A/N: Thanks again for the reviews! MalfoyLover and Reluctant Dragon- thank you guys for sticking with me! This chapter's a bit longer, and the length I am shooting for from now on.

Chapter Four: Labor Vocat (Duty Calls)

The punch connected with her jaw squarely. White spots flashed before her eyes and she stumbled backward. He swung again, but she blocked his fist and struck out. Her hit was less effective; the vampire barely moved.

"Small wonder you all die so young."

She swung again, catching him on the underside of his jaw and he moved back. She kicked out, her booted foot about to connect with his chest when he grabbed it and spun her. She didn't hit the ground as hard as she expected to- the woman's body cushioned her fall. Rubellia sprang up and attacked again, driving him to the side with a flurry of blows. Nothing kept him back for long.

He gained the upper hand quickly- he had had it from that first blow. He caught her fist when she threw a sloppy punch, and twisted her wrist hard. "Slayers aren't so tough after all, are they?"

She didn't answer; the pain was too much. His knee came up, slammed her in the stomach and she fell to her knees. He laid her the rest of the way down, looming above her and then climbing atop her, saliva dripping from yellowed fangs. "I always wanted to taste one of you," he whispered as he leaned toward her.

She moved quickly, wrapping her legs around his hips and spinning him. She ended up on top of him and straddling his waist.

He smiled at the change in position, but she could see his nervousness. "Where's your stake?"

"Don't need one," she said, then grabbed his head and slammed it against the ground.

Rubellia stood and backed away from the vampire, then kneeled next to the woman's body. "Gods grant you peace, domina," she whispered, closing the woman's glassy eyes, then turning back to the unconscious vampire. "I've still got work to do."

By the time she'd made it back to the Quirinal, she'd thanked every god she could think of- even the Christian one- that vampires turned to dust. If she had to carry bodies around every night, she would never have survived to see her eighteenth birthday. And if she had to carry this particular one any more, she doubted she'd make it to her nineteenth.

As part of their arrangements, Nero's men were waiting for her, in the shadows of the hilly street in front of her house. She passed the vampire off to them. "If he wakes up, hit him hard."

The leader of the men, clad in a leather cuirass and a condescending smirk, looked down at her, brow raised. "We know."

She rolled her eyes and turned away, walking toward the house without another word. She didn't even spare a glance for Marcus, who rose from the chair he had been waiting- and dozing- in, sputtering sleepy mumbles as soon as she entered.

"Goodnight," she called over his shoulder, ignoring his protestations and demands that she wait. Her night had been long enough without having to make a full report.

Nero didn't call on them that night, or the next. Rubellia began to wonder if he had lost interest in his venture into the supernatural, just as he'd lost interest in writing the epic poem about the she-wolf that had suckled Romulus and Remus, back when they were children. His fancies were fleeting at best.

But on the third night, Marcus called her into his study, still clad in his senatorial toga and looking agitated. "Your cousin-"

"Must you always refer to him as that?"

"Nero wishes us to dine with him tonight."

"Short notice. I'm not sure I'll have anything to wear for a spectacular Palatine dinner."

"That's just fine, since we're not going to the Palatine." At her confused look he continued. "Nero is having dinner at his villa across the Tiber, near the Janiculum."

"So this won't be a family affair?"

Marcus smiled. "Expect a crowd."

The Janiculum Hill had been the pleasure grounds of the rich for decades. Aside from the public park that Divus Julius had willed the Roman people, Nero's villa was the largest property in the area. Marcus and Rubellia were admitted by the steward at the door without question.

It certainly was no family dinner. Swarms of people lined the triclinium, pearls and jewels glittering on both men and women- this was a party for the young set. Nero was the centerpiece of the room, draped in blue, his Greek style robes hiding the growing flab on his stomach. His hair was curled around his ears and rings glittered on every finger as he gestured wildly, face maniacal in its glee.

On his left was a woman- not Octavia to be sure. Rubellia was no ostracized from society so much that she didn't recognize Poppaea. Nero's mistress was older than he was, but without a single wrinkle on her milky pale skin. She was a beauty, amber colored hair falling in perfect waves around her face, eyes the same color as her dress- dark blue-purple and velvety beautiful.

On his right was a vampire.

Not the vampire, the one she had captured for him. This one was shorter and had dark hair. He was in his human guise, and rather handsome at that, deathly pale face chiseled and smiling. He appeared to be around thirty-five, but the hunting light in his cool brown eyes indicated an older vampire, one with strength and power. Without pausing in his dialogue, he locked eyes with her- his eyes telling an entirely different story than his smiling mouth.

"Rubellia!"

Nero's voice pulled her away from the vampire's gaze. She forced herself to look at her cousin, forced herself to smile and make her way across the room.

"Dear Rubellia! I'm so glad to have you here tonight." Nero stood, took her hands. "Rubellia, this is my dearest love, Poppaea, and this is her dearest love Petronius, my trusted advisor and friend. He keeps me in style."

Poppaea's head tilted, eyes glinting. "Dear, I thought you'd be… bigger."

"Well, she is tall. A smidge of German blood, perhaps?" Petronius asked, smirking.

"My grandmother was a patrician," Rubellia said with practiced arrogance, her all too Roman pride stinging at the insult.

"So was mine."

"But that's not in you anymore, is it? You live on borrowed blood now."

"Keen eye!" Nero laughed gleefully. "Rubellia, you are my very soul!"

Marcus stepped to her side and took her arm. "Come, love. Let's take our seats." He led her away, and whispered, "Don't worry about Petronius. He's under control."

"Vampires are never under control." She sighed. "What are you keeping from me, Marcus?"

"You know it all soon enough. Just trust me. Please."

His wide green eyes were begging for her to listen, to wait, and she nodded. They continued across the room. They weren't seated anywhere near Nero. She counted that as a blessing; she didn't want to see what Petronius drank with dinner.

They were seated in a corner, which suited Rubellia fine; she liked to observe the people around her. However, the people seated next to them had different ideas. Aulus Gellius Paterculus was vulgar, as the newly rich usually were, and his wife Priscilla was a renowned gossip; they kept her and Marcus busy throughout dinner with tales of high society parties and exploits in the forum.

"The evidence was against him, but I did charm those jurors so, Marcus Junius." Aulus laughed. "Quite literally in fact."

"Is that so, Aulus Gellius?" Marcus asked politely, squeezing her hand. Rubellia squeezed back, fighting to keep a grin off of her face. What would this man, an advocate in the law courts, know of charms and the supernatural?

Before Aulus could reply, Priscilla cut in, her high voice chirping, "Oh, dear, this is your first party of Caesar's isn't it?" Rubellia didn't think she meant family gatherings and so she nodded. Priscilla continued. "I'm sure you'll find the entertainment superb."

"I'm sure I will," Rubellia said, and the bad feeling crept back up her spine.

Music and dancers entertained them throughout the meal, but Rubellia couldn't enjoy herself. The food tasted like straw and the noise was deafening, and she knew- she knew- something was wrong.

As the dessert was cleared away, Nero stood. "My friends," he called out, voice loud and clear, "tonight we have a special treat. The one you have all anticipated." Coos of awe flittered through the crowd as Nero took Poppaea's hand and pulled her to her feet. "This way, my lovely guests."

He led them through the gardens and down into a massive room, stone walls red and black, and meant to catch and keep any sound uttered. They were all quickly installed in seats- Rubellia and Marcus were called to Nero's side- and sat waiting as the curtains were pulled back from the center of the room.

The pit was immense. It was at least twenty feet across, and fifteen feet deep, sand on the bottom speckled with familiar shades of red and green. Rubellia started to feel ill as Nero stood to speak some more. She didn't listen to his words, just focused on her heartbeat as it echoed in her ears.

He stopped talking and she looked up suddenly, the roaring in her ears unaccustomed to the silence. He smiled at her and sat, Poppaea reaching for his hand as the crowd buzzed with excitement. And then they all fell silent, as the gate of the far wall began to rise. There wasn't a curse for what she saw, and even if there had been, she wouldn't be able to speak it. She didn't think she could talk at all.

"Rubellia, are you alright?" Petronius asked her, pale face a mockery of concern.

She didn't reply, just stared at the two figures standing in the sand below her. The one further away was a Fyarl demon, huge and muscle-bound, black eyes shining with the inborn rage of his race. The one closer to her was a vampire, and not just any vampire.

It was the vampire, the one she'd captured, and he was staring right at her.

TBC

Note: Domina is the Latin equivalent of calling someone "Lady" or "Madam". Divus Julius is the defied Julius Caesar.