**A Lost Tale**
Disclaimer: The Night World is owned by Lisa Jane Smith. Characters are owned my moi!
Rating: The reason I have put one of these in here is because this is an action story. There's lots o fighting, moderately bad language, but only because of the impact it has. Please don't read this if you know you are too young. You have been warned.
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay again: my comp had a breakdown. Many thousands of thanks to Penguin and Arrylle and Pandie Katteken and Connor. Here's chapter seven and it is quite long too. And I've made it very actiony just for Penguin (who likes action, I hear *lol*). This is not agreat part because I don't feel too great, but it is moderate, I think. Enjoy anyway.
I am begging you to review, since I could use all of your reviews! Please hit that button! I'll pay ya, I will!
Enjoy!
A Lost Tale:
Chapter Seven:
~Call me with your inner voice
~Answer with screams that enter my heart
I am in Darklight, sipping on a Bloody Mary – with blood – and watching Devon and his soulmate dancing on the dance floor. I have no clue where Topaz is; Amrick and her disappeared from her flat – where I reside – some hours ago.
I am itching to get out there, to dance, to shake of my frustrations.
For it has been a month. Four weeks and thirty days since I disappeared from his grasp. I'm not sure if I should be happy or angry, upset or feel sorry about that, but anything, anything besides this empty feeling inside me. I cannot take it anymore, feeling as though my heart has taken a trip out of my chest.
Oh, but I am tired of thinking about it. Gulping down the remainder of my drink I get up and wade into the heaving masses that occupy the dance floor. A dance song starts and I dance hard and fast, shaking my head from left to right hard enough to snap my neck.
I don't care. Perhaps it will stop these thoughts.
Dressed in black leather trousers and a black sleeveless top that stretches across my torso and silver that glints at my throat and ears, I make a stunning picture.
I know I am not a bad dancer, my vampiric grace helping me, and soon a dancer joins me. He is beautiful (what did you expect?), blond with blue eyes. He curls his lips into a flirty expression and I grin right back. His eyes are so cold it is slight surprise to the system, but I am thousands of years old and do not scare easily. He tells me his name is Vlad and I feel like telling him mine is Dracula, but don't.
We do a dance that's more seduction on the dance floor and pretty soon we end up in a corner, where our shifting become even less dancing and more alcohol induced moves – although on my part I only want to forget someone else's lips.
The vampire kisses me and for a moment I respond. His lips are warm, and I am cold, and for a moment there is silence…and then…and then…
Black with golden specks.
I snap my eyes open, pushing the vampire roughly off me, fear thudding a strong beat in me. Oh my god, I think as I look around frantically. What the hell was that?
"Hey, baby," says the vampire, reaching for me again. "We were having fun."
"Get off me," I growl, and shove him roughly off me. Then I turn and lope it outside to the little square at the back of the club.
It is freezing cold, but what should a millennia old vampire care? In fact, I welcome it, pulling it inside me, wishing it could freeze my heart too.
Maybe I am tempting the Fates by standing here, in this spot where Drake first sent his goons after my friends, but I doubt he knows where I am. I don't even think he's entered the country again.
Oh yes, I have been keeping my ear close to the ground.
"Hey baby, where did ya go?"
I am startled, but I hide it well as I turn slowly and face Vlad.
He is walking toward me slowly as I stand my ground. There is something decidedly empty about his eyes and I narrow my own.
"Weren't we having fun?" he asks, stopping feet from me.
"No," I say shortly. "Now vamoose."
Vlad's eyes freeze even more if possible and anger sparks to life in them. Something far more dangerous answers that look in my chest.
"No one talks to me that way, bitch." He growls and shouts something in Latin. Since I spent several hundred years in Rome I understand it.
"Come to me!" he says and suddenly five goons fill the tiny square. A strong sense of déjà vu hits me.
But this time, it'll be my pleasure.
I quickly assess those around me; seeing they're all vampires. Good.
The goons are face me, standing in a circle. Vlad has this weird, triumphant look on his face, as if he expects me to beg for mercy.
He seems surprised when I laugh softly. Spreading my arms wide, I say, "you know, in ancient China a woman was allowed to emasculate a man who won't leave her alone. It's a forgetting concept, actually." I wink at him, feeling mirth rise up in me.
"What the hell does that mean?" he growls.
"I spent a thousand years in Ancient China, my friend," I say, laughing again.
"So? You talk a load of bull, bitch," he snaps.
I grit my jaw and stop laughing. In a smooth movement I twist a wooden knife from it's strap on my arm and throw it at one of the goons. He keels over, dead before he realises he is.
Vlad's eyes are so large they're almost comical. But I am no longer in a laughing mood.
"Come on," I whisper, twisting into a fighting stance. They run at me, a blond one reaching me first. What they don't know is that I know 12 of the Ancient Martial Arts inside out and I launch myself in the air effortlessly, twisting and sliding a knife out of my boot. It's a second to stick it into him and he crumples down.
With a triumphant yell, I land on top the wall that closes off the square. My feet automatically grip the three-inch ledge and I look down at those left.
"And then there were four," I whisper, knowing they can hear me. "Come and get me, boys!"
And I jump off, landing smack in the middle of traffic. A car is thundering down at me and for a moment I see the driver's face twisted with surprise.
I am insane, but not suicidal. I yell, jumping straight up, my millennia old legs screaming in protest as I launch myself five feet into the air. Landing painfully on a moving car, I teeter dangerously then jump off onto the pavement with a twist.
The human by lookers are so surprised they're gaping at me, and I give them a mock bow. A knife whizzes by where my head was seconds ago.
Turning, I see Vlad and his friends jumping across the road.
Oh, shit.
I turn and run, weaving through the Saturday night crowds, but not stretching to my full powers. I want them to follow, want them to catch me.
Oh, I am spoiling for a good fight.
Pausing for effect, I run onto a deserted, suburban street.
"There she is," Vlad shouts. I almost laugh out loud as I stop and twist neatly, facing them.
They are not out of breath. I am enjoying myself.
"Oh, my God," I say, placing the back of my hand on my forehead dramatically. "You've caught me!"
Stepping closer and wrapping my arms around myself, I laugh, "Please, big Vlad, don't scare a little girl like me!"
Vlad growls and steps forward, but one of his friend's stops him. "I want a piece of her," he says. He has dark colouring, shades darker than mine. And he is fast, running toward me in a blur of movement, knocking me down before I realise it. I hit the floor hard, groaning as the wind is knocked out of me.
I jump up, snarling, placing a kick on his chest that sends him staggering back. I move in with a punch, letting rip my millennia old powers, all my frustrations and anger. Then I grab his head, twisting it forcefully, enjoying the way his neck snaps. He drops like a ton of bricks
I turn to Vlad, sliding a third knife out of my pocket. Come on, come on, come on, I think, flipping the knife from side to side.
But they're not moving. Vlad has stepped back and lets two of his goons come. I slid my fourth and final knife out of my boot. They near me and circle me, snarling and growling.
I smile sweetly and launch my knives. One sticks in a chest and he dies. The other lodges in an arm and he brushes that off, growling and ignoring the blood that seeps out of his arm. He runs at me and I grab his arm, twisting it around and snapping it.
With a forceful jump I kick his knee, breaking that too, so he falls. Then I walk over, stepping on his other knee so it shatters. His cry of pain is music to my ears.
I break his foot, then his other arm, hand and wrist. He is a bloodied mess by the time I pick up my knife and position it over his heart.
"Bye," I smile sweetly, and push it down. The light fades in his eyes to a dull yellow.
Then I stand to face Vlad. He has produced a sword from somewhere and is walking toward me, though his face is suddenly so much paler.
"Now I know who you are," he says. "Sierra Rion, isn't it?"
I smile. "I see I'm famous."
"Your killing method is notorious. I will be famous as the one who killed you," he says and swings his sword in a round arc.
I admit he is good, agile and fast. But I am thousands of years old and have learned hundreds of fighting techniques from hundreds of ages and lands – and he is nothing to me.
He has forgotten his sword is only metal.
He jabs it at me and I spin away, but he catches me with a kick that hurts. Hissing, I back off.
And then he attacks. Swinging and jabbing, he jumps toward me and it is all I can do not to end up as shish kebab.
I twirl and twist and dodge and plainly run away at times.
We are two blurs of clothing.
Until he stops, his chest heaving as he wipes sweat off his forehead. I am slightly out of breath, but have saved the best until last. And then he catches me off the guard, stabbing deep into my arm with a totally surprising move.
I scream in pain, cos even metal hurts! I snarl a thousand abusive words at him, which he all ignores. I'd staggered back, but now I straighten.
For a moment, I wish my love were there.
And then Vlad is running at me, and I don't care if I die, and I grab the sword he has pointed at me straight by blade so it cuts deep in my skin, black blood squirting out. I twist it up furiously and snap it out of his hands. Flipping it over to my other hand I swing it in a high arc, lopping off Vlad's head in a smooth movement.
"Don't call me bitch!" I scream at his head, which rolls down the street.
Oh yes, I am insane.
And then I'm running, and I can't remember where, all I see are faces and people and I am sick of these years and minutes spent empty and all I want to is —
I stare at deep dark water, realising I am on a bridge. I can't take the silence anymore. The emptiness.
I jump, relishing the cool that will slam into me in a second and I am falling…falling—
And then a hand grabs me, snapping me back.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Topaz yells as she drags me back onto the bridge.
Oh, why couldn't you have let me die?
"Si, please talk to me," she says, stroking my head, holding me to her. "Please," she murmurs.
"What is wrong?"
I burst into tears that are not a relief but bring more pain. "Drake Blackthorn," I choke out.
Drake Blackthorn!
~*~
He sat at his desk, dismissing yet another idiot that came to tell him of something else that Circle Daybreak had managed to grab from under their noses.
But his mind was somewhere else.
Café au lait skin and wild brown-red hair.
Drake shook his head violently.
Still…his underlings could not understand why he wanted to find her but they did his bidding; searching and searching – but it seemed that Sierra Rion had disappeared off the face of the planet.
Drake felt the despair tighten in his heart.
He had to find her…he *had* to…otherwise…
He shuddered, not wanting to think about the stories that told of what happened to those whose link shattered. Not wanting to think about the Mad Ones, the insanity that lurked behind their eyes…
Drake Blackthorn!
He bolted upright, his head snapping left and right as the yell resounded in his ears.
It was she! Her! Where the hell was she? How had she reached him?
And then he swung his powers after that call, stretching them as far as he could. But the sound was fading fast and in a moment it was gone.
Still, he had a city now.
Drake Blackthorn smiled.
Sierra Rion…I'm coming for you…
~The day is the night when you're with me
~And when you're not I drown in the Sea
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