Hello, my friends! Please excuse me for the delay in posting this next chapter; I was (am) on vacation. However, I found that I could not stay away for too long. This story is such fun to write and y'alls are such a fantastic audience, I can't help but itch to write the next chapter. Thus, I give you this early summer present!

I hope y'alls are having a wonderful summer.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine.

Natsuki had not slept well the night before.

Again.

Apparently, her body rejected the idea of sleeping after she had met Shizuru Viola. Perhaps it was because of the sudden shift in her life, her daily routine. Perhaps it was her subconscious telling her that sleep when a monster like the Creature of Ecsed lurked nearby was a bad idea. Perhaps it was the lumpy mattress. Then again, the fact that her bed was lumpy whilst Shizuru's had looked perfectly spectacular in terms of comfort irked Natsuki. She was the human! Didn't she deserve a comfortable sleeping surface? Hell, Shizuru didn't even sleep at all! What would she do with a bed?

Well...Natsuki could think of a few things that beds were frequently used for that had absolutely nothing to do with sleeping. The thought of Shizuru "using" her bed brought a faint tinge to her cheeks.

In any case, from whatever cause, Natsuki had not slept well. She would have killed for a full ten hours of slumber. God, she had almost forgotten what it felt like! That pervading darkness, gentle and comforting, so warm, almost floating...Her eyelids drooped. Maybe she could catch a few hours here and cease to be plagued by dreams and general insomnia.

"Kruger!"
Natsuki jumped in her seat, head snapped up painfully. Hissing softly, she rubbed the back of her neck and green eyes turned to the owner of the voice that had so startled her.

It was Tomoe.

Biting back a groan of frustration and foreboding, Natsuki sat up straight and tried to look alert. Tried and failed.

Presently, she was back at the museum in London. Midori had asked her to return to work, simply for appearances sake. The Cynthian Leader had seemed surprised at Natsuki's eagerness and, indeed, so had Natsuki herself. She had never before realized how much she appreciated having a normal life: waking up in her own cheap apartment to an alarm clock she frequently punched to 'snooze' instead of waking up to armed guards she could not punch unless she wanted a broken hand or worse, going to school, attending classes she felt were beneath her as well as those she never wanted to leave she enjoyed them so much, driving to work on her Ducati, feeling the hum of metal and leather beneath her, head low over the handles, dodging between slower vehicles on the road and ignoring the catcalls and challenging revs of those who saw a girl on a motorcycle, returning home with nothing to worry about but papers, tests, laundry, dinner and a pile of lingerie magazines to amuse her while she watched the telly - "Top Gear" was her favourite show - magazines she kept scrupulously hidden should any unexpected visitor show up at her door. (1)

She had been mortified to discover those magazines in her closet at Phaesporia one day when searching for socks. The Artemisian soldiers had been very thorough in their retrieval and arrangement of her belongings from her apartment, but she had not expected them to actually find her stash of guilty-pleasures. It had been embarrassing enough knowing that unknown persons had handled her impressive supply of lingerie - down to the last lacy thong. Worse still, Shizuru, during her most recent visit to Natsuki's room, had somehow stumbled across her seemingly endless reservoir of "bodily accoutrements" as the Countess had referred to them, grinning fiendishly all the while. Shizuru had teased her mercilessly the rest of the day, even going so far as to suggest she herself "sample the modernity of Natsuki's undergarments" in a private fashion-show. And that was after the simulation, training-room incident, no less!

Ever since that day in the training room, less than a week ago, she had been avoiding Shizuru. Sure, Shizuru had come to her room the day after and Natsuki had let her in, hoping that she would be able to forget "the incident" as she referred to it in her head, pretending that nothing had happened as though that would make the events in the hologram vanish. Rather than forget, she had tripped over her words worse than every before, blushing at every smile, every side-long glance - blushes that the Countess had taken full advantage of. More than once, Natsuki could have sworn she had seen the barest hint, a glimmer of the desire holographic-Shizuru had so flagrantly demonstrated animating the real Shizuru's gaze during their last encounter. The very thought still made her squirm, uncomfortable. It was the same look Shizuru had given her in her apartment, right before she herself was about to become a meal. And that brought on a whole host of unsavoury memories she preferred to leave untended in the back of her mind: Shizuru naked in her bath, Shizuru ripping men to pieces, Shizuru's warm breath upon her neck...

Suddenly, she realized that Tomoe's mouth had been moving and she had not heard anything she just said for the past minute or two. Based upon the perennial scowl, she was doubtlessly haranguing Natsuki about something or another. Sighing, Natsuki caught only the last few sentences of Tomoe's rant.

"...and I am your superior, so don't go bothering Midori! She has more important things on her mind than the complaints of a sniveling intern...!"

That was for sure, Natsuki thought dryly. Vampiric wars all across Europe took precedence over most anything else. At that, however, Natsuki realized how little she actually knew about the Head Curator. Was she married? Did she have children? A family? Surely, it could not be so far-fetched, after all Shizuru herself had borne children and been married. Why not Midori? Then again, Midori's personal life was hardly any of her business. Still...there must have been a story behind her place among the Artemisians; nobody joins an organization like the Cynthian Company without some sort of motive.

"Are you listening to me?"

Natsuki blinked, surprised to find those gray eyes intently boring into her own, scrutinizing, "Yes, Tomoe," she replied flatly, too tired to resist, "I'm listening."

Those brows contracted in a deeper frown before Tomoe turned abruptly on her heel, "Good. Now get back to work."

"Yes, Tomoe."

If anything, she seemed more infuriated by Natsuki's compliance. And that made absolutely no sense. Wasn't Tomoe always on her case about being rebellion and disobedient? Yet the moment Natsuki started taking orders without complaint, Tomoe became even more irritated.

She sighed as Tomoe rounded the corner. Her boots dug into the beige carpet as she used her feet to push herself back to her station in the swivel chair. She had a sort of love-hate relationship with this chair. A cheap, yellow plastic contraption, the lever which controlled its height had been broken by the last intern to use it so that it hung far too low to the ground for anyone's comfort but a dwarf's. Therefore, she either had the choice of keeping her knees bent at an acute angle so that her thighs jutted upwards, or of leaving her legs sprawled before her. The latter was no option when seated at her work-bench - a long, cantilevered plank of painted pine that jutted out from the wall only about a third of a meter - since her legs were too long and always hit the wall. After the first few hours of experimentation upon her arrival at the museum, Natsuki had taken to leaving one leg bent and the other jutting to the side, the positions of which she switched when necessary so as to maximize blood-flow to her feet; she had absolutely no desire to have her toes fall off, thank you very much.

Her work space was a well-lit, narrow rectangular room with white-washed walls, old wooden cabinets and a too-small supply closet at the far end. The few modern fixtures of the room were the fume-hood on her right opposite a bulky Xerox machine, the new computer on her left with its flat monitor and cheap keyboard and matching mouse the same colour as the carpet all three of which were probably from the early nineties if not before that, and the large mechanical object directly behind her that she called simply: the "picture machine". For that was what it did. It took pictures. If ever a customer wished for certain pages in a book, for example, the book in question would be brought out from the vault (carefully monitored to be the right temperature and humidity at all times and accessed by a numerical pad the combination of which changed monthly) and placed beneath the large lens upon the flat metal platform. The machine would then need to be properly calibrated and a picture taken of the pages that would then print from the Xerox machine. It was, of course, a necessity in a museum and could also be found in small, rare-book collections where the materials were too old and/or damaged to be pressed up against the glass of a copier and further damaged by the stress and high light exposure.

Other than these few mechanisms, Natsuki was sure the room had remained exactly the same but for, perhaps, a new coat of paint here and there and new carpeting every thirty years or so - thought the floor might as well have been made of wood, the carpet was so stiff. Still, it was better than a shaggy carpet that would have caught on the wheels of her chair. This way, she got to whiz around the room from platform to platform, chair creaking as she pushed herself from the fume-hood and back again to the computer for more data entry.

She was cataloguing a recently excavated horde of Viking silver in the form of various pins and brooches. A lock of hair fell into her eyes as she typed and she tucked it behind an ear. That morning she had been too tired to shower and instead settled on tying her hair back in a pony-tail after she had groggily stepped into the same clothes she had worn the day before: blue jeans, her customary black boots, and a simple black t-shirt beneath a worn gray jacket with a hood that slumped down her upper back. Currently, the jacket was slung over the back of her chair, one scuffed sleeve dragging along the floor.

The light of the computer screen made her retinae burn even more. When she closed her eyes, they still ached, almost more so from the sudden plunge into darkness, the same way warm water makes icy hands ache. Her knuckles dug once more into the dark circles of bruised skin beneath her half-lidded, blood-shot eyes. She felt another yawn coming on.

"Tired?"

"Yea...I - " Natsuki froze. Rotating slowly in her seat, she almost yelped at the sight behind her.

There Shizuru sat, calm as can be, legs crossed, atop the Xerox machine, surveying Natsuki over a sheet of paper in her hands.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked, voice just short of yelling.

Shizuru tsked, admonishing, "My, my, Natsuki! You really must lower your voice. You wouldn't want that woman returning, would you?"

Throwing a nervous glance over her shoulder at where Tomoe had exited not long before, she hissed, "How - ? But - ? Where is your guard? Does Midori know you're here?"

The Countess waved away the questions dismissively, "Those Artemisians wouldn't notice a fly were it buzzing around in those impenetrable helmets of theirs. Here," she leaped to the ground, landing light and sure-footed as a feline, and kissed the paper in her hands before handing it to Natsuki, "A present for you."

Snatching the paper from Shizuru's hands, she looked down at it and felt a blush creep into her cheeks. It was a Xerox of Shizuru's rear from when she had been sitting atop the machine, the page recently decorated with bright red lip imprints on the lower left cheek, "I hope you like it," Shizuru purred, teasing.

Furious, Natsuki crumpled the paper between her palms and threw it in the trash bin at her feet. It bounced off the rim and rolled to the floor, "I'm hurt!" Shizuru pouted, crossed her arms beneath her breasts and angling her body away slightly in a purposefully childish display of displeasure.

"Oh, shut up!" Natsuki snapped, remaining seated though she suspected that the best course of action would be to flee before Shizuru got any ideas. Not that she'd get very far. The constant presence of Cynthian soldiers had allowed her to feel at least somewhat secure in Shizuru's presence. Now she just felt like a trapped and cornered wolf. Or perhaps a deer ready to be speared, "How did you even escape Phaesporia?"

Red eyes shone with mirth and Shizuru's body shimmered out of view, reappearing seated on the work-bench, one leg perched coquettishly upon an arm of Natsuki's chair, "Escape? Whatever do you mean, Natsuki? I walked out the front door."

"You mean..." Natsuki frowned down at the leg near her arm, resisting the temptation to run her eyes along the shapely length of it, or worse, her hands, "They let you out?"

"Not exactly," she admitted.

Tired emerald eyes, still bright and luminous despite their owner's lack of sleep, widened and Natsuki shoved away the foot that had just begun to slowly trace her forearm with one toe, "Did...Did you kill them?" She asked in a whisper, horrified at what the answer might be.

Shizuru snorted and abandoned her task of caressing Natsuki, instead resolving herself to crossing her legs in order to reveal a generous portion of her creamy right thigh, a movement that did not go unnoticed, she was pleased to see, "Don't be ridiculous, Natsuki."

"Then - !"

"You've been avoiding me of late. Don't think I haven't noticed," Shizuru had suddenly become stern, reprimanding, "I came here today because I merely wished to talk to you without that Callisto friend of yours warding me off at every possible juncture."

Oops.

And here Natsuki had thought she was being discreet about it. Discretion, she had discovered long ago, was not her forte. It was true, she had set Mai about the task of keeping Shizuru away with lame excuses about being "busy" or having a headache or something of the sort, a task Mai was more than happy to perform. She had hoped to not be so dreadfully obvious, but it seemed that she was as transparent as cellophane in these matters. Matters in which she had little to no experience in. She couldn't even remember the last time she had felt...Well...She didn't exactly know how she felt, to be honest. That, or she didn't want to give it a name as of yet. To give it a name would make it that much more real and she preferred it as an abyssal anomaly of sensations and thoughts that twisted her gut. It was far safer that way.

"Perhaps I took it too far with your undergarments..." Shizuru was musing to herself, tapping her chin in a thoughtful manner.

"No, that's not it."

Wait. What was she saying? Of course that had been too far!

Grimacing, she burst out, "I mean - ! Uh - ! Yes! That was a bit too far. More than a bit, really...But that's not - !"

She trailed off. Shizuru was watching her and listening expectantly.

Damn! What was she doing! Shut up, Natsuki. Shut up. Shut up. You don't want her to know about 'the incident' do you? No. Of course not. That would be...Her mind searched frantically for a word. Relieving? No. NO. Definitely not relieving. Complicating? Yes. Humiliating? Yes. Dangerous? Oh, dear Lord, yes. But relieving...? Maybe just a tiny bit...?

No. No. Definitely not.

Or at least, that's what she told herself.

She needed something to distract them. Something to turn the conversation onto anything else.

"Kruger!"

Footsteps, loud and angry footsteps, approached from down the hall. Tomoe would be upon them at any moment.

Cursing quietly, Natsuki jumped to her feet. Head snapping around in every direction, she saw the supply closet at the end of the room and before another second was wasted, she grabbed Shizuru by the arm and dragged her into the cramped space. The door shut soundlessly behind them, the latch sliding into place just as Tomoe stormed into the room. Shizuru's eyes glowed faintly through the gloom, though not enough to illuminate the space around them. Natsuki's back was jammed uncomfortably into a shelf filled with boxes of pens and post-it notes. The university student scarcely breathed as she heard Tomoe growling about outside like an enraged lioness, muttering to herself about "that Kruger's" insolence. Soon, just a half-dozen heartbeats later, Tomoe departed and Natsuki heaved a great sigh of relief. She relaxed, the arms at her side dropping.

That movement would prove to be a near fatal mistake.

As her arms lowered rapidly, her left hand came into swift contact with a ragged corner of one of the metal shelves, effectively slicing a small portion of her digit. It was nothing more than a scratch, really, but it was enough.

Scarlet light shone forth, twin lanterns burning bright in the hands of a lifeless ferry-man. The darkness blended with the brightness until they seemed as one, until the shadows swirled about them tainted with a crimson hue. Natsuki was wrenched forward, her injured hand lifted up in a painful grasp. Shizuru's grip upon her wrist was so strong, she might as well have been wrapped in corrugated steel. She felt more than saw the slow trickle of a single drop of blood roll down her ring-finger, pooling at the knuckles.

A strange sound filled the space between them. It was a sort of whine, a high-pitched whimper, the kind of sound a kicked dog made. In the eerie half-light, Natsuki could see Shizuru's face. It bore an agonising expression. Her pale brows were furrowed as though someone were dragging a white-hot poker across her shoulders. Her lips were parted slightly and short, ragged pants escaped her. She was shivering, it showed in her hands. Tremors wracked her entire body and still that terrible gaze was fixed, immovable as a mountain, upon the blood.

Try as she might, Natsuki could not move. She had been struck into a state of fearfully reverent silence, similar to when Shizuru had offered her hand back at the apartment. Struggling would have accomplished nothing, only goaded the beast further.

As Shizuru raised Natsuki's hand, her tongue peeked out. It was no different from any other's tongue but for the single discrepancy in colour. Deeper in red that was a human's wont, almost maroon, it looked like a tense, bloodied blade flashing from its sheath in a smooth draw. The very tip alone touched the small droplet of blood and slowly ran up along the length of Natsuki's finger, making her shiver. It was a warm, steady lap all the way to the tiny wound upon the pad of one of her fingers. Shizuru gasped at the taste and her gaze burned brighter until the darkness leaped around them in an eldritch parade. Puffs of hot breath collected in Natsuki's palm as the Creature of Ecsed panted. Another piteous whine, more animal than human, escaped Shizuru before she drew Natsuki's injured finger into her mouth and sucked.

Natsuki winced in anticipation as keen fangs brushed her delicate skin, but they did not pierce as she had originally expected. The moist muscles of Shizuru's mouth contract and released, contracted and released, gently taking in any excess blood with a pulling warmth. Wisps of air blew across the back of her fingers as Shizuru puffed lightly through her nose while she worked. As soon as that strongly muscled tongue began to wriggle and writhe expertly over the surface of her finger, however, tickling with teasing strokes, Natsuki jerked back in spite of herself.

The brilliant darkness pulsed in response to her sharp motion, no longer like a soothing embrace, but menacing as swiftly as an eclipse or a passing cloud between the sun. An unholy snarl wrenched from Shizuru's throat and her lips peeled back in a feral gesture of baring her teeth. Those scarlet eyes, so livid, threatened to consume her.

Without warning, something flickered across Shizuru's face. In a blur, the door was thrown open and she sped out of the closet, leaving her prey alone. Still in shock, Natsuki remained momentarily pressed against the shelves before the breath she had been unconsciously holding whooshed out of her and she had trouble staying on her feet.

She had thought she was a goner. So close...She had been so close to being severed from that fragile thing called life and it left her sapped of all strength.

Staggering from the supply-closet - the air within shimmering with heat like an oven, or more appropriately, a cage, a slice of Hell containing the fiery river, Phlegethon - Natsuki wiped a shaking arm across her brow, surprised to find no sweat gathered there. (2) Odd. Those last few seconds had seared hot enough to peel the flesh from her bones and reduce her to a quivering mass of melted sinew, yet she had not even broken a sweat. Right then, however, that was the least of her worries.

Shizuru was bent over the work table, elbows resting heavily upon it as she clutched her head in her hands. She was still trembling and wisps of shadow rose from her, rippling off the surface of her pale skin like living steam. While Natsuki watched, the dancing shadows began to shrink, withdrawing into Shizuru as though sinking back into the depths of the underworld. After they had all receded, Shizuru took a long breath to steady herself and straightened.

"Forgive me," she did not turn to face Natsuki and she had to clear her throat as it cracked before continuing, "That was...not my intention. Forgive me."

Natsuki did not reply. She remained leaning against the frame of the closet door, speechless.

Smoothing back her hair by running her fingers through it, Shizuru still seemed to be collecting herself, "We should return to Phaesporia. I wouldn't be surprised if Midori has not already sent troops after us."

Laughing weakly, Natsuki found her voice, "Yea, I can't imagine why she would feel the need to do that."

Her scathing words had no visible effect on the Countess, though it was difficult to tell since she refused to turn and face her, "I will meet you downstairs. I think it best if we return together."

She grunted in reply, "Sure."

Truth be told, she didn't think she could operate her Ducati just yet.

One moment, Shizuru was standing in the centre of the room, presence as regal as ever, and the next she was gone. Only a slight stirring of the air gave any physical proof that she had been there at all.

The computer chimed happily as Natsuki shut it down. She switched the fume-hood off as well, the constant hum dying away. Routine helped. Routine made her feel normal, made her feel as though nothing out of the ordinary or remotely life-threatening had occurred. Her heart pounded in her chest even now until her ears rang. Her vision swam and she clutched the back of her chair for support as she resisted a swoon.

She needed to sleep. God, she needed to sleep. All she wanted was a few hours. Just an hour, even. But she was going back to Phaesporia and there was no sweet slumber to be had there. The very thought of returning to those metallic halls, burnished bright, stinging her sensitive eyes, made her feel dizzy with grief. She would not allow herself to weep, though. Never here. Never in public.

The swiftest descent into madness is obtained through sleep deprivation. She had heard that somewhere before - she could not remember where - and she believed it. Four days. Four days of nothing but scattered winks of slumber. Already she could feel reality slipped from her grasp. Perhaps this was all just a dream. Perhaps she would wake up soon, in her own bed, alone at last.

Sniffling, Natsuki swung her coat over her shoulders and scrubbed at her face, clearing the blossoming tears, as she strode from her work place.

The scene that greeted her in the employee parking lot made her feel physically ill. Now, she no longer wanted to sleep. Now, she wanted to huddle in a hot shower and cry until there were no tears left.

Just as she had said, Shizuru was waiting for her, standing beside her Ducati. What was not expected, though, was another person accompanying her. Worse, another vampire. Natsuki didn't know how she could tell, but she just knew. The two socialized easily, conversing lightly. And as Natsuki approached, weary, she heard the other say, "...then allow me to be the first to welcome you to London, my Lady. Come! I shall escort you and your charge," he gestured magnanimously to Natsuki, smiling, gracious, "to the Council of Three."

(1): Top Gear = You know, I never expected to like that show when I heard about it. A show about cars, I thought, was not for me. After a single episode, however, I realized how much of a mistake I'd made. Top Gear is an awesome show. Gods above, those Brits really DO have a sense of humour! :P

(2): Phlegethon = The River of Fire. In Classical mythology there are five rivers of the underworld: Acheron, Cocytus, Styx, Phlegethon and Lethe. The most famous, of course, is the Styx, thanks to Dante Alighieri and the 70s rock band. (As a side note, I love the band. I also love frequently getting their songs stuck in other peoples' heads, an act that often vexes my friends. But that's ok. They love me anyway.).

I hope you liked it! If you feel so inclined, by all means drop me a review. I love reviews and I take your advice under great consideration.