears and regardless of the fact that Henry truly did not know, she still felt exposed, vulnerable. And as terrible as she was feeling right now, she was just about weak enough to repeat the same mistake.
"How far did that second take him?"
Man, he was like a dog with a rag! Taking a deep breath, she dropped her gaze, frustrated that he was not letting the line of questioning go. What did he want her to say? Kissing him? She had offered more to him in his apartment after Norman departed! It had been bad timing, of course, as was the growing threat of dizziness and nausea that was welling inside her. She'd be damned if she was going to reveal anymore weaknesses in front of him, however, so she set her will against the side affects of being beaten and nearly sacrificed and sought her so ever useful sarcasm to diffuse the moment. "Oh, come on, don't get any crazy ideas. You know demons. They lie—"
"Of course," replied Henry recalling his own moments with the demon.
Watching the rare play of emotions skitter across Henry's autocratic features, Vicki gasped. "He got you too!"
With a slight shake of his head, Henry grimaced. Did she really believe him so incapable a demon could fool him? What had made him gullible enough to being tricked had been his own overwhelming need to believe what that "Vicki" had been offering him. Realizing this was going nowhere fast, that he had somehow lost control of the moment, if he had ever had it to begin with, he decided to let it all pass. Let her think what she will. "Vicki," he said, gathering back his growing frustration. "Maybe we should just forget this ever happened."
Relief had her dropping her gaze before she revealed too much. "Absolutely," she said aloud, massaging her right wrist. With a last glance toward the pentagram and its toppled candles, she turned to leave.
Still feeling her physical discomfort as if it were his own, Henry cautiously rested the hand holding the chalice against the small of her back. Their steps sounded loud in the emptiness of the apartment. Below them, out in the street, he could hear the soft conversation between Mike and Coreen.
"I can't believe him!" The anger in Coreen's voice was clear.
"He's a demon, for Chrissakes, Coreen. What else would you expect him to do? Knit you a sweater?"
Coreen growled in frustration. "Not Norman, Henry!"
There was a pause and Henry could just picture Mike's face as he looked down upon Coreen. "What do you mean?"
"This is all his fault!"
Henry stilled the growl building in the back of his throat. Silently he cursed Coreen's inability to play her cards close, to keep her thoughts to herself. No doubt she was going to pour fuel on a fire that already simmered close to the surface of Mike's intolerance.
"Coreen—"
"He was supposed to have destroyed the objects. He had promised Vicki to do just that, but he didn't! And look what happened! I trusted him. Believed in him and he betrayed us all! Oh, god, what must Vicki be going through? Mike, she laid her life in his hands! You know that couldn't have been easy for her!"
"Henry?"
The sound of Vicki's uncertain tones drew him away from Coreen's accusations quicker than a heart beat. Caught up in the power of her words, he had failed to notice Vicki had stopped at the top of the stairs. His heart tripped when he saw how pale she was, how she swayed uncertainly, her hand tightly gripping the railing.
"Vicki?" Quickly he drew around in front of her. Even as he mocked his own instinctive response, he could not stop himself from caring. The connection for him was too strong.
Startled by his swiftness, Vicki drew back an awkward step, keeping her gaze focused on the floor. At least that didn't seem to be moving in and out of focus as much as the space in the stairwell had been. She heard the concern in his soft voice, felt it wash over her and gritted her teeth to hold her weakness in. Anger would do it. It had always worked before, but she found she could not muster even an ounce of it into her heart, regardless of Henry's seeming betrayal. She was tired, right through to her very soul. And she hurt, everywhere.
"Vicki." Reaching out, Henry laid a gentle hand along her left cheek.
Vicki gasped, pulling away from his touch.
Feeling himself a fool, Henry nearly let loose his frustration until he noticed what he had been blind to before; the tell tale signs of bruising across her cheekbone and down beneath her jaw. Faster than thought, he set the demonic objects on the ground then reached for her again. This time, gently grasping hold of her shoulders, he guided her to sit down upon the top step. "You're hurt."
Vicki resisted, but only for a moment. "I lied," she said softly, leaning her temple against the balustrade she still clung to.
"How so?" asked Henry just as quietly as he knelt two steps below her. Tracing his hands down the length of her arms, he ever so slightly opened himself to the connection between them and winced at the waves of pain pulsing within her sank within him as well. "Vicki—"
Aware of his touch, the comfort of his hands upon her aching body, Vicki faltered. "Norman, as you. I…we...he—"
Henry's heart nearly stopped as images of a thousand horrible possibilities flashed played inside his head. "Vicki—" his voice was filled with the pain, the fear they generated.
Lost in her own recollections, Vicki could not contain the short self-derisive laughed that escaped her. "Obviously the encounter did not go well." She raised her gaze to meet Henry's head on. It was difficult to hold him in focus, but she forced her eyes to function beyond the pulsing tunnel of her pain dimmed vision. She needed desperately to see his reaction. "He backhanded me fifteen feet across the room. I have no idea how long I was unconscious, but the minute I came to, my first thought was to call you. To warn you. Why is that, Henry? Why should I have even cared after what you did?"
A terrible chill settled through him, but he could not look away. He had not done so when he faced his father's disappointment and wrath, and he would not do so now. It was not in him to look away, no matter how terrible the price he was about to pay. Honor would not let him. "I betrayed you," he admitted quietly. "Betrayed your trust and broke my promise to you, to Coreen, to everyone whom I had sworn to protect."
For several heartbeats she held his human gaze and knew at last she was seeing the true Henry; the prince who would have gained the throne of the most powerful nation in his time, the young man who had turned his back on everything he had been taught, everything that had no doubt been beaten into him, for love. How hard that must have been. How much harder still when he realized the woman he had given up everything for could never return the same depth of devotion? "No," said Vickie softly. The admission broke her heart. Closing her eyes against the pain, she imagined she could almost hear the cracking of the wall she had long ago built about her heart. As the stones of her life crumbled, she strangely enough felt no fear, no anger, no embarrassment. She was numb and her self control was gone, blasted away by the Hell she had been shown. She had known he would think that. Hell, it had been her initial reaction to learning he had not destroyed the objects as well, but when the immediate anger and hurt eased, allowing reason to function, she knew deep down, he would never have deliberately done something so heinous. Now she just had to make him see the truth even while it spun in muddled circles inside her.
"Henry, I know you would not have taken such a risk unless you believed a greater good could have come out of it. Maybe you felt the secret to releasing me from this link with Asteroth was hidden somewhere in the book, and if so, it stood to reason that perhaps you might need the other objects Norman had used when Dr. Sagara discovered it." She shook her head, then regretted the motion as a wave a nausea clamped onto her gut. Breathing through it, she continued. "It's not the lie about Norman's treasures, but your lack of faith…in me."
Shock had Henry's grip shifting to hold tightly to her hand. "Vicki, no—"
"Yes," she countered with a tired sigh. "I know you have centuries of experience with this darkness that plagues me, with the black magic that has screwed with my life and I respect that knowledge. If I didn't, I would never have kept coming to you for help, for guidance. Yet, never once in this strange relationship we have, have you ever granted my own experience equal consideration. When the psychic first came to me, told me of her vision of the dangers coming to bear down upon my life, I believed in your ability to be able to help, trusted it with my very life, but did you trust my own instincts? No, you scoffed at them, doubted them, turned your back on them for the sake of getting something you believed you could not get from me. In less than twenty four hours I became nothing more than 'business'."
Henry cringed, but he couldn't deny the truth of her words. With the clarity of his cursed vampire memory, he recalled the evening. They had been watching a DVD, or at least, she had been watching as he had watched her; with curious intensity that bordered on obsession. The closeness of her on his couch, the smell of her; that intense fragrance that was a combination of scents worn on her body and emanating from her very soul had him yearning for more than just her company. The connection he worked so hard to downplay since his imprisonment and torture by Javier Mendoza, flared to life with a vengeance. He wanted her. Not just the soft curves of her body that were a constant temptation to the passionate man he kept locked away from the world, but her understanding and acceptance of him, of who and what he was.
At first he had thought himself successful as he tried to share what he felt, but when he tried to direct the conversation to a more personal level, when he drew closer to what he so desperately wished for her to face, she had raced back behind that wall of hers and slammed the portcullis in his face. The familiar rejection should not have made him react the way he had, but it had been almost impossible for him to control the anger building in him. So he had lashed out, using exactly the right words to drive the same stake piercing his heart back into her own. He hadn't known she would come to his apartment the next night, but the minute he opened the door to her knock, a nasty wicked beast, so much like his father his mouth grew dry with the thought, reared its ugly head. He seized the opportunity as he had to drain Mendoza dry, and struck with deadly precision.
"You would think," continued Vicki as if she were discussing the weather. As if she knew exactly what he had been thinking. "A man of your years, a man who claims to be no longer human, would have never resorted to such a childish response. I know you're frustrated with me. Hell, even I am frustrated with me, with this cowardice inside me, but never once did I think that you were frustrated enough to want to belittle who and what I am." Cocking her head to one side, she moistened her lips. "Do you even know what I am, Henry? Somehow I think you forget," she said, tossing his words back at him. "I am no child of royalty. I was not trained from birth in the art of war, nor have I lived my brief life picking and choosing my battles. I am human, Henry. And I can die, never to be resurrected. I damn near did die tonight! And so did Coreen, because you cannot see past your princely, vampiric arrogance. We are all so beneath you."
Henry gasped, the truth piercing his heart with the sharpness equal to his own sword. He could see it, could see how she might believe this of him. How many times had she accused him of being nothing more than the Prince of Darkness, the Lord of Lechery? He just never thought to see beyond her sarcasm as anything more than jealousy and a human's inability to understand. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice deep with sincerity. "Vicki, you must believe me. I never meant for you to feel that way."
"But you did, Henry. Right from the very beginning when you took hold of my throat and so adamantly proclaimed that everyone was easy to kill. By everyone, you meant humans, me, because we are so beneath what you have become."
"Because I was afraid," corrected Henry.
Vicki blinked. "Afraid? Of what? What could I have possibly have done to you?"
Henry swallowed. "It's not what you could have done to me, but what I had suddenly felt I would do for you."
"I don't understand."
Henry sighed and relaxed his grip on her hand. With a graceful turn of his wrist, he held her hand palm up. The long ugly trail of torn flesh and moist blood called to him. He could smell the sweet and spicy fragrance of it, taste the memory of the last time she had offered him the healing balm of her life. And what had he offered in return? Taking a deep breath, he released the magic within his soul and brought the wound toward his lips. Raising his gaze to hers, he spoke. "From the first moment we touched, I felt a fire begin to burn inside me. Never had I felt such heat. In seconds you managed to chase away the cold, the darkness which had slipped long ago over my soul. Then you turned away, and just like that I was launched right back into that very darkness I hadn't even realized I had been in." Making certain she was absolutely aware of everything he said, everything he did, Henry watched her closely. Lifting her hand to his mouth, he took his tongue and traced the dagger's trail across tender flesh of her palm. Her gasp, the instant racing of her heart eased the tightness in his. Together they watched as the bloody and ragged cut sealed itself.
Sighing with the rightness of what he had done, Henry raised her palm to his heart and kept it there, unwilling to lose the connection and closeness her touch ignited within him. "I told myself later I had imagined it, but the moment I saw you again, the moment I first held the weight of your body against me, I knew I had not. In less than twenty four hours you had managed, without even realizing it, to rip away the complacency of centuries. I had to do something to take back the control you had so unwittingly stripped from me. What I said came from being raised a warrior and prince and you have no idea how much I regretted it when I heard the flutter of fear that tripped through your heart, the darkness of it creeping into your eyes."
"I'm not afraid of you," whispered Vicki.
Henry's lips twisted into a sad smile. "Of course you are." He said with great gentleness. "You forget, I could smell your fear, nearly tasted it when I had broken free of Mendoza's chains."
"No," denied Vicki. "I'm afraid of being hurt, of being no more to you than another meal, another cup of emotion to drink from then set aside when you grow tired of the taste."
Closing his eyes against the hot pain her words engendered, Henry turned his face into the caress. Taking hold of her hand, he pressed it tighter against his flesh before parting his lips and placing a gentle kiss in the center of it.
Mouth dry, Vicki watched the blind movement of his head, felt the heat of his lips all the way down to the soles of her feet and back up to the center of her desire. She could only gasp silently when he opened his eyes once more, revealing the black gaze of his timeless soul. His lips were moving against her palm, his words so quiet she almost missed them. Almost, but not quite.
"I have never looked upon you as my prey. Though the taste of you could fill my empty soul, I would never dare to treat you as less than what you are to me. Vicki, if Asteroth had managed to take you, I would have jumped right into Hell behind you. If you had died tonight, I would have sat right there in the center of that pentagram and waited for the dawn."
Vicki shook her head. "No. Henry, no."
"You are worth everything to me."
"Oh, God," sobbed Vicki. The tears she had managed to hold back flowed. "Don't do this," she whispered.
Tenderly, Henry smiled, the flash of his fangs sliding out just below his upper lips making him more attractive to her than ever before. "Don't do what? Don't tear down the walls you keep built around your heart?"
Vicki nodded and Henry could not resist. Leaning forward to capture her mouth with his own, he trembled with the enormity of what he was doing. Just as their lips were about to touch, a sharp voice like a tide of icy water, erupted behind them.
"Vicki!"
A low growl rumbled in his throat. Thwarted, the beast in him rose to the fore, only to be held in place by the simple power of Vicki's touch. In the space of time it took Coreen to reach them from the bottom of the stairs, Henry had his veneer of civility barely back in place. Taking a breath, he spared Vicki one last glance which spoke clearly that they were not finished with what they had started here. In a blink, he scooped up Norman's treasures and headed past Coreen in a burst of preternatural speed.
TBC? Let me know what you think. Thanks.