by
Aethyl
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination; Joss Whedon created the world.
Note: The story that inspired the shadow demon is Mercedes Lackey's
"Nightside." Further note that I've been spelling Lilah's name incorrectly.
Drusilla waited on the edge of the bed, feeling more herself after her meal. She was no longer angry at Okugare; he had class. He had fed her and freed her, and she was relieved to know that she could leave the bed at any moment. She was fairly certain that the two humans who were hesitating just over the threshold did not know this, and that was good. The element of surprise was an important tool when hunting. She considered her prey. She could smell them. The woman's scent intrigued her; it was very much like Darla's. Darla, how I miss you, lovely girl, thought Drusilla. In the hours she had spent curled up in her satin prison, thoughts of Darla, Angelus, and Spike had plagued her. She missed her family. She was sad that Angelus had lost his nerve, that Spike had lost his edge, that Darla . . . that Darla had died. It would be fun to play with Angel when she finished her business here. He was no longer her Angelus, merely the faded, tortured being who had taken the life of her grandsire, her dominant hunt-mate, her . . . . Best not think on it, she thought. In any case, she would definitely need to find Angel and thank him for her loss. Madness had been her refuge from him for so long, the sudden loss of it had freed her in one significant way: Drusilla could remember everything Angelus had ever done to her, when she was mortal and vampire, and she could not wait to revisit those sins on his flesh. As for Spike, her own childe, she would find him after she dealt with the lawyers and Angel. Spike, my poor, tortured puppy. Mommy will save you, thought Drusilla.
An arm reached across the frame of the door, and a man's hand knocked on it. "Drusilla, my name is Holland Manners. May I come in?"
The man smelled angry, angry and confident. Interesting, thought Drusilla. Let's meet the big dog, then--see how impressive he really is.
"Who you got with you, ducks?" she called.
"My associate, Lilah Morgan."
Pretty name, thought Drusilla, as she quickly untied the cord nearest to her, and drew the bed curtains closed. She looped the white fabric in her hands and stepped into a dark corner of the room, the one closest to the door. "Come in, then."
Holland stepped into the room and approached the bed, stopping about a foot in front of the end of it. Lilah entered behind him, and stopped just behind his right shoulder.
"Drusilla?" Holland asked, reaching toward the bed curtain.
Lilah felt a cord wrap tightly around her neck and cold breath in her ear in the same moment that Holland drew back the curtain on the empty bed. "Holland!" she frantically mouthed.
Drusilla pressed her nose into Lilah's long brown hair and inhaled deeply. Peaches. Peaches and cream and fear, she thought. "Delightful."
Holland turned to face the vampire, attempting not to show surprise. "I see you've met my associate," he said.
Lilah gasped as Drusilla released the cord a bit and wrapped one arm around her body. "You were supposed to be . . . secure," she stammered, trying to draw breath.
Drusilla laughed. "I was, too--but you made Okugare mad, didn't you?" she asked the frightened woman. "You made me mad, too, sendin' a big scary demon to interrupt my dinner the way you did," she snarled into Lilah's hair, pulling her against her own body, fingers stroking the other woman's hip.
"And I apologize for that, Drusilla," Holland soothed. "I take responsibility for the inconvenience. If you'd allow me to explain . . . ."
"Explain?" Drusilla snapped. "You can explain sending a demon to hunt me, to feed from me?"
"Perhaps our methods were ill-conceived, Drusilla, but . . . ."
"Hush!" Drusilla hissed. She ran her tongue up Lilah's neck, and the other woman shuddered--but not completely out of fear. Drusilla allowed the intoxicating taste of terror and arousal to roll over her tongue. The kitten likes rough treatment, she thought, pleasantly surprised. She had wanted to rip the throats out of these humans, and then make her escape, but her thoughts now bent in another direction. For all her new-found sanity, Drusilla was still a passionate creature, and passion made her want to stop thinking, stop thinking and act. "I don't wanna talk to you, ducks. I wants to play with the kitten."
"Holland, no! Don't leave me here with her!" cried Lilah, tears forming in her eyes. She began to struggle, and Drusilla spun her around and slapped her so hard that Lilah's ears rang.
"Bad girls gets punished," Drusilla told the terrified woman, smoothing Lilah's hair with her free hand, and tightening the cord around her neck until she had just enough air to breath, but not to struggle.
Holland didn't hesitate. "I would be happy to give you your privacy, Drusilla, provided that you allow Miss Morgan the opportunity to explain our reasons for seeking you out. We are opperating under a time constraint, and . . . ."
"And I'm still waitin' for you to go away--unless you wants to play, too?"
"No, thank you," Holland said, as he walked to the door and wrapped his fingers tightly around the handle. "There is some other business that requires my attention. I should mention that this chamber is part of the guest wing of Okugare's residence, Drusilla. It's underground, and it only has one exit. My other associates and I will be waiting there for you and Miss Morgan."
Drusilla did not answer him. She was too busy drawing her nose along Lilah's quivering neck.
Holland shut the door.
***