23 comments/ 102890 views/ 151 favorites To Protect and Serve Ch. 01 By: Evil Alpaca Proofread by FernieLyn This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these character and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author. This story is based in an alternative universe, where history took a different course than the one we are used to. In this world, the creatures which we now believe to be legends have walked alongside man for the duration of our existence. Vampires, werewolves, wizards, witches, sorcerers, and a host of other beings share our world. The following story contains, in one chapter or another, lesbian, homosexual, heterosexual, anal, group, sci-fi/fantasy, non-human, and BDSM sexual activity. There may be some erotic horror in there somewhere as well, but I haven't made up my mind. ---------------------- ------------------------ "Ouch!" Officer Shamira Carswell of the Atlanta Police Department had just bashed her head against something harder than itself, something both she, her immediate family, and fellow officers would have claimed was impossible. She had awoken with a start in this darkened little bit of nowhere and instinctively tried to sit up. She had about five inches of clearance. In her addled state, she confirmed her first finding by trying again, increasing the ache in her forehead. 'Yep,' she thought. 'Five inches.' Stretching out with her arms, she actually found less room there, barely able to move her massive arms. The problem with having competed as a female bodybuilder was that she took up more space than she should. Her shoulders were brushing up against the edges of . . . whatever the hell it was she was in. 'Trunk of a car? No way. If it was, then it is, then I've got to get me one because its really . . . comfortable?' Yes, it was comfortable. It felt like padded silk, cool against her skin. "Okay," she said, trying to calm her suddenly electric nerves. "What were you doing?" She couldn't remember. "No, I can. I was . . . damn, I was down off of Commerce Drive," she said, remembering the landmarks flashing past her police cruiser. "Got out to get a drink . . . stopped and talked to that homeless girl. She was too damn young to be on the streets." Shamira didn't think the girl could be a day over eighteen, but she had a look about her that made her seem older. Slim girl . . . looked like a Native American. Must be what life is like for her. She seemed awfully nervous, even though Shamira wasn't the type to hassle someone for being down on their luck. She'd told the girl how to find a shelter and even gave her five bucks to buy something to eat. Her mother always told her that was one of her problems and why she still lived at home. Charity was all well and good, but "throwing her money away on those good-for-nothing dregs" was something else. Finally she just left the girl alone. She was almost back in her car when the call came in that gunshots had been reported at the Casa De Sade, a club of "interesting" repute. She was easily going to be the first officer on the scene. She had shown up at the club (it was right next door) and had marveled at the interior. Probably not appropriate for what she should be doing, but she couldn't really help it. Everything in the place was black. Black leather sofas, black hardwood floor, black curtains, a black bar, black leather . . . a lot of black leather. It looked like an office party in hell. But there were some things that weren't black. The cages were gold. The chains and shackles hanging from the walls appeared to be gold as well. There were people in black leather chained to black walls with gold chains. Her attention had been pulled back to what was important, namely the five men and women with guns who had drawn down on a small group of revelers. The intended victims looked strangely defiant. One of them, a far-too-handsome man with blond hair and frigid blue eyes stood in front of the others, almost daring the would-be assailants. For a moment, she had looked at him and he looked back. He smiled. Then her attention was back on the guys with guns. Five of them, one of her; no backup for considerably longer than it would them to pull all their triggers at least once. She had told them to freeze, told them to drop their weapons, put their hands on the wall. She got their attention anyway. They didn't freeze. They didn't drop their weapons. Guess what they did when she told them to put their hands on the wall? They didn't do that either. They did shoot at her though. That was nice of them. Nice because it gave everyone else a chance to run while she dove for cover. She glanced around the sofa she had taken shelter behind and saw that all the intended victims had vanished without a trace. Other patrons of the club were cowering or sneaking out the front door. Shamira got a look at the face of a big guy holding a 44-caliber revolver. He really didn't look happy. He had said something about "taking care of the witnesses" and that had turned Shamira's blood to ice. And to make matters worse, she had noticed that there was a girl chained to the wall who was so scared she'd pissed herself. Whoever was supposed to be responsible for her was nowhere to be seen. Shamira was a crack shot. She'd actually qualified for S.W.A.T., but that glass ceiling was as solid for her as whatever she'd just nailed her head against. Her bosses were intent that the overly muscled female stayed writing parking tickets and breaking up keggers for the remainder of her natural life. But accolades didn't mean as much as skill at that moment, so she'd rolled and blasted the chains off the wall. The girl ducked. The bad guys saw Shamira. The bad guys shot Shamira. "No," she whispered. "They had to have missed." But they hadn't missed. Shoulder . . . face . . . both arms . . . finally, a chunk of her neck. Then the darkness had come, but not just for Shamira Carswell. Darkness came down from the ceiling and ate most of the bad guys, but the big one made a run for it. He paused long enough to point his gun straight down at what was left of Shamira's head. Something had tackled him . . . something that smelled of dirt and whiskey . . . something street. The last bad guy was gone, but Shamira's last gaze fell on an old-young face. She had given that girl five dollars . . . why was she there in the club? The girl looked towards something out of view, then smiled. She pulled out of sight as the darkness caressed Shamira's eyes. Then her neck shifted . . . started to tingle. "Crap," she said, her brain swimming as memories returned. She kicked out, her foot striking a sternly unforgiving surface. Her hands pounded on the roof. She was lying down in a silk lined box in total darkness after being shot multiple times. "A fucking coffin?!" She tried to steady her breathing. They had buried her alive? How had she lived through that? How is it that no one noticed? She wanted to cry, but nothing came. She wasn't normally the crying type, but being buried alive made for a convenient excuse. She had survived all of that just to die down here? Her parents and her brother and her sister hadn't noticed she wasn't dead? She'd miss watching football on Sunday?! 'Calm down,' she thought. 'Need to get out of here. Brute strength probably won't work.' She felt around the coffin, trying to find anything that might help. 'Damn it, they should build these things like car trunks with convenient escape hatches. What now? Break through somehow? Tunnel to the surface?' She was so thirsty, which shouldn't be too surprising. How long had she been down there? *skrik skrik skirk* 'What the hell is that?' She placed her ear to the coffin lid. It sounded like scratching, scraping. *skrik skrik skrik* Muffled voices. Then the coffin lurched. Someone had found out . . . someone knew. She was going to get out! The coffin was lifted upward and then . . . no one opened it. She tried the lid again, but it was latched shut. She banged against it with both hands. "I'm in here! I'm alive! Someone let me out!" She felt the coffin slide over something and then stop suddenly. Next came a low rumbling, and the coffin slid again. She'd been loaded into a truck and was getting moved? Why? Her heart seemed caught in her throat. She'd never been this terrified in her life. She'd been more comfortable when she was back under the earth. There was an eerie quiet in the coffin, despite the distant murmurs and low rumbling of tires on asphalt. She couldn't put her finger on it. Then she realized that her blood should be pounding in her ears but it wasn't. She put her fingers up to her neck to get a pulse. Nothing. To be more specific, it was nothing over nothing. 'Not possible. This isn't possible.' After what seemed like an eternity, the vehicle stopped and the coffin was moved again. She heard metal twisting and some wood splintering. Then the coffin lid popped open and staring down at her was -- "Homeless girl?" Shamira whispered. Sure enough, it was that angelic face with a sly expression looking down from above. Then another face appeared: she'd seen that face before too. He had looked right at her at the club. He had smiled. Shamira took that opportunity to pass out. ------------ ----------------- Some time later . . . ------------ ----------------- Shamira absolutely did not want to open her eyes. She was still surrounded by silk so she figured that she was still in that coffin. Except that her eyelids seemed warm. She remembered seeing someone or someones . . . a beautiful Native American homeless girl and a lip-bitingly gorgeous blond haired guy. 'Wait. The silk, it's against my skin!' She opened her eyes and saw a lovely crystal chandelier-looking thing. She was in a bedroom the size of her parents' whole house, and it seemed decorated in the same black and gold scheme that the club had been. She was in some superfreak's bedroom. And she was naked. That fact just caught up with her. She was naked between black silk sheets in a strange room. She yipped and pulled the sheets up around her artificially large bosom. One of the problems when becoming a bodybuilder was loss of breast mass, so she had compensated with fake tits when she turned twenty-one. That left her with a set of measurements that one would think would garner her more attention, namely 38DD-26-34. During competition, she had gotten her body fat down to nine-percent, but otherwise she kept it up at twelve percent. She had 15-inch arms, 16-inch calves, and 23-inch legs, and she could bench press more than most of the guys she had worked with. When she had been younger, she had encountered a need to grow stronger. She'd admired the way those women looked and how they seemed strong enough to take on anything. Women like that could stand up to anyone; they might have been able to help Jimmy Fisk. But boys, apparently, didn't like a woman who could out arm wrestle them. They didn't like "barbarian" women. It was not that she was ugly or an eyesore. Not at all. Put a face picture up on the dating website, and she got plenty of responses. She had the high cheekbones, perfect skin, and big amber eyes that got people's attention. She had long black hair that she kept in a single braid most of the time. Her mom thought she was pretty. But getting that second date just never seemed to happen. She felt something cool against her arm. No, not against . . . IN her arm. She was hooked up to an IV that was dripping some red liquid. She felt vomit trying to build up inside her. 'That's not --' "Blood?" asked a voice from the door. It was that Native American girl, but she hardly seemed homeless. She was slim but not emaciated, standing just a bit taller than Shamira's five-foot-seven-inch frame, she seemed mostly leg. And those legs were exposed. She wore a loin-cloth of leather that hung down to her knees, but wasn't more than four inches wide. It covered her privates on the way down, but her toned legs and hips were on display. She wore leather moccasins that reached up to just below the knee, and a strange semi-circular neck dress made of strips of wood and beads. She wore black lipstick and heavy black eye-liner. 'Okay, I get it. You're some kind of weird goth babe,' Shamira thought. 'A delicious looking --' She stopped that train of thought. She preferred guys, she had to remind herself. She'd had thoughts about what it would be like to be with a woman all her life, but she'd always managed to push that part of her down somewhere and tried to drown it. She was enough of a freak without worrying about that. Or the many other dreams and fantasies that had graced those secret parts of her mind that she never shared with anyone. The girl strode forward, a sway in her hips that demanded attention. "Where the fuck am I?" Shamira said, looking around instinctively for a weapon of some kind. She didn't want to start a knife fight with this woman, though she wasn't behaving particularly hostile. Actually, she was smirking a bit. She sat on the edge of the bed, and Shamira was pretty convinced the girl wasn't wearing a damn thing under that loincloth. "You," the girl said, "have the most unfortunate timing of anyone I've ever seen. And I've seen a lot." "Who . . . the fuck . . . are you?" "Watch it, potty mouth. A little decorum wouldn't hurt, seeing as we just saved your life. Okay, technically you saved one of ours first and maybe saved Shane too, but that doesn't change the fact --" "Who . . . the . . . heck . . are you?!" "That's better I suppose," the woman said. "My name is Clara Yellowtail, and I've volunteered to be your guide into your new life. Shamira blinked. She blinked again. "Oh-kay," she muttered. "I'm drugged. That's gotta be it. What the hell is this?" she asked, looking at the IV. "Blood." Shamira blinked. "Blood?" "You're going to freak out on me aren't you?" "Blood?!" "You lost a lot when you died, and we weren't able to give you anything extra until after your funeral." "Died?" "You're good with the one-word responses thing." The girl smiled. "Can't say I blame you. You've gone through a lot this week. It was a lovely funeral, by the way." "DIED?!" Shamira pulled the IV out, applying pressure so she didn't start bleeding all over the place. This was too wrong, and she wanted out. She wanted to go find her parents and her siblings and her nephews and tell them everything was okay and that there was a misunderstanding. She hadn't died. So why had she been in a coffin, and why hadn't she had a pulse? Clara sighed. She wasn't doing this right. Shane had offered to guide the girl, but she HAD to volunteer. Something about the way she had been so kind when most people wouldn't have been, even though she didn't have any idea of what had really been going on. And she had done her job, even though it had cost her her life. Compassion, pride, loyalty, and she was smoking hot. Some people might get turned off by a build like hers, but not those that dwelt in this house. The strength in that body and the skill and dedication it took to sculpt it were both admirable. "Do you remember what happened?" Clara asked. "Before waking up here? Let's start with that." "Uhm . . . okay. Can I have some clothes first?" "Why?" Clara cocked her head. "With a body like that, why would you ever WANT to wear clothes? You're certainly not obligated to, at least not around here." "Hey, I don't know what you and whoever else is around here like, but I'd really feel more comfortable with something to wear." The other woman shrugged. "We can find you something." She walked over to an intercom unit, pushing a button. "Monique?" "Yes?" (click) came a new voice. "Our new guest was looking for something to wear." "Why?" (click) "I asked her that. She seems to think she should be clothed." "Wait . . . do I get to measure her now?" (click) The woman on the other end sounded eager. "Measure? For what?" Shamira asked. "I don't think she's ready for that quite yet," Clara said, sounding amused. "Damn! I have some good ideas for that body!" (click) "Don't we all." "Hey, I'm sitting right here!" Shamira said. She felt like she was blushing a bit, and no less confused than she had been earlier. "Okay. Sweats it is," (click) the other girl replied, sounding quite down. "Measure for what?" "Oh and Monique, when you arrive I expect that you will show me the respect I deserve." The girl at the other end spoke again, and this time she sounded demure. Shamira hadn't known what that sounded like, but this was it. "Yes, Mistress Clara." Clara turned and sat back down. "We have a slightly unusual dress code around here." She paused, looked Shamira in the eyes, and asked again what the woman remembered. Shamira decided there was really no reason to lie or withhold information, so she recited what she could. Everything from seeing Clara on the street to seeing faces staring down at her from outside her coffin. Clara went over to the dresser and grabbed a handheld mirror. "You were shot in the face, correct? And the neck? Your vest protected your chest, but not anything else." She handed Shamira the mirror. "Where are the wounds?" Shamira was confused, but took a look regardless. There was a light indention in her neck that she hadn't seen before, but that was it. Her skin was flawless and smooth everywhere. "That's not right. It should take months to heal from stuff like that." "You died four days ago. You were buried yesterday. That's fast healing, even for us," Clara explained. "Us?" Clara smiled. "You have risen from the dead and have healed all your wounds. You have no pulse. You do not breathe, and we've been giving you blood so that you can survive. And the last thing you can remember is a tingling in your neck before you died." She clasped her hands together. "I've read your personnel file, Shamira. I know you're not stupid, even if your former bosses thought you were. You can figure this --" "Vampire? You're kidding, right? You have to --" "Wanna go ahead and say 'But there's no such thing as vampires' so we can get that out of the way?" "There's no such things as vampires!" "Thanks. Vampires do exist. So do werewolves and other lycanthropes, and magic and all that stuff. Not everything you've heard is correct, but there are blood-sucking creatures of the night that inhabit this world. I'm one of them and now so are you. And don't start looking around for hidden cameras or anything like that. Here, maybe this will help." She opened her mouth, pointed to her perfect pearly whites, then her canine teeth extended into sharp pointed fangs. "Jesus Christ!" Naked or not, she scrambled backwards off the bed, rolling over backwards and colliding with a nightstand, almost depositing a glass lamp onto her already damaged noggin. "Not exactly." She rolled her eyes when Shamira formed her fingers into the shape of a cross. "Shamira, I'm not even a Christian. I'm Native American. Why do you think that would work?" Shamira felt a little embarrassed. "Dunno. Works in the movies." "Well, the movies are wrong on that one. Okay, Vampire 101. The strengths and weaknesses of a vampire depend greatly on how old he or she is. There are five categories of vamps. You and me are fledglings, and we will be until a century after we were created. Then we become shadows for the next century. For a century after that, you're a full vampire, followed by master vampire, and then vampire lord. If you survive that long, then you're doing pretty damn well, because there aren't a lot of them." To Protect and Serve Ch. 01 "Once you become a vampire, you're given your own territory, and that territory gets bigger as you get older. Vampires challenge each other for territories if the other guy or gal has something juicier or wealthier or . . . well, sometimes just because. That was what you got caught up in. Shane had arranged to meet with these guys about a land deal but didn't trust them. Figured if we met in a public place and had some outside people watching then things would go smoothly." "That didn't look smooth to me," Shamira said. "Honestly, they looked like petty thugs in nice suits." Of course, that hadn't stopped their guns from working. "They were. There's a clown out there who wants to muscle in on Shane's . . . Shane's our sire, by the way . . . territory, which is pretty much all of Atlanta and its suburbs." "Is that big?" Shamira asked. 'I can't believe I'm having this conversation.' "Huge. Both in area and importance. Atlanta is one of the primary transition points for magical beings entering the United States. Kind of a mystical Ellis Island. That means lots of money and prestige flows through here. We weren't expecting anything so blatant, which means the guy who tried to backstab us is in for a world of hell from the Tribunal, which is the fancy word for the big council of mystical creatures that makes sure no one does anything stupid that would endanger the rest of us." Someone chose that moment to knock on the door. "Come in!" Shamira's eyes almost popped out of their sockets when a gorgeous black (excuse me, "African American") woman strolled into the room. She had a body like Halle Berry, though her skin was a bit darker. She had a short afro which, on her, was actually pretty cute and her breasts were perfectly proportioned to that hourglass figure. She was dressed in a PVC teddy that thrust her breasts upward, and a black thong that was little more than string with an eye-patch on the front. Topping it all off was an elegant iron collar. Suddenly, Shamira felt embarrassed at being naked again. Next to these two women, she felt something like a rhinoceros. The woman, who Shamira assumed was Monique, walked with lowered eyes. She knelt at at Clara's feet and offered up a pair of designer sweats like it was a sacrifice. "As you requested, Mistress Clara." "What is with the whole Mistress --" Shamira started to say, then watched as the Clara took Monique's head roughly by the hair and pushed her face down to the toes of those leather moccasins. "You were insolent earlier," Clara said sternly. "You should know that just because we have a guest that you should not forget your place." "But Mistress Clara, I was in my workshop when you called." Clara's face softened. "Then you behaved properly." "What is with you?" Shamira asked. "Can't you weirdos wait to play your games until after I'm out of here?" Clara raised an eyebrow. "Weirdos?" She looked down at Monique. "Do you consider us weird?" "No, Mistress Clara." "No?" Shamira asked incredulously. "Bondage vampires from hell isn't weird?" "Monique is a werewolf, not a vampire. And no, it isn't odd for us at all." "Werewolf?" Clara smiled. "Our guest is a woman of few words," she said. "Monique, I think she might like a display." "Display?" Shamira asked. "What kind of display?" Monique stood up and quickly undressed. While this was happening, Shamira pulled on the sweats, which were way too tight for her. Her breasts were amazingly firm (thank you Mr. Plastic Surgeon), so the lack of bra wasn't a problem. She actually had a pair of sweat pants and a tight workout shirt that was cut low enough to entice the views of every guy at the gym. Or girls. 'What is it with you thinking about girls recently?' It didn't take long for Monique to get rid of her clothing. Shamira then watched as her skin began to glow and shift, the muscles and bones rearranging themselves under that exterior. Fur sprouted everywhere and, in the course of about thirty seconds, Shamira had a full blown wolf sitting in the bedroom. She probably should have screamed or run, but instead just said -- "Beautiful." She reached a hand out, and the wolf sniffed her, then licked her hand. "She thinks you're beautiful," Clara said. "There just may be hope for her yet. Sit!" The wolf sat. "Shamira, vampires tend to collect broods about them. These broods become that vampire's support organization as he or she comes into power. You can't create vampires until you are at least two centuries old, so the members of the brood tend to be less powerful than their creator. Shane also has made friends and allies amongst the other races and the magic community, so his brood is more diverse. I think that make him more formidable. Vampires are also very sexual creatures. At least the movies got that part right. And since vampires tend to live a long time, they surround themselves with people like them. Shane is a sexual dom. Please don't tell me that I need to explain what that is?" "Nuh-oh," Shamira replied. "I think I've got that one." "Well, everyone who lives here is part of that scene. Some are doms or dommes, some are subs, and others are switches. A switch is someone who can play either role, depending on their mood." Shamira shifted a bit uncomfortably. "Glad I won't be living here then." "That's . . . unfortunate," Clara said, running her her gaze up and down that magnificent body. Oh, the things she could do with a woman like this. "I realize this is a lot to take in, and Shane will want to talk to you before morning. Yes, vampires sleep during the day. Daylight doesn't kill older vamps, but it definitely weakens them. Fledglings can actually move about during the day or night, depending on their preference." She folded her hands in front of her. She was actually surprised that Shamira was handling it so well. "Do you have any questions?" Shamira scratched the wolf behind the ears. The wolf seemed to like it. "I don't even know where to begin," she muttered. "Well as I said, I'm going to be your guide, but you can ask questions of anyone in the house. I'll introduce you in a little while. Monique, change!" She waited until the wolf was once again a gorgeous naked black woman, who still sat at Clara's feet. Clara grabbed her hair and yanked her head backward, planting a vicious kiss on the girl's mouth. "Have you been claimed yet for the night?" "No, Mistress Clara." "You have now. Be in my bed by dawn. Bring handcuffs." Shamira took a deep breath. "Uhm, could I have a moment alone? And maybe a shower?" "Very well. I'll be back in a little while. Unless you'd like some company --" "No! I mean, no thanks. I'm not into that either." Clara just smiled again. "Of course not." Shamira was left alone with her thoughts. Her first thought was, 'What did she mean by that?' It was odd getting undressed again so shortly after getting dressed in the first place, and even more odd that she was doing in a stranger's house after getting killed. 'I wonder if I could get on Oprah with this? Or at least Jerry Springer.' She had to joke about it. If she didn't, she'd go insane. She didn't want to do that. A shower had seemed like a good way to get rid of them and collect herself. She didn't think she'd get hit on. 'That's what happened, right? Crap, this is just fucking too Twilight Zone for me.' Warm water was relaxing, but she wasn't really achy or anything to begin with. Shouldn't dieing make you sore? She actually felt . . . fantastic. Her body felt stronger than usual. The world inside her room seemed clearer in her eyes, and she could smell the lilies in the vase from across the room. She didn't remember them smelling so nice before. She got dried off and dressed and flopped down on that enormous bed. 'Okay, you're . . . a vampire.' Given what she had been shown thus far, it really wasn't too hard to accept. Figuring out what it meant was something else entirely. 'You could always just leave,' she thought. 'They didn't say you can't leave.' She got to her feet. She could leave anytime she wanted. Unless they used their massive vampiric powers to try and stop her. Shamira opened the door and peeked out into the hall. The house was huge. When one had a hallway with that many doors that were probably just bedrooms, then it was a big damn house. It did have a creepy undead vibe to it. The wall lighting involved medieval-looking torches with custom built bulbs to look like flickering flames. Where the bedroom had been luxurious, the hall was rather stark. She slowly made her way down the hall, wondering if this was a good idea. What if she ran into someone who didn't know she was there? She didn't want to have to fight for her life. Or her death. Undeath? Whatever. But she wanted out. Did she? After a few wrong turns, she started to hear noises and crept towards them. She peeked around a corner and saw a sunken living room, and her heart stopped beating. Well, it would have if it could. She had fallen down a rabbit hole, and she was finally understanding what Wonderland looked like. There were several people in the room, but most of them were standing around just watching what was happening. And "what was happening" was a girl was getting fucked, hard. A woman with the most beautiful light-brown skin and hair that almost matched. She had a round butt that was sticking up in the air, and Shamira couldn't get a good look at the face because it was between her shins. The girl was bent in half and her wrists were shackled to her ankles. There was also a leather band around her waist with a ring attached to it right at the base of the woman's spine. The ring was attached to a chain which stretched up into the air, presumably anchored to one of the massive wooden beams that criss-crossed overhead. There were a series of red welts on her back and thighs, and the cause was obvious. The man fucking her had a leather strap two inches wide and two feet long dangling from one fist. The man doing the fucking was familiar to her. She had seen his face twice, once in the club and once from her coffin. He was a hauntingly handsome man, bordering on beautiful. Only the v-shape of his torso and firm square chin prevented any real claim to femininity. His expression was intense as he sank his cock into the woman with unnatural efficiency. He had a nice cock, at least in Shamira's humble opinion. Not that she had a whole lot of comparison samples. It was just a little bigger than average, maybe seven inches or so. There were a number of people standing or kneeling around watching. She recognized Monique, who was on her knees on a pillow nearby, and her look could only be described as envious. Kneeling next to her was another blond Caucasian male who was so Aryan it was almost scary. He was six feet tall and trim, more toned than muscled. He was dressed in black leather from his boots to his pants to his vest. Under the vest was a white silk shirt that would've looked at home at a renaissance fair, and an iron collar. Next to him was a Hispanic man who should have been on a Mexican soap opera. He had the "come-hither" eyes and pouty lips and everything. All he had on was a pair of leather shorts and an iron collar. 'Okay, iron collar means submissive,' she thought. 'Check.' There was an iron collar on the green-eyed redheaded female wearing a robe that Elvira Mistress of the Dark would have considered risqué. She also had those damn freckles that could drive men mad for no apparent reason, and her lips were full and inviting. Behind those iron-ring clad folk that were kneeling were two men and a woman, and these had to be the doms (or dommes, if you prefer). One was dressed in black cowboy boots, leather pants and an ankle-length duster. The Marlboro Man face and unkempt brown hair was capped off with a wide-brimmed cowboy hat of which Shamira was jealous. When not on duty, she had a cowboy that she wore almost every time she left the house. It saddened her to think of what her folk might have done with it. They never liked it, considering it "unladylike." Next to the cowboy was an Asian woman who looked as delicate as a flower, except for the black leather corset, black silk g-string and thigh-high stiletto boots, black lipstick, and hair done up with a skull-shaped tail-holder. The third standing man actually made her more nervous than the rest. He was a bald black male, and he almost filled the room with his presence. He seemed so much more solid than the others, and his muscles were almost as bulky and defined on him as Shamira's were on her. And he was still . . . so dreadfully still. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he knew she was there. This was the sort of guy nothing slipped by. The man who was fucking the captive girl pulled out, his member pointing angrily at the place it wanted to revisit. He raised the leather strap in his hand and brought it down sharply against her ass cheeks. She didn't make a sound. "Banshee," the man said calmly, "please remind me of Renata's title." "Chief of Security," the Asian woman replied, almost purring the words. "And yet five members of an opposing organization were able to approach me with weapons and, at least in their minds, get the drop on me." He slapped the girl's ass hard with his hand this time, then hit the other cheek. Next he grabbed the belt around her waist and pulled his length back into her pussy, pounding at her with little apparent regard for her wellbeing. Shamira clenched a fist. 'So she made a mistake,' she thought angrily. 'That's no excuse to --' Suddenly, Shamira was not alone . Clara had appeared at her side, but covered the woman's mouth before she could screech in surprise. Clara's lips were very close to the back of her hand and Shamira's face when she whispered to the muscular woman to shush. "In our world, not everything is as it appears," Clara whispered. "He's basically raping her for screwing up on the job?" Clara's eyes darkened. "Be very, very careful on how you use that word around here. Her face softened. "But again, there is no reason you would know. The dominant is Shane Stapleton, and he is your sire and founder of this House. The woman is Renata de Souza, Chief of Security, and she is far from an unwilling participant. She's a switch." "Either dominant or submissive, right? But what does --" "What happened the night you were killed was in no way Renata's fault and Shane knows this. He actually was more trusting than she wanted to be and ignored several of her suggestions by meeting his adversaries where he did. He does not hold her responsible for his own mistake." "Then why is he doing this to her?" Shamira was really confused. "It took her a couple of days to convince him that it was her fault and that she should be punished." Shamira was floored. "She wanted this?!" was her heated whisper. "Oh yes. She hasn't had an opportunity to be a sub for a while and wanted the experience again. Neither her life, health, or even job is in any danger. Shane was taking personally how bad things went, so she thought this might cheer him up." Clara smiled. "She's just a bit of a hussy. I suppose most of us are, but she's in heat most of the time. And she's perky too. It gets a little annoying after awhile." But Clara didn't sound all that annoyed. Her voice reflected genuine affection. "She's a werejaguar, by the way." "She turns into a jaguar? That's so cool!" Shamira couldn't believe she said that. "And a gorgeous jaguar at that. She's Brazilian, and werejaguars are more common down there. But the werecats are rare breeds regardless, and Shane is lucky to have her. So to speak." She placed a hand on Shamira's arm. "I promise you, this is about unwinding rather than punishment. She will be quite satisfied by the time he's done with her. She climaxed three times before I went looking for you." 'Three times?!' Shamira thought. Her eyes were wide in disbelief. "Have you never experienced multiple releases in a single session?" Clara asked innocently. Shamira blushed through and through. She'd never climaxed during sex at all. "I'll take that as a 'no' then," her companion said. "Shame." She looked at the muscular woman next to her. "If I had you beneath my thumb and heel, you'd be begging me to stop because you simply couldn't cum anymore." The other woman had absolutely no response to that. So the two of them watched from the safety of the hallway as Shane continued his relentless assault, filling her up before withdrawing and laying leather against her exposed back. Shamira started to hear noises that made her think the woman was gagged. She was moaning, and not in a complaining kind of way. For the first time, she noticed that Renata de Souza's inner thighs were glistening with the remnants of those orgasms that Clara had eluded to. Shane withdrew and replaced his dick with his fingers, probing her greedy sex while thrusting his thumb into her anus. With his other hand, he slapped her ass with the leather strip. She was moaning harder as pain and pleasure were meted out with equal enthusiasm, and soon she was cumming again. She wasn't so much standing on her legs as much as hanging from the belt and attached chain. Shamira watched the girl's body twitch and tremble. "Normally I would punish you more for not asking permission," Shane said, bending down and brushing her hair away, "but I will forgive you that this time." The girl had a ball-gag in her mouth. And she looked utterly satisfied that Shamira was dumbstruck. Clara had been telling the truth. Shane returned to his position behind her and plunged into her again. A few strokes later and he arched his back, sending his seed into her welcoming body. Shamira couldn't help but admire how cute his ass was as it flexed, encouraging every last drop of his sperm to find refuge inside Renata. After he was suitable finished, he donned a pair of dress slacks and tucked in his shirt. "You will remain here until eleven a.m. to think about your failure. You will then be released and allowed to join us for lunch." Shamira checked a wall clock and saw that the Brazilian beauty would only be trussed up for another twenty minutes, so she didn't think it would be too uncomfortable for her. All Shamira could do at that point was admit that she had never had the look on her face that Renalta was sporting. Not even in those fantasies that even scared her. "So you know Shane now, and Monique and Renata," Clara started. "The Japanese chick is Banshee, right?" "Correct. Renata is the Chief of Security, and I'm actually party of the security team. Monique and Lillian, the redhead, are also on the security team. No, I don't know why all the live-in security are girls. Shane has straight human security, but they don't actually live here. All of them know what we are, but none seem to mind. Big paychecks and benefits seem to help. Lillian and Monique were lovers before ever coming to work for Shane. Lillian's a switch too, but Shane's the only male she allows to dominate her. Oh, and Lillian's also a human necromancer." "Necromancer?" "She can raise zombies, talk to ghosts and other dead, and she can heal the undead. Useful to have around. She's our primary conduit to Jeremiah." "Which one's he?" "Oh, you can't see him. He's a poltergeist. Actually, he's part of the security team too . . . in a way. He's somehow attached to the land this house is built on, but don't worry. If you have permission to be here, he'll leave you alone." Shamira gulped. "Great. Poltergeist." "Yeah. So if you see a television on in the break room, don't turn it off. He loves soap operas." Then, as if that wasn't a weird conversation stopper, Clara continued. "Cowboy guy there is Henry. He's a dom. The ones standing are doms if you haven't figured that out, and the kneeling ones are submissives. Lillian and Renata are the only two switches. Anyway, Henry and the blond guy on his knees, whose name is Bjorne, are both enforcers. Means basically they run errands, interact with the public and help keep the peace. You and Henry have a lot in common. He was a sheriff back in his mortal days. Both he and Bjorne are vampires: Bjorne is a shadow and Henry is a fledgling, but only for another six months." To Protect and Serve Ch. 01 "So age has nothing to do with being dominant or submissive?" "Nope. Your personality doesn't change when you die or get older. Your body doesn't change either. So don't get a haircut unless you want to keep it for eternity. Still, saves a ton of time on shaving your legs." She looked at the remaining folk in the room. "Let's see, Hispanic guy on his knees is Raul, and he's a werewolf. Crap, he's security too. Never mind what I said about it being all girls earlier." "I probably wouldn't remember it anyway." "It's kind of a lot to remember, I know. Banshee is a shadow, but she'll be a full blown vamp in ten years. At that point, she'll take on more responsibility in the organization and will have to give up being one of Shane's assassins." "Assassins?" Clara nodded. "There are very bad things out there, Shamira, and sometimes the best way to stop wholesale carnage is a tactical strike. Banshee was Yakuza back before the word became trendy, and she's good at what she does. It'll be hard to replace her, but Shane's already looking. He'd like her to train her own replacement." "You said 'one of' earlier. How many assassins does Shane have?" "Two at the moment. Keep in mind, Shane hasn't had this gig long, so he doesn't have his full staff. Most of us have been with him for a while. Reaper is the youngest of us." "Reaper's the big black guy isn't he?" Clara smiled. "You guessed it. Doesn't surprise you, does it? Reaper got brought over about eight years ago. He was special forces in the army, but one of those sub-organizations that doesn't technically or legally exist. He's the best sniper that I've ever seen, and he's scary dangerous. He's a real bonus to Shane, and he's the loyal sort. Get on his good side, and you've got a very lethal friend for life. Cross him --" "I think I get the idea," Shamira said. The crowd had begun dispersing, and Shane had noticed them. He made a motion with his head, causing Clara to nod. He wandered through a set of double doors, and Clara grabbed Shamira by the arm and led her after him. She found herself in a dining room big enough to play jai-alai in, if she knew how to play that game. Shane sat in a grand chair at one end. "Please," he said in a voice as warm as fresh-baked bread, "please sit down. I'm glad to see you up and about, Miss Shamira." "I'm glad to be up and about," she replied nervously, sitting down. 'Remember, if they wanted to kill you . . . well, I guess they did technically kill you. Okay, if they wanted you to stay dead --' "You look remarkably well," he added, looking for the remnants of her wounds. "You should still have some indications of your ordeal, but I see none." Clara sat down next to Shamira, sandwiching the muscular woman between the other two vamps. It was a thought that made Shamira tingle in ways she couldn't explain. "I talked with Lillian while Shamira rested, and we agreed; we think she may be a Shadow Healer." "A what?" Shamira asked. "Really?" Shane looked enormously pleased. "That would explain it." He looked at Shamira's confused expression. "Occasionally, vampires gain extra abilities, but usually not until they get older. These abilities vary widely, and we call these abilities 'Aspects.' Shadow Healing is a very rare and wondrous Aspect. If true, it would mean that you would heal at a vastly increased rate when in total darkness, even more so than normal vampires." "How can you know for sure?" "Hurt you, stick you in a closet and see how long it takes for you to heal." Shamira blanched. "That doesn't sound like fun at all." Shane smiled. "I understand, but it would be good to figure out." He realized something. "So you've accepted that you're a vampire? I just realized that you're actually handling this quite well." She shrugged. "Occam's razor." It was Clara's turn to look confused, but Shane just looked pleased. Shamira continued. "It's something I picked up in a basic psychology course back in college. It means that given multiple alternative viable explanations, the simplest one should be believed. Not that it's claiming that explanation is the truth, but just that you should believe it. I've seen some weird shit since being here, but it makes sense based on the legends and all. So, walks like a vampire, talks like a vampire, or a werewolf or a witch or whatever --" "Then it makes sense to take it at face value," Shane finished. "Well done. Anyway, we could test our theory about you being a Shadow Healer with a minor cut, something that wouldn't have even been dangerous if you were still alive." "I guess that'd be okay," she thought, genuinely curious now. "Clara, close the doors and stand by the light switch." He waited until she was in place, then drew a pocket knife. Making sure there weren't any potentially glowing items in the room, he drew the knife quickly across Shamira's palm. "Fucking ouch!" Shamira said just before the lights went out. "We'll try for ten seconds and see how it's doing," came Shane's voice. "Normally, you would need to feed at least a little to heal, otherwise it would take --" The lights came back on. Shamira's palm had a barely perceptible red line running across her palm, and she felt no pain. "Now THAT'S fast!" Clara said. "She's a Shadow Healer all right." Shamira could see the cogs turning in Shane's head, figuring out how she could be useful to him. "Listen, I guess I owe you a thanks for . . . doing what you did. I guess I'm just not sure why you did it or what you expect of me?" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a couple of the other residents arrive and be seated. She guessed it was close to dinner. "Hey . . . uhm . . . dinner --" Clara placed a hand on her young charge's arm. "Fledglings can eat normal food or consume blood. Feeding is an art, so Shane thought it would be wise to present you a normal meal this evening. Personally I prefer to drink blood, but I'll be dining on solid food today. Make you feel more at home." "As for what I want from you and why I changed you --" Shane paused. "First, I owed you something for helping us out that night. I had agents in place that you couldn't have known about, but we had still found ourselves in an awkward predicament where innocents might have gotten hurt. You showed great courage, and you saved the life of the girl who had been left chained to the wall. And while you were dying, Clara explained the kindness you showed her outside the club." "She was part of your backup plan, wasn't she?" Shane nodded. "She was to keep an eye and make sure that there weren't more of my adversary's men coming in. Compassion, loyalty, strength – these are things I could tell about you before you closed your eyes. And you must have great dedication and resilience to carve a physique such as yours. So I took your blood and shared some of mine with you. Then you died, only to be reborn a day after being laid to rest. I got a copy of your personnel file, and I see potential in you. Your aptitude scores are phenomenal, and the only reason you're not on SWAT or a detective is, I assume, because you encountered a 'good old boy' network. Or they are complete idiots. I would not waste your talent, Shamira. I would waste nothing you had to offer." Shamira was nervous about the way he said that and by the look in his eyes while saying it. Was he still just talking about her skill set? "I would like for you to be one of my new enforcers," Shane told her. "You would be for me as you were in life. Only instead of enforcing mortal law, you would be enforcing Tribunal law." "Why can't I just go back to being a cop?" she asked. Then she slapped her face. "Never mind. I'm dead." "Indeed." Shane looked at the cowboy dom who Clara had called Henry. "Henry is going to be my chief enforcer, but I'm going to need more. You have the knowledge, the ability, and the desire to do good. You would be under his supervision when in the field." "What about my family? My friends?" she whispered. Not that she had many. She noticed the room was very quiet now. "Can I see them?" Shane nodded. He had been expecting these questions. "I encourage all my children and employees to break from their old lives. Humans, for the most part, simply are unable to deal with our reality, much less keep it a secret. Our world is dangerous, Shamira. Do you really want your family to be part of it? I will not lie to you. I can command you not to see them, but I will not do so. The choice is up to you. But remember that exposing us and our secrets puts us in danger, and you would be held responsible. So choose wisely." Shamira wasn't able to ask any more questions since food chose that moment to arrive. Apparently Shane had a number of household servants, and several of them deposited a feast on the table. After putting down a tray of roast beef, mashed potatoes, assorted greens, a huge bowl of salad, and just about anything else a girl could desire, they sat down next to some of the vampires and cocked their heads. 'They're not just delivering food,' Shamira realized. 'They ARE food!' Sure enough, Shane, Bjorne, and Banshee all dug fangs into the necks of their dinners, and those servants didn't seem to mind. She was pretty sure the young man that Shane was chewing on was about to shoot a load in his pants. She turned to Clara, who was in the process of filling half her plate with mashed potatoes. Shamira actually found herself amused. "What?" Clara said primly. "I like mashed potatoes." She slathered enough butter on them to clog a cow's heart and then covered it with cheese and bacon bits. "How do you . . . we . . . do the fang thing?" "Ah, that. Well, it'll happen automatically if you get really angry or really thirsty, but it's also something that you can will. Like concentrating on scrunching your eyebrow or clenching your jaw." She watched as Shamira started to flex the muscles of her face, wishing she could watch muscles all over her body flex. Well, one thing at a time. Finally, she saw that the other woman had succeeded when she grasped her mouth. "Ouf! I bith mah lib!" Everyone at the table got a chuckle at that. "It happens to everyone the first time," Shane said. Clara was watching as Shamira practiced expanding and retracting her fangs until she obviously felt comfortable, then went about eating. 'Interesting,' she thought. 'She finds a problem and stays with it until she solves it, then moves on. I think Shane was right to bring her over.' During the meal, Shamira kept her ears open but her eyes mostly downward, occasionally stealing glances at the other feasters. At the table, she didn't hear any "masters" or "slaves" uttered. They talked about the news, sports, and some magical politics that she struggled to keep up with. She glanced several times at the Brazilian hottie Renata, who was relaxed at the other end of the table and talking with Raul about increasing their magical security. If she hadn't seen it with her own two eyes, Shamira never would have believed that the woman had been whipped and fucked less than half an hour earlier. Instead, she was being a professional, albeit dressed in a black silk robe that probably felt heavenly against the stings on her skin. And Shamira's mind kept drifting back to when she had seen Renata's face. Sweaty, hungry, satisfied. She shook her head. She couldn't imagine doing what that girl had done. She was stronger than that. But no matter how hard she tried, that look haunted her. 'What do I do?' she thought. 'They can't expect me to make a decision right away. I've lost my job, maybe my family, and hell, I lost my life.' She remained quiet for the entire dinner and, when it was over, sat there quietly. She didn't know what she was supposed to do next. Shane had been keeping an eye on the young woman. She had not been brought over under optimal conditions, and he felt sorry that she was so lost. He normally tried to let people know about what being a vampire meant and what living in the world with little sunlight meant, but there had been no time. He had made a decision that had completely turned her life upside down. "Clara, why don't you take Shamira down to the club? Show her a little of my empire? I have to make some calls and see how much leeway I have with our would-be conquerer, otherwise I might join you." "Wait," Shamira said. "What club? Not the one I was killed in, right?" "Absolutely not. It was a second rate establishment and gaudy besides. No, this is the club I own, and you'll find it considerably more tasteful. At least I hope you will, otherwise I may have to fire someone." "I'll go with," Renata said. "I need to talk to Travis anyway and see if he can recommend any other weres that might help booster security. When will the new housing be ready, by the way?" "I'll be closing on an adjacent property next week, so we'll be able to house them as soon as you find them and approve them." "I'll tag along as well," Henry said, a sexy Texas drawl in his voice. "If the missus decides to take ya up, I might be able to help answer her questions." "Okay," Clara said. "Hey, I don't really have anything to wear for a . . . night out . . . after being dead." Monique perked up. "I can --" "I think it's a bit early for that," Clara chuckled. "It's okay. Just throw a long coat over what you have on and you'll be fine. It'll make everyone wonder what, if anything, is beneath it, and sometimes the mystery is the greatest aphrodisiac of all." "Okay, you're creeping me out again." "I'll meet you in the garage," Renata said, eying the new girl over. "I think I've got a coat that will work for her." She stood up, dropped her robe over the back of the chair and strode out naked, wearing the red welts on her back like badges of honor. Shamira was apparently the only one shocked by this. "She's got a great bod," Clara muttered. "Why not show it off?" Shamira couldn't argue. She stood up and followed Clara to the garage, and she got the sinking suspicion that Henry was checking her out. She wasn't sure what he was judging, and it certainly wasn't any romantic interest. Guys, even vampiric ones, that looked that good could have anyone they wanted. That meant they didn't wind up interested in Shamira. They got to the garage and Shamira's heart and mind took another shock. The garage was an attached building, and inside was every kind of vehicular toy you could imagine. Truck, cars, motorcycles . . . hell, there were even golf carts. "Damn, now all I need is a golf course," she murmured. Clara smiled. "Shane has a nine-hole course on the property. He turns on the night lights and plays to unwind sometimes. You play?" "A bit. I'm not great." "Shane would be thrilled to have someone to play with," Clara replied. "The only other person who plays is Banshee and well, she's a sore loser. Love her to death, but don't ever get competitive with her." "I'll keep that in mind." Normally, Shamira wasn't a car person, but she couldn't help but drool over the selection she was looking at. "Which one are we taking? Oh my God, he has a Prius?!" Clara laughed out loud. "No, that's Lillian's. She's kind of a tree hugger. Got Shane to get an acre of solar panels to help offset the energy this place requires." "I thought she was submissive?" "No, she's a switch. And being a sexual submissive doesn't mean pushover." Clara looked around. "So, which one do you want to take?" "How about the Hummer? I mean, I've just never been in one before." Henry grabbed some keys off a rack on the wall and tossed them to her. "You're driving." "Me?! I don't even know where I'm going and --" "Every car has GPS," Clara said. "This is just one of the perks you'll have if you work here. Shane shares his wealth." Renata arrived with a leather trench in tow. "The height is right for me, but it's a little big. I think it'll fit your shoulders perfectly." Shamira looked at it and thought she was going to look like some kind of flasher. But when she slid her arms in and let that leather tighten around her, she almost purred. It fit like a glove and actually made her look kind of cool. Except for the flip-flops. "Need new shoes for you," the Brazilian said. She had such an adorable accent. "I wish I could get my lucky hat back," Shamira muttered. Clara heard her and figured she would do something about it when she had a chance. Hopefully as a housewarming gift. "Let's roll." Driving a Hummer was apparently like driving a pregnant whale strapped to a really big skateboard. If she hadn't taken a number of courses in defensive driving, then Shamira probably would have committed manslaughter a number of times. And driving something the size of a tank made one a lot more cocky, she decided. She managed to do something that she did not think possible. She scared the hell out of two vampires and a werejaguar just because she cut across four lanes of traffic to catch the exit. She wondered if any of them really drove inside the perimeter often enough to think that SHE was a scary driver. Luckily, the club in question had a parking space dedicated to Shane and his entourage big enough to house a limo, so she was able to squeeze the Hummer in without much problem. "She's just having problems adjusting to vamp reflexes," Renata said, holding on to the door handle for a moment with a trembling hand. "I've ridden bulls that were gentler." Henry was smiling though. Shamira had never been here before. She didn't even know it existed. Down an alley between two buildings that looked abandoned, there was a purple neon sign that just read "Prometheus." Just like the old speakeasies, one member of the party knocked, then a little window slid open. She thought she heard chanting, then a bluish glow peeked out from that slot. The window slid shut and the door opened. Inside was a intimidating large bald man in a custom-made suit, sunglasses, and obligatory ear piece for radio communication. He motioned them inside. The four of them went down a long corridor with a metal door at the other end, and this swung open to -- "Holy shit," Shamira muttered. This place looked more like a massive study than a dungeon. There were leather sofas everywhere, bookshelves, ebony coffee tables, and gorgeous glass lamps. Through an opening was what looked like a fancy restaurant with a full bar. There were people everywhere, chatting over snacks and coffee or some other beverage, and all of them were dressed like Shamira's companions. For every man or woman sitting comfortably, there was a leather, PVC, or scantily clad sub at their feet. "I'm not in Kansas anymore." "I've got to talk to Travis," Renata said. "If you guys wanted to mingle, I could take Shamira to the security booth and show her a little of the operation." "You okay with that?" Clara asked. Shamira nodded. She was feeling oddly warm where she was, and wanted to go elsewhere. She followed Renata into the bar area and then through a black door that Shamira couldn't even see. Beyond that door was a medium sized room with banks and banks of video screens and some pretty sophisticated-looking surveillance gear. In the middle of the room in a swiveling computer chair was a very, very large man. Travis McNeil, head of security for the club, was a werebear, and he looked the part. He was six feet four inches tall of pure beef, massive through the chest and arms that could probably use steel beams as toothpicks. He had short white hair and a neatly-trimmed goatee, but he otherwise looked like a wall of darkness in his suit. "Renata," the big man grumbled, not taking his eyes off the monitors. "How can I help you?" "First, let me introduce you to Shamira Carswell, the newest vamp in Shane's family." To Protect and Serve Ch. 01 He looked up. "You're the cop who got iced over at the Casa de Sade?" When Shamira nodded, he continued with, "Welcome to the big show. That place was a dive. Nothing like that would've happened here." He went back to looking at his screens. "What'cha looking for?" the Brazilian asked, looking over his shoulder. "Got word that someone was looking to trade some morning star here, and it was supposed to be tonight." Renata laughed. "Who would be dumb enough to try and make a deal like that here?" "Folks looking to make ten grand a vial." "Uhm, what's morning star?" Shamira asked. "It's a magical drug. It's a mixture of vamp blood, were blood, and some faerie blood to bind it. Makes the user pretty much God-like for about thirty minutes before they crash. Unless they're in good shape, it might collapse their heart and make their brains leak out their ears. It's the most illegal drug in the underworld of course, but that doesn't stop people from dealing it. It's death to be caught carrying or distributing." "Death?!" "Considering the blood has to be harvested from a dying host, yeah. Our world is dangerous," Renata said, looking a bit impatient. "Keep that in mind." Shamira realized that not everyone in Shane's brood was necessarily happy about her being brought over. She wondered if she'd done something to offend this woman. She had seemed nice earlier, and Clara had said she was normally perky. "How many doses per vial?" "One." "One dose for ten-thousand?" She paused. "Morning star. As in Lucifer?" Now it was Travis who smiled. "Precisely." "You take it if you want to feel powerful enough to challenge God," Renata said. "And it's incredibly addictive." "Power always is," Shamira replied. She sat down and looked at the screens. "So it would have to be a regular?" "Or a guest," Travis said. "Something about the faerie blood keeps the stuff from showing up on our scans." "Hey Travis, you've got contacts in the security field in Chicago and New York, right? Anyone looking to relocate?" The two of them talked business for a bit while Shamira kept her eyes on the screens. She could see that Henry and Clara had already made friends, as both were sitting with a severe but attractive woman in her forties who had a young man in tow. He wore nothing but leather shorts and a dog collar, which the woman had a firm grip on. The man was barely in his twenties, and his body was clean shaven to show off his athletic figure. Both Henry and Clara seemed quite taken with him, and Clara was actually checking his teeth with the apparent permission of his domme. She watched them all stand up and walk slowly through a door in the side of the main room. It appeared that there were a lot of doors that she hadn't noticed, and there was a little light next to them. When her companions went through with their new friends, the light turned from green to red. She saw them appear on another monitor. There was a couch in the stone room, and it faced a pair of stocks like one might see in a movie about the Inquisition. The woman shouted something at the boy, who shirked his shorts and put himself willing into the stocks while Henry secured them. "They're not going to --" Shamira paused. She had no idea what they were going to do. Renata looked over and grinned. "Lady Teresa has a new boy toy," she said. Travis nodded. "Your friends showed up on the right night. Normally she demands an exchange if someone wants to play with her sub, but she's been giving people test drives with this one to see how he handles it. "Test drive?" Shamira tried to sound disgusted, but couldn't quite manage it. She looked away, unwilling to watch anymore. She saw Renata flash a disapproving look at her and then turn back to talking with Travis. And "disgust" aside, Shamira's eyes kept glancing over there. She had one boyfriend, for all of about three weeks, who had handcuffed her hands behind her back a couple of times. She couldn't deny that she'd felt pretty comfortable, but that was just light stuff. And the guy hadn't been much for foreplay, or cuddling . . . hell, for anything but getting his own rocks off. Then he'd dumped her for an aerobics instructor. Not that she was still bitter about that. She started scanning over the main room and, almost by accident, her eyes fell on a screen that let her know something wasn't right. "Travis, I think your deal is going down." The big man wheeled over. "Where?" "Here," she said, pointing to where two men were sitting in a dark corner of the bar. Her vampire vision couldn't illuminate what she saw through a monitor, but it did make everything crisper. "Why do you think this is a deal?" "Well, they shook hands twice in the course of a minute. First shake exchanges money, the second shake is for merchandise. Also, one looks like a dom and the other a sub, at least as far as I can tell --" "You're not wrong," Renata said. She was seeing some of what had alerted Shamira, but wanted to test how good the woman was. "Well, but they don't look like they're together. Unless a sub can wander off on his or her own and engage in normal conversation with a stranger in a bar like this, then something is up. And the sub is wearing a fanny pack for crying out loud. People don't wear those things in the real world if they want to have any chance of getting laid, but they're great if you're carrying something you want to get too quickly or put something away quickly. And it just looks tacky and, like it or not," she said, glancing at Renata, "this place isn't tacky. It's . . . civilized." Travis looked at his fellow were. "I like her," he said. "Any chance Shane will let her work here?" "Depends on her," Renata replied, appreciative of the girl's skill. She'd be a great enforcer; Shane had been right about that. Travis turned on a microphone. "We've got a potential code one in the lounge." He gave a description of the two men who were talking. "One should be carrying cash, the other some vials of morning star. Take care of this quietly." Shamira noticed a few people who she'd thought were guests stand up and move quickly but quietly to the bar area, their faces awash with purpose. "Wait, they're not going to kill them, are they?" Shamira just realized that she might have sentenced to people to death. Should she stop them? "Only if they're holding." Renata tried to sympathize with the girl. "Remember," she said softly, "that drug is harvested from dying creatures, none of whom volunteered to be donors. Every vial is a little piece of murder, and in our world, we believe in an eye for an eye." The two men were rounded up and taken to another room, and Travis sat squarely in front of that monitor and watched. It was for the best, because Shamira really didn't want to watch. So her eyes "accidentally" found their way back to that dungeon room and her companions. 'Oh God!' she thought. Henry was naked and standing in front of the young man's head and was shoving his cock into the submissive's mouth. 'That's another guy!' she thought. 'He's getting blown by a guy!' She wasn't sure why that should bother her, since girls making out didn't really bother her. Actually, she felt a warm sensation down . . . 'No!' she thought. But though her thoughts said no, her eyes and body were still saying yes. Henry was not gentle as he rammed his manhood into the younger man's mouth. Sometimes he would hold the human's nose shut, making him gasp. Clara stood behind the captive with an unusual device in her hand. It was a foot and a half long and made of hard black plastic. One end had a small knob, and the other end had a set of inch-wide straps . It was these straps that Clara was flogging the young man's buttocks and upper thighs with. She wanted to hear the sound . . . wondered if the man was gasping with pleasure like Renata had. It was hard to gasp with another man was drilling his throat. 'Look away,' she told herself, feeling a tightness in her chest and a tingling in her groin. She found herself begging her own eyes. 'Please look away.' Clara turned the device around, sucked on the knob end lovingly, then shoved it up the young man's ass. She raked her fingers along his back as she shoved the device up into his body, taking it slowly. Henry had withdrawn temporarily, awaiting the pain to diminish so that he wasn't in danger of having anything important bitten off. On the sofa, the submissive's owner had her skirt hiked up and she was pleasuring herself while she watched her pet being used by these two strangers. Henry's tempo increased until finally he pulled out, blasting a load all over the man's face. 'The man can cum like a fire hose,' Shamira thought, watching line after line of semen splatter on the young man's cheeks, nose and mouth. She watched the domme stand up, walk over, look disapprovingly at her charge, and then slap him sharply across the face. She wiped Henry's goo off of her slave's face and then fed it to him, making sure he licked her latex gloves clean. Clara was still fucking the man's ass and playing with herself, her loin cloth pushed aside while her fingers did their dirty work. And she seemed to be doing a good job of it too, as her body shivered with delight and she came. She let her loincloth fall back into place, then she pulled the toy out of his butt. She spun it around and thrashed him again across the buttocks. Then she reached around him, taking his softened member in her hand while her teeth (non-fanged apparently) bit him on the shoulder just below the stocks. It didn't take much to get him hard again, and she stroked him while both she and Henry made bite-marks all over his body. They were making sure that he was rewarded for his punishment. It made no sense to Shamira, but damn, he looked like he was a step or two from heaven. Then she realized how wet she was. 'No,' she thought. 'It must be some weird vampire thing.' But she could only fool herself so much. She was getting off on what was happening. Just like she had at Shane's house. This young man had not one but three people whose only thought was him and the sensations they could make him endure. Pain and pleasure . . . 'You're sick,' she told herself. 'You aren't weak like that. You developed this body because you wanted to be strong.' And in her heart, she knew she wanted someone stronger. Someone who deserved that body. Someone who would look at her the way Clara and Henry and this other woman were -- "Shit!" Travis said. "Things are going south!" He jumped out of his chair. "What?" Shamira asked. Renata was scowling. "Once they realized they were caught, one of them downed a vial. He's as strong as a half-form were and fast as a vampire, and he's got a hostage. One of the security people." "Let me help," she said. This was something she could do. Travis motioned for her to follow, so the three of them went charging through the bar, through another door and into what looked like a holding cell. A single light swung overhead, making the room seem even more ominous by casting shadows in the corners. There was also a drain in the middle of the floor. Shamira didn't want to think about that. The security forces were backed up against one wall; one perpetrator sat cowering in a corner, and the other held a young woman by the throat. "Don't come any damn closer!" the man said, snarling like an animal. His eyes were as red as a sunset and his face had lost all vestiges of humanity. "Clear the damn way! I'm taking her and leaving. Anyone tries to stop me and she dies, along with the would-be hero. Got that?" Travis motioned for Renata and Shamira to move back. They weren't official staff. Shamira's mind was going a mile a minute as she pushed her way back into the shadows in the corner of the room. She couldn't let the man leave. Never let a psychopath leave with a hostage. He'd kill her. She knew in her heart of hearts that this poor woman would die if he got outside with her. He was a creature of ill intent, mad with the power of a godling. She looked at the shadows in the room, then closed her eyes for a moment while wondering if she could scoot around the edges -- Then, her mind showed her the real shadows. It was almost as if the rest of the world dropped away and the only things that existed were blinding whiteness and the black of night, just light and shadows. She saw the shadows of the room, and even the shadows cast by the people in the room, or at least those in a position to cast a shadow. But she didn't see the people themselves. It was like a Rorschach inkblot test come to life and gone insane. She wanted to get behind the man, to get into his shadow. She saw something that looked like two figures struggling. She saw the shadows of the corner of the room behind him. That's where she wanted to be. She could stop him if she could just . . . Her mind reached out and touched those shadows, and the world shifted. Suddenly, she was looking at the same scene but from a different perspective. She opened her eyes. She was behind him! She didn't know how that had happened, but somehow she had appeared in the darkness behind the crazed druggie. She knew she had to stop him. And she knew what would happen to the girl if she gave him any quarter. She stepped out of the shadows, grabbed the unsuspecting man's neck, and broke it like a twig. The body fell to the ground and the girl charged forward, clutched in the protective arms of a comrade. Now it was Shamira who stood in the light of that single overhead bulb, and everyone was staring at her. Not staring like Clara and Henry had stared at their victim or like Shane had stared at Renata, this was not lust or desire. This was fear and awe. That's when it hit her. "I killed him," she whispered. In all her time on the force, she'd never even shot someone much less killed them. Now this man lay at her feet, his body facing downward while his eyes stared up at her, that snarl still stuck on his lips. He was very dead. It was Shamira's fault. She stared at her hands, and they began to tremble. "What did you do?" Renata asked. She realized too late that what she had meant to be a question about Shamira's apparent teleportation sounded like incredulity. The muscular newcomer's face went blank, then she charged blindly through the crowd which parted before her. Renata tried to give chase, but she had to struggle past people just to get to the door. "Shamira!" she called out, but the girl was running too quickly. She hurried after her, encountering an emerging Henry and Clara along the way. Apparently, playtime was over. "What's going on?" Clara asked. "Can't explain right now," came the reply as the Brazilian woman hurried past. "Shamira just did something and now she's freaked." She ran to the door, which the front guard was in the process of closing. He'd had no reason to detain Shamira, so he'd let her through. Renata emerged into the dark alley, looking both ways. Nothing. Shamira had vanished. ------------- ------------------- Hours later . . . ------------- ------------------- Shamira wasn't used to being undead, so being a ghost was almost overwhelming. But that's what she was, a ghost in the house she had called home less than a week earlier. She stood on bare feet in her parents' house in Kennesaw. Her brother, her sister, and her two young nephews were still there, having come into town for Shamira's funeral. She walked around in absolute silence, all noise absorbed by the darkness. Her brother Stan was crashed in the guest room, while her sister Samantha was on the pull-out sofa with Shamira's brother Patrick. Their two children, John and Craig, were asleep on an inflatable mattress nearby. And as usual, Shamira's father was asleep in his recliner because of his bad back while her mother was in their bedroom. It would have been perfect, if it weren't for the fact that they were mourning the loss of someone standing in their very midst. Shamira had snuck into the house utilizing the shadows, and she was looking down on each member of her family, one at a time. Even in sleep, they looked haunted. 'Aren't they?' she thought. 'Aren't I haunting them right now?' She wanted to scream. She wanted to wake them all up and tell them she was okay. Tell them everything was fine. Tell them she was coming home and wouldn't ever leave them again. Lie to them. She was dead, and she didn't even know what that meant for her. She knew she shouldn't be there, but she didn't know where else to go. The worst by far for her to look on was her sister. Samantha was more than Shamira's blood, she was her best friend. When the boys mocked her or broke Shamira's heart, it was Samantha who had been there, threatening violence against anyone who hurt her baby sister. Samantha had shown up to Shamira's competitions when her mother called them indecent. Apparently, women weren't supposed to be muscular and parade around in bikinis while waiting to be judged. Who knew? When Samantha had gone off to college, they had talked on the phone often. Sometimes, Samantha had just known when Shamira needed to talk, even from hundreds of miles away. Now, her far-too-pretty sister lay turned on her side, her husband's arm around her as they spooned. She looked safe and protected, but also sad. Next to her, on the arm of the sofa, was Shamira's lucky hat. The black Stetson been a gift to Shamira from her sister before a Georgia regional competition, which turned out to be the younger sister's first major win. Ever since, that hat had brought Shamira luck. 'If I'd been wearing you the other night, would my luck have held?' She touched the brim, comforting and worn. 'Would I be talking to my sister on the phone instead of staring up at her from the grave? Would I be a murderer in that world?' Samantha stirred, and Shamira leaned over, kissing her sister on the top of the head. Samantha Kingsley opened her eyes, feeling something wasn't quite right, or maybe it was too right. "Shamira?" she asked of the darkness. On the razor thin edge of sleep that she'd been balancing on since she'd heard the horrible news, she'd felt a distinct pull. It had felt like resolution of a tip-of-the-tongue phenomenon, suddenly remembering something that should have always been in her mind. Shamira had been such a force in her life, including looking after an ailing father and mother in denial when Samantha herself was simply unable to. For a moment, Samantha could have sworn that she felt that force again. She picked her head up and looked around, tears coming to her eyes when they fell on that damn hat she'd bought to cheer her sister up. She missed her sister so much it hurt, and it felt like it would never stop hurting. She didn't see the eyes looking at her from the shadows in the corner of the room, and she certainly didn't notice when those eyes slipped away. Outside, Shamira appeared in the shadows of a tree lining the road in that quiet little suburban neighborhood. She leaned in and put her head against the tree, her eyes aching with a need to cry that her pride denied. She could have stayed and told her sister everything. She could have had that one person back in her life. But she had chickened out. She didn't think she could handle Samantha seeing the monster that she'd become. Glancing down the street, she saw a car that was a bit too ritzy for the suburbs of Kennesaw. It was a Porsche of some kind, and Shane Stapleton was leaning against the door. Suddenly, Shamira wanted to hit someone, and that someone had just made himself available. She strode down to the aged vampire with ill intent clearly decorating her face. Shane stood up and away from the car, not backing down and not looking particularly afraid. He looked sad. To Protect and Serve Ch. 01 'Screw him,' she thought. 'This is his fault, so he doesn't get a break.' She threw a punch as his too-damn-pretty-anyway face, but she missed by a country mile. He had moved so quickly that it was as if she had swung at him in deep water. Her next swing missed as well, as did her attempt to kick him in the knee. "Fight me damn it," Shamira growled when she realized that Shane wouldn't fight back. She stood there for a moment, wanting badly for him to swing. She wanted him to hit her so hard that she didn't wake up again. She wanted anything but to feel the way that she did at that moment. "You should have just let me die. Why couldn't you just let me die?" He sighed. "Because I saw someone I thought would be worth saving. I don't regret it. You saved an innocent life tonight. Doesn't that count in your mind?" "I killed someone!" she hissed violently. "I don't even know what the hell I am. I don't get any of this, and I just was in a house full of people who are mourning MY death!" She thought she should be crying by now, but no actual tears fell. She sat down on a neighbor's front wall. "How am I supposed to feel when I want to comfort my sister who cried herself to sleep because she saw them put me in the ground? I couldn't let her see me like this. I'm a fucking monster!" Shane stared at her. "You're a vampire," he replied. "You're no more or less a monster than you were a week ago. 'Monster' is a state of mind, not of body." "Don't give me this philosophical bullshit," she said, putting her hands in front of her face. "You had no right to interfere." "Did you?" he asked softly. "You died not because of me, but because you were shot." "I was doing my damn job!" "As am I. I am responsible for the Atlanta area and its magical community. Part of that responsibility is building a brood that can keep the peace, people that can enforce OUR laws, to keep us and the mortals around us safe from the real monsters." He sat on the wall next to her. "I had a large family myself, you know. I was just a tavern owner back then. I did well, but I was never rich. I was never able to turn away a traveler, even if they didn't have the coin for a bed. One night, I entertained some guests who were more than they seemed. They saw that I took in anyone who needed a warm place to stay. One of them, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, seemed interested in me after that. She arranged to stay a while longer while her companions moved on." "I'm assuming they were vampires?" "Oh yes. Actually, they were the vampiric members of the Tribunal, the council of all creatures mystical. The most powerful undead in the world had been sitting in my humble inn. Had I known, I might not have watered the drinks so much." Despite everything, Shamira laughed at that. "I guess they got over it. What was the woman's name?" "I can't say. The names of the Tribunal's members are known only to . . . well, I guess you could say the 'elite' of the mystical world. Suffice to say, she and I enjoyed each other's company for a month or so." "Did she . . . I mean, was it like at your House? With Renata?" Her dead heart beat once in her chest. Why had she asked that? "Oh yes. Even then, I knew where my tastes lied, and she was a most compliant submissive." "Wait, she's on this Tribunal, right? That means she's really damn old." "About nine hundred years now." "And you were able to make her bow and scrape and . . . what's so funny?" "Make her?" Shane let out a loud laugh, and it took him a moment to compose himself. "I didn't 'make' her do anything. I had only played with prostitutes and such up until that point, and the idea of being with a woman like that terrified me. She was rather insistent." He was staring off into space, but he seemed to have an air of contentment and fondness about his face. "And she was a magnificent teacher. A true dom learns from his sub as much as he teaches them. She had needs, and I met them. She came back several times over the years. She told me what she was . . . a vampire . . . and helped me understand what that meant. I'm sorry that I was unable to prepare you in such a way." His face darkened. "A plague came to our town, and it ran upon four legs and howled at the moon." "Werewolves? Like Monique?" "Werewolves yes, but not like Monique. Their alpha male was rabid. Yes, wolves can carry rabies, though it is exceedingly rare. The leader had gone mad, and every wolf that he created shared that madness. My inn was the only place of refuge for the surrounding villagers, so I let them in. I didn't know what I was dealing with. I knew what werewolves were of course, but not what a mad pack was capable of. They came and they killed everyone they could outside, then tried to come in. We fought them off with fire and pitchforks, but they were too strong and too numerous." "Then one night, they simply vanished. I went out to look for them, but there was nothing left of them but tufts of fur and pools of blood. It seemed that my Lady had heard of this blight on the earth and had hurried to my aid. Our aid. It was so good for me to see her, but I was so angry. I hated feeling helpless in the face of that evil. She understood, and made me an offer." "She was your . . . uhm . . . sire?" Shamira was still struggling a bit with the undead lingo. "She brought me over, yes. I made an excuse for why I would have to be gone for a few days, and she took me to a secluded place and made me a vampire. I returned to my inn after that and went back to work. Over the years, I saw all those around me grow old, weak, sick, and finally die. This included every member of my family." "Fledglings and shadows are unable to bring over new vampires, something about mother nature preventing us from getting all these shiny new powers and then immediately giving them to all of our friends. And I didn't age a day. The descendants of those villagers I had offered safe harbor to decided that I was the spawn of evil, and burned my inn to the ground." "Fucktards!" Shane grinned. "I've never heard that expression before." "Try playing Halo 3 online." "Oh no," he said, shaking his head. "Not another one. "Reaper plays that game all the time, and I never quite got the hang of it." "Reaper? That assassin guy? I wonder what his gamertag is. I may have played him." Shane actually looked incredibly embarrassed. "Evil Fluffy Kitten." Shamira's eyes widened. "You're kidding?" "No. He finds it amusing." "He doesn't look like he has a sense of humor." "Oh, he might surprise you about that." Shane noticed the girl seemed more comfortable. "So, what are you going to do now?" He looked towards the house. "You can tell them. But in our world, mortal ties can be used against us. Sometimes we do it, but --" "But you put them at risk." "Why did you live at home, if you don't mind me asking?" "My dad has a heart condition, and my mother isn't really good at saying no to him. So he ignores his diet and doctor's warnings and she enables him. My brother wasn't responsible enough to look after anyone, and my sister is kind of busy." Thoughts of her sister brought back the ache in her soul. "She's fifty yards away, but I miss her so much." "I'm sorry. It's unfair to spring all this on you with so little warning. I'm sorry that your coming over happened in such a way that prevents you from having more 'free' time with them. But they would have lost you that night, regardless of my interference. Now, you can look out for them forever. Them, their children, grandchildren, as long as you live. You must change your identity so that your enemies, and you will make them, can't connect you to them. No, I'm not saying that you're unlikable. Quite the contrary. It's just that ours is a brutal and treacherous world at times, and the good guys don't always win." "Why are you doing this? Why are you so patient with me?" "Because I'm still not good at turning away a beautiful woman who needs a safe place to lay her head." Shamira blushed a little, or at least felt like she should be blushing. "I'm not beautiful." "I, and every member of my house, beg to differ." "Your house," she muttered. "I . . . I know what you guys like. I can't do that. I'm not like that." He sighed again. "Shamira, I really hate to do this seeing as you just got calmed down, but I think you're more 'like that' than you'll admit." He waved off her forthcoming objection. "When I brought you over, I shared my blood and power with you. But for a moment, I also saw you . . . the real you. I saw all the compassion and pride and dedication I had already assumed. But I saw your desire as well. I saw a desire and passion so deep that you were almost drowning in it." "You spied into my mind?!" Shamira felt numb. She was angry, and not only that he had seen those things, but that she was unable to deny anything. "Yes. I am unable to avoid it during the process. Vampires are sexual creatures in the first place, and my line more so than most. So I felt your urges, and I also felt how you've denied yourself any of them. Why?" "Why?! Because I'm not weak, that's why! I have to be strong!" "All the time?" "Yes!" "Why?" "Because if I don't, Jimmy Fisk dies!" She stopped, covering her mouth. She didn't know why she'd said his name. She didn't even like thinking it. "Who --" "None of your business," she said shortly. He nodded. Let her keep that secret. He had already unloaded a lot on her. But he had to set at least one thing straight. "Being a sexual submissive . . . having desires of the sort that you do, it doesn't make you weak. Some of the toughest people I've ever known find pleasure at the end of the crop and the spur. It takes a strength that most cannot even imagine to place that kind of trust in someone else's hands. Submissives have more power than you can imagine." "Regardless, I will never ask you to give up who you are. You are a strong woman with a desire to protect the world, and would never dream of asking you to stop. But you have needs, Shamira. I'm willing to bet that no man, or woman, has ever met them. How could they, when you refuse to even admit them? Unanswered desire will eat away at you, and make you wonder at the end of days if you truly lived the life you wanted. I've seen it happen, and would hate to see it happen to you." "Yeah, I bet you wouldn't." He frowned. "Now you're just being difficult. So I'll say this once and once only, and hopefully you'll grow to believe and accept it. You are a beautiful and enticing woman, and everyone in my household agrees with me on that wholeheartedly. Yes, I want to see you in chains and bound in my dungeon. The very thought of it makes my blood boil in ways you can't imagine." At that moment, Shamira COULD imagine. Oh, she could imagine very well. Shane kept going. "I would make sure that every desire you had ever had would be fulfilled, and help you invent new ones. But I have never bribed, coerced, nor forced any man or woman into my chains or my bed, for that is indeed monstrous. If you chose to cut off that part of your life and your mind, I will not oppose you by force. You would not be able to live at the house, but I would still gladly ask that you be part of my organization. You have power, Shamira. That can't be taken away from you." NP He stood up. "I would like my keys back though. You stranded the others at Prometheus." He smiled, but she didn't smile back. She just handed over the keys. "I won't ask that you make your decision now. You haven't even really had a chance to get used to being a vampire yet, much less this other business. You are welcome to stay at the house while you figure things out. Talk to the others. They can help, and they want to. Clara has been sick with worry since you ran out." He raised his eyebrows and smirked. "And if you think that I have unusual designs for you and your body, then you might want to ask her what SHE'S been thinking." He got into his car and drove away. Shamira shivered a bit, but not from the cold. Sure, Clara had made some "interesting" comments, but she had just assumed it was vampire freakiness. But she wanted Shamira too? She took another look at her family home, then vanished into the shadows. She didn't know where she was going, but felt a need to keep moving. She spent some time playing with her new power. She kept trying to extend her reach, and it helped to visualize things like Google Earth. The further she moved, the longer it took for the shadows to come into focus, but once they had she could go anywhere in the world. Keeping track of where things were was difficult, so she decided not to vanish up to New York City just to see if she could. She didn't know if she'd be able to find her way back again. And she did want to come back. For all its faults, Atlanta was her home. Her family was here. Her "maker" was here. She popped up to the top of the Bellsouth building and looked down on her city. Shane had been right about one thing. She could still protect them. Maybe she could stop the nightmares about Jimmy Fisk. She stretched her mind out and found Shane's house. Apparently, using her power that much took a lot of energy, and it was the only place she could think of to go. Part of her admitted that she wanted to go there. As freaky as they were, it was nice to feel "wanted". But she couldn't see the shadows in that house. It was like there was some kind of barrier around the property that obscured her sight. So she appeared in the trees nearby and walked in. She encountered several members of Shane's human security, but none of them stopped her. She was about to put her hand on the front door when it came flying open and she was tackled by Clara Yellowtail. And the girl had one hell of a grip. "You scared the crap out of me!" the Native American beauty said. She pulled back and gripped Shamira's shoulders. "Don't ever run off on me like that again!" She looked in the woman's eyes to make sure she didn't have a concussion or something. "What the hell was that? Whatever it was was really cool!" Then she pouted. This supposed badass domme was actually pouting. "It isn't fair! Shane and Banshee were the only two that had Aspects before, and now you have two?" "I guess," Shamira said, a little confused but oddly happy at this reception, then shrugged. "How did you do it?" Shane asked, approaching from his study. Several other residents approached, looking genuinely intrigued. Somehow they had all heard about what had happened at Prometheus. Shamira explained what is is that she had seen in that black-and-white world and how she had reached out to touch the dark parts. "Interesting," Shane said. He'd wanted to ask about that earlier, but defusing her volatile temperament had seemed more pressing at the time. "You're a Shadow Jumper AND a Shadow Healer. The dark is destined to be your friend it seems." "Shadow Jumper? That's what they call it?" "Indeed, and it's even more rare than Shadow Healing. You are connected to the world of shadows it seems. Normally vampires who are shadows, meaning at least two-hundred years old, don't have that kind of power. Actually, most full-fledge vampires are lucky to have developed two Aspects. Have you figured out how far you can travel yet?" "I . . . I guess I can see shadows all over the world. I just can't always connect them to what they belong to." "Bitch!" Monique said, leaning in a doorway. "You mean you could just pop off to Paris or Venice or the Bahamas just like that?" she asked, snapping her fingers. "I guess. But I couldn't get in here though," Shamira replied. "Okay, so the wards work against Shadow-jumpers," Clara muttered. "Lillian and I will make sure the wards . . . magical protections," she said by way of explanation, "recognize you. Hopefully that means you'll be able to come and go at will. Can you take things with you?" Shamira shrugged. "I don't know. I just know it gets tiring, especially if I try and cross long distances." Shane nodded. "With your permission, I'd like to run you through a set of drills this evening after you've gotten some rest. Strength, endurance – think of it as your physical at work. It will give us a chance to test some of the limits of your Aspects as well." "Not the healing one, will we? I'd rather not have you shooting me just for the heck of it." He smiled. "I think we can hold off on more serious tests of your healing abilities until you're a little more comfortable." He turned to Clara. "I think our guest might like to pick up some things. Take her shopping this evening, but get her back by ten p.m. or so." Monique and Lillian both raised their hands, causing Shane to sigh. "Yes, you can go too." Not that they actually needed permission. They each had house credit cards. They just liked to give him warning that they were going to spend a large pile of his money. Oh well. It wasn't as if he didn't have plenty. He watched as Shamira shyly made her way back to the room where she would be staying. He thought it odd that she was handling becoming a vampire better than she was being around his cadre of BDSM employees. He wondered what she would be like if she simply let herself go and experience those things she was afraid of, things she thought made her weak. If she did, then Shane would be there to bathe in the heat of her being. Deep in his bones and blood, he knew that Shamira Carswell was just touching the edges of everything that she could be. He only wished that she saw in herself what those around her had already identified. -------------- -------------- The next evening . . . -------------- -------------- Shamira had never been a big shopper before, much less closed down the mall. It seemed that her traveling companions were more than used to it. She learned some things about them, such as the fact that Lillian and Monique had both once been swimsuit models as well as lovers. Lillian had taken up the art of necromancy when she was younger, but kept it relatively in the background until the night that she and Monique had been attacked by a rogue werewolf while walking through the woods in Northern Georgia. The wolf hadn't realized that necromancy was a potent magic, as Lillian had sucked the life energy right out of him before managing to kill him with the animated skeleton of a ten-point buck. But Monique had already been bitten, so Lillian had to keep her lover alive and help her adjust to the new world she had entered. Shane had heard of the incident and was impressed by Lillian's will and reserve and had brought them both on board. Clara had been living on a reservation some 62 years earlier when she had caught Shane's attention. She'd been an orphan who was very vocally active in pursuing rights for Native Americans as well as homosexuals, and this at a time where just saying the word "gay" could get one lynched. She had actually been told about the world of magical beings by Shane and was then given a choice. Having no family to leave behind, she had embraced the offer, learning everything that Shane had to teach her. The four women were sitting in the food court, each with a mountain of bags. Shamira was actually embarrassed at her foray into consumerism, as well as by some of the items in her bags. She had been somewhat overwhelmed by the other three, who had decided to give her a makeover. Before even going to the mall, they had hit a high-class salon in downtown Atlanta, where Shamira was waxed, massaged, and generally pampered. It was good to know that massages felt good even when one was dead. This salon was apparently privy to the secrets of the night breeds. Then they had invaded the Mall of Georgia like a plague of locusts, devouring helpless salespeople alive in a purchasing frenzy. To Protect and Serve Ch. 02 Proofread by FernieLyn This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these characters and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author. This story is based in an alternative universe, where history took a different course than the one we are used to. In this world, the creatures which we now believe to be legends have walked alongside man for the duration of our existence. Vampires, werewolves, wizards, witches, sorcerers, and a host of other beings share our world. The following story contains, in one chapter or another, lesbian, homosexual, heterosexual, anal, group, sci-fi/fantasy, non-human, and BDSM sexual activity. There may be some erotic horror in there somewhere as well, but I haven't made up my mind. ---------------------- ------------------------ 'Okay,' Shamira thought as she prepared to face a brave new day, 'I need to get some cotton sheets. This silk stuff really isn't that comfortable.' Earlier that night (or morning), she had done things that she never would have imagined herself doing. She had been chained up, physically manhandled, had hot wax tripped all over her, and had been violated in every orifice that she could think of. The man who had made Shamira a vampire, one Shane Stapleton, had introduced her to a world that had only existed in her fantasies before. He had told her to call herself a whore, and she had. She had enjoyed it. She had enjoyed all of it. Now, she was wondering what the hell she'd done. After a set of mind-blowing orgasms and wild sensations, Shane had unchained her and brought her back to her bedroom. Shane always slept, and in reality slept, alone as a security precaution. He was an important vamp and the head of this house, so she understood the precautions. But waking up alone made her think. Was she really ready for this? Yet every time she thought about those moments where she had become an item of sexual pleasure, it made her feel warm inside. So much so that she wanted to touch herself in -- "Buyer's remorse?" came a soft voice next to her. Shamira's eyes shot open and she sat up rapidly in bed. Clara Yellowtail was lying in bed right next to her. "What the heck --" "I don't think so," came a sexy Latin voice behind her. "She smells horny." "Gaugh!" Shamira jumped out of bed completely nude. Raul was lying on the other side of the bed, looking very nice. "What are you two doing in here?" Clara gave her a wicked grin. "Word's already out about what happened with Shane last night, and you've got the collar on." Shamira had forgotten about the collar. For something made of iron, it seemed surprisingly non-intrusive. "I . . . uhm . . . yeah." 'Crap,' she thought. 'Clara is a domme.' "I'm sorry . . . Mistress --" Clara laughed. "We're going to have to work on your reflexes," she said, clambering out of bed. She was just as nude as Shamira was, and Shamira found herself checking out that lithe, soft, beautiful form. Clara continued. "But Shane said that everyone is to give you breathing room today until after midnight meal. First, he wants you to start researching magical creatures, bring yourself up to speed on the sorts of things you'll be dealing with. Renata will give you the codes so you can access the server and Mysti-pedia." "Mysti-pedia?" Shamira asked. "You're kidding, right?" "Nope. It's had other names of course, but when the magical community met the web and started translating the old documents and texts into digital formats, they changed the name. Anyway, it'll have all the data you need. Also, Shane wanted to give you an evening to relax and make sure you didn't have any regrets. You don't, do you?" Shamira looked at her feet. "I . . . no." Straightening her shoulders, she reiterated, "No. I guess, it was just a big step. I can't really believe I actually did it." She cocked her head. "Why exactly are you in my bed? And him? Not that I'm not pleased to see you, Raul." "No sweat. Damn," he said, looking her over, "I can see why everyone's been so gung-ho to claim some time with you." "No they . . . they're not really . . . they have?" Clara grinned. "Oh yes," she said. "In answer to your question," she purred, tracing a finger across Shamira's collarbone, "I'm a dominant. I can wake up with any sub that isn't already claimed." She tried to pout, albeit unsuccessfully. "But today, I just thought you might like to have a friendly face when you woke up. Big changes shouldn't happen alone, and I know Shane's policy about sleeping alone. He let me know what happened after putting you to bed. I was teaching this young wolf here," she said, pointing at Raul, "some new tricks, so we finished up and I brought him with me. So here we are," she said, her fingers drifting down to Shamira's suddenly erect nipple, "naked and with some time to kill --" "Except," Shamira started, her body betraying any attempts to control it, "that Shane wants me to . . . uhm . . . research?" she said. "Yessssss." Clara was only half-listening as her fingers made their way down that rock-hard abdomen. "Mistress Clara," Raul said, trying not to smirk, "Shane's instructions --" "I'm well aware of Shane's instructions," she replied, then grinned at Shamira. "I'll deal with my insolent pup in a moment," she cooed. "Maybe even in YOUR bed," she said to the other woman. "But first --" She went over to the intercom and summoned Monique, who showed up in record time with a measuring tape. She examined every inch of Shamira, including some "places" that seemed irrelevant. "For your uniforms," Clara explained. By the time Monique was done and vacated the room, Clara had retrieved a bag from the hallway. "Presents for you!" Shamira took the bag and looked inside. A brand new Alienware laptop! "Reaper said that if you're a gamer then that's the kind you'd want." "Sweet! A wallet?" she said, pulling out a svelte little black leather wallet. It came complete with three credit cards, a gun license, and a new driver's license. "Shamira Stapleton?" she asked. "Yeah, it makes it easier on the paperwork. You know we get medical and dental, right?" Clara's face remained stoic for a few minutes, then she broke out laughing when Shamira looked perplexed. "Just kidding. But you do have a new history, including a college degree, work history, etc. Just in case you get questioned by authorities." "Crap!" Shamira said. "What if it's someone I know?" "One, I doubt any of those guys would recognize the new, more confident, highly sexual babe that is you. Two, people will laugh it off as déjà vu." She patted Shamira on the ass. "Now get dressed, according to Shane's instructions. No more sweats." She bit her bottom lip. "Something with a thong. Unless you want to wander around naked." Shamira grumbled as she pulled on some black boy short panties, blue jeans too tight and too low-riding to be decent, and a black tube top. Then she noticed three boxes in her closet that hadn't been there yesterday. "My boots!" Shane had apparently ordered her two pairs past the ones she had asked for. Custom-made leather boots that felt like a dream. Rugged, stylish, and far too comfortable. "Oh, I got you one more thing," Clara said, almost sounding a little nervous. She pulled another box out from the top of the closet. "I knew you said you used to have a lucky hat," she continued. "Maybe this one will be lucky too." It was gorgeous in Shamira's eyes. It was a black leather cowboy hat with a laced leather band with concho accents and tails, and a gold center concho with some writing on the front. It read, "Justice without force is powerless; force without justice is tyrannical." "Shane thought you'd like the inscription." Shamira put the hat on, and it fit as well as everything else. Clara put a hand on her comrade's shoulder and turned her to face a mirror. Shamira had never seen that woman before. The clothes showed off the body, and the body looked good. The boots and the hat . . . 'Damn, I look good!' she thought, actually turning a bit to get a better look at her ass. 'Damn good!' The hungry look on Clara's face showed that the girl was in complete agreement. "You're off the sexual clock until midnight," the smaller woman said, "so let's go out this evening. Grab dinner out. What do you think?" "I think I know just the place," Shamira replied. She smiled at her friend. "See you at nine or so?" Then she went off to the lounge with her new laptop, ready to do some research while Clara played with Raul in Shamira's bed. ---------- -------------------- That night . . . ---------- -------------------- "So what is this place?" Clara asked as they walked into a bar just a block off of Marietta Square. It had an Irish folk band playing in one corner, and there were a bunch of tables lined up next to each other. "McCarens," Shamira replied, looking around. "They've got good fries, and speed dating on Saturday night." Clara, Henry, and Raul all stopped and looked at her. "Speed dating?" "Hey, I was here a year ago and . . . and I left without any numbers," she said with a growl. "I want to see if this vampire mojo actually works." Henry raised his hand as if he was going to say something, but Clara waved him off. They'd let Shamira do this her way. They sat down and waited for things to start. "So, you do this sort of thing a lot?" She shrugged. "I did, but I realized it didn't seem to work for me." "So what'd you do with your free time?" Raul asked. "I dunno. Did a lot of hiking and backpacking. North Georgia is great for that sort of thing." "Have you been up near Ellijay? It's gorgeous up there this time of year. Water ban has sucked though. No campfires," Clara said. "You . . . camp?" Clara looked vexed. "Why does this surprise you?" "You just don't really look like a camper. Too damn pretty and --" "You'd best quit while you're ahead," Henry chuckled. Clara was clenching her silverware so tightly that she'd bent her knife. "Making judgments about my abilities? Based on my appearance?" "No!" Shamira replied. Then she paused. Clara was dressed in a fashionable and far-too-short skirt and a gorgeous silk blouse tied off in a knot just below her bustline. While definitely athletic, her skin was smooth and not defined and . . . "Yeah. I guess I was. Forgive me?" Shamira tried the pout thing with her lip and failed miserably. But she did get a reaction. "Forgiven," Clara said. Then she grabbed Shamira's collar, pulled her close, and laid a kiss on her that Shamira would probably never forget. Shane's kiss the morning before had been about power, but Clara's was much more about finesse. Her tongue was so soft and so nimble and it felt like it was going to crawl all the way into Shamira's being and buy property. Her lips were so damn soft and warm and damn inviting, and then they were gone. "Wuh . . . what was that for?" Shamira muttered. That had been a real kiss, with a woman, and Shamira realized she'd been kissing right back. "Admitting you're not perfect," Clara said smoothly. "I was beginning to wonder." "Trust me, I'm far from perfect." Clara looked at her companion through hazy, lusty, half-closed eyes and said, "We'll see later tonight." Shamira gulped. "We will?" "Oh yes." Clara leaned back and just smiled. "What's going on?" she asked to Henry who was grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Shane gave ya until after midnight lunch as a freebie. Who do you think already has you claimed before the second lunch is over?" he explained. Shamira's eyes slowly moved back over to Clara, whose face had gone from soft to sinister in a heartbeat. "Oh yes," she said, leaning forward and placing her head next to Shamira's. "Tonight, I'm busting your sapphic cherry wide open," she murmured, then nibbled on the other woman's ear. Then she kissed Shamira's neck. "I've been so very, very patient, and I made all the other girls promise not to touch you until I've had an opportunity, and I'm going to make the most of that opportunity for hours," she kissed Shamira's neck, "and hours," followed by another kiss on the lips that didn't last nearly long enough, "and hours." Shamira had lost the ability to speak, or to even think reasonably coherently. Her mouth remembered the small taste she had just gotten, and it craved more, needed more. Then "dominant" Clara went away again and "normal" Clara came back. "We need to go hiking sometime," she said. "Hey, once the house is stronger, we'll take a summer off and hike the Appalachian Trail. How's that sound?" Shamira's lips started to move, but words or even sound were strangely absent. "You broke her," Raul said. "Not yet," Clara said slyly. Then more seriously, "Shamira, you've stepped one foot into our world, but we don't live there all the time. We have lives outside the house, and you will too. Maybe not anytime soon, at least not until we get our numbers up --" "Okay ladies and gentlemen," started a gangly man who appeared to be in charge, "let's get in our places. Men on that side and women on this side. You'll have five minutes with each participant --" "Listen, you guys don't have to stick around," Shamira said. "Oh yes we do," Henry said, eyeing some of the women present. "It'll be fun!" Clara added. At five minutes per person, the interviews were surprisingly drab for Shamira. The last time she'd tried this, she had tried so hard to sympathize with every guy she spoke to and tried to coax their life stories out of them. But now they seemed so . . . boring. She noticed that her comrades were having a great time though. Apparently flirting was a magical skill. She sighed. She probably wouldn't get any numbers tonight after all. 'I'm just not . . . likable. What am I even doing here?' Everyone finally got to visit with everyone else and then filled out their cards. Did you like this person or not? Shamira tried to be kind, but only thought two or three guys would even be interesting enough to have coffee with, if she ever actually wanted to. The host would contact them later with any offers. It was obvious that several ladies wanted to "talk" to Raul and Henry, and an equal number of men were trying to catch Clara's eye. Shamira had been sitting closest to the door, so she just stepped outside. Getting fresh air, or at least that's what she told herself. She walked out towards the center of the square, moving her mind back to Shane's business. At least that she might be good at. She had spent all afternoon checking out Mysti-pedia and other files that Shane had acquired over the years. The fairies, weres, and vampires were her first line of inquiry, then the drug known as morning star. She knew she was supposed to be simply expanding her knowledge base, but Shamira's mind always had to have a direction. After seeing those videos of what happened in a morning star bleeding house, she had made it her first mission as Shane's new vampire enforcer to hunt these guys down. "There you are," Clara said, walking down a path from the bar to the center of the square. She looked so good, it just wasn't fair. "Why'd you take off? This was your idea." Shamira shrugged. She knew how Clara would respond to her sitting around feeling sorry for herself. "Just thought it would be different this time." Clara sat down next to her. "Different how?" "That the whole vampire mojo might actually make people notice me. I guess I'm just as attractive as I ever was." She closed her eyes. "You are," Clara said, watching Shamira's eyes open again. "What? Expect me to feel sorry for you? First, you don't get the ability to turn on the pheromones like you've seen in movies until you're a full vamp, which means for you it'll be another two centuries. Two, I looked at the host's score card, and every guy you talked to say 'yes' to you." "What? No one said anything --" "Because you left!" Clara said, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "You're so bound and determined to believe that no one is going to accept you that you walk away before anyone can. Hell, Shane had to chase you down to convince you to come back to us. We HAVE accepted you Shamira." She gripped the muscular woman's hand. "I'm looking forward to having you around," she said warmly. Then without warning, she kissed Shamira again, just as hot and heavy as she had in the bar. Suddenly Shamira was wondering if she needed to add getting laid in Marietta Square as a fantasy to the list that Shane had begun to compile. "That's not all I'm looking forward to," Clara said when she finally, reluctantly, released Shamira's mouth. "How do you do that?" Shamira whispered. "It's just one minute you're just a beautiful girl acting like my friend, then you turn on that --" She waved her hands, unable to come up with a word or phrase that fit. "I'm not 'acting' like a friend," Clara said, partly offended. "I AM your friend. Everyone in the house likes and/or respects each other, otherwise it wouldn't work. Shane's careful about keeping people around him that he can trust. And as I told you, it's no mojo. I just enjoy what . . . and who . . . I do. Problem with getting brought over as a teenager is that you're pretty much perpetually horny." Shamira snickered. "Wait, a teenager?!" Clara grinned. "Shane brought me over when I was eighteen. That was sixty-two years ago. My ID always says that I'm twenty-one. We tried going older than that once, but no one bought it." "I can see why," Shamira said, looking somewhat hungrily over that nubile young-looking body so close to her own. "I'm eighty years old and it's a pain in the ass for me to rent a car for crying out loud!" Clara looked so miffed that it took all of Shamira's control to avoid laughing. "I mean, try going to a Falcons game and ordering a beer when you look like this. Every time, it's a friggin' hassle!" "You like football?" "Who doesn't?" Shamira smiled. "Okay, now I KNOW you're too good to be true." Clara planted another kiss, lighter and more friendly, but still really damn hot. "I know. Wait until sunrise, and you'll have found out how good I can be." ----------- ----------- At dinner . . . ----------- ----------- Shamira was a little alarmed at what she was seeing. She had been getting ready to enjoy a nice medium-rare NY strip steak when Shane's dinner had arrived. And by dinner, he meant the wife of a district appeals court judge. She was a woman who was still quite comely in her mid forties, with the body of someone who had worked long and hard to keep from losing her youthful figure. It had worked. She seemed to know everyone at the table except Shamira, whom she greeted warmly. Then she had straddled Shane's lap and he had bitten into her neck. The rest of the table just grinned and went back to eating. Mrs. Tabitha Grunholdt, the lady in question, was grinding against Shane's lap as he drank from her neck. "She's something, isn't she?" Renata asked. The werejaguar leaned in and whispered, "She and her husband have an open relationship. Not surprising since he's a closet homosexual AND a Republican. She was able to get her kicks however she wanted as long as it didn't go public. Shamira wondered if he would say the same if he actually knew how she got off. "So is she --" "A sub? Oh yeah. Shane will take her back and keep her entertained for the rest of the evening. If you find a good donor, it helps to keep them happy. Or so I hear." "Right. You're a were, so no need for donors." Shamira was almost in awe. The woman with her hair up in a conservative bun and her nicely proportional figure contained in a thousand-dollar dress suit was riding Shane like a bicycle as he consumed her blood, and she didn't seem at all embarrassed by it. To Protect and Serve Ch. 02 Clara leaned in from the other side. "Remind me on your day off to go over the basics of bloodletting and how to find donors. I know the idea probably doesn't appeal to you right now, but it can be a very good experience for you and the donors, and it's a good way to get nourishment fast when you need it. We don't take much, but it's an important and eventually essential part of our culture." Shamira was only half-listening by that point. She was pretty sure that Mrs. Grunholdt just came on Shane's lap. He withdrew his fangs and licked the traces of blood off of her neck. "Well, I'm going to finish eating in my room," he said, getting groans from his people. They'd heard that joke SO many times. Then Shane stood up and almost dragged Mrs. Grunholdt off into the darkness of the corridor. Everyone went back to their regular dinner. Most were close to done, but Shamira had stopped eating to gawk at the dinner show. She needed to remember to thank Shane's cooking staff, because everything they made was amazing. Slowly, the other members of the house trickled off to attend whatever business or pleasure they had planned for this evening. Finally, it was just Clara and Shamira. "Damn," Clara mumbled, unable to not notice that her remaining companion looked hungry for something other than the steak. A glance at the clock said that it was almost twelve-thirty. "I wanted to talk to Shane about hunting down these drug dealers." "Got ideas?" Clara asked. "Yeah. The blood needs to be fresh, right? In order to make the alchemy work? I can't believe I just said 'alchemy' in a real sentence. Anyway, faeries are really hard to keep captured from what I read and tend to live in tight-knit groups. Weres and vampires try to keep track of their numbers and members, but it's harder, and you've got rogues to think about." "Whoever is making this stuff is probably mixing it near where the victims are taken, which will limit the scope of the search. We just need to find where the component members of all three races are disappearing from, and I think the best way to do that is through the faeries. They're more likely to know when one of their own is missing, since they don't really ever just get up and vanish normally." Clara smiled. She stood up and rubbed Shamira's shoulders a couple of times. "You're tenacious aren't you? I think you've got a good idea going, and Shane will want to hear it as soon as he wakes up." She was enjoying the view. Monique had gotten a first pass at one of Shamira's uniforms done, and it showed off Shamira's body well. It consisted of a pair of latex shorts that were barely bigger than the boy-short panties the girl had been wearing earlier, allowing part of that round ass to peek out of the bottom. Around those enormous breasts was a single leather strap that fastened with a gold clasp right between the cleavage. The rest of her body was caught up in a leather fishnet-style body suit that stretched and shifted whenever Shamira flexed those potent muscles. Throw in those custom-made leather boots and black leather hat, and she was a bondage cowgirl fantasy. "You think so?" Shamira said, gulping down the last of her wine. "I know so. I'm tenacious too, by the way." Clara's hand snapped the end of a heavy dog-leash onto the back of Shamira's collar. She had kept it hidden next to her chair throughout dinner in anticipation of this moment. "Dinner is over," she hissed into Shamira's ear, then bit lightly on that tidbit of flesh. "Time for the entertainment, don't you think?" Shamira trembled, but just a little bit. It was time for something new. "Yes, Mistress Clara." "Follow behind me, and don't make me tug on this leash." Clara reached between Shamira's legs and squeezed her mound hard. "Do I need to explain why?" "No, Mistress Clara," Shamira said, falling in line as Clara began moving quickly towards the elevator that took them to the basement. 'Basement,' she thought idly. 'Why do we need a basement the size of a huge house when we already have a huge, three-story house on top of it.' She should have been paying more attention as Clara stopped suddenly and Shamira bumped into her. "Clumsy little bitch," Clara admonished. "Here's a line you've heard before . . . assume the position." She watched as a confused former cop turned and put her hands up on the wall. "Spread 'em." Shamira complied. Clara took the leash and unsnapped it from that iron collar, folded the leash in half and lay a quick *smack* across those nicely displayed buttocks. "Now be more careful," Clara warned, re-affixing the leash to the collar. Shamira only screwed up one more time, attempting to play it conservatively and falling a little too far behind. Her sluggishness was "punished" with another lash to the posterior. She was surprised out how easily and quickly she had become aroused by it. She was led into a room with a single overhead light. Amazing how much like police interrogators that doms turned out to be. The room was cool enough that nipples were at attention, and the floor was made of soft rubber with holes in it. "Stay," Clara said, looking over her new pet. She went over and got a folding chair and placed in in front of Shamira. "Strip," she purred, "and do it slowly. Then . . . I know! You used to compete in body-building, so pose for me. Show me every muscle in your body." Shamira slowly undressed, and it took some effort. The mesh leather body stocking wasn't meant to be put on and taken off solo, but Clara wasn't offering assistance. She was finally able to get it, peeling it all the way down to her knees. That was when she realized that she needed to take her boots off first, and there was no particularly graceful way to do it. She sat back on her haunches and raised up her legs in front of her. Pilates paying off again. She managed to get the boots off and the rest of the stocking, all the while providing Clara a good view of her latex-clad crotch. Clara didn't seem to mind. Shamira unfastened the band around her breasts, letting them sway in the cool basement air. Then she rolled onto her back and pressed the back of her head to the ground, using her neck and feet to lift her body into an arch. She hooked her underwear with her thumbs, pushing it downward. Again, she lowered her butt, raised her shoulders and legs up, and then was able to remove the last remaining piece of clothing completely. 'Hmm,' Clara thought. 'Flexible too. And damn she's beautiful!' Clara's opinion didn't sway as Shamira stood up and gave her a front double bicep pose. Abdominal muscles strained, biceps stood up, and those shoulders looked like they could take Atlas's burden away. Pose after pose showcased that body, and each position made Clara more amorous. And that clit! She'd heard that bodybuilders often had larger than average pleasure nubs, but it was beautiful. She shed her own minuscule bits of clothing and prepared to train her lover. "Hands and knees," she ordered. "Face forward. It's time for you to learn how to pleasure a woman. I'm going to throw you in the deep end and make you swim." She grabbed Shamira's long braid, using it to force the woman's face between Clara's ready thighs. "Lick it," she growled. "C'mon little slut puppy, do it like it comes naturally." This was the closest that Shamira had ever gotten to another woman's nether region, and she was a bit intimidated. She had one of these, but she'd never been with a guy who'd gone down on hers. So she just started to lick. It was strangely more comfortable for her than she would have imagined, though her technique was obviously lacking. Just licking down the front soon bored Clara, who extended her arms and laid the folded leather of the leash across Shamira's backside again. "Technique!" the dominant female said. She yanked on Shamira's hair and pulled her away. "Clit, labia both outer and inner . . . use them!" Then she shoved the girl's face back in. Shamira did better the next time, licking a few times down the middle, then sucking the whole clit into her mouth and drawing her lips inward. But again, she went to the well a few too many times with that and received another lash. "You're not even trying," Clara chastised her. "Just do what you like." "Mistress," Shamira started, "I . . . I wouldn't know what that is." Clara's eyes actually popped open. "You never . . . never ever --" Shamira let her head drop in shame. Her Mistress took pity on her. "There's no way you can be held accountable for the oversights of the rest of the world. But you WILL learn this skill. Now try again." Secretly, Clara was outraged. When playing dominant, she never went down on her sub, but she wanted to. With Shamira, she wanted to badly. She had a plan to take care of that, but it would have to wait one more day to implement. For now, she would enjoy Shamira's body as it was. Turned out that Shamira was a fast learner in all things. She tried combinations of things, including sucking on and playing with the inner labia, wrapping her mouth around Clara's entire sex, soft and hard tongue lashes against the clitoris, and even just nuzzling things with her nose. Of course Clara found reasons to continue administering punishment from time to time, but it was becoming increasingly more difficult. At long last, Clara began to orgasm, rubbing her moist and happy sex against Shamira's face while her body shook gently. "About time," she muttered, not at all unhappy but not willing to admit it. "Stay," she commanded again. She got out of her chair and went over to the shadows, grabbing one of her favorite toys. Shamira watched as Clara brought some kind of cage over to the center of the room. There was a rubber floor on it to prevent knees and hands from getting torn up, and a hole in one end that was framed with two semi-circular pieces of iron that seemed to be mounted on tracks. Clara opened up one end of the cage. "Inside!" The command was followed with another lash on the ass. "All the way." Shamira hurried forward, her head poking through the whole in the other side. She noticed there were metal cuffs in the corners, two of which were secured to her ankles before the door behind her was closed. Then Clara walked around the front and reached through the openings in the cage, fastening the cuffs to Shamira's wrists. Then the mistress slid the semi-circular pieces up and down until they formed a snug circle around Shamira's neck, just above her slave collar. The muscular vampire was trapped. "Now we're going to try this again," Clara explained as she went over and grabbed a handful of items from her workbench. She reached into the cage and fastened nipple clamps to those sturdy nubs. Shamira groaned. It was pure, demonic heaven! There were little weights hanging from them, tugging relentlessly on her breasts. Then she felt similar clamps being applied to her inner labia, making her squirm even more. Next, something was getting shoved in her ass. It didn't feel very long, but it was wide. 'So THAT'S a butt plug,' she thought. Then it started to vibrate. "Oh God!" Shamira groaned before she could stop herself. "Tonight," Clara said, reaching through the bars of the cage and pinching her sub's ass hard, "I'm the only God or Goddess you'll know." Shamira's breasts and pussy were already filling the rest of her with a dull, perfect ache. She didn't even notice that Clara had set up a television screen of some kind near the chair that the mistress had been sitting on earlier. And Clara herself had some kind of small, spy-like head-mounted camera on. She was looking down at Shamira's captive body, and Shamira could see it all on screen. "And this is being recorded," Clara said, "and will be shown to the other members of the house. I want you to watch it, to remind you of what a dirty slut you've become. Now look at the camera and tell your audience what a slut you are and how much you're looking forward to eating my pussy again." Shamira balked for a second, but started to speak quickly when Clara made a move to grab her hair. "I'm a slut," she said, then felt an odd need to embellish. "I'm a dirty, nasty slut and I want to eat my mistress's pussy." "Good girl," Clara said, grabbing the woman's thick hair-braid anyway and yanking on it. "Slow, but good." She moved the chair closer to Shamira's face and sat down, making sure her slave's face was completely buried in Clara's pussy. "Now try again." Shamira's body was throbbing where the clamps were attached, and the humming plug in her ass was making her mad. She couldn't do anything to satisfy her own desperate urge to cum, and knew that she probably wouldn't see hide nor hair of release until she'd pleased Mistress Clara again. Shamira had just been given a job, and she was going to see it through. She started slowly this time, pressing her tongue as deep into Clara's cunt as she could. Strange, but she'd never liked the word cunt before, but now it was the best word ever. She spread her tongue out, increasing the pressure a little bit. She did a slow draw upward, ending by dragging her tongue over Clara's clit. Then a quick kiss to that sensitive nub before circling the whole area with her tongue. She found that sucking on that soft, wet skin got her as good a reaction as just licking everything, so she threw in more of that two. And sometimes, she looked up at the video screen over Clara's shoulder. She could see the top half of her face, with her nose and mouth almost completely consumed by her mistress's sex. 'Do I really look like that?' she wondered. She looked . . . kind of sexy. She also saw Clara looking down at her over that gorgeous light-brown body. The dominant woman was playing with her breasts the whole time that Shamira was consuming her pussy. Shamira wanted badly to please her mistress. 'Maybe if I try something different --" She wasn't sure why, but she decided to nuzzle Clara's clit with her nose, lick down the slot and then trace her tongue around that puckered sphincter. Clara let out a groan that pleased Shamira greatly. "Finally, the pet is showing some imagination," Clara said. She grabbed her pet's head and held it in place. "You started it, so be ready to finish it." A week earlier, Shamira would have thought this disgusting. Now, she didn't have to think about anything, so it was all good. She lavished attention on both ass and pussy, her skills and confidence increasing by the moment. When Clara came again, rubbing her wet sex all over Shamira's face, the woman in bondage felt a sense of accomplishment and power. She had brought a beautiful woman to orgasm, and she was in a frigging cage! "Good girl," Clara said happily. "Good girls get treats." She got off the chair and went around to the back of the cage. She pulled the butt plug out, noticing a sigh of disappointment from her lover. Clara grinned, then slowly started to finger Shamira's neglected pussy. "Who's my good little whore?" she asked, thrusting two fingers into that greedy box. "I am," Shamira gasped. Thanks to the vibrations of the butt plug and the throbbing in both her nipples and pussy lips caused by the clamps, she was so ready to cum. The clamps on her pussy were suddenly removed, and the blood rushed back in, causing a different but also welcome pain. She almost came on the spot. Clara reached her other hand through the cage bars and gripped that amazing ass, digging her nails into the taut flesh. "I need you wet," she whispered. "How can we get you nice and wet?" She gripped Shamira's ass harder. "I asked you a question, slut!" "I'm sorry Mistress Clara," Shamira said, feeling those fingers start to withdraw. "Please, if I cum, I'll be wet --" "Of course you will." Clara reached underneath and pressed her fingers around that large clitoris and started to rub in circles. "And remember to ask permission --" Shamira was way ahead of her. "PleasecanIcumMistressClarapleasecanI --" Clara smiled. "I suppose you may." Shamira shoved outward with each limb as much as she could, and the steel of the cage started to groan. Her whole body was shivering as cum squirted from her deepest places and her pussy spasmed. 'Good grief, I'm wet up to my elbow!' Clara thought. 'Well, if I wasn't by now, I would've been soon anyway.' "Poor pet. You must have needed that." "Yes, Mistress Clara. Thank you, Mistress Clara." "Look at the monitor," Clara ordered. "Don't take your eyes off of it until I tell you that you can. I want you to see how I reward good girls." Her fingers started to move in and out of Shamira's box, and she was satisfied that her pet was paying rapt attention to the monitor. She plunged her fingers in, sometimes curving them to stimulate the g-spot, other times spreading them to stretch the girl out. She was going to show this muscular whore what the "pleasure of submission" was really about. Shamira watched and felt every move that her mistress made, but there was something else was happening that made her uncomfortable. She didn't know how to say it, but hoped she would be forgiven if she did this wrong. "Mistress Clara, my nipples . . . they're hurting a lot now and --" "Well why didn't you say so?" Clara asked, moving down and reaching into the cage, removing the offending clamps. The woman gasped with relief. "Always tell me when you have reached your limits. Yes, I will push you but I will not break you." She pulled one of those breasts close to the wall of the cage, angling so that she could put her lips through the opening and suck gently on the tortured nub. It almost made Shamira want to cum again. The burning and pain suddenly seemed worth it as her nipple was sucked into that soft, talented mouth and teased with that lovely tongue. It was suckled only for a moment, but it was beautiful while it lasted. "Thank you again, Mistress Clara." Clara didn't respond. She moved to the back of the cage once again and her fingers went back to work. "I have a great many toys," she explained, "and over the weeks, months, and years I will use them all on you. But now," she said, deciding to use three fingers to violate her captive, "it is just your flesh and mine. I shall penetrate you in a way you've probably never imagined before, and from what Shane told me, you've imagined quite a bit." She was up to four fingers, those long delicate digits scrunched together into a single mass. She kept pushing a little further and stretching her fingers out. Shamira couldn't take her eyes off the screen even if she had wanted to. She knew what Clara was going to do, and her mistress was right . . . she had never imagined that SHE could be taken like that. It made her pussy even wetter as she thought of it now. The dominant woman's hand pushed further and further, feeling the woman's vaginal walls relax bit by bit. She tucked her thumb into the palm of her hand and pushed a little further. She wanted to make Shamira climax in a way that no one else in the house would be able to. She wasn't quite sure why this competitive idea had come to her, but it was something she wanted regardless. She kept pushing further and further, feeling that tight pussy try and push back. The good thing about pushing vampires was that they could take a little more and bounce back quickly. Shamira could bounce back even faster. That thought made Clara smile. That thought made her push her hand all the way inside. 'God that hurt!' Shamira thought, her shoulders pressed tight against the front of the cage as her body instinctively tried to move away from this massive invasion. But the pain surprisingly evaporated quickly for her. Clara was inside her body, and she made Shamira feel so full. "Good girl," Clara said as her fuck puppet started to relax. "This is what being my pet gives you," she said, reaching her other hand into the cage and stick a thumb into Shamira's ass. She glanced up without turning her head, making sure the monitor was catching everything. To Protect and Serve Ch. 02 Shamira's eyes were wide open. It was so . . . grotesque almost. The way that she looked so spread with nothing but Clara's wrist visible. She felt her mistress clench a fist. 'Good love of everything holy, is there anything it isn't touching?' she wondered. "I'm going to make you cum again," Clara informed her. "I'm going to show you the power I have over your body. I'll make you a slave to the orgasm," she said, pumping her fist and rubbing a knuckle of the quarter-sized area of tender flesh that she knew would drive Shamira off the wall and over the edge. She was very, very right. Shamira didn't know you could pass out due to climaxing too hard and too often, but that's what happened. The first wave hit her like a ton of bricks, and she felt her opening attempting to ensnare Clara's wrist. What it had once tried to keep out, it now desperately wanted to hold in. But Clara wasn't done. Before the first set of body quakes was even over, Clara's gentle and not-so-gentle probing set off another round . . . and another . . . and another. Shamira's body was completely out of control, and she was thrashing against her cage until her energy finally completely evaporated. She had lost count after the fourth set of tremors, and her brain was too offline for her to do math. Then her eyes started to close and she just let go, letting Clara's presence inside of her be the last thing she experienced before the waking world parted company with her. ----------- --------------------- The next afternoon . . . ----------- --------------------- When Shamira awoke, she knew immediately that she wasn't in Kansas anymore. Okay, she wasn't in her own bed, but the feeling was pretty much the same. She raised her head, her vamp vision kicking in to help scan the darkened room. Yeah, it was apparently five in the afternoon, but vampires used heavy curtains and didn't have a lot of windows anyway. She was in Clara's room. She didn't think she'd ever actually been in this room before, but she was pretty sure that's where she was. How did she know? Well, Clara being curled up next to her was a pretty good clue. Shamira felt better than she ever remembered feeling in her life. She decided right then and there that before becoming a vampire, she was a virgin, or maybe getting brought over reset the scales or something. Either way, whatever it was that she'd been doing before didn't count as sex. What had happened to her last night . . . THAT was sex. She was trying to figure out what the rules for this were. She was technically claimed by Clara until the woman released her back into the "pool" of subs. Did she just lie here until her mistress woke up? Then she realized that she didn't have much of a choice. Her arms were wrapped around the smaller woman, and her wrists were handcuffed on the other side. "Stop thinking," muttered a very tired domme. "Wakin' me up." "Sorry . . . Mistress Clara," she said, then kissed the woman on the exposed nape of her neck. It had seemed like such a casual gesture, but it seemed to get the woman's attention. "Naughty pet," Clara said with a grin, turning with some difficult until she was facing Shamira. "Touching me without permission." Then she remembered something. "Shamira, I need you to be yourself for a few minutes. There was something I wanted to talk to you about, and it's better that there's no confusion." "What?" Shamira said worriedly. "Did I do something wrong?" Clara laughed. "Sweet dreams, no! Trust me, you were as perfect as you could be," she said, laying into the larger woman with another slow, soft, and milk-chocolate sweet kiss. She bit Shamira's bottom lip and tugged on it before releasing the lip-lock altogether. She really liked kissing Shamira. "No, I needed to talk to you about feeding. Have you had any blood at all since that first night you were here? The IV?" "No. I thought I could get everything I needed from regular food." "Not exactly. Yes, you can sustain your body on regular food, and all the excess gets morphed into energy. But your power . . . that part of you that makes you magical and makes you a vampire, THAT needs a fresh infusion of blood every now and then. Most of us don't go a couple of days without blood. You can drink it from a bag, but it's really not very satisfying in my opinion. You need to learn to feed off of another being." Shamira's stomach did a flip-flop. "I . . . I guess I knew I'd have to, but it terrifies me." Clara kissed her again, but this was a quick one. "Because you don't want to hurt anyone, and I admire that. But the best way to avoid hurting anyone is to learn to do it right. Then we'll help you find some regular donors. With your kind of power, you'll need to get fixes more frequently. Again, you can just drink from the blood packs, but I suggest a warm body at least once a week." "Do I . . . do I have to have sex with them?" Shamira asked. Could she even HAVE regular sex anymore? "You don't HAVE to, but you'll probably want to. First, they're giving you a great gift. Second, well, once you bite someone for the first time, you'll get it. They feed off of your emotions, so if you find the right person, they start feeling really good, and that make you feel really good in return. We try and screen our donors to make sure they aren't going to get clingy or possessive, and it's worked pretty well. Girl, you are completely going to make some human's day when you pick them. But first, you need to practice and since I happen to be here and you've already demonstrated that you know where my neck is --" She paused and tilted her head a bit. Shamira didn't know why she'd never noticed it before, but even Clara's neck was beautiful. Slender and young looking . . . "Okay," Clara said, interrupted Shamira's reverie and working one arm up so she could point to a spot on the neck, "right where you were kissing is a great spot. You can feed from the wrists or the inner thighs too, but this really is the most fun and the donors kind of expect it. I want you to place your mouth right there and slowly extend your fangs. You'll know when to start drinking, trust me. Don't worry about getting a little carried away, since I had a really big breakfast yesterday. A tasty fireman named Michael. Sucked him right down, in more ways than one." "You mean, you have . . . regular . . . sex with your donors?" "Pretty much. Sometimes I find one that likes to bottom for me, but I don't always need it to get my kicks." 'As you will hopefully soon find out,' she thought. "Go ahead, don't be shy. If you start to miss the mark somehow, I'll let you . . . know," she purred as Shamira's fangs sank in. She hit the right spot on the very first try. And boy oh boy, did it feel good. Apparently her companion had thoroughly enjoyed herself at Clara's hands, because she was still feeling pretty damn good inside. Instinctively, her hand parted Shamira's thighs and immediately went to work pleasuring the girl's sex. It wasn't like Shamira expected. It was fabulous to be sure, but she'd been expecting some huge rush or something. Instead, it was like drinking hot chocolate right after coming in from the cold. It was a pleasant, comforting warmth that built up from the inside with each sip. She felt Clara's hands moving and fingering her pussy, and it did feel much more erotic than it normally would. She couldn't move her hands, so she just moved her hips against Clara's generous touch. 'Damn she's incredible,' Clara was thinking as her fingers moved to bring Shamira an early afternoon happy time. Even though she knew Shamira had drank enough, she didn't want to end it . . . which is why she knew that she had to. So when Shamira climaxed, Clara pulled the woman's head gently away. "Good girl," she muttered. "Very good girl." She kissed Shamira's lips, tasting her own blood. "Now I'm going back to sleep for another hour. Try not to think so loud." She turned back around (slowly) and pressed her back against Shamira's muscular form. 'Great,' Shamira thought, feeling a tingling in her nethers and feeling somewhat euphoric. 'SHE wants to sleep --' ----------- ----------------- That evening . . . ----------- ----------------- Shamira knocked gently on the door to Shane's office. The door buzzed and opened slightly, so she pulled it the rest of the way open. She peaked her head inside. Shane was sitting behind his desk, and the judge's wife she'd seen the previous night was in a chair across from him. She was wearing a different dress suit than she had the last time, so she'd probably gone home in the interim. "I'm sorry Sir," Shamira said, looking down at the ground. "I didn't know you had company. I'll come back --" "Come in, Shamira," he interrupted. "Mrs. Grunholdt, this is Shamira, my latest acquisition. Dressed appropriately, I see," he murmured appreciatively. Monique had put several more outfits into Shamira's closet, including the tight stretchy black pants with a zipper that ran from the front to the back between her legs, black leather bustier that was laced up the middle, brown leather belt, and black opera gloves. She was feeling a tad underdressed. "Yes Sir. Sir, I wanted to talk to you about that . . . problem that we've been investigating," she said, glancing at the judge's wife. She wasn't sure how much Mrs. Grunholdt knew about -- "Oh, the morning star trade?" "Ah, yes sir. I had an idea about trying to find the --" "Just a moment." Shane was looking her over carefully. "Come here." She walked over to him tentatively. He reached down and pulled the zipper of her pants down until it was just on the other side. Then he spun her around and finished pulling the zipper all the way up to her belt in the back. "Why do you even bother wearing underwear?" He stood up and shoved her stomach first on the desk, then kicked her legs apart. "Extend your arms." Shamira did as asked, her eyes locked on the judge's wife. She couldn't believe that Shane was doing this, but she would obey. 'Why surprised?' she thought. 'She fucked him in front of everybody yesterday.' "Tabitha, hold her wrists and keep her steady." He watched as his envious blood donor grabbed his new recruit's arms and held tight. Shamira now had her torso stretched, her feet on the floor, and her legs spread wide. He unzipped his own slacks and withdrew his already rigid member. Without any fanfare, he pushed her g-string aside and plunged his member into Shamira's pussy and started to pump away. "Now, tell me your idea." "Unh . . . unh," Shamira grunted, trying to get her brain back on track. "Faeries . . . they live in (unh) tight knit communities, but vampires (unh) and weres don't. (Unh) If someone has (unh) set up shop to make morning star, then we should have some (unh) missing persons." She chewed her bottom lip as she and Tabitha kept looking at each other's eyes. The woman was watching Shane fuck her . . . take her like a cheap whore. It made Shamira wetter to think about it. Exhibitionism. Shane was indulging another fantasy of hers. He was also fingering her asshole. "If we could make contact with the faerie community (unh) then we might (unh) be able to find out which colony might (unh) be missing someone. If they (unh) have to keep the faeries alive so the blood (unh) is fresh for mixing and (unh) faeries are hard to keep trapped, then it could help narrow our (unh) field of . . . UNH!" She grunted louder when he brought his hand down hard on her ass and plunged in hard at the same time. " . . . search. Then search the immediate are to see if anyone actually (unh) knows of (UNH) missing vampires or . . . sweet Jesus." She had lost her train of thought as the spanks started coming harder and faster. "I just . . . I don't know how to get a hold of the faeries," she whispered. "Sir, can I cum?" "The proper phrasing is 'MAY I cum,' and no you may not." He slapped her ass again as he took her over and over again. "It is a good idea. Faeries are suspicious, belligerent, and can be devious. You're too inexperienced in the ways of our world to look for them on your own. Renata is familiar with the woodland creatures and is a good tracker. I know generally of one colony nearby, so she will help you find them and you will plead your case. Perhaps they will contact the other colonies." He pulled out of her. "Tabitha, release her arms. Shamira, on your knees." After she had complied, he forced his cock into her mouth and down her throat. "Suck it until I cum, but don't swallow. That's it," he said, as her lips sucked in and her tongue caressed the underside of his shaft. "You'll be busy for a lot of next week on another project, but I want your spare moments dedicated to this one. And, of course, to pleasing your superiors." With that, he shot a massive load into her mouth, coating her tongue with manly goodness. He slowly withdrew. "Tabitha, lie on my desk, back down." The judge's wife did as she was told. Then Shane grabbed Shamira's braid and pushed her face down towards Tabitha's. "Kiss her, and let her take the rewards of your hard work." Shamira kissed this strange woman, who was apparently quite aroused and a highly competent kisser. Maybe not in Clara's league, but pretty damn good. She let her master's seed fall from her mouth, and Tabitha accept it readily. "Thank you, Tabitha," Shane said. "I'll talk to you soon about that issue we were discussing. Now walk out of this house with your mouth open. Show everyone my seed, and swallow it once you reach your car. You may go." Tabitha left. Shamira felt jealousy. She had earned that -- 'What are you thinking?!' she wondered. "Go find Renata," Shane told her. "Wait, stand up." Once she was on her feet, he placed his hand in her crotch and started fingering her pussy while rubbing his palm on her clit. "Cum first." Shamira didn't need much more encouragement, and she quickly let her juices flow, dripping down her legs. And as before, Shane shoved his fingers into her mouth and had her lick them clean. "NOW go find Renata and tell her the plan. Don't zip your pants up until she tells you that it's time to go. Renata will be in charge of you for the remainder of the night." "Yes sir," Shamira replied, walking out the door. 'Where the hell would Renata be?' she did push her panties back into position at least, seeing as Shane hadn't told her not to. She felt warm inside and her legs were trembling a bit. It was all so new to her, but at least she was feeling better about her chances of adapting. She found the Brazilian bombshell in the study looking over some profiles. Her mouth opened, but she didn't know what to say. Renata was a switch, so how did she address her? "Mistress Renata?" she said, decided to play it cautiously. Renata looked up and grinned. "Don't know how to talk to a switch, do ya?" She laughed, and Shamira felt more at ease. The woman had a sexy laugh. "Unless we've claimed you or specifically said something ahead of time, you can talk to me or Lillian like normal. We'll let you know when it's time to get on your hands and knees." Renata was looking the new girl over with obvious interest, chewing on that luscious bottom lip as she eyed the gap in Shamira's pants. Shamira actually grinned. "Shane told me that they stay unzipped until you tell me otherwise. You're in charge." She told Renata the whole conversation she'd had with the master of the house. Renata grimaced. "Okay. I've got all this other shit to do, but why not." "Sorry," Shamira replied, looking downward. "I didn't mean to --" "Oh, it's not you. We just need more people around here. She held up the files. "I'm flying up to Chicago and New York next week to interview candidates, and maybe even bring some home. This'll be the first time a vampire house has more weres than vampires, at least until Shane makes up his mind and brings some more over or adopts." "Adopts?" "Brings in a vampire whose sire is dead or otherwise has no house. Someone not old enough to have their own land yet. Masters are only able to bring over so many new vamps a year, depending on the number of deaths over the last year and overall mortal population. Since Shane just got promoted, he's going to be able to bring over four . . . no, three new vamps. You're the fourth. And he can adopt as many as will come and that he trusts." "Crap, you mean he gave up a chance to bring over someone more suited to being a vamp than me?" She felt like crap now. "Is that why you don't like me? Because I screwed things up for Shane?" Renata looked annoyed. "Why do you think I don't like you?" "You didn't seem all that thrilled with me that night at the club. And since Clara says you're perpetually perky, I just figured it was something about me. Shane could've brought over someone who would've made your job easier instead of freaking out every time --" "Stop it!" Renata said. "The ONLY problem that I have with you is that you seem like you're looking for a reason to look down on yourself. Yeah, I was miffed that night at the club, but not at you. Believe it or not, you showed up during a calm spot. Keeping Shane safe has been a world of headache, particularly when he doesn't listen to me." "Yeah, I heard about some of that from Clara. Is that why you took the punishment? So you wouldn't have to worry about it for a while?" Shamira thought back to that delightful scene of Renata's perfect bubble butt sticking up in the air -- "Nah," Renata said, leaning back and rubbing her eyes, "I did that for Shane. He can get as down on himself as you because he holds himself responsible for all of us. Things could've gone really bad. Me taking the blame for it, letting him punish me . . . yeah, it was a thrill. I like to bottom every now and then, but he needed to stop blaming himself. Even if it was just for a little while." Shamira was actually surprised. She knew the girl had to be bright, but she had insight that Shamira never would have guessed at. "I was a little annoyed at him bringing you over, but not because of you. You saved lives that night you became one of them," Renata said, looking at a portrait of Shane on the wall, "so I figured you'd be worth a risk. I just wish he'd stop being so damn impetuous. It's hard to guard someone who never really has a plan. Thinks with his heart, so to speak. Guess that makes him something like you." Shamira walked around put her hands on Renata's shoulders, kneading them lightly. She wasn't a great masseuse, but she knew the human body pretty well and knew how to use her hands. "Please, don't ever stop doing that. Lillian's a great masseuse, but she's busy doing her spell stuff most of the time. Or doing Monique." Shamira chuckled. "How does that work? I'm still trying to understand relationship dynamics, but they're actually dating, right?" Renata nodded, leaning back against Shamira's muscular torso while her shoulders got worked. "It happens. Dating is hard around here. Weres try and make it work with a vamp, but the vamp will outlive them. Date your own kind, you've got a relatively small pool to choose from. Date humans, and most of the time you got to worry about their mortality and fragility, AND hoping they can deal with our world or that you can hide it from them. I tried datin' Reaper for a bit, but it didn't really work." "Why?" "You kinda need to get know Reaper before I can answer that. I will say that he's looking for more of a full-time sub in the long run, and I like to be on top sometimes." She grinned, holding up a folder for Shamira to look at. "Here's the perfect man for you," she said. Shamira took the folder. "Damn, he's hot!" she muttered, looking at the tall dark Calvin Klein underwear model staring back at her. "Oh, that's a pretty . . . Yech!" she said, throwing the folder down on the table and dancing up and down while waving her hands as if there were acid on them. "Werespider? You're trying to give me a heart attack, aren't you?!" To Protect and Serve Ch. 02 Renata was laughing, and it was a big, chest jiggling and pearly-white showing laugh. She even started to tear up a little bit. "Oh God, I needed that!" "Bitch!" "Pussy is more like it," Renata said with a cat-like grin. "Can I see it? Your jaguar form I mean!" Okay, this time Shamira was definitely blushing. "Well, you'll be able to see it all," the werejaguar purred. She stood up and and slowly peeled off her tight little shorts down and kicking them aside. 'No underwear,' Shamira thought, staring at the jaguar's kitty. Then Renata tossed her shirt aside. It was obvious that she loved showing off her wild side. Her bones and muscles and organs shifted under her skin, and a light coat of yellow-gold and black fur crept up. Soon, there was a two-hundred plus pound cat lying on the floor, its tongue lolling absently. "Clara was right," Shamira whispered, reaching her hand out and stroking the fur between Renata's ears, then giving her a scratch. "You are a beautiful cat!" She scratched the jag's cheeks, and found out that big cats can sometimes purr. She watched as the cat-that-was-Renata strutted around, pausing occasionally for a head scratch before flopping down somewhat unceremoniously on the floor and allowing herself to be "subjected" to a belly rub. "You're just always gorgeous ain't ya?" she asked. The cat looked up at her and eyed her over. Renata got to all four feet and quickly moved towards her comrade, pushing Shamira onto her back. "What's wrong?" Shamira asked, confused for a moment. Then the big cat backed up a little, thrust its head between her legs, which Shamira didn't even know she'd spread. Then that enormous tongue flicked out and stroked the front of the vampire's cum-soaked panties. "Oh God!" Shamira said, actually trying to back away for a second, then hear a low growl. Renata didn't want her to move. 'She's not really going to --' But the thought was cut off as that head dipped again and licked at Shamira's sex. 'This is so . . . so wrong,' she thought, even as her body was saying it was so right. That tongue was more powerful than any human's could be, to the point where it almost jammed the flimsy material of her g-string into her vaginal opening. And that tongue was laying the heavy lumber to Shamira's clit, even through the fabric. Lick after lick battered against that tender shore, and soon Shamira wasn't even capable of moving. Her body was alight with desire, though admittedly also with a bit of confusion. Part of her mind thought this was going too far, but the other part . . . 'It's still Renata. Her mind is still in --' "Mistress Renata," she said, knowing full well that the dominant part of the werejaguar had come out for the moment, "may I cum?" 'I'm actually going to do this,' she thought, her body overloading with pleasure. 'I'm going to get off getting head from a jaguar?!' Renata let out a grumble and continued her oral assault. Shamira's cum leaked out from around the panties as her body tightened and filled her with a naughty euphoria. The tongue grew softer and lighter as Shamira tried to recover her from an orgasm she never could have imagined having, much less enjoying that much. Then the cat started to shift and turned back into the beautiful Brazilian security agent. Renata grinned. "Now zip up your damn pants. We got faeries to find." ----------- -------------------- Several hours later . . . ----------- -------------------- "Shamira, get out of the car. It was just one web." Shamira was shaking her head. "I'll be fine in a minute." Renata leaned against the car, laughing in her hands until she cried. She hadn't believed it when she'd heard about the golf course incident, but Shamira was deathly afraid of spiders. She had been wandering through one of the few forested areas left near I-575 (due to the swampy nature of the area) waving a stick in front of her when a web brushed up against her face. She had screamed, waved her hands wildly in the air, then run back to the Ford Mustang. "How can you be an outdoors person and be afraid of spiders?" "I'm very careful when and where I walk. Damn it, I thought that this super vamp vision was supposed to help see in the dark!" "It makes it so you can see as well at night as you do during the day. Webs are always hard to see. Now get out of the car," Renata said, shaking her head. "Don't make me get dominant on you." Strangely, that idea was more appealing to Shamira than going back into the woods, but they had work to do. She slowly opened the door. "Why do the faeries have to live in the damn swamp anyway?" "Because they don't build condominiums that tiny." Renata switched on a flashlight. Neither of them really needed it to navigate, but it might reflect off of webs and prevent any further episodes. "Big baby." "Am not." "Are too! I am so not getting into this with you." She slapped the girl's firm ass. "Now get moving." Once again, they started into the wooded area, Shamira holding her stick. "How do we know how to find them anyway?" "Faeries smell like vanilla. Not sure why. But they also have spells that can mask their scent pretty well, so it may take a while." "Okay. And when we find them, we sit outside their colony and wait for them to come to us, right?" Renata nodded approvingly. The girl had been doing homework. "You go into their colony and start tramping around, things could get nasty. Faeries are small, but the ones I've met pack a hell of a punch. Probably some of the nastiest spell slingers on the planet." "And they're paranoid and don't like intruders. Why the hell are we here again?" "Hey, your idea. And it's a good one." Renata sniffed the air. "It'll be easier if I go jag." "Pretty kitty time?" Shamira was smiling. Renata grinned. "They'll be able to smell that I'm a were anyway, so why not?" She grinned harder "Help me undress?" She probably didn't need any damn help and there were rules against ordering the subs around when in the field unless the situation was secure, but Shamira didn't care. She wanted to see Renata naked again, and wanted to see the jaguar. She pulled those far-too-tight pants down to her cohort's ankles, taking them and the hiking sandals and putting them neatly in a pile. By the time she got turned around, she was being eyeballed by an enormous feline. "So I just follow you then?" The two of them set off deeper into the woods. Apparently, faeries helped to magically "encourage" people to develop elsewhere, so this part of the Atlanta region would probably always be wild. Spiderwebs aside, it was a good place. It wasn't long before Renata pulled up and plopped down on her haunches. She looked back at Shamira, then forward at a grove of trees that was drenched in shadow. Even with her night sight, the vampire couldn't see in. She felt like she should just keep walking, then instantly realized a familiar sensation. It was similar to what she had felt outside of Cho's Tavern. "Glamour," she murmured. She sat down next to the jaguar and waited, giving the big cat a good petting. "Do we need to call them or --" She stopped. "I'm talking to an enormous putty tat." Renata purred. Then she turned back into a human. "You know, if we weren't working," she said with a wicked smile, "I would have so many suggestions on how we could pass the time." Shamira grinned back. "Damn rules. So, what's your style? When you domme?" "Oh no, you have to find out the same way as all new subs. The hard way. I'll get my chance at you after all the full doms do. Switches come after . . . part of the downside of getting to sit on the fence. Then Lillian will get her shot. I just had to get me a little taste . . . a little somethin' somethin', if you know what I'm saying." "Bad kitty." "I hear that a lot." "If you two are quite through," came a squeaky voice, "we would appreciate you going the hell away." Both women looked over and saw a firefly. 'No,' Shamira thought, 'too big for a firefly.' "Hello," she started, "my name is --" "I have a name for you. Miss Leaving Soon." Shamira squinted her eyes and looked at the floating figures. "Are they always this rude?" Renata shrugged. "This one is actually being polite." "Yes, on behalf of His Great and Royal Majesty the Most Illustrious Leader Frolthac of the Colony of Nature's Glory, I command you to leave." The two women sat there staring at the floating ball of light. "He did all that in one breath," Shamira muttered. "He's tiny," Renata replied. "Where did he get all the air from?" "I ORDER you to vacate at once!" The glowing figure flitted closer, and it turned out to be a male. Actually, it was quite a handsome male, with long white hair and almost effeminate features. "Pretty!" Shamira said. "Pretty?! PRETTY?!" Then the faerie cocked his head. "Well, I supposed 'pretty' isn't so bad. Though roguishly handsome or even dapper would be better." "No one uses 'dapper' anymore," Shamira explained. "I do, and it's a perfectly good word. Now scram!" Shamira chuckled. "You should be waving a rake or something when you say that." "Ooh ooh," Renata started excitedly, "Say 'You kids better get off my lawn!' Yeah, say that!" The little man looked over Renata's naked body. "You are quite fetching, but I'm afraid that you're still going to have to leave." Renata shook her head. "Sorry, but we've to talk to the most high and exalted . . . whatever his name was." "Sir," Shamira said, trying to regain some decorum, "we really wouldn't be bothering you if it weren't important. Might we speak with . . . uhm . . . your lord and master?" The Brazilian woman was sniggering. "If he says, 'I told you, we're an anarco-sydicalist commune,' I am SO going to die laughing." "Be quiet! I order you to be quiet!" the faerie shouted. Renata tried to make good on her promise to die laughing. The little man started to glow brighter, and Shamira felt that he was going to do something rather rash. "Sir, please. We're here on behalf of Shane Stapleton, vampire master of Atlanta." "That explains YOU fang face, but what's the flea-bag doing here?" the faerie grumbled. "She works for Master Stapleton as well. And she doesn't have fleas. Do you have a name? Something I could call you besides 'sir' or 'pretty'?" "Is his name Dennis?" Renata asked, rolling over on the ground and laughing so hard she couldn't breathe. "There is something wrong with her," the faerie said. "I'm beginning to agree with you." "My name is Thorias, and I am the Captain Illustrious of His Great and Royal Majesty the Most Illustrious Leader Frolthac of the Colony of Nature's Glory's Guard." 'Again without breathing,' she thought. "Thorias, my name is Shamira, and we need to talk to his Majesty." "What's in it for me?" the faerie said, hovering in front of her face and staring right down at her cleavage. "You are a fit lass," he muttered. 'Men are apparently pigs everywhere,' she thought, though couldn't blame him. Her vest pretty much put her tits on display for the world to see. "Gratitude? Knowledge that you might have helped stopped a heinous practice and . . . are you listening to me at all?" Thorias was just staring at her tits. "By the Mother, those are huge!" he said. "Sorry, you were saying something?" "Yes. We wanted to ask you to see if his Majesty would be willing to help us. We're trying to hunt down some morning star dealers and --" Shamira stopped when Thorias vanished. "Damn it, we're just trying to help!" "I don't think they're listening." "So that's it?" "Now we wait." Renata smiled. "I guess we'll just have to find ways of passing the time." Shamira shook her head. "You're insatiable, you know that?" Renata grinned. "Don't play coy with me. I saw that video Clara made of you in her clutches." "You saw that?!" "Sweetie, it's on the server. Everyone has seen it." "Oh God!" "I seem to remember you saying that a lot . . . just before you passed out from getting fisted." Shamira buried her head in her hands. "I think I'm going to crawl into a hole and die now." "Why?" Renata snuggled her naked form up against the muscular young vamp. "You do realize that none of us have a problem with you being a freak, don't you? We all are. That's why we work well together." Shamira was looking around. "Wish I knew where they went. How long do we wait?" For some reason, she wanted to change the subject. "I got nowhere to be until Monday morning when my flight leaves." The werejaguar took a deep sniff. "They're not close. Anyway, stop changing the subject. You know that Shane put that fantasy list of yours in the same server folder as the video, right?" Shamira's eyes shot open. She knew he'd shared some info, but this . . . this was putting her perversions out there for the world. "See, there you go again!" "What?" "You look all disturbed and shit. You didn't seem this upset when you came until you passed out, or when you were getting head from a friggin' jaguar." Shamira blanched. "I just . . . I was just caught up in the moment?" The last came out as a questioning whimper. "You put yourself in a position where you CAN be caught up in the moment, submit to someone, then second-guess yourself. You're sweet and you're hot, but that attitude is chicken-shit." "Hey!" "I mean it. Yeah, you finally admitted what you want, and that takes balls. But you haven't gotten the important part through that skull of yours." "Which is?" "That it's not just about knowing what you want. It's accepting that the wanting is okay. You have to let yourself realize that wanting to get chained up and fucked is okay, or that having Clara do her thing or me were'ing out and licking you silly is okay. You can't go into everything expecting to feel bad or weird about it afterward. What you want doesn't hurt anyone. Well, it hurts you a little, but in a yummy-good way." Shamira leaned into the other woman, reveling in her nakedness. "I remember when knowing that I was attracted to women too was too much to handle for me, but now all this? How do you know when it's just too much?" Renata kissed her on the cheek. "You'll just have to trust yourself to know when that happens. For me, it's when it stops being fun, or someone else gets hurt." She sighed. "For what it's worth, I think you're doing really well. With all of it. But I promise that the sooner you accept that being a sex fiend is cool, the better off you'll be." Shamira nodded. "I am trying. I really am." "I know." "How touching," came a new voice, as suddenly the two women were surrounded by hundreds of glowing lights. One of them was putting off considerably more light than the others, and it drew closer. "Now explain why I shouldn't kill you where you sit." Both girls blinked, looked at each other, shrugged, then looked back. "Because you have no good reason to?" Renata said. "Because we haven't done anything wrong, and faeries don't use lethal force unless threatened." She looked at the tiny man floating before her. He was a little more squared off than Thorias had been . . . ruggedly handsome, in a diminutive kind of way. "Captain Illustrious Thorias says that you are dealing in morning star, a crime punishable by death in our world." "Sir," Thorias muttered, flitting up on dragonfly wings, "what I said was --" "We're not dealing IN morning star," Shamira protested, "we're dealing WITH it! As in trying to track the guys down who are doing the killing and distributing? And the buying?" "That's what I said!" Thorias reiterated. "No, you flew into the royal bedchamber while I was giving the Queen a royal thrill and starting screaming about giants and morning star." "If you call that a royal thrill, I would hate to see what you give to the peasant women you're 'thrilling.' I could barely stay awake." This new voice was distinctly feminine. "No wonder I have a dozen other lovers." "Ouch!" Renata said, grinning at this woman's audacity. She didn't even need to see the little crown on the woman's head to tell that she was the queen. The little woman flew up to Renata, scoping out the naked were with obvious interest. "Very, very nice," the Queen cooed. "Were? What kind?" "Jaguar," Renata replied, leaning back on her elbows and letting her Majesty enjoy the show. "I love kitties," the Queen said with a grin. "Harlots!" the king shouted. But Shamira looked closely, and he was grinning. Then he noticed that he was being stared and he put his business face back on. "So why are you here then?" Shamira explained her whole theory about how she wanted to isolate the dealers' location, emphasizing the importance of the faeries in instigating the plan. For tiny creatures, they had enormous egos and catering to that would help their cause. "So if you have a way to contact the other colonies in Georgia --" "We don't," the King said. "Yes we do," the Queen replied, sounding somewhat miffed. "Do not." "Do too!" "It's like they're five," Shamira whispered. "Five inches tall, maybe," snickered Renata. She needed to go along with Shamira more often. Her missions were amusing. "I heard that!" the Kind and Queen said in tandem. "Please, your Majesties, if you would explain why you are unable to help us --" Shamira started. "There is nothing that the Colony of Nature's Glory cannot do!" the King yipped. "But you said --" "Never mind what he said," the Queen interrupted. "Communicating with other colonies in such a broad manner is difficult. It requires a great deal of energy, and there is no guarantee that we will even be able to reach them all." "What kind of energy?" Shamira asked. The Queen shrugged her tiny shoulders. "Back in the Savage Days, we used death energy, but that isn't allowed anymore." "When were the Savage Days?" "The 1980's. Anyway, death energy requires a living sacrifice. Blood energy might work, but it would have to be some good blood." The queen eyed both women, particularly Shamira. "I've got a good vibe from you." "How much blood?" "A lot, and it's also the method of extraction." Shamira shuddered. "What about sexual energy?" she said, her voice heavier than before. Renata rolled her eyes and thought, 'Here we go again.' This time it was the King who spoke. "It is a lengthy and complicated ritual. It takes more sexual energy than it does blood energy, and the kind of spell that we're talking about covering that much area . . . I don't know how many peoples' energy would be required. We'd be doing the casting, so you --" "Would be providing the energy," Shamira finished. "Non-lethal?" "Yes, but it is usually too much for normals," the Queen explained, "so if you really want our help, you might want to think about --" "Sexual energy," Shamira said quickly. "How long do you need to prepare the spell?" Renata growled. "Shamira, let's talk to Shane first." She looked back to the Queen, who was still hovering around the were's breasts. "Your majesty, we would like your help. Could you prepare for either spell if we were to return in . . . oh say, a week?" "Quite easily." Shamira was getting angry. This had been her idea, and now Renata was taking over? It didn't take a were to sense the tension that had suddenly filled the air, but Renata was going to do her job. "We will come back then at high midnight. Is there anything that we need to provide?" "Besides a willing body? I mean participant?" the King asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Nope. Though you might want to bring someone to transport you home. And maybe some food and drink to replenish your strength. And something to ease the pain, and extra blood for the vampire. Just in case." "Thank you," Renata continued, "you do a great honor to our people and yours." To Protect and Serve Ch. 02 "Of course we do," the King said, remembering his bluster. "Faeries always have to bail you behemoth types out of trouble. It's just this time, we're helping our own kind too." "Name one," the Queen asked primly. "One what?" "One time the faeries helped 'bail you behemoth types' out of trouble. No wonder we never have visitors. You're a pompous ass!" "Believe it or not," Thorias whispered between the two women, "they actually really like each other." Shamira didn't care. Her toes and pride had been effectively squashed and whatever authority she was trying to develop had been summarily undermined. "Come back next week," Thorias said. Then, under his breath he muttered, "They'll probably still be here arguing." Shamira stood up and headed back into the woods. Renata rolled her eyes, then hurried to catch up. Every time the two of them found a happy medium, the new vamp lost her cool about something. 'I've got the experience, and she was rushing into another decision. She would pawn it off on "duty," do whatever it was that they wanted, then get freaked out about it later.' Renata were'd out and went sniffing for her clothes. Finding them, but not Shamira, she got dressed and wished that maybe she hadn't been so abrupt in taking over the assignment. 'I just hope she didn't shadow jump all the way home. Maybe I can talk her down.' Shamira was waiting at the car, and one look was all it took to convince Renata that she was in for a long trip home. Sure enough, the camaraderie the two had formed had evaporated, leaving Shamira as cold as the other side of the pillow. The vampire didn't say a word or allow herself to be coaxed in a laugh. And Renata was trying as hard as she knew how to be funny. "Listen," she said at last, "I don't know what you're so pissed about. All I was doing was trying to keep you from making another mistake." 'Crap,' she thought, 'that did not come out right.' And she knew she'd made it worse from the tightening of Shamira's eyes and jaw. Hell, she could hear that powerful woman grinding her teeth. The car pulled through the security gate and finally into the garage. The garage door closed and for the moment they were engulfed in darkness. "Okay, let's go talk to Shane about what happened and maybe he'll have some good ideas for us. Okay? Shamira?" She hit the overhead light in the car, only to find that she was alone in the vehicle. "Crap." She got out and headed toward Shane's study. That's probably where he'd be. Hopefully he'd have advice, about both the faeries and Shamira. ------------ ------------------- To be continued . . . To Protect and Serve Ch. 03 Proofread by FernieLyn This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these characters and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author. This story is based in an alternative universe, where history took a different course than the one we are used to. In this world, the creatures which we now believe to be legends have walked alongside man for the duration of our existence. Vampires, werewolves, wizards, witches, sorcerers, and a host of other beings share our world. The following story contains, in one chapter or another, lesbian, homosexual, heterosexual, anal, group, sci-fi/fantasy, non-human, and BDSM sexual activity. There may be some erotic horror in there somewhere as well, but I haven't made up my mind. ---------------------- ------------------------ Shamira hadn't slept for crap. She'd managed to avoid all the doms and switches the night before, as she was in no mood to play any reindeer games. She had burned out a couple of magazines at the firing range, done whip practice for an hour, then went out and just walked the golf course a couple of times. 'What's the point? I thought this would be different, but no. I come up with an idea, someone else takes credit for it. Good enough to do grunt work, but nothing delicate. Oh no, the girl with the muscles can't to the diplomatic part.' Deep in her heart, she knew that she was overreacting a bit, but being mad was a powerful thing, kind of like an avalanche. Once it started, it just had to keep going until it ran out of things to eat or until it ran into a wall bigger than it could handle. 'Screw 'em,' she thought. Once the sun rose, it was Sunday, her safe day. She was going to go hide out in the lounge, say to hell with research and all the rest, and she was just going to watch football until her eyes bled. So she had finally gone to bed, getting a grand total of four hours of sleep. That had given her time to throw on some comfortable sweats, sneak out, grab a ton of snacks and soda (the benefits on being unable to gain weight), and stake out a place in the lounge. The lounge had been set aside as a domination free zone. Since she was the only sub she knew with Sunday off, she figured she'd have it to herself. So she poured some Pepsi on ice, heated up about twenty pizza rolls, broke out the chips and salsa, and turned to the giant HD flat-screen to enjoy the ESPN pre-game show. She had her laptop with her, but she was just going to use it to check scores on the games she wasn't watching. She was NOT going to do research, damn it. Her personal sanctuary remained sovereign for about twenty minutes. Clara strutted in wearing a thong, an abdomen-exposing half-shirt, and a pair of slippers. "Wa'as up?" Clara said, flopping her butt down on the sofa next to a stunned looking Shamira. The Native American beauty stole one of her friend's pizza rolls. "How can you eat this stuff?" she said, then stole another one. "Horrible." "You could always NOT eat them," Shamira said, moving the platter further away on the coffee table, but not before Clara stole two more. "Can't help myself. Finger food is addictive." She grabbed a chip, dipped it in salsa and downed it. "Now that's the good stuff." "Shouldn't you be asleep?" Shamira grumbled. "Or . . . somewhere else?" "What's got your panties in a bunch?" Clara said. "I always watch football on Sundays, and I figured it'd be fun to watch with you." That sounded far too damn . . . reasonable, so Shamira just sat back, scooted a little further away on the sofa, and raised a class of soda to her lips and kept it there. You didn't have to talk when you were drinking, or even just pretending to drink. Clara sighed. Renata had actually dropped by in the waning hours before sunrise specifically to ask Clara to intervene with Shamira on her behalf, after telling her the entire story. Well, Renata's side of the story of course. Both she and Shane had agreed that Shamira was more likely to listen to Clara than anyone else. Wounded pride was something that even Shamira's shadow healing couldn't touch. "Ahem." Shamira ignored her. Well, actually she turned up the sound on the television and popped another pizza roll, then went back to her drink. "AHEM! I asked you a question. What's got you so pissy?" She actually had to take the remote away before Shamira turned up the volume again. "Hey, it's my safe day," Shamira snapped. "So if I want to sit here and watch damn football by myself, then I can. Right?" "Actually, it being your safe day means that you cannot participate in any BDSM activities, even if Shane told you to. But you're still part of this house in other ways, and we're friends. As a friend, I feel obligated to find out what's got you so upset." "Like you don't know," Shamira said, looking sullen and grabbing a handful of tortilla chips. "You are not going to make this easy for me are you? Yeah, Renata talked to me about what happened, and I'm usually pretty damn confident in her judgment. But she isn't perfect. She's also really not used to someone not liking her, and --" "Then maybe she should actually let me do my damn job," Shamira snipped, then settled back. She didn't want to talk about it, not even with Clara. Gorgeous, sexy, mostly-naked Clara. She shook her head. "How did she not let you do your . . . Oh for crying out loud," Clara muttered, reaching out and taking the glass of soda away from her friend before she pretended to drink it again. "Now, how did she prevent you from doing your job?" Shamira realized she was never going to get to watch her sports in peace until Clara was satisfied. So she blurted out the whole thing, including how her tentative authority had been basically shit upon when Renata had overridden her choice of ceremonies. "I mean, blood energy versus sexual energy. How difficult of a decision is that really? Bleeding a vampire is bad, right?" "Yes, very bad. But did you think that maybe we could send a couple of vamps to each provide a little? Did you think about what this 'sexual energy' ceremony might actually require? Or were you just jumping on a chance to do something else wild and say it was just for duty?" "Great," Shamira said. "Nice to know you're solidly on her side." "There's only one side around here," Clara said, her exasperation beginning to show. "You're mad because Renata pointed something out that maybe you didn't want to hear, even if you knew she was right. So now you're making this into more than it needs to be." "Shane said that this wasn't going to happen. What happened to having confidence in my abilities? My first job and she pulls the rug out from under me. And believe it or not, I am quite capable of being upset about things without it having to be about my sexual hang-ups." Clara was actually suffering a phantom headache. She hadn't had an actual headache in 62 years, but she was able to remember them. "Shane still has confidence in your abilities. Renata still has confidence in your abilities, but you don't have the experience in dealing with our world that she does. That old saying that things that sound too good to be true usually are? That goes double for us. The fact that Shane let you run with this with only minimal backup means a lot, but you don't know Shane well enough to have guessed that. When someone is learning to fly a plane, they don't give them the keys to the 747 right out of flight school. I hope. Anyway, this is just mentoring. And it's Renata's job to keep you safe, just like it's her job to keep Shane safe. Shane ignored her, and look what happened? You died! If you were getting ready to walk into something that might kill you and she knew about it, would you really be that pissed about it if she stopped you?" "But I researched faeries! They don't respond with force, lethal or otherwise, unless provoked. I did what I was supposed to, but --" "Research is great and it was smart for you to do. But research is only part of it, and experience is the other. Renata's been a werejaguar for 12 years. She was attacked and changed when she was sixteen. She learned what she needed to in a hurry just to survive, because female werecats tend to be taken as mates by dominant males in areas like that, and being willing or not doesn't make much difference." Shamira leaned away from the other woman and proceed to sulk. She knew she was being childish. She knew that Clara was right and that Renata was just trying to help. But knowing the truth and admitting it were two different things. Something else that Renata had been right about. Clara saw that her friend was distancing herself again, and just decided to let it be. Shamira was a smart woman; she'd come around. The first quarter of the football game was spent in awkward silence, with snacks being mostly uneaten (except for Clara snagging most of the pizza rolls) and beverages not drunk. Shamira couldn't have told you what happened in the first quarter of play to save her life. During the commercial break, she got up to microwave more pizza rolls that she wasn't eating, only to stare at infernal contraption for a full minute after it made the dinging noise. 'Just apologize,' she told herself. 'You're being a baby. Wait, why apologize to Clara? You should be apologizing to Renata.' She opened the microwave, grabbed the plate and turned around, only to find that Clara was standing two feet behind her, staring at her with quirks in the corners of her mouth. "Listen --" Shamira started to say, but was cut off when Clara kissed her. It was one of those toe tingling kisses that made her put the plate down, grab Clara's mostly bare buttocks and pull her closer. Clara didn't seem to mind. "What was that for?" she asked at last. "For seeing it my way. Your whole body is really expressive, you know that? Expressive and hot." Clara ran her hands down her friend's back and grab her ass. "Hey!" the muscular woman said, "it's my day off. Okay, maybe I did grab yours first --" "Your day off means that you don't sub. Doesn't mean you can't have fun." Shamira smiled, and just that act lifted an invisible weight from her shoulders. She grabbed a pizza roll and placed it in Clara's mouth. "These really are horrible," the girl said, munching happily. "You keep saying that." Shamira realized that every time Clara had initiated every kiss. The newbie vampire wasn't sure why, but Clara's kisses just made her feel better. Once the Native American was finished with her treat, it was Shamira's turn to start it. And Clara responded happily, her arms wrapped around Shamira's waist as her tongue shared the same space as her friend's. "I really do want to watch the games," she finished with a chuckle. "And I really do want to watch them with you," Clara said. "I like being around you. And I plan on making out on the sofa while we're watching and stuffing ourselves silly. Shamira almost wanted to blush. "I think that sounds like the best plan for a Sunday that I've ever heard." Clara popped another pizza roll. "Told you that listening to me was a good thing." The rest of the first game was a lot more pleasant to watch, with Clara spending most of it resting her head on Shamira's lap getting fed snack food. Periodically, other people would walk in and chat, and Henry actually stuck around to watch the second game (after convincing the girls to turn it to the Cowboys). Even with Henry present, the "making out on the couch" went forward as scheduled. They spent the fourth quarter looking out of the corner of their eyes, locked at the lips. Shamira was enjoying caressing Clara's bare back and mostly bare backside, whereas Clara was caressing her friend's defined arms and abs. "Would you two get a room?!" Henry said at last. "We had one, then you showed up," Clara said, then kissed Shamira on the neck. "It's her day off," he muttered. "Can't you two calm your hormones for the next game? Normally I'd be all over watching the two of you play footsies --" "I don't think we've used our feet . . . yet," Clara purred. Shamira's brain wasn't working well enough to participate in banter. She just wanted Clara's hands to move a little further up to her chest and -- "Okay, I like watching the Cowboys play. I want to watch it here," Henry said. "And if you don't tone it down, I'll make sure that you so aren't in the mood --" "Henry!" "-- that you won't even be able to think about sex --" "Don't you dare!" "Washington Redskins." Just like that, Clara's face twisted into an unflattering scowl. "You jackass!" "I just think that you're too damn sensitive --" Henry had riled a sleeping dragon. Clara was all business, feet on the floor espousing the evils of racial stereotyping in the sports and entertainment industries and how Native Americans were the last targets of openly derogatory cultural slams, as was made perfectly obvious by the insulting "mascot" of the Washington D.C. football franchise. Henry responded with some kind of platitudes about them being overly politically correct, mentioned something about the complacency of certain portions of the Native American population in selling their images for profit and maintaining their own stereotypes, and that Clara should "get the hell over" herself. Shamira was sitting on the far end of the couch now, amused at an argument that these two had obviously had before while simultaneously being highly annoyed that she wasn't having the fun she had enjoyed earlier. She might still be having issues about some things, but she'd been damn sure that she liked kissing Clara . . . and making out with Clara. Even as the tan-skinned hottie was yelling at the cowboy vampire about political repression, Shamira kept staring at those long gorgeous legs and the flat tummy exposed just below that half shirt. She didn't feel weird or guilty about being with Clara, which surprised her a bit. She was a girl after all, and Shamira was under nobody's thumb at the moment. "See," Henry was saying, "this is why you weren't allowed to watch football for an entire year! You've got no sense of humor." "I'll show you my sense of humor! I'll be laughing like hell when I shove my foot up your --" "Uhm, what do you mean?" Shamira asked. She looked at Clara, who looked . . . pouting? "What happened?" "Miss high-principles here followed the Redskins all over the country in 1961, using her shaman magic to cause them to lose most of their games and have their worse season in their entire history. That kind of interference was hard to keep off of the Tribunal's radar, even with Shane doing spin control. He got so mad at her that he banned her from watching football for a year, and now she still can't go to any live game where Washington is playing. Hell, she can't knowingly go within a hundred yards of the team or cast any magic at them." Shamira looked again at her friend, who still looked like an eighteen-year old girl. "An entire football team has a mystical restraining order against you?" "If they had simply conceded to my demands, that never would have happened," Clara sulked. Henry rolled his eyes. "Yes, she actually issued demands. Know those shows and movies where the psycho sends the police messages made from cut-up magazines? She did that. 'Change your team's name or face the consequences, imperialist scum.'" "They should've taken me seriously," Clara said, grinning a little. "I actually made the turf of the field rebel against them. Lost footing, every ball bounce when their opponents' way, radical shifts in wind direction while the ball was in the air --" Henry turned up the television. "That kind of exposure could've been bad mojo. You're just lucky that Shane had so much stroke with the Tribunal, even back then." Shamira poured herself another soda, and one for Clara. She grabbed a beer out of the mini-fridge and handed it to Henry. "Okay, if we promise to behave ourselves . . . for the most part . . . during this next game, assuming it doesn't turn into a blowout, will you kindly shut up after that?" "Hey, I was --" "Don't tell me shit," Shamira said, "I'm on her side. Or we could talk about what a bunch of fuck-sticks that the Cowboys are." Henry shot her an evil glare. There were two kinds of fans in football: those that loved the Cowboys with a flaming passion and those that hated them just as fervently. She'd guessed correctly about Henry. Shamira was a Packers fan anyway. "Okay. One game of peace." Clara was grumbling, but stood up to heat up more pizza rolls. "Don't know why you can't go watch (grumble) fucking Cowboys (grumble) another room." She grinned a bit though when Shamira ran her hand up one leg and softly squeezed ass flesh. 'She's just so damn . . . incredible,' Shamira thought. The next game came on, and Clara settled down against Shamira's hard body on the couch, nestled in the crook of her arm and acting like any other young woman . . . except that she was mostly naked and was actually eighty years old. Both women were vocal in their opposition to the Cowboys, which was making the hair on the back of Henry's neck stand up on end. And there was some fondling and groping to be had, regardless of Henry's half-hearted glares. The Cowboys wound up winning, so Henry got the last word on that battle line. "Well, I'll leave you two ladies to whatever you're going to do," he said, raising his eyebrows. "I'd stay and join you, but --" "But you weren't invited," Clara said sweetly. Actually, she normally wouldn't mind a three-way with the cowboy. Hell, they'd tag-teamed that young male sub at Prometheus, but she wanted Shamira to herself for the night. She'd only been able to go so far in expanding her friend's girl-on-girl education, and wanted to give her more of a taste . . . something in a more normal atmosphere, or as normal as can be for a brand new vampire. Then, Shane's voice blurted over the intercom. "Reaper, Banshee, Henry, Bjorne, Lillian, and Shamira . . . Report immediately to the armory. We've got a hell cluster forming in Canton. Clara, start looking for whatever dumbass sorcerer started this damn thing." 'Crap!' Clara thought. 'Not now!' "What's a hell cluster?" Shamira said, getting to her feet but unwilling to let go of Clara's warm body before she absolutely had to. "Could be a bunch of things," Henry said, grabbing Shamira by the arm and dragging her toward the hallway. 'Damn, she's strong!' he thought, as making her move was more difficult than he thought it should. Clara followed them. "Usually someone or something causes a dimensional rift too near to a node --" She stopped when she saw that Shamira was looking both confused and alarmed. "I'll give you Magic 101 another time. Abbreviated version is that there are multiple alternate dimensions. Some magic taps into the energy fields that surround each dimension. If the magic isn't well controlled and happens near a node, which is a place where multiple dimensional fields criss-cross, then it can cause a small and temporary tear. But before it closes, things can slip through, usually in random numbers. It could wind up that we face nothing more than a couple of confused six-legged monkeys . . . yes, it's happened. But it could be a lot worse." "How did we know about it?" "There's a global weather coven of witches within the Tribunal. They monitor for crap like this. And as one of Shane's enforcers, you have to keep it from getting out of hand." They got to the armory about the same time as Bjorne, who had red welts all over his body. Apparently someone had been enjoying his services. Banshee and Reaper were already geared up in some fancy looking outfits. To Protect and Serve Ch. 03 "High tech armor," Reaper explained, handing Shamira a suit. "Monique gave the manufacturer your measurements. Tough-ass fibers, fluid polymers, ceramic and metal plating." Shamira stripped down to her skivvies and threw on her new gear. "Nice," she said. It's a little . . . (grunt) . . . binding." "No, you just have enormous knockers," Clara said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "For luck." Then she got her cute ass out of there to go to her casting circle. "She never does that to give ME luck," Bjorne muttered. This time, Shamira was glad she couldn't blush. Clara was just her incredibly hot friend and mentor and that was it. Right? "What about weapons?" "Take your personals," Henry said, donning his own armor. "Whips, take one of the fancy Desert Eagles, and --" "How about actual fire?" she asked. "Fire works on a lot of stuff according to legend." Bjorne hefted a flamethrower, grinning from ear to ear. "Got it covered." "What's that?" she asked, looking at something with a set of six large tubes circling the barrel. "Net gun," Banshee said. She pursed her eyes. "Yeah, take that." Shamira felt completely bitching and awesome in her new armor. Then she donned her helmet and was ready to party. "I'm so glad I don't have to pee anymore because this is EXACTLY the moment the need would strike me." Even Banshee laughed at that one, and they loaded into the black hummer that Shamira had nearly wrecked. "Nothing personal," Shamira said, turning and looking at Lillian, "but I didn't think you were a frontline fighter." "Oh, I'm not," she said warmly through her face plate. "I'm a total chicken-shit when I'm not on the property or don't have Monique around. I probably won't even get out of the car until the area is secured, unless it requires my special mojo." "Shamira, this is your first cluster fuck, so I want you to stand back and observe. If there's a lot of stuff that comes through, keep us from getting flanked, surrounded, or otherwise hosed. Be prepared to do whatever I say whenever I say," Henry said. Shamira smiled. "It's my day off." "That's okay. Soon enough, little girl." "Hey everyone," came Clara's voice. "The caster is still in the area. I just did a sweep of the area, and whoever it is has a circle up and I think they're still inside. Feels like voodoo to me." "Voodoo?" Banshee muttered. "Five bucks says it's a love-spell gone wrong." Reaper shook his head. "Vengeance. I'll say vengeance." "Probably someone actually trying a summoning," was Henry's guess. "Long dead relative." "I'm going with Banshee," Lillian said. "What are you guys talking about?" Shamira asked. "This part of Georgia doesn't have any real voodoo practitioners. You're lucky to find any outside of Louisiana. So most people around here who try to perform voodoo rituals don't really understand it and are getting their spell and charms out of cheap-ass 'spell books' they bought at the mall. They shouldn't work, but sometimes you get someone who has some actual mojo who finds something that's kind of close, so something happens when they try to cast. Generally it's not what they wanted, but something definitely happens." Lillian sounded annoyed. "Amateurs." "So these are the reasons people usually try voodoo?" "Yep. Love, hate, summoning spirits . . . the trifecta. What's funny is that voodoo is really about understanding and manipulating natural forces, so those things aren't far off. People just approach it with entirely the wrong mindset." "So this person wasn't casting real magic? How bad can it be?" ------------ ----------------- Three hours later . . . ------------ ----------------- "Never . . . EVER . . . ask 'How bad can it be?' EVER!" Henry said as the six "heroes" returned from their less than illustrious outing. Banshee and Lillian had been right. Some sixteen year old girl had attempted an "off voodoo" ritual to make a boy at school like her and had accidentally brought a next of EFIs into the Earth realm. EFI, as Banshee explained, stood for Evil Fucking Insect. They looked like ants, except for being six inches long, glowing yellow eyes, pincers that could bit a normal man's fingers off, and an extremely tough hide. There had been thousands of them wandering around, trying to get into the girl's magic circle, which she'd been smart enough to stay inside. Shamira learned something new every day. Apparently when you summon something, it stays in the circle or out, but as soon as the caster crosses the line, bad things happened. Lillian had calmed the girl down, cast a temporary memory blocker that would ensure that the girl would forget all about the incident by the time she got home. The necromancer also implanted the notion into the girl's head that she might want to stay away from magic and try something safer. Like chess. Then clean up had begun, only to find a new and interesting detail. If you didn't burn the bugs to death, then their bodies exploded, coating everything with a stinky layer of bug guts. So Banshee, Reaper, Lillian, Bjorne, Henry, and Shamira were all standing outside the garage while they and their armor were hosed down by Raul and Monique, who were both trying not to laugh. They were failing badly. "Hey!" Shamira replied, looking at Reaper, "HE was the one who said, 'At least it couldn't get any worse.' Remember, right before the bugs started blowing up?" Everyone stopped and paused, staring at Reaper. "She's got a point," Henry said. After about twenty minutes of thorough soaking, they were all allowed back in the house under the promise that they would head immediately to their showers and scrub the remaining stink away. Shamira decided to cheat, so after peeling off her armor, she closed her eyes and stepped back into the shadows, looking through the house for her room. 'Hmm,' she though, I don't remember leaving the light on. 'Wait . . . walk-in closet!' She shifted through what she simply referred to as the shadow world, appearing in her closet. She opened the door and almost made Clara jump through the roof. "Don't sneak up on me like that! Shadow jumping hussie!" "My room," Shamira replied, speaking methodically as if to a child. "I can shadow jump all over the damn place if I want." "You smell like ass. And not the good kind." "I've been up to my neck in stinky bug corpses for several hours. Nothing smells good after that." She walked past the intruding lovely, who hadn't changed out of her television-watching "clothes." Clara was pinching her nose shut and waving a hand in front of her face. She got into her bathroom, thankful for the walk-in shower that was separate from the tub. She could rinse the worst of the smell away before soaking in a nice hot bath. Then she would get up . . . She stopped in the process of turning on the water. Was she ready for what happened when she woke up? Was Renata right? Was she going to go back to being submissive only to feel weird about it afterward? At least when fighting the EFIs, she didn't have to think about such things. "What's up?" Clara asked. "If you forgot, you turn them to the left if you want the water to come out of the magic pipes." Shamira shot her a look, but it was more sad than annoyed. She'd lost a lot of her free time to the evening's mission, so she hadn't gotten to watch the games or do the thinking that she'd want. "Don't suppose you recorded the games?" "Lady, with the package that Shane's got with the cable company, we could watch every single damn game over and over again. It's scary. The Colts game rocked from what I saw of the scores." "It might be nice," Shamira said, pumping up the warm water and stripping out of her clothes. "Start over. Just forgot that my 'day off' isn't necessarily a day off." "Tell Shane you want to use your spare tomorrow," Clara said. "Still thinking about what Renata said?" "Yeah. I think I'll do that. Do I need to send out an email?" "Nah, I'll let Shane know. Word spreads pretty quickly around here. Henry's gonna be pissed though. He was looking forward to you coming back on the market." "So that's what he meant by 'soon enough.' Bastard." "I think you'll have fun with Henry. Hell, I think you'll have fun with everyone, but it's good that you figure things out." Suddenly Clara looked a little . . . sad? Yes, sad. "I guess that means you're not up to finishing our game earlier?" Shamira was very sure of one thing at that moment. She didn't want Clara to leave. "Like you'd want to play now?" Clara grinned and pushed Shamira back into the steam and falling water. "With the body scrubs you've got in here, you'll be freshened up in no time." "What body scrubs?" "The ones I put in here." "Why'd you do that?" Clara rolled her eyes. "So I'd have something to lather all over that rock-hard body?! Duh!" Clara hadn't bothered to take off her panties or half-shirt, and both were now soaked all the way though as she stood in the shower with Shamira. Her nipples were practically saluting the other woman from the tops of those perky little hills. Shamira smiled. "So, you think I'm that easy?" "Easy? You? Girl, you're NOT easy. But complicated people are much more fun." She spun Shamira around and started undoing that long braid. "Girl, you have a whole lotta gorgeous hair here. Why don't you wear it out more often?" "Gets in the way," Shamira said. This was another new experience for her, showering with another person, much less a gorgeous woman who apparently planned on fooling around. Feeling someone else's hands running through her hair felt really nice, and there was something sensual about Clara helping her shampoo. And the girl had been right; once the body sponge and wash were broken out, Shamira was smelling much better in no time. She'd never thought of trying to smell "nice" before, but she'd not discount the idea again. "That smells incredible," she muttered. "Like fresh oranges." "It's a citrus base," Clara said, running her hand over Shamira's slick and soapy buttocks, then caressed those incredible thighs. "Why do you ever wear clothes?" she said, moving her hands up the long muscles of her friend's back. "This is a masterpiece." "Public exposure laws?" Shamira was shuddering under Clara's butterfly touches. She wanted those hands on her hips, her chest, and between her thighs. And she wanted to feel those lips. "You're still wearing clothes." "Yep." "Not fair." "What are you going to do about it?" Shamira heard the challenge. If tonight wasn't going to be about submitting to this woman's will, then she would have to make some moves of her own. So she turned around and ripped the shirt in half. "Oops." Clara grinned. "I've got more." Shamira felt her hands running up Clara's sides, but her eyes never left those of her lover-to-be's. Then her hand found those soft, warm, wonderful breasts, and she squeezed them gently and rolled the nipples between her thumbs and fingers. Clara closed her eyes and moaned happily, and responded by cupping the massive globes attached to Shamira's chest, squeezing them like a child with Playdough. "So do I smell alright now?" "Hmm, let me check." Clara leaned in until hands were pushed aside and bodies were pressed together. Her hand reached around and felt that tight ass again while she sniffed the side of Shamira's neck. "Smells pretty," she paused to kiss her lover's neck, "damn good." Shamira turned her face until Clara looked at her. She licked her lips, then planted the beginnings of a kiss on that wonderful woman's lips. And when Clara's tongue slipped into Shamira's mouth and they were pressed tightly together, then everything that had gone wrong in the last few days was forgotten. Clara's kisses were just that damn amazing. Hands started to wander on both sides of the session, with Shamira's hand seeking the small of Clara's back and her ass while Clara's hands were on shoulder and breast respectively. Then Shamira started kissing her way down Clara's neck to her shoulder, from her shoulder to her breasts, from her breasts to her belly button. Then it was on to the promised land. Kneeling, she looked up at Clara, water cascading down that light brown skin and past Shamira's active lips. She pulled down Clara's wet thong, then planted a long, slow kiss on the patch of skin just above paradise. Shamira liked this – on her knees in front of someone like this. With the outsides of her hands, she slowly pushed Clara's legs apart, the pressed her face into that delicious sex. Clara chewed on her bottom lip and placed her hand on top of Shamira's head. She wanted to just grab the girl's head and grind that face against her pussy, but she was going to let the other woman dictate the pace this time. She wanted to see how far Shamira would go, and where Shamira would go. Shamira extended her tongue, pushing it into Clara's slot and savoring. She didn't go straight for the clit, since she knew that Clara liked it when she played around first. How much she had learned from that one session. She thrust a finger up into that wet box, curling it slowly as she caressed the inner labia with her kisses and her tongue. Clara lifted one leg and placed her knee on Shamira's shoulder, giving the woman before her better access, and damn was she making use of it. The girl had paid attention during their time together. 'And I'll teach her more tonight,' Clara thought as that strong tongue penetrated deeper into her quim. 'So much more.' She allowed herself to press her sex harder against Shamira's face, and the woman responded with increased activity and verve. 'Just learn to accept this and accept yourself,' Clara thought, 'and you'll be even more magnificent.' The muscular woman decided to utilize a second finger, exploring Clara's insides while her lips attached themselves at last to the clit. Using her fingers like pistons, she worked quickly but methodically, and her tongue lashed her lover's nub over and over, then slowly lessened the assault, letting her tongue slip inside that warm cleft with her fingers. "Don't stop, you mean little bitch," Clara growled, letting humor show in her voice. Shamira responded with another quick oral blitzkrieg on that sensitive spot, and she quickly had Clara experiencing all the shivers and explosion of internal warmth that were associated with sweet, sweet release. Clara just grinned happily, placed her hands on the sides of Shamira's face and pulled her up to her feet and into another kiss. "You taste like me," she whispered. "I'll take that as a compliment." "You . . . me . . . bed . . . soon." "Yes ma'am." They toweled each other off in record speed, Clara doing as much with Shamira's massive amounts of hair as she could in the short amount of time she was willing to spend. The she jumped into the larger woman's arms, wrapped her legs around that toned waist and kept their lips locked in some form or another until they fell unceremoniously onto Shamira's big bed. "This is more like it," Clara muttered as they crawled into the middle of the bed. With Shamira on bottom, Clara flipped around until her breasts were hanging over her lover's face and Shamira's firm tits were pointed right up at her. She grabbed those 38DD tits with her hands, squeezing them and forcing the nipples into her mouth. Shamira responded, but her caresses were much gentler and softer. Those hands that could break a vampire in half seemed to slide over Clara's body, and she nursed at the Native American's much smaller breasts as if she didn't have a care in the world. It was kind of infuriating, so she pressed her tits hard against Shamira's mouth, which at least got the girl to use her teeth a little. A few love bites on the nipples later, and things were just as they should be. Clara made the next move, moving her kisses down that sculpted abdomen as she crawled southward, achieving a more traditional sixty-nine and burying her head between those thighs. She never went down on her submissive, but Shamira was her own woman tonight. All bets were off, and Clara was finally able to give that big, delicious clit all the attention that it so richly deserved. She passed her tongue directly over the nub and licked a swathe down the slot, then took the fleshy inner labia into her mouth and sucked away. It was the muscular woman's desire to meet her mentor's actions lick for lick and suck for suck, but Clara was putting on a clinic. She was reduced to a slobbering amateur within seconds, or so it seemed. 'Get . . . head . . . back in game,' she thought, then she chuckled at her use of the word "head." Clara was an artist, so Shamira just needed to learn from her. She kept her mouth moving, but paid attention to her lover's tricks, finding places to put her tongue, teeth, and lips, as well as ways to move them. She nuzzled Clara's clit with her chin while her tongue and lips were deeply embedded in the woman's pleasure box. Clara was much impressed by Shamira's learning curve. 'I'll make her an oral master yet. Well, not as good as me.' She placed her mouth in a wide circle around Shamira's large nub and drew her lips slowly inward until the clit was in her mouth, and she sucked at it, gentle at first but increasing the pressure slowly but surely. Shamira caught herself in the act of asking permission to cum. She didn't need to do that here, not that she really minded. It was almost mind-numbing how Clara kept her mouth moving as Shamira climaxed, lapping up the wetness that came pouring out. Clara thought she would drown, if she really had any need for air anymore. Her hands gripped Shamira's ass tightly and just held the woman's crotch to her face, licking and nuzzling that sweet sex as it recovered. "Oh God," Shamira muttered, then licked Clara's pussy. "How --" Her brain wasn't back online after orgasm. "Lots and lots of practice," Clara said, running her tongue between her lover's folds. "You are so fucking sexy," she continued, kissing her way around the mound. The two women remained locked in this position – probing, exploring, and making each other cum one more time each. "Time for toys," Clara said at last, her face glistening and slick with juices. She spun around until she was lying on top of her friend, reveling in Shamira's content expression before kissing her again. It was a long, slow meeting of lips and tongues, mixing each other's juices and just enjoying their closeness. 'Why does kissing her get me going like this?' she thought. Strangely, it was the same thing that Shamira was thinking. "Toys?" Clara reached over the side of the bed and grabbed a bag that Shamira didn't remember being there when she'd left to fight the ants. "You really were being presumptuous, weren't you?" she asked. "Sweetheart," Clara replied, "after the day we spent on the couch, I knew you were a sure thing." "You make me sound so cheap." "Cheap is fine with me. Hey, if you ever want to dress up like a hooker --" Clara stopped when she saw a bizarre look of longing flash across Shamira's face. "You do, don't you? I don't remember seeing that one on the list!" "I . . . I never really thought about it until you mentioned it." Clara grinned and pulled a double-ended, bright pink dildo. "Lie back," she said, pushing Shamira's legs apart and working the head of the device into the girl's body. She went slowly, because Shamira was nice and tight. 'Every time I fist her, it'll be like the first time all over again,' she thought with a smile. 'Especially if she's lucky.' Just the thought of this magnificent creature cumming until she passed out got Clara's blood boiling. She pushed half of the dildo into Shamira's body, turned around and eased the other end into herself until their pussies were touching. Then Clara started to bounce a little, withdrawing and then pushing back, letting her full pussy rub up against her lover's. To Protect and Serve Ch. 03 "Play with yourself," Clara suggested, moving her hand down to rub her clitoral area as they ground their crotches together. Shamira followed the suggestion, causing little blinking lights to appear in her head. Her other hand was pinching and tugging at her own nipples, remembering how good it felt when it was Clara's hands and mouth doing the teasing. They bumped and ground and generally pleasured themselves for a while, with Shamira reaching orgasm again first. Clara grinned, her hair a mess as she kept her hips moving. 'She really is beautiful,' she thought, looking at Shamira's taut body as it lay content on the bed. But Shamira's hand wasn't inactive, drifting over to help Clara stimulate herself, pushing down on Clara's hand as it circled her clit and swollen lips. It wasn't long before the Native American woman was cumming again. "You're getting better at this," Clara said, falling back on the bed chuckling. "I'll make a full blown slut out of you yet." Shamira closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe. It was a relaxing gesture, and it helped her think. 'Is that what I want?' Clara pulled away, removing the double-ended sex toy and tossing it idly to the floor. She lay on top of Shamira, kissing her lips, then waiting for those eyes to open. "What?" Shamira said at last. "Tomorrow, do me a favor. Look at the list of your fantasies. Watch the video of your night with me. Then think about whether or not anything you see or feel is really wrong." She kissed Shamira again, rubbing her body over the top of her lover's. "Take as much time as you need, and let Shane know. But if you do --" Clara stopped. She didn't know how to say the next part. "What?" Shamira propped herself up on her elbows. "This isn't an ultimatum, I just want you to know that." "What isn't an ultimatum?" Clara sat up. "You're only going to be able to be 'confused' for so long. You told Shane that you were all in, but it's clear that you're not quite. And the next time . . . well, --" "Next time I'm either in or . . . what? I have to leave?" Suddenly, Shamira wasn't in the mood anymore. "You know the rules. Live in this house, abide by the lifestyle. Don't, and you work for Shane but remotely." Clara caressed her friend's cheek. "I really like having you here. I think you belong here, but Shane runs his house his way. To make exceptions is to appear weak to his adversaries." Shamira got out of bed. She didn't know why she was upset, since Clara was right; she already knew all this. "How long do you think I have?" "I think that Shane will be more patient with you than he might with others, but don't say that you're ready again if you're not." Clara looked on as Shamira started to get dressed. "Listen, don't be mad," she said, wondering if she should have just let Shane explain. "Come back to bed. Please?" "I just think I should go find Renata and apologize and everything while I still can." 'This girl is so damn reactionary!' Clara thought, jumping to her feet. Still naked, she got in front of Shamira, wrapped her arms around the woman, kissed her briefly, and then stared her in the eyes. "Please? I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sure you have plenty of time to figure things out." She gave Shamira her doe-eyed look, and saw the woman melt a little. "Doesn't getting naked and coming back to bed sound better than getting dressed and storming out?" She slipped her hand down into the panties that Shamira had hastily thrown on, curling her fingers between the folds of the woman's sex. "Not everything has to be an emergency. Ride to the airport with Renata tomorrow if you really want to talk to her, and then jump back." She kissed the side of Shamira's neck, continuing to use her fingers and noticing that Shamira wasn't exactly fighting back. It was really hard for Shamira to argue with Clara. The woman made too much sense, was far too sensual for words, and those damn kisses just made Shamira an intellectual vegetable. "I still have a bag of goodies and we have two hours until sunrise." She quickened her finger motions and pressed her body against Shamira, making sure those fingers couldn't escape. "Wouldn't you rather cum a dozen more times --" "Okay, you've talked me into it!" Shamira said with a laugh and a moan. "You're really hard to be annoyed around. You know this, right?" "It's a gift," Clara said, leading her friend back to bed. -------------- -------------- Sometime that day . . . -------------- -------------- Shamira felt a light tapping on her shoulder. There were many things she didn't want at the moment, and being awake was one of them. She and Clara were still tangled up in each other's arms, legs, and Shamira's nice cotton sheets. Slowly the muscular amazon opened one eye and looked up to see a grinning Renata standing over the bed. "Got an email you wanted to tag along to the airport?" "I di-nuh send nuh m-mail n-body," she muttered. "Choo?" Clara had stirred a bit and nodded. She was a bit more coherent, but not much. "You napped off. Logged on real fast. Knew you wouldn't have slept much, so I told her to come by." Clara grinned and kissed her. Shamira responded shyly at first, but each kiss seemed to energize her a bit. "Now get your cute butt in gear and get dressed. I'm goin' back . . . sleep." "Last night, you wanted me naked. Now it's 'get dressed.' Make up yer mind." Clara grinned again, curled up her legs and then thrust Shamira out of bed. "Get movin.' I'll talk to Shane." "Hey!" a naked and slightly embarrassed Shamira replied. "My bed!" Clara rolled to the edge of the bed, kissed her again, then rolled back to the middle. "Mine now. You go." "Bitch," Shamira replied, standing up and throwing on another set of clothes. She threw on a tight pair of jeans, not even bothering with underwear, a sleeveless western-style black shirt which she tied off at the middle, her black hat and one of her pairs of deliciously comfortable custom-made cowboy boots. "Damn," Clara said, "Now I kind of wish I were going with," she added, eyeballing her friend. "Some girls can just make jeans work." "She most definitely can," Renata said, her own grin sultry and appreciative. "Stop looking at me like I'm a piece of meat," Shamira shot back good-naturedly. "If you looked like a piece of meat, I'd drag your carcass into a tree and nibble on you for a couple of days." "Yeah, like THAT'S not a double-entendre." "Shut up and let's go. There's a wreck on 75 just north of the perimeter, so we're going to have some waiting." Shamira followed the werejaguar to the garage and climbed into -- "A Jaguar?" Shamira asked. "Isn't that a little bit of shameless self-promotion?" Renata shrugged. "It was pretty, I asked for it, Shane bought it for me. He'd get you something more to your tastes if you want." "Me figuring out what my tastes are seems to be one of the problems," Shamira said, buckling down and diving into her apology. "Listen, I'm sorry about the other night. I behaved childishly. It's just that it was my first time ever to wear the big-girl pants and --" "And I took a crap in them before --" Renata stopped and made a face as she revved the Jaguar's engine. "Let's pretend I didn't say that and try and scour the visual from our brains." "Way too late," Shamira replied as she made a gagging motion. "Listen, you did everything right. Something you just probably didn't realize is that you were in the process of making a contract with the faeries. A verbal contract yeah, but a contract nonetheless. And in the magical world, you have to be really, really careful about contracts, because they will come back to bite you in the ass, and not in a good way." "And I haven't even figured out what I got myself in for yet. I should've done some research yesterday." "How could you?" smirked Renata. "I mean, you had football to watch, Clara to make out with, EFIs to kill, Clara to have sex with . . . your day was swamped." Shamira covered her face in shame. "I did spend a lot of yesterday with Clara. I probably could've taken some time when she and Henry got into it." "What this time? Don't tell me, let me guess. Either the gratuitous use of Native American culture by imperialist Western culture, casinos, or Columbus Day?" "The first one. Are the other ones --" "Don't even get her started on Columbus Day. When that day rolls around, nobody brings it up, and we glare at anyone who does. Otherwise, she'll give you the entire speech about 'That Damn Bastard,' and that one can go on for hours. But speaking of Clara," Renata added slyly, "you two seem to be getting awfully chummy." "She's really great." Shamira smiled. "She really makes a new girl feel at home. I just wonder how long it'll be home." "Hey, Clara never made ME feel at home like that. Sure she dominated me and all, but . . . what do you mean 'how long'?" Renata looked really worried. "You're not leaving are you? Listen, I really am sorry about stepping on your toes, and I figure we could work out a way so that I could signal you if I want you to confer --" "It's not that," Shamira interrupted. "Clara reminded me of what you were talking about, my inability to commit to this lifestyle and that if I don't get my act together I won't be allowed to stay." "Something tells me that's not exactly how Clara put it." "Close enough." "Shamira, Shane will give you time. Remember, the only reason you submitted to him and Clara is because you said you were ready. He wasn't going to force you or rush you. The one thing you can't do is play the role of 'seduced' all the time." "What do you mean? Seduction really didn't have much to do with it." Renata rolled her eyes, but she was smiling again. "No, it's that stereotype, you know? The girl, or guy, who does the 'unspeakable' at night, then claims the next morning that she was seduced, or intoxicated, or whatever. Someone who always has an excuse. I don't see you being like that. You just don't seem to know for sure. Just don't go crying wolf." "Why? Raul will show up?" "A joke! I knew you weren't a lost cause," Renata said. "Besides, you're already doing a bit better outside of your comfort zone." Shamira pursed her eyebrows. "How so?" "By the looks of things when I walked in, you spent a good amount of time having sex with another woman. Admittedly, it WAS Clara and she IS hot, but did you think three weeks ago that you'd ever be able to do that? Because you sure don't seem to feel guilty about it." Shamira's eyes opened wide. "You're right," she muttered. "I don't. Hey, that wasn't some kind of therapy was it?" The notion that the amazing sex she had enjoyed might have been just "training" made her uneasy. "With Clara? Lady, I've rarely seen her get intimate with anyone but her donors in a non-dominating capacity in the years that I've known her. She did it because she seems to like you. Don't let that paranoid mind of yours think otherwise." Shamira was able to drop the idea more easily than she would have guessed. Everything about her time with Clara so far seemed so genuine to her. It really felt natural. And if that fantasy was truly something she could enjoy, why not the others? It was a nice thought and it put her in a better mood. "So, Clara said you were attacked and . . . made a were early? How did you cope?" Renata shrugged. "I guess I just had to. And kinda like you, it wasn't exactly the easiest transition. You got one thing goin' for you though, and that's backup. I got jumped at Carnival. Filho da puta. He was hot, I was sixteen and drunk --" "Not exactly Mr. Right?" "Wasn't even 'Mr. Right Now.' Drug me off into an alley and I thought I was gonna get lucky. Lose my virginity and everything. Then he changes and bites me in the fucking leg and is trying to drag me off into the fuckin' jungle." "How'd you get away?" "I didn't. Well, not by myself anyway. I was kicking and screaming, but I was sure I was going to die, y'know? I was swinging anything I could get at him, but it mostly just pissed him off and made 'im bite harder. But then I saw someone or somethin' jump on top of him and start driving a knife into his back. Turned out it was edged with silver." "Apparently my would be sugar-daddy had been a naughty kitty and was hunting humans, which is against Tribunal law, and he was also doing it way too close to civilized areas. Tribunal had sent a bad-ass vampire chick to kill him, and she found him just in time to save my hide. She killed the fucker and came over to me. I thought I was next of course, but she just told me to calm down. She helped wrap up my leg and explained what the guy was and what was going to happen to me. I didn't believe her, she showed me the fangs. Still, it took me longer than you to accept the whole magical world crap." "What happened next?' "She got me in touch with a local alpha were, but he was a snake changer. Not a lot in common, but a good guy. Woman who saved my life left a card in case I was ever looking for full-time employment in the States. I liked her style, and she liked the fact that I was a fighter, I guess. So I learned to take care of myself, learned how to take care of others, then showed up here about eight years ago." "Wait, that assassin . . . was it Banshee?" Renata grinned. "Ding ding ding! Give that girl a prize. Yeah, Banshee has always been a total bad-ass, so the Tribunal sent her and some assassins from the other houses down to look for the rogue were. Seems that South America's vamps aren't all that powerful comparatively and most of the were community wouldn't leave their territories. The Rio alpha was a sot and didn't do shit. I hear he got . . . replaced, shortly after this incident." "So I'm not the first stray Shane's picked up?" "Not exactly. Admittedly, you're the first one that he didn't establish a relationship with before bringing on board. I talked with him remotely a lot. And I'd also figured out the whole 'what turns me on' thing a year before I got here." Renata smiled. "I keep forgetting how little experience you have. What was it, just over two weeks ago you were a good cop who had no idea the rest of this shit existed." "Now I'm smack dab in the middle of it trying to learn to swim." Shamira sighed. "But I'll bet you're cute in a bathing suit." Shamira tried to glare, but Renata was having none of it. "Hey, I would pay good money to see you in a bikini. And make one snide comment about yourself and --" "And what? You'll cough up a hairball? Take your big ball of yarn and go home? What is the kitty going to . . . . Ouch!" Renata had reached over and pinched one of Shamira's nipples with substantial force, making Shamira pull back on instinct and rub the wounded nub. She realized that she was probably rubbing it more than was warranted, partially because she was savoring the experience more than she would admit. "If I weren't rushing for a plane --," Renata muttered, licking her lips. "When you get back maybe?" Shamira replied, trying her best to be sly without sounding anxious. "We'll see. I may be bring some folks back with me, so --" "Not the spider guy, please? He's just . . . it makes my skin crawl." Renata laughed. "You might want to talk to Banshee about working on that fear of yours, because I'm definitely bringing the werespider back with me if he's interested. His resume is great, his current employers are pissed that he might be leaving, and he's a total dominant man-babe! And werespiders are supposed to be near-fucking-impossible to sneak past, making them great guardians." Shamira shuddered at the idea of being dominated by a giant arachnid guy. Maybe she should go talk to Banshee. The rest of the trip went well, with the two women once again trying to repair and/or build an amiable relationship. By the time they'd reached the parking garage, things were good between them, and the promised each other to spend some time just hanging out when Renata got back. The werejaguar made a comment about "if Clara lets you out of her sight," but Shamira blew it off. She and Clara were just friends. Good friends. Good friends who had amazing sex. Shamira gave Renata a hug, climbed into the trunk of the Jag and shadow jumped back to her closet. She peeked out the door and saw Clara still asleep, snoring in a monumentally cute way. Shamira shirked her clothes and crawled back into bed. Before she could even settle her head, Clara turned, smiled, kissed Shamira softly on the lips, then cuddled into the muscular woman's chest and went back to sleep. Without even thinking about it, Shamira's heart took a beat. ------------ ----------------------- Later that afternoon . . . ------------ ----------------------- Shamira was a bit grouchy. She hadn't gotten much sleep at all that day, and then Shane had "summoned" her to the golf-course for a round with him and Banshee. Clara had grinned when her lover was grumbling and getting dressed, then the Native American herself had to report to the control room to relieve Raul for security detail. Shamira dressed up, grabbed the fancy new clubs that Shane had bought for her, then made her way to the first tee. When she got there, Lillian was also present. She was dressed in skintight black-spandex suit that contrasted nicely with her fiery-red hair. She also had a cherry-red ball gag in her mouth, with leather straps leading from it around her jaw and secured at the back of her neck. She was holding an umbrella over Shane, trying to look meek. Shamira just thought it made the former swimsuit-model-turned-necromancer just look sultry. 'Why can't I look like that? Duh . . . she's a model! She's had training and crap. So she's Shane's toy today. I wonder how it feels to be human and female, but be dominated by a male vampire?' She watched as the umbrella that was shading Shane drifted a bit and sunlight was able to reach him. He glared at her, reached out and then slapped her small pert breasts through her outfit. Lillian's body shuddered, but she otherwise didn't move or make a sound. She didn't even blink. For a moment, Shamira felt a pang of envy. "Shamira, so glad you could join us. Renata get to the airport all right?" "Yes sir," she replied, almost forgetting herself and slipping into a submissive role. She had taken the day off. "She and I had a long talk. I apologized a lot." "Don't feel you need to apologize for everything, but it was good that you did. I know you're proud, and so is she. So no problems working with her in the future?" he asked, grabbing his driver and striding towards the tee. Shane always hit first. "No, no problems working together." "And playing together?" He swung, driving his ball straight down the fairway. "She and Clara have both told me of your reservations." Shane sounded serious now as he put his club away and got under the sun-umbrella. "You came to me, Shamira, and YOU told me you were all in. Were you lying?" Shamira was now a little angry. "I don't lie," she replied stoutly. "I thought that I was ready, but maybe --" "No 'maybes', Shamira. I want you on my team and in my house, but I need for you to be sure. I don't want to be counting on you and have you back out on me --" It was Shamira's turn to interrupt. "No." Shane slowly turned, his face a mask. "What do you mean by 'No'?" "No, you don't get to do that. You can question my resolve in regards to the whole submissive thing all you want, but you don't get to call me a coward out there in the real world. I've never backed down when someone was in trouble and needed my help, including you. Okay, maybe you didn't really need my help, but I didn't know that. I'm not afraid to die --" "You are not afraid to die, but 'living' seems to make you nervous," Shane said, his voice more forgiving. He had wanted to light a match under her and remind her that she didn't have to be anyone's doormat. Unless that sort of thing turned her on. And after getting a look in that delightful head of hers, he was pretty sure that there were still many things that turned her on that he didn't know about yet. To Protect and Serve Ch. 03 "Do I have confidence in you that you would make a good enforcer? No, I think you would make a GREAT enforcer. But besides the sexual aspect of my house, there are other things to keep in mind. Me and mine must always appear resolute when dealing with our adversaries, even in a more political or even social arena. These are things in which your indecisiveness concerns me. When you tell me that you are 'all in,' these are other things to keep in mind." He waited until Banshee had teed off, then continued, "I am not willing to give up on you yet. You've been convincing yourself for over ten years that your feelings about sex were abnormal, and you've had only a few weeks to think otherwise. I have no desire to lose you, and am willing to slow though not stop your integration into the house. But since I am giving some ground, I expect you to do the same." A weight vanished from Shamira's shoulders. She wasn't getting kicked out. "What do you want?" "First, I want you to continue your training with weapons and hand-to-hand combat. Secondly, I don't want you to withdraw from sexual pleasure, either your own or those of the house. You seemed to enjoy your time with me and with Clara --" He stopped and grinned. "And your encounter with Renata's jaguar form --" Shamira looked sheepish, but she also grinned. "-- so I think you need time after each encounter to just think about it. If necessary, talk to Lillian here, or me or Clara or whoever you feel comfortable with. If a session gets to intense, just stop it. No one will think less of you for it. In a month's time, if you still have doubts, then we will revisit the issue. I --" Shane stopped when Lillian lagged too far behind, exposing her master to the sun again. It wouldn't kill Shane or even hurt him, but it weakened his magical powers. He turned her around, bent her over, and spanked her hard and fast for a full minute before allowing her to stand up again. Shane looked as if nothing had happened. "I have one more thing I ask of you," he said. "What?" "An answer to a question, one that has been on my mind since I talked with you outside your parent's house." "And that would be?" "Who was Jimmy Fisk?" Shane saw the reaction immediately. As before, he knew it wouldn't be a happy story. Of course, he'd looked up the name and eventually found a news story about it, and he wondered why the name haunted this young woman twelve years after the event. "Why?" "Because it obviously matters to you, and I need to understand you. You said that you had to be strong so that people like Jimmy Fisk don't die. I just want to know what happened, because it obviously helped shape who you are." Shamira didn't want to talk about it, but it was either that or possibly lose any chance she had of having a place in Shane's house. "He was a guy I knew a long time ago. He was . . . he died right in front of me and --" "The WHOLE story," Shane said softly. 'Does he already know?' she wondered. 'Maybe. Or maybe it's just that obvious.' "He was a friend of my brother's. I was fourteen, he was a very wise sixteen. He and my brother played Dungeons and Dragons together and . . . well, if you saw Jimmy, it'd make sense. He was the quintessential geek. Creative, loved comic books, reading, anime, computers . . . smartest guy I'd ever heard of. He was taking college classes while a freshmen in high school. Everyone who met him knew that he was going to be . . . was supposed to be moving on to greater things," she said through clenched teeth. "You loved him?" "I had a monumental crush on him, but I don't know about love. He was the first guy I ever had a crush on, but to him I was a baby sister. I even tried gaming and stuff just so I could be around him more." For a moment, she let fondness smother the sorrow. Jimmy had been one of the good guys. That's what made the sorrow that much worse. "One day, he was walking me home after school because my dumb-ass brother got stuck in the principal's office. So Jimmy showed up at my school and I thought I'd won the lottery or something. On the way home, we ran into some seniors from the high school who didn't like Jimmy. Didn't like that he was smarter and better than them and –-" "Anyway, they started bullying him. Nothing too bad at first, but they were all bigger than he was. They took his glasses, pushed him around, stole his backpack and started ripping up one of his textbooks. I was so mad --" She paused. She could remember every moment of that fall afternoon. The roar and rattle of traffic, the leaves scattered on the sidewalk, and the still-warm sun slipping through the branches of the trees lining the street. She remembered being so damn scared that she almost wet herself, and she remembered hating herself for it. "What happened?" This time, it was Banshee asking. Her face was blank, but her voice betrayed a hint of concern. It didn't surprise Shamira as much as it once might have. She knew from Renata that Banshee was not as cold as she sometimes appeared. "I couldn't let them do it. I went to grab his glasses back from one guy, but then he just shoved me back. It just made me madder, so I went forward again, and this time I scratched his face. He got mad and punched me so hard that I was almost out. I could barely see through one eye, and I busted my face when I hit the pavement. Jimmy just turned his back on them after cussing them out for being a bunch of cowards for hitting a girl. He leaned over to check on me and . . . I don't know if they forgot just how close we were to the street or what, but one of them put his foot on Jimmy's butt and just shoved him." She stopped and felt moisture at the corner of her high. Damn, it appeared vampires could cry after all. She wiped it away to find that it was actually blood. Vampires cried blood? That was just disturbing. "He got hit by a car?" Shane asked. "Yeah. The driver never had a chance to break. Jimmy was stumbling, so his head got nailed by the bumper. I'll never forget that sound . . . that cracking sound, and the sound of tires screeching to a stop on asphalt. The bullies ran away, and I just . . . cried. I couldn't move, I couldn't crawl, I just . . . I just couldn't do anything. The driver stopped, someone called the police, some good Samaritans chased the boys down and held them for the cops. I was just a weak, stupid girl who couldn't do anything but cry. And it was all my fault. If I hadn't gotten involved, they never would have shoved him like that. And if I'd been stronger --" "You were a fourteen year old girl who had no physical chance of standing up to high school boys," Shane said, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Don't," she whispered, her voice choked with an old familiar pain. "Don't try to say it wasn't my fault --" "It wasn't your fault," Shane insisted. "It's my pain," she told him, trying to find her resolve. "It's been mine for a long time. Every day, I got up and promised myself that next time I'd be strong enough. Every day I was a cop, I promised myself that I wouldn't let someone kill their own Jimmy Fisk. No one should die like that. Someone needs to protect the few good people we have left on this damned planet." Shamira was beginning to make more sense to Shane. "Did you ever consider that protecting a good person is what Jimmy was doing?" "It should've been me," Shamira muttered. Some pain was lessened by sharing. This wasn't one of those. This pain just hurt. "Not him." "It shouldn't have been either of you." This melodious voice belonged Lillian, who had removed her ball gag in direct defiance of Shane's edict. The master vampire, however, didn't appear to be in a punishing mood. "Sometimes bad things happen despite everything the good guys try. I was a fully trained necromancer, and I almost lost Monique. You were a young girl who was outnumbered and overpowered, but you tried. Yes, Jimmy died anyway. From the way you make him sound, this Jimmy fellow would probably be mad as hell at you for carrying this guilt all these years." "If you want to remember him," Banshee said slowly, "remember him for what he was. Use his memory as your strength, not your albatross. Do not make it so that every fight is about failing him, and so that you will not be happy until you die in someone else's place. His death was not because of you. Your heart did not fail, your courage did not fail, and your decency did not fail. This is more than most people can say." Shane raised a hand, indicating that it was time for his subordinates to stop talking. Shamira had the look of someone who felt they were being ganged up on, however well meant the attention. But he had one parting comment. "Do not let the snuffing of his light extinguish yours as well. As Banshee said, use his memory to do exactly what you promised to do: serve and protect. Don't let it deny you happiness or make you think you don't deserve it. People like you deserve it more than anyone." He got into the cart as Lillian put her gag back in and got behind the wheel. For Shamira, it was a surreal moment and a surreal conversation, and she was glad it was over. For obvious reasons, the rest of the game went like shit for her as a familiar hollow feeling seeped through her blood and bones and into her lungs. Her mind was elsewhere, and her golf balls were following suit. But her day wasn't done yet. Quite the contrary, it was about to get weirder. She was approaching the dog-leg in the middle of the ninth hole when she saw a man standing in the fairway. He was glowing softly white, and seemed to be floating a good foot off the ground. Shamira raised her club, prepared to use it as a weapon. The man was making no hostile moves however, but rather just floated there while staring at her, then at a clipboard that he carried, then back at her. He looked befuddled. "Shamira, you're away. Is your lie that bad?" The other players appeared on the fairway, with Lillian still holding her umbrella. Shane saw that Shamira was staring, then looked to see what it was. "What? Can't decide on a club?" Lillian's eyes shot open and she removed the ball gag once more. "Sir, there's a ghost on your golf course." "Nonsense," he replied. "Jeremiah wouldn't let another non-corporeal on the property. And I don't see a damn thing." "Trust me sir, it's there," she replied. "And Jeremiah wouldn't do anything about it if it wasn't hostile. So since only Shamira and I seem to see it, and me only because I'm a necromancer, then it must be here for her," she said, looking at the dumbstruck vampire. "Here for me? What did I do?" "You didn't die," the ghost grumbled, looking incredibly perplexed. "I'm not sure how to handle this now." "Handle what?" Lillian asked. Know the spirit was non-hostile made her remember her manners. "Handle these questions. I was supposed to be communicating with a disaffected spirit, not a vampire." Shamira was now really confused. "What questions?" "Let's see," the ghost started, "Are you unable to pass on, do you have unfinished business, are you in pain wherever you are . . . the standard." "Who's doing the asking?" Lillian asked. Shane and Banshee were just standing around, annoyed at being left out. The ghost managed an embarrassed look. "Forgot that part, didn't I?" He looked at Shamira. "Miss Shamira Carswell, your sister would like to talk with you." ------------ ------------------ To be continued . . . To Protect and Serve Ch. 04 Proofread by FernieLyn This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these character and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author. This story is based in an alternative universe, where history took a different course than the one we are used to. In this world, the creatures which we now believe to be legends have walked alongside man for the duration of our existence. Vampires, werewolves, wizards, witches, sorcerers, and a host of other beings share our world. The following story contains, in one chapter or another, lesbian, homosexual, heterosexual, anal, group, sci-fi/fantasy, non-human, and BDSM sexual activity. There may be some erotic horror in there somewhere as well, but I haven't made up my mind. ---------------------- ------------------------ Shamira was pacing a trench in the area around the eighteenth green on Shane's golf course. It was bad enough that she had been a vampire for less than two weeks, a sexual submissive (in practice) or less than one week and that both things weighed heavily on her mind. She had just finished baring her soul about one of the most traumatic events of her existence, and now she'd met her first ghost who had an unbelievable message for her. "Bullshit!" she shouted again. "I assure you, that is the case as it stands." "Samantha is even more skeptical about this mystical shit that I am! I mean was. She's a born-again atheist, so why would she be seeing some kind of psychic --" "Medium," the ghost corrected her. "She is seeing a medium." "What are they saying now?" Banshee asked. Of the four beings who were not ghosts present, only Shamira and the necromancer Lillian could see the ghost. Shamira could only see him because he had come to see her. Shane and Banshee had to wait for interpretations from Lillian. "Whatever!" Shamira blasted. "Why would she want to talk to me? I'm dead!" "Undead," Shane corrected her. "Technically and mystically, there's a big dif--" He stopped when Shamira glared at him. Dominant or not, he really didn't want to have her swinging fists at him. "Dead, undead, why would she want to talk to me? What would make her do something like this?" "According to the medium, your sister Samantha has been uneasy since your death. Did you and your sister have a special connection when alive?" "Yeah, but that's because she's my damn sister! She was the only friend I had most of the time." Lillian looked quizzical. "Did she ever just call you out of the blue because you needed to talk? Did she ever seem to know what you were thinking?" Shamira eyeballed the redhead. She'd been thinking those exact things when she'd seen her sister after Shamira's funeral. "I'm right, aren't I? It's not uncommon for siblings to have a special connection," "She said that she still feels your presence," the ghost said, "and she wants to know if you have unfinished business here or if your soul is tortured for some reason. She wants to know why you don't move on. Your sister seems quite tenacious." Lillian was translating for Shane, and he and Shamira shared a look. It was a look, on Shamira's part, that said that she should have been allowed to pass on and that she shouldn't be dealing with all this pain and doubt now. And Shane's look was unrepentant. He felt that he had made the right call. "If she's gone this far," Shamira said slowly, "then she won't stop. Is this dangerous for her?" "I don't think so," Lillian responded, "at least not physically. "But mentally, this could turn into an obsession." "Can you just go back and tell this medium to tell Samantha that I've moved on and she's hallucinating.?" Shamira asked of the spectral visitor. "I cannot actually lie," the ghost said. "I just do not know how to answer this. These questions would be easy if you were actually dead or actually a ghost. Neither the medium nor I considered the notion of vampirism. This is kind of unprecedented for us. I should write a paper on it." The ghost seemed actually excited. "A paper?" Shamira asked. Lillian smiled. "The spirit world uses mediums to produce a yearly newsletter." The ridiculousness of it actually made Shamira pause for a moment. "Technically," Shane said, "you have NOT moved on, your spirit IS still in this plane of existence, and your soul IS troubled." "Good point," the ghost said, then vanished. "No!" Shamira said, staring at the spot the ghost had just stood . . . er, floated. The glare returned to Shane. "Sir," Banshee said, interjecting herself between the two other vampires, "for a master who has been around for three and a half centuries, you sometimes show a profound lack of wisdom. And I say that with all due respect." "You and Renata," Shane grumbled, staying on the other side of his assassin as Shamira contemplated obvious mayhem. "She won't stop digging around now!" Shamira growled. "What if she tries to dig up my body? Think about that? How do we explain it if I'm not in my damn coffin!" "Your coffin is actually in storage --" Shane started to say. "Sorry. Not relevant." "I can't let this happen. I'm not going to let this ghost give her the wrong impression. I won't let her go through this," Shamira said, more stammering than speaking. "I need to go to Huntsville. Find this medium and stop him or her from saying anything." "You don't even know how to find the medium," Shane pointed out, "and you have duties here." "Duties?! This is my sister we're talking about! And I wouldn't even be in this mess if it weren't for you!" "She has a point," Lillian said. She looked nonplussed when Shane tried to glare at her. "I'm sorry sir, and you can punish me however you like for saying this, but your impetuousness is what got her killed in the first place, and now it's set the ghost off to deliver a partially true message that may cause Shamira more problems and heartache." Shane grimaced. He wouldn't punish Lillian for this. Well, not in a bad way or unless she asked for it like Renata had. His necromancer was right; his decisions had made life more difficult for Shamira, though bringing her over wasn't something he could bring himself to regret. "If you really think that you can stop this from getting further out of hand, then do what you feel you must. Just remember the rules and risks about involving mortals in our affairs." Shamira nodded. "I need to go to Huntsville," she said. "I'll alert the ruling authority in that region. It's actually an alpha werewolf named Clyde. Yes, Clyde. No, don't make fun of him." Shane looked towards the house. "Take someone with you, just in case." He raised his hand before Shamira could speak. "Yes, you can take Clara if you want. I'll call you while you're on the road and let you know where you can meet Clyde. It's traditional to greet the ruler of an area when you're in his or her territory. Clara has been an ambassador before, so follow her lead on dealing with him. Use it as a learning experience." "Thank you sir," Shamira said. "I'll straighten this out." "I believe you will," Shane said. That made Shamira feel better. For all her foibles and problems, it was nice for someone to give at least lip service to having confidence in her. She hurried over to the house, tearing to her room to pack a small suitcase. Then she realized she didn't have a suitcase, so she went looking for Clara. The Native American was in the security control room, glancing at monitors and chatting with Raul about getting infrared sensors on the perimeter. "Hey," Shamira said, feeling like she should be out of breath. "Hey, what's going on?" Clara asked. We were scanning the golf course cameras earlier and you and Lillian were talking to thin air and Banshee and Shane were looking confused and --" "I'll explain on the way," Shamira interrupted. "I need a suitcase to go see a werewolf about finding a medium in time so that my sister doesn't think I'm not totally dead yet." "That didn't make a lot of sense in any language I speak," Clara said with a grin. Shamira slowed down, feigned taking a deep breath, then explained what had happened with the ghost. "Shane said I could take someone with me and I was wondering --" Clara grabbed Shamira by the arm and pulled her to a large closet that was chalked full of community luggage. "Grab a small bag, go pack, and meet me at the garage," she said. Clara looked excited to be going on a trip. "Meet me in the garage, and pick a car that screams 'redneck.' Clyde will be impressed, and it'll make things go smoother." She kissed Shamira on the cheek, then grabbed a suitcase and vanished. Shamira packed in record time, just grabbing handfuls of stuff out of the drawers of her room and realizing how little practical clothing she owned. Except for her sweats, she didn't have much 'driving clothes.' 'Maybe that's not what I need?' she thought. She grabbed her western wear, including hat and boots and whips and was ready to go. She looked pretty redneck herself. She bolted to the armory, picked up a specialty Desert Eagle and gun-belt, then headed to the garage and had a look around. "How many cars does he fucking own?" she asked of no one, walking through the airplane-hanger-sized structure. "Hummer? Nah, too pretentious. No sporty cars, no over-priced SUV. He's probably die if he saw the Prius." Her eyes stopped when they hit the blue, mint-condition 1973 Plymouth Roadrunner. "Ooh, momma likes," she said, tracing her hand over the hood. "So we're taking that one?" Clara asked from the door. Shamira just grinned and threw her suitcase into the trunk, closing it after Clara had done the same. Then they were off, with Clara acting as navigator. She'd apparently made the trip several times and knew her way. "Okay, first rule of diplomacy is to know that every area ruler isn't the same. This guy we're meeting, Clyde, is a hell of a lot smarter than most people think when they first meet him, and he cultivates that image. He wouldn't have held on to his territory as long as he has." "If holding territories is so damn dangerous, why do people want the job?" "Power for some, money for others. The rulers and lords get a small amount of tithing from the magical beings in his or her area. And some people, like Shane, really just believe in keeping the peace." "And Clyde? What's his motivation?" "He's a good guy most of the time. He seems to find the whole thing . .. amusing." "Yeah, this whole Disney magical world crap is a riot," Shamira replied bitterly. Clara looked slightly slightly saddened. "So nothing about your current situation is even vaguely pleasant?" Shamira grimaced, managed to make it apologetic. "You've been great. I'd probably be even more of a basketcase than I am if it weren't for you. And Shane. No, he's making me a basketcase," she said. That elicited a little grin. "Don't be too hard on him. His life . . . this world . . . it's complicated. He wants to do right by you. Actually, he wants to 'do' you too, but who doesn't?" Her friend rolled her eyes. "Is that all anyone around Shane's house ever thinks about?" "When we can." Clara's hand fell on Shamira's legs, caressing the inner part of that denim-clad thigh. "It's much more fun than stressing out about things we can't change." The presence of Clara's hand in its present location was making Shamira's skin tingle all over. "I wish I could just let go like that and not worry about it." "Why can't you?" "Emotional baggage, I guess." Shamira wasn't sure why, but she knew that she wanted to tell Clara about Jimmy Fisk. Shane had almost had to drag the story out of her, but Shamira trusted Clara in a way that no one else had reached. "Because I can't help but think that I'll miss something, and someone will get hurt because I wasn't able to protect them." Then she told Clara about Jimmy, the object of her first childhood crush who had died because that scared fourteen-year-old girl had stuck her nose into the affairs of bullies and hadn't been able to stop Jimmy's persecution or the subsequent "accident." By the end of the story, Clara's head was resting on Shamira's shoulder and that caressing of the thigh was more for comfort than arousal. "Is that what you and Shane were talking about on the golf course that got you so upset?" "Yeah." "Did he tell you that there was nothing you could have done, that it wasn't your fault, and that you shouldn't be beating yourself up about it?" "Effectively." "And me repeating that stuff won't make you feel better?" Shamira actually whispered, "It might." Clara repeated everything that she had just said, then kissed Shamira on the cheek. "I'm glad you told me. I know that 'I'm sorry' probably doesn't cut it. But Shane is right. Use him as your strength. It's not wrong to mourn a friend, a lover, or idol, but you could live forever. That's a long time to let this weigh on you." "How do I get past it?" "You don't. You just have to decide HOW you want it to weigh on you. I mean, it's obvious that you had a crush on him for a reason. Think of those things." Shamira smiled. "He had this dumb grin . . . I don't think he knew how to turn it off. He loved to talk about anything and was constantly learning. He had this imagination, you know? He'd see someone walking down the street with a limp, and he would come up with this hour-long story of how the guy got it. It usually involved giant space-bugs, but it was always entertaining. And he listened to me, even though I was just a dumb bratty little sister to one of his friends. And he'd listen to me, no matter what my drama was." 'Kind of like you,' Shamira thought. The next few hours were surprisingly tranquil for Shamira, considering her emotion unloading and the fact that her sister, who was supposed to think that Shamira was dead, was apparently trying to communicate with her from beyond the grave. They stopped in Rome for coffee, then Clara insisted on stealing a Confederate flag throw rug she saw being sold outside a gas station just inside of the Alabama state line. They stopped again to throw it into a swamp, then got slushies. Thirty minutes outside of Huntsville, they got a call from Shane. "Yeah?" Clara said, answering the phone. "Things are set? Where? You're kidding?! You're not kidding? Like we don't get enough of that in Atlanta. I don't really see why . . . Yes sir, we'll do it." She paused. "No, she hasn't said anything, but I think that this counts as a mission, doesn't it? I'll tell her." Clara rolled her eyes. "Check your desk drawer. No, the top one . . ." She covered the phone with her hand. "He needs to bribe a public official and he can never remember where he keeps the checkbook." She lifted her hand. "Good. Okay, we'll call you after we've talked to Clyde. Yes sir, I understand." "What's up?" "He found the checkbook. And he wants to know if you've decided on what to do about submissive sex. And we're meeting Clyde at the Waffle House." "Did he say what my options were?" Shamira asked nervously. "I think they have a menu," Clara replied. "Sigh. I meant about making a decision?" "Nah. But you're off until we get back from this, so you've got some breathing room. So to speak. Unless you don't WANT a break," Clara cooed, her hand stroking Shamira's inner thigh again. "Driving!" came the reply, though her body seemed uninterested in Clara's hand being removed. "I'm aware of that. Too bad we're almost to Huntsville, otherwise I'd say we pull over and --" She wiggled her eyebrows. "Do you ever think about anything else?" "Only when I'm working. Sex equals fun. You have been having fun, haven't you?" "God yes," Shamira gasped as that hand rubbed her crotch through the denim. She had been having fun. It was just the post-being-dominated guilt that was the problem. "Then stop worrying about it," Clara crooned. She wasn't sure why it was so hard for her to keep her hands off this woman, but being around Shamira just drove her horny. Well, hornier than usual. "Do you want me to stop?" "No," came the honest reply, "but it'll be hard to talk to a werewolf with a straight face if I've got a cum stain in my jeans." Clara grinned. "See? You're thinking on your feet. Maybe afterward, I'll see how you think on your back." A little while later, they pulled into the parking lot for the Huntsville Waffle House, Clara still making sexual innuendos. Shamira wondered how many of them the younger-looking woman was willing to back up later. "I haven't eaten at a Waffle House in . . . I can't remember how long," Shamira said, holding the door open for her friend. "Why? Besides the fact that they're tacky?" "Hard to keep down to competition weight and body-fat percentage if you even walk near one of these?" "So this is your competition body?" Clara asked. "Nah, this was my regular percentage." Clara's mind was trying to process Shamira being more muscular when she stepped inside. It was almost midnight at the twenty-four hour establishment, but there was a reasonable crowd inside. The ancient woman standing behind the counter looked their way, then nodded her head towards an empty table at the back of the restaurant. "Have a seat, ladies," she said, looking disapprovingly at the two provocatively dressed women. "So," Clara said, looking around, "how many do you think are Clyde's people?" Shamira figured that her friend knew the lay of the land better than she, so figured this was a test. "I'd figure all of them. If Clyde is worrying about trouble and if he is a 'good guy' like you said, he'll make sure that there aren't innocents around." "Good call," Clara said, waving at a couple of young men at another table. "Take a breath, identify scents. We aren't as good as weres at it, but see if you can make distinctions." Shamira did as she was told, closing her eyes to help her concentrate. Identifying smells didn't come easy, as it wasn't something she was used to doing too much when human. "Something . . . woodsy. Like pine and musk. So THAT'S what 'musk' smells like," she muttered. "Something else smells . . . stale and thick and coppery." "Weres tend to have earthy smells," came Clara's voice, and the 'thick and coppery' thing is likely vamp. Blood smells coppery, and vampire blood is a richer version of that. You're doing good. Anything else?" "One smells lighter and coppery, so I'm thinking human. And one . . . damn, someone's wearing a fuck-ton of Old Spice." "She IS good," came a new voice, edged with a southern drawl. Shamira opened her eyes to see Grizzly Adams, or a pretty close approximation thereof. He was a large man, standing easily six feet four inches tall, with a bushy beard, long wild hair. He had a caveman forehead, but the eyes sparkled with both amusement and insight. And he was built like an Arkansas razorback, meat and muscle and more than a hint of danger. Clara wrinkled her nose. "Did you bathe in the stuff?" she asked. "One of my kids likes it, so I wear it." He shrugged those enormous shoulders. "What can ya do?" He extended a large hand to. "I've met Clara b'fore, but you're a sight for these old, sore eyes." "Are you calling me an eye-sore?" Shamira asked, giving a firm grip. "I ain't that dumb, and I sure ain't blind," the large man said. He opened up a menu, and the girls did the same. "Why does a triple-stack of pancakes sound so good right now?" Shamira muttered. "I'm not sure, but you'd better brush your fangs before we make out later," Clara responded. To Protect and Serve Ch. 04 Clyde was smiling. "Your conversations are so much more interesting than my peoples'. Please continue, and spare no detail." "Sorry, but you'll have to wait for the mass release of the DVD just like everyone else," Clara replied. Then she shot Shamira an evil grin. "Unless you'd like to see the video file --" "Don't . . . you . . . dare," the powerful young vampire replied. "You're right," Clara replied with feigned meekness. "If we need to make a deal, then a video of you getting fisted in a cage might buy us something, don't you think? You don't give that sort of stuff away for free." Shamira and Clyde had identical expressions of pure astonishment, though for entirely different reasons. "I think I love you!" Clyde said. "I hate you!" Shamira whispered heatedly. Apparently being immune to sexual domination doesn't mean you couldn't be embarrassed all to hell by your friend. Clara was just smiling like a crocodile. "So, did Shane fill you in on what we're looking for?" "Nope," Clyde replied, his eyes undressing Shamira much to her chagrin. "He said you'd do it." "Right. Shamira, talk to the man." Shamira's brain was still stewing in humiliation, so getting her mouth on track was no small feat. "We need to find a . . . a medium. Someone who can actually talk to ghosts, not just a hack. Someone who does it commercially." "Why is this person so important?" Clyde asked. Despite her pride, Shamira looked to Clara for guidance. Clara gave her a slight nod, then took over. "We'd like to keep the public names to a minimum." "We're not here to hurt anyone. We just want to talk him or her out of reporting something to a client. It's a matter of --" She waved her hands, "Not letting regular people know we exist." "We?" "Vampires, weres, etcetera." "Ah," Clyde said. "And how did this potential violation of Tribunal law come about?" "No one violated the law," Clara said carefully. "There hasn't even been any exposure yet. It's an accidental intrusion, and it can be headed off if we can just have a word with the medium." Clyde took a deep breath. "Here's what I figger," the big man said, "Mediums act as go-betweens between the living and the dead. So someone is looking for someone else who's s'pposed to be dead but ain't." He looked at the two women at the table. "That means they got brought over. Maybe one of ours, but more likely one of yours. Hell, most likely one of you two. And since all your relatives are dead'n gone," he finished, looking from Clara to Shamira, "I'd figure that's you." "Told you he wasn't dumb," Clara said with grudging approval. Shamira cocked her head. "He even knows who's doing the looking." Clara looked puzzled while Clyde raised an eyebrow. "You think so?" "You took a breath, and then you relaxed a bit," Shamira said. "You were smelling us, and I bet my sister and I don't smell that much different to a nose like that." Clara started to look alarmed, but Clyde grinned at her. "She's quick," he said to the veteran vampire, then back to Shamira, "So your Samantha Kingsley's sister?" "You know her?" Clara asked. "Damn straight. She don't know about us or what we are, but she's the best damn veterinarian in the city. All my kids take their pets to that clinic of hers. Fine lady that one. Never struck me as a believer though." "Surprised the hell out of me too," Shamira admitted. "She and I were always close, so I guess she realized that my death didn't go quite right. And she's not the type to give up looking. She's got kids and a husband, and I don't want any of them stumbling into this mess of magic and crap I seem to be up to my eyeballs in. I won't let anything happen to my family because of me." The werewolf looked her dead in the eyes, then finally he just gave her a nod. "I don't suspect you would. Think she'd likely find someone close to home or --" "Away," Shamira said. "She's probably wondering what the hell she's doing, so she's gonna make sure that she doesn't run into anyone she knows by accident." "I wanna be there when you talk to the medium," Clyde said. "Whoever it is lives under my protection. Don't sound like they meant to do anything wrong, but they need to be reminded to take some precautions. If it's someone experienced, they'll figure out how to avoid spilling the beans, but we can't be too careful." He turned to the waitress and ordered, then waited on his guests. "C'mon now, you can't do good work on an empty stomach. Clara darlin', you're too damn skinny. SHE," he said, thumbing in Shamira's direction, "looks healthy." Clara grumbled, but overall seemed content with the direction negotiations had gone. "Keep in mind," Clyde said, "that your Mr. Stapleton will owe me a favor for this, though it'll be a small one." "I'll let you deal with Shane directly for that," Clara replied, then ordered a platter of bacon, eggs, and sausage. "And Diet Coke," she added. "Gotta watch my figure." "Me too," Clyde said evilly, checking out her assets. Clara turned her head and gave Shamira a kiss that caught her by surprise and turned her spine to jello, and Clara's hand rested close to the stronger woman's crotch. Then she smiled at her host while Shamira's head was spinning from the unexpected PDA. "Dinner and a show. Don't ever say I've never done anything for you." "Remind me to find a reason to come visit you nice folks sometimes soon," Clyde said knowingly. "Now if y'all will excuse me for a moment, I'll make a few phone calls." He stood up and walked outside the front door. Shamira noticed that no one else in the restaurant had moved since they got in. "Okay, what the hell are you --" Shamira started. "Oh c'mon, he knows about Shane's house, so I was just giving him what he expected. Of course now he may drop by for a 'diplomatic visit' and call in that favor," she added, looking down Shamira's body. "You're not serious?!" "Oh yeah. Sometimes Shane lends subs to visitors that he trusts or likes to gain favor. Let him know if you have issues with that when he gets back. What's with YOU telling him about your sister? Now, she's involved --" "She was involved the moment we sat down. I could see it the second he got a whiff of me, and we wouldn't have gotten anything by lying about it. Besides, he mentioned his kids a couple of times. I may not like a lot of things about the South, but they've got a strong sense of family, and Clyde is a Southern boy. Besides, you think that even if he hadn't smelled it on me that he wouldn't have looked for the client?" "Probably right," Clara said approvingly. She leaned in and locked lips with the more muscular woman. "Had to get that in before you taste like maple syrup. Though syrup does give me some ideas --" "You're insane!" Shamira said. "Horny and insane!" Shamira chewed her bottom lip, then kissed Clara back. "Gorgeous, horny, and insane." "About time you caught on," Clara said, taking a sip of coffee while running her hand up and down her friend's thigh. That touch was driving her nuts, and the thought that someone was probably watching it, that Clyde might walk back in and sit down -- "Got a couple of possibilities," Clyde said as he came back in, "but we won't be able to figure anything else out until daylight. For some reason, scraping-by-the-skin-of-their-teeth psychic types aren't open twenty-four hours a day. Weird. Anyway, if you need a place to stay --" He trailed off, staring at the two women with lustful glee. "Sorry Clyde, but we'll get a hotel room." Clara's hand slid between Shamira's thighs and cupped her mound through her jeans. "Tonight is girl's night. I'm sure you understand." Shamira was almost frozen in confusion and a small amount of fear. She couldn't believe Clara was doing this . . . actually, she kind of could. And she enjoyed it. She enjoyed the hungry look in Clyde's eyes, and she felt a thrill that she was partially responsible for it. "Are you sure?" Clyde asked, glancing into Shamira's lap. She could hardly believe it herself when she did it, but Clara just brought out the worst, or maybe the best, in Shamira. The muscular woman took Clara's hand and slid it underneath the waistband of her jeans. She could see a moment's surprise in her friend's face, but Clara's hand didn't miss a beat. She slide one finger into Shamira's sex as the newer vampire said, "We're sure." Once Shamira had thrown down the gauntlet, Clara was unwilling to back down. Throughout dinner, conversation and consumption took place while Clara masturbated Shamira. Clyde was getting a kick out of it, as well as a rise in his own denim. Clara hand-fed her friend food, then asked for her fingers to be licked clean. Shamira acquiesced to these requests, and she did so willingly. She wasn't doing this because she was obligated to. When she orgasmed, she was gripping the edge of that cheap vinyl-covered bench so hard that the wood began cracking in her grip. Clara may have just finished a meal, but damn if she didn't still look hungry. "Check please." ---------- ----------------------------- Fifteen long minutes later . . . ---------- ----------------------------- It was difficult for Shamira to open her hotel room door when her back was pressed against it, and with Clara pressed against her front. The Native American's hands were up under the other woman's shirt, grabbing those large breasts through the fabric of her bra. Clyde would call them when he got a hold of the medium responsible for contacting Shamira's sister, so the two vampires were going to occupy their time until he called. "Get the (pant) damn door open!" Clara said, unhooking Shamira's bra at last. The door fell open as Shamira finally got the card into the slot and shoved down on the handle, and both women tumbled into the room. The door was slowly closing as Shamira's shirt came off and Clara's bottoms were pulled down. Clara pushed her friend back onto the bed, then yanked the woman's boots and jeans off. "Damn, I wish you hadn't taken today off," Clara muttered hungrily. "Too late to take it back?" Shamira replied. Then she realized that she meant it. She wanted Clara to dominate her. She had loved regular sex with this woman, but what they had done in the restaurant had just lit a fire under Shamira. "Sorry," Clara said earnestly, "no take-backs on that." Then she grinned, jumping onto the bed and straddling Shamira's stomach. "But it doesn't mean we can't play a little rough," she added, pulling the woman's bra down past her breasts and gripping the nipples hard. Shamira responded with an ecstatic gasp and shoved her breasts harder against Clara's hands. Clara tugged and twisted on those nipples until she could tell that Shamira wanted to scream, then she released them and ducked in, letting her warm soft lips comfort the stinging flesh. She could play with those enormous tits for days and someday, given enough time off, she intended to. Shamira needed this. She wasn't going to feel bad about or second guess herself. She liked what Clara could do to her. She watched as Clara scooted forward, planting her knees on either side of Shamira's face and lowering that perfect smooth pussy onto her lover's mouth. Clara reached both hands backwards, tugging on Shamira's nipples while riding her face. "Stick your hands under your ass and leave them there," Clara ordered. She knew that she was technically breaking a house rule but doing this, but she didn't think that Shamira would complain. She pressed and rocked her hips, grinding her sex against Shamira's lips and tongue, letting her lover fill her up as best she could without the aid of her hands. Shamira's breasts were already aching from the attention lavished on them by Clara, and that pussy was so sweet. She didn't have anything to compare it to, but she thought it was probably delicious comparatively. Maybe she needed to "apologize" to Renata in order to get a comparison sample? In the meantime, her tongue penetrated Clara's folds, tasted the heat and wetness. After the meal they had just eaten, both women were giving off more warmth than usual, and Shamira was going to take advantage of it. "Get the asshole too," Clara growled, rocking her hips again so her lover could get to that little rosebud. Shamira rimmed her a couple of times, making Clara squirm with delight before moving her pussy back into position. That tongue was so strong, and Shamira really was gaining in skill. "Get the clit," she ordered, feeling that her climax wasn't far away. She released Shamira's nipples, grabbed her hair and held on with a death grip, riding that gorgeous face until she came. Shamira consumed her wetness with a definite fervor, lost in a tidal wave of pleasure. "Good girl," Clara cooed. "Now stay here." She got off Shamira's face and the bed and went into the bathroom, returning with a hairbrush, a hair dryer, and a demonic gleam in her eye. She flipped Shamira over, then she sat on the woman's back and pinning her arms in place. "I'm going to show you what 'being resourceful' means." She grabbed Shamira's ponytail and tugged on it, bringing her lover's head up. Then she grabbed the hairbrush and used the flat-side of it to light up Shamira's muscular ass. The gasps elicited were more pleasure than pain. 'Okay,' Shamira thought happily, 'I understand what the brush is for, but the hair dryer?' She got her answer soon enough, as Clara positioned herself so that she was sitting on Shamira's back facing her ass. She grabbed the hair dryer and slowly pushed the long cylindrical end into Shamira's waiting sex. It felt weird, with little give, but she liked it. She liked everything that Clara did to her. "See, I think I know what you need to get over the whole 'guilt' thing," Clara said as she used her impromptu sex toy on her lover's greedy pussy, shoving it as far into her core as she could. She also began punishing Shamira's ass cheeks again with the brush. Shamira clenched her vaginal walls on the invader, but her mistress would not be stopped. "You just need to be fucked so hard and for so long you don't get a chance to think about it." She leveled a particularly strong slap on that helpless ass. "You'd like it too wouldn't you? Maybe just have a day where everyone in the house has a go at you? I'll bet you would." SMACK! "But don't ever forget the woman who made you come until you passed out." SMACK! As if Shamira could forget. Okay, maybe she did feel weird afterward, but had she ever experienced anything that good in her life before? No. "You're the best," she grunted as she was violated in this most unconventional way. "Please, harder!" "Someone's being a little slut tonight, isn't she? I bet you wish you'd sucked off Clyde for being so nice to us. Maybe that guy at the front desk too for getting us our room? But they can't have you until I'm done with you." Clara heard a bit of possessiveness in her own voice. 'Is that what I want? To be first with her at all times?' She thrust the dryer in, then leaned over and bit Shamira's ass. No fangs, but enough to get the girl's attention. Shamira came almost instantly, and Clara was pretty sure she'd just flooded the hair dryer so badly that is would forever be unusable. "Oh yeah," Clara murmured, "you're a big time whore." She continued fucking Shamira for several minutes until all those muscles completely relaxed into the post-coital bliss. "You're my whore." She withdrew the dryer and tossed it aside, then stood up and had Shamira turn onto her back. "You can use your hands this time," she purred, then sank down into a delicious sixty-nine. Shamira went all out this time, sinking fingers into Clara's slot and pulling her pussy open as much as she could. She pushed her tongue and lips forward, sinking into her lover's flesh as far as she could go. She wanted to be possessed by Clara's flesh. Clara could feel the ramped up passion her lover possessed, so she responded with every trick she knew. She knew just how to tease her lover's gorgeous clitoris to knock her off her game, but Shamira didn't stay off long. So Clara added the penetration of her fingers, probing for the g-spot while her lips sucked gently on the pleasure nub. "You're the most (gasp) amazing woman," Shamira said, flicking her mistress's clitoral hood. "An artist is only as good as her canvas," Clara replied, pressing her teeth down lightly on the clit. She didn't actually bite so much as make the presence of her teeth known, but it still was able to set Shamira off again. But this time, she didn't stop her attentions as her body quaked with pleasure. She grabbed Clara's ass with both hands and just licked and sucked like a madwoman. Clara wasn't far behind in the climax race, letting her body surrender to her lover's demands. "You are getting so much better," Clara whispered, sliding around until she lay face-to-face on top of her friend. They kissed, sharing the juices still on their lips. "Any second thoughts?" "Just that I wish I hadn't made things so difficult on everyone," Shamira replied. "I don't think you've really bothered anyone. We get it. Mostly, we just want you to be as happy as you make us." Clara felt warm inside, and she wasn't sure it was the recent orgasms. Flesh pressed against flesh, and she kissed her lover one more time. She felt comfortable where she was, and the two drifted off in each other's arms. ------------- ------------------- Several hours later . . . ------------- ------------------- If she hadn't had such a great morning earlier, Shamira would be miserable. Even with her advanced recovery, she really needed more than a few hours of sleep before starting the day. But Clara's cell phone had erupted (to Warren Zevon's "Werewolves of London" as a ring tone, no less) with Clyde informing them that he had located the medium who had been dealing with Shamira's sister. They didn't ask how he had found out so fast, but they did show up at a little trailer-style business on the outskirts of town. Just as Shamira had thought, it was on the far side of town from where her sister lived and worked. Inside was a nervous young woman who had all the trappings of a stereotyped gypsy woman. The trailer-trash-blond was sitting next to Clyde, fidgeting and rubbing her hands. "I'm so sorry," she was saying as Clara and Shamira walked in. "I wasn't trying to expose anyone. It's just that my ghost messenger came back and --" "Shh," Clyde said. "No one is mad at you. You're new. Gayla, these two fine, fine young women . . . young LOOKING women . . . are Clara and Shamira. They work for Shane Stapleton. You remember who that is?" "Lord of Atlanta," she replied nervously. She stood up and offered her trembling hand to the two vampires. "I didn't mean to cause trouble," she said, glancing from one woman to the other. "Usually when someone comes in, their relative is just dead. I have a ghost messenger look into it, get some basic personal information and let the seeker know that their loved one or whatever has passed on. I've never heard of a human looking for a deceased who's a vamp. I checked the websites, and there wasn't any real precedent." "It's okay," Shamira said. "You're the one, aren't you?" Gayla said with a nervous smile. "You look like her." "No way," Shamira said. "Samantha got all the looks in the family, but thanks for saying it. Ouch!" she added, rubbing her arm where Clara had just smacked her, rolling her eyes all the while. "Unfortunately, I called her yesterday evening and left a message that it was important that she come talk to me. I was just going to tell her that you hadn't passed over completely and there were things left for you to do here. I can't lie!" she belted, still obviously afraid of some kind of reprisal. "If I use my abilities and lie for personal gain --" To Protect and Serve Ch. 04 "I told ya, you didn't do anything wrong," Clyde said. "I just thought you should meet with these nice folks and the four of us can work something out that'll protect everyone." Gayla looked at Shamira. "She'll keep looking. I can tell that about people. Some just want a quick yes or no about the person who's passed on, but your sister . . . she's the kind that NEEDS to know. She needs closure." "That's her," Shamira muttered. "She's a bulldog when she gets her mind to something. And she called ME stubborn." "You are," Clara pointed out. "I am . . . don't you start." The four of them spent twenty minutes or so formulating plans, only to have each one scuttled by the fact that Gayla couldn't lie, and too many of the stories crossed that line. "Wait," Shamira said, "can't you just say that you made contact and that you were told that I want her to leave it be?" "You think that'll work? Make her stop looking?" "Maybe . . . oh who am I kidding? I just can't believe she'd even think of doing something like this." "I've only been at this a few years," Gayla replied, "but sometimes it's the cynics that have the hardest time lettin' go." "Another thing that you and your sister have in common," Clara muttered. "Ouch!" Shamira had returned the favor from earlier. Clyde's phone started to beep at him. He rolled his eyes and flipped it open. His eyes went from "rolled" to "wide open" in a hurry. "Ladies, we have a problem." He got to his feet and headed to the door, but he got there just a second too late as Samantha Kingsley busted through the front door. "What did you find out?" she blurted . It was a small room, and there wasn't anyplace for anyone to hide. Shamira had stood up to watch Clyde head for the door. Her eyes met those of her sister. "Shamira?" the older sister murmured. Shamira's heart filled her throat. She had convinced herself that she would never see her family again outside a set of binoculars. She debated briefly denying being Shamira, but it wouldn't have worked. Samantha hurled herself across the room and wrapped herself around her sister's frame, tears in her eyes. Shamira could hear her sister's heart beating rapidly. She hugged Samantha back. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. Clyde, Clara, and Gayla all stepped back, looking at each other and shrugging. No one had any idea what to do. They all stood by and watched as Samantha Kingsley, born Samantha Carswell, stepped back and punched her sister dead in the face. She gripped her hand in pain while Shamira barely registered shock. "You're like fucking concrete," Samantha murmured, tears flowing as she hugged her sister again. "How could you? How could you pretend to be dead? Do you have any idea what I . . . what we've all been going through?" The stunningly beautiful blond girl stepped back, placing her hands on Shamira's face, staring at her as if to make sure she hadn't made a mistake. "Did you get in with the mob or something? Why did you do this? And why are you here?" "Tell her," Clara said from behind her. The Native American's voice was compassionate and low. "Tell her the truth." "Who is she?" Samantha asked. "Tell me what?" "Samantha . . . I didn't pretend to be dead. I died." Samantha stepped back. "You're a ghost? I thought you couldn't touch ghosts." "That's not entirely true," Gayla said, then shrunk under Clyde's disapproving glare. "And that isn't particularly important right now." "Mr. Pritchard?" Samantha said, noticing Clyde. "What are you doing here?" "That's . . . a long story," he muttered, trying not to meet her gaze. "Yer sister will fill ya in." Samantha looked back at Shamira. "What's going on? Are you in trouble?" "Sort of," Shamira said. "Listen, as I said, I did actually die. But the people I tried to save . . . well, one of them gave me a gift before I died. Thought I was worth 'saving' I guess." "What are you talking about?" Shamira closed her eyes and pointed her face to the ground. When her face came up, her eyes were almost all pupils, and she had her fangs extended. "There are other things out there than ghosts," she said. Samantha fainted, but her sister caught her before she hit the ground. Two hours later, after Samantha had recovered, Shamira explained everything. Well, she left out little things like her new-and-improved sex life, but she covered all the bases in regards to dying and becoming a vampire. "And you . . . are a werewolf," she asked of Clyde, who had found the entire process so far quite entertaining. "How can that be? You have cats!" Clara looked over at Clyde and snickered. Clyde blushed. "They're my kids'," he explained. Samantha scrunched her eyebrows. "No, your kids have dogs, except Tommy who has the chinchilla. I'm talking about your cats . . . Buttercup and Tootsie, right? Two longhairs?" Clara stifled a full-blown laugh. "Don't say a word," Clyde growled. "Listen, can I . . . can I talk to Shamira alone?" Samantha asked. "Let's take a walk," the muscular woman replied. "Won't you burst into flames?" "Only if you try to light me on fire again." "Once! And you were the one who said, 'Oh, a little more lighter fluid is all we need.' It wasn't my fault that Darin threw the match in at the same time I was spraying --" "You were aiming at me!" "I told you to back off." The two women walked outside, going over and sitting on the hood of Samantha's car. "So, you came all the way out here to talk Gayla into not letting me know about you? Why don't you want me in your life anymore? Your family --" "Samantha, my new life is going to be dangerous. More than my old one even. My boss basically convinced me that the magical world is like the mafia. Yeah there are rules, but those rules aren't normal. Things that go bump in the night don't play nice, and if they knew I still had ties to the mortal realm . . . to my family . . . they might come after you to get to me to get to my boss. I may not have asked for this, but I can do some good here. But it'll be hard if I'm constantly worrying if some monster is standing outside your door, or watching John at soccer practice or Craig at daycare." She took Samantha's hand when her sister blanched. "I wanted to tell you. I actually visited the house after the funeral --" "I knew it!" Samantha said, jumping to her feet, "I knew you were there!" "Yeah. And I almost woke you up and screamed that I was still alive. Which, in retrospect, would've been a bad idea. Well, my boss helped me realize I could help by family for generations, but --" "But you can't talk to us anymore? Bullshit!" "You going to put a quarter in the swear jar when you get home?" Shamira grinned. Her sister used to cuss like a sailor before the first child was born, then they initiated a "swear" jar that had paid for many a summer camp. "Screw you! It only applies when I'm at home. Otherwise I could buy a car after being at the clinic for ten hours." "Anyway, my boss didn't say that I couldn't talk to you. He just pointed out the dangers in it. And c'mon, I've only been dead a few weeks. The learning curve here is a bitch." Samantha glanced over her. "Well, I must say being undead has improved your sense of fashion. Why didn't you dress more like this when you were alive? Or is this some kind of payback for all the times I suggested something and you said --" "-- but I wouldn't be caught dead in it. Hah hah. No, I . . . I can't explain." "We spent a lot of time convincing her she was hot," Clara said, making both sisters jump. "Then we made it mandatory dress code." "Put a bell on her!" Samantha said, holding her chest like she'd just had a heart attack. "Hey," Clara said, "she's worse!" She was pointing at Shamira now. "Has she told you she can teleport using shadows?" "You can?! No way!" The next several minutes involved small demonstrations of Shamira's power as she hid in the shadows somewhere and then appeared somewhere else. Samantha actually looked envious. "I wish I was a vampire," she muttered. "Why? It's a hell of a lot more work being dead than it's supposed to be. Besides, you've got the husband, the great kids, a job you love --" "And I've got my sister back." She looked at Clara. "Since you're here, maybe you can tell us how to stay in touch? Since I'm not giving my sister up again unless they kill her for real?" "One, you have to promise not to tell anyone." "As if anyone would believe me," Samantha said, scrunching her face and acting like she was talking to a small child. "That's her mommy voice," Shamira explained. "I'll bet the kids behave," Clara said, smiling brightly. "Easiest thing to do is buy rechargeable, no-plan cell phones. Only use them to call each other." "We can do that," Shamira said. She felt better than she had since she died, as if a large part of her life had found its way home again. She picked Samantha up and gave her a (slightly) bone-crushing hug. "Fuck, she's got stronger?!" "She's actually as strong as a vampire a hundred years older than her. She's going to be special," Clara replied. "She was already pretty damn special, even if she'd never admit it." Clara smiled, then looked at Shamira. "I think I like your sister. Hey, go tell Clyde what the deal is and see if he knows a good place to buy the phones. I'll bet he does." As Shamira wandered into the building, Samantha took a deep breath. "She's really still here," she whispered. "She really is," Clara said, sitting down next to her. "You two are really close aren't you?" "Yeah. I helped her with her broken hearts . . . I wasn't allowed to marry Patrick until she approved of him, though he always made her a little nervous. There were so many stupid people that didn't appreciate her, so she always turned to me. I just didn't realize until I thought I'd lost her that I always turned to her too." "She's amazing," Clara replied. "She's a good cop, and so far she's been a good friend. She told us about Jimmy --" "Surprises me. She keeps that one close to her vest. I honestly thought she'd never allow herself to be happy again until she'd saved everyone on earth from everything after that. But she seems . . . happier now." Samantha shot the strange woman next to her a meaningful look. "You will take care of her right? Don't make me get my husband's nine-iron and come down to Atlanta in the mini-van to kick someone's ass." Clara was grinning. She really liked Shamira's sister. "We will. But like she told you, her job is dangerous." "But it sounds interesting, at least to her. And if it fulfills her somehow, then it's worth it. This is just so much to take into account." Clara smiled inwardly now, wondering how Samantha would take it if she truly understood Clara's relationship with Shamira, or the life her sister had gotten into. Clyde, Shamira, and Gayle all came outside. Gayle looked much relieved, Clyde looked content, and Shamira was practically glowing. "Mall opens in an hour," Shamira said. "We can get phones there." "I'll have to tell Patrick something in case he finds it. Probably say it's work related. The dufus will buy that." "He's a dufus, but you married him," Shamira said, hugging her sister again. "You wanna take your car or ours? ------------------- --------- The next night . . . ------------------- --------- Clara and Shamira pulled back into the garage shortly before midnight. Shamira's spirits were high, and Clara was smiling despite complaining for the last three hours that Samantha and Shamira had just gotten their phones and didn't need to use them after spending half the day together. "It's actually good to be home," Shamira said, hanging the keys up on the wall. "Yes it is," came Clara's voice from behind her. The slimmer woman shoved Shamira against the wall. "And now, you need to remember that you're not in Kansas anymore. And it's not your day off anymore," she whispered heatedly into Shamira's ear. "Go to your room, put on something appropriate, and then report to Shane." She stepped back and brought a hand down hard on the muscular woman's denim-clad ass. "Got it?" "Yes Mistress Clara," Shamira crooned. 'Did I just croon?' she wondered. 'I guess I did.' Something was different. She was happier than she could remember. She actually had a bounce in her step as she went to her room, and looked for a uniform for the evening like a teenager picking out an outfit for her first date. Straps or skin? Leather or latex? Make-up or . . . mask? Monique had filled up Shamira's closet with an assortment of active-wear, and there was a shelf covered with mannequin heads dressed up in all sorts of bondage masks. She ran her hands over each of them. This was new. New was good. Was she really this excited? Shane was sitting in his office, waiting for an update. He had a stack of things in his outbox that needed to be distributed, but he wanted to find out how Shamira and Clara's trip had gone. Clara had called him from the garage and told him that Shamira was on her way and that things had gone well. She had that amused tone to her voice that showed up whenever she knew that Shane was going to be surprised by something. That made him smile. He heard a knock on the door. "Come in," he said smoothly. When the door opened, he almost didn't recognize his muscular new vampire. She was wearing a spandex mask, with holes similar to a ski mask with a hole in the back for her ponytail. Those large breasts were attempting to spill out of the leather-mesh bra, and she was wearing a pair of stretchy butt-shorts that exposed more cheek than they concealed. She also had a pair of leather steel-toed boots that were buffed and polished as black as night. "Shamira," he said softly. She looked different, and not just in dress. She actually looked relaxed. "Approach the desk." He watched as she walked forward, a certain confidence in her step. Many submissives leaned towards being meek. There was something defiant hidden just underneath Shamira's skin, and it excited Shane. "Bend over the desk and grab the edge on this side. Good." He removed his belt and folded it in half. "Now explain what happened on your trip." "Yes Sir," she started, just before the first slap of the belt came down on her helpless backside. 'Just enjoy it,' she told herself. She even pressed her crotch against the edge of the desk as the belt met backside. She told him everything that happened, including her accidental reuniting with her sister. She figured it probably would piss him off, but she wasn't going to sugarcoat it. Actually, Shane was delighted. Admittedly it wasn't his ideal situation, but it had apparently brought Shamira to this point. She had become part of this bizarre new world, and she was able to share it with someone to a small degree. All her new friends were part of it, and she had just needed some kind of connection to her past. By all accounts, Shamira's sister seemed like a reasonable person who wouldn't endanger anyone, and she anchored Shamira in many ways. By the time his new charge was done with the story, her backside was striped heavily, and she didn't seem nervous or regretful at all. Despite popular mythology, vampire's blood did flow, but only when needed to heal the body. Shamira seemed like she wanted to climax. He'd give that to her . . . that and so much more. But not yet. "Do you understand why I've treated you this way?" he asked, his voice betraying nothing. "Because I've made you angry in some way?" she replied, pressing against his desk. "Because you've made me very proud," he replied soothingly. "Put your hands behind your back now." When she had done as he commanded, he pulled handcuffs from another drawer and secured her wrists. Then he hit the intercom. "Henry, could you come to my office please?" Shamira wondered what was in store for her. She'd never been with Henry in a carnal sense, and her curiosity was getting the better of her. Henry showed up, looking even more Western casual than Shamira usually did. He broke out in a grin when he saw that the boss already had company. "When did she get back?" he asked as if she wasn't there. Shane unzipped his slacks and pulled his semi-rigid member out. "Open," he ordered Shamira, shoving his cock into her mouth. "Suck." He waited until she began applying pressure, bringing him to full rigidity, then continued. "Henry, I think Shamira here should help with that little project I put you on. You're still lead, but I want to expand her horizons," he said, winking and staring at her backside. Henry nodded, unzipping his own jeans. "Feet together," her ordered Shamira. 'Damn she has a nice ass,' he thought. He peeled her shorts down to mid-thigh, effectively trapping her legs together while exposing her. He raised a hand and smacked that now-bare ass hard enough that it rang out through the office. Then he pushed his way between her folds and straight into her core, enjoying the tightness of her pussy as he began pumping her. "Does she know what the project is?" "Not yet. You can fill her in." Shamira was trying to pay attention to what they were saying, which was difficult considering the circumstances. Henry was a bit better endowed than Shane, and the two of them together was a lot of manhood. Shane had grabbed her head and was thrusting himself between her lips, and she was sucking eagerly and dragging her tongue along his length. And with her thighs pressed tightly together, Henry's shaft felt bigger than it probably should. Neither man was being particularly gentle with her. She was just a sexual object, no more important than a cup of coffee while they discussed business. She tried to ask permission to orgasm, but with her mouth full of cock, the idea was daunting. Her body was seized with delight, and neither man even slowed his pace. Her juices flowed out as she lay between them, and her mind didn't pick up on much of anything that they said for the next minute or so. The next thing she picked up was: "-- by Thursday. Renata is returning with the new security additions on Friday, so that will be a meet'n'greet day, then she's got the deal with the faeries on Saturday." "You sure she's going to be up for it after this deal and her 'therapy' with Banshee?" "She'll do as she's told," Shane said. He withdrew his member from her face, slapped her on her cheek through the soft mask, then waited for her to respond. "Yes Sir," she got out just before he shoved his member back down her throat. And he was going down her throat all the way, activating her gag reflex automatically. But since she didn't need to breathe, Shane didn't much care. "No more flaking out?" Henry asked, spanking her ass hard again . . . and again . . . and again. "I think that she's learned her place," Shane replied. "She belongs here. She belongs to us." Henry grabbed Shamira's bound hands and pushed them up, locking her arms and making her push harder against the desk. With her shoulders. Shane slapped her exposed upper arms, lighting up the skin there as well. Shane started pulling all the way out of her mouth, slapping her in the face with his cock, then thrusting rapidly back in. And Shamira dreaded the moments that he wasn't inside her. His cock should be inside her. Both of them should. All of them should. 'What the hell's gotten into you?' Shamira asked of herself. But she had no answers for herself except for the grunts of pleasure that poured from her mouth into Shane's shaft, amplified by the pounding that Henry was giving her. Henry pressed both of this thumbs into Shamira's ass and pulled slightly as he fucked her. He was looking forward to exploring all her pleasures, but this was just some quick fun. He was sure that Shane had a reason he was sharing, and Henry wasn't one to look a gift whore in the mouth. Or anywhere else. To Protect and Serve Ch. 04 Shane came in her mouth with little warning. He pulled out until only the head remained inside, then spurted several waves of warm jizz onto her tongue. "Swallow it," he growled, "and clean up the mess. Shamira happily obliged, swallowing his seed and then gently sucking and licking his softening member until it glistened with the moisture from her mouth and that was all. He stepped away and tucked himself back in, and then picked up the belt again. Moving to the side of the desk, he brought it down, making her back tingle. The rest of her was already tingling from what Henry was doing. She getting strapped and fucked at the same time, and she couldn't believe how good it felt. Their whole world revolved around her at the moment. Just for shits and giggles, she "strained" against the handcuffs, making sure every muscle of her arms, back, and shoulders was flexing to its utmost . . . so they knew the power of the animal they had captured. She wondered if it was just her imagination, or if Henry actually picked up the pace at that point. It wasn't her imagination. The sight of that Greek-statuesque body rippling, perfectly bronzed skin covered with sweat . . . it made him want to cum just thinking about it. But he wasn't ready yet. He concentrated on avoiding release until she was ready. There was something he wanted to see first. Her skin was stinging badly now, but Shamira wasn't going to complain. Not this time. She wasn't going to back down and dammit, she wasn't going to feel bad about this. Instead, it was just going to be another fantasy down. She felt that familiar feeling building in her core. Her pussy tightened again -- Henry felt Shamira's orgasm begin, so he stopped all motion. He just let her body do all the work, clenching down on him. The pressure on his cock was mind-blowing, and he quickly came deep inside her body, milked dry by her sex. "Follow me," Shane said. "Leave your shorts where they are." 'As if I have a choice,' she thought. With her shorts still around her thighs and a trickle of cum trying to escape from between her nether lips, she made her way out into the common room. He lowered the chain from the ceiling in the center of the room and attached the D-clamp to her cuffs, then hoisted them as high as they could go, again, without dislocating her shoulders. That left her bare-assed, bent over, with both feet on the ground, staring at the floor, her arms straight, and secure at an awkward angle behind her. "Let's see," Shane muttered, looking around. Seeing nothing else that would work, he took off his silk tie and tied it around her eyes. "As with Renata, you will be on display until midnight meal. In that time, you will be subject to the whims of any member of my House who seeks to amuse himself or herself with you. Even the other submissives can partake in whatever you have to offer. Do you understand?" "Yes Sir," she replied. Blind and pseudo-helpless, she was left alone with her thoughts. She heard Shane's voice come on the intercom, announcing her fate, as it were. Her first thought, strangely enough was disappointment. What if no one showed up? What if no one felt her worthy -- Footsteps approached . . . two pairs. Shamira heard something being scooted around in front of her, possibly a chair. She heard a body settling into fabric, then someone grabbed her head and pulled it down until her face met bare pussy. Then she heard Shane's voice again. "Your suitors will not identify themselves," he said from nearby. "You will not ask permission to climax, because they will not answer." Shamira felt something smack her ass from a third party. It stung a lot, and was thinner than the belt had been. Harder. A reed maybe? A switch? It struck again, and she gasped. Shane continued. "Pleasure whoever approaches you without question or hesitation until I release you." Shamira began to devour the pussy in front of her, wondering all the while who it belonged to. All she could use was her mouth and tongue, but she was up to the challenge. And whoever it was that was whipping her kept up a good pace, striking her ass and upper thighs. And to her own surprise, she was in no hurry to provide the recipient of her oral pleasure a quick "happy ending." The pain she was experiencing made her feel . . . amazing and besides, it was her duty to pleasure her captors. So she licked, sucked and nuzzled for a while before the woman finally climaxed. Then whoever it was switched places with the person who had been lashing at Shamira. Another pussy. Another woman. 'I'll bet one is Monique and the other is Lillian,' Shamira thought, proud at her logic. It made sense that the two lovers would play together. She set her mouth to work as someone spanked her ass with a bare hand. Shamira liked this kind of spanking better. It was more personal. This person stopped sometimes to finger Shamira's sex as well. Unfortunately, the captive woman was able to finish off her second visitor, so she was left unsatisfied. Shamira lost track of the next hour, but she was visited by everyone still in the house at least once. She had orgasmed two more times, swallowed multiple men's seed, and was dripping more down the inside of her thigh. Her face felt sticky from all the female expenditures that she had coaxed forth. She knew Renata wasn't there, and she thought Banshee and Reaper were both off on business, but that left Shane, Monique, Raul, Bjorne, Lillian, and Clara -- 'No,' she thought, 'Clara hasn't been here.' She wasn't sure how she knew, but Clara hadn't partaken of the offering. Shamira wondered if she had done something wrong, because she knew Clara's body, and she knew she hadn't experienced it. Her skin was on fire, her shoulders ached, but the only thing she could think about in her few quiet moments. Was it because Clara had gotten enough of her during their trip together? Had she become old hat to the beautiful Native American? She felt someone pulling at the front clasp of her leather bra, and it startled her. Shamira hadn't heard anyone enter the room, but it could have been because she had been deep in thought. When her breasts popped free, the intruder attached clamps to her nipples, and she could feel small weights pulling downward. She gasped. Then she felt slaps to the sides of her breasts. Shamira inhaled deeply . . . definitely Clara. She smiled. Her friend had arrived at last. Clara was content to treat her comrade's breasts like pinatas for a while, slapping them repeatedly as if expecting to get a surprise. She stood up and raked her nails across the taut skin of Shamira's back, digging them into that already tortured ass. Shamira felt something being pressed against her asshole. It felt slick and slimy, and the head of whatever it was felt enormous. Her sphincter stretched, and she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. Then it was in, and something wider pressed against her ass crack. 'So THAT'S a butt plug,' she thought, seeing stars despite the blindfold. Then she felt Clara pull her head up using her ponytail as leverage. Next, Shamira's lover jammed something deep into her pussy, some kind of dildo of above average length and width. Clara started to pump hard with the sex-toy, thrusting so hard that Shamira expected to feel the head of the fake cock pop out of her mouth. She felt so full with her ass stretched and her pussy filled to the brim with sex toy. Clara leaned in several times to lightly bite areas of reddened skin, and it drove Shamira wild. Shamira quickly experienced another orgasm, but Clara wasn't done. Somehow, her strokes were keeping the muscular vamp on the edge, inducing multiple climaxes in rapid succession. Shamira could barely stand, but she couldn't sink any closer to the ground. Her legs burned due to the exertion of keeping her standing. This was Clara's torture . . . death by climax. She was testing Shamira's will. It was a test Shamira was determined not to fail. Despite the deep, fiery discomfort in her legs, her ass, her arms, her tits, and her shoulders, Shamira stayed mostly standing. The clamps disappeared from her nipples to be replaced by a gentle mouth and soft tongue. Shamira climaxed again, just from this sensitive manipulation of her breast flesh. A body settled into the chair in front of her and Shamira's head was pulled down. Another bout of cunnilingus, but Shamira was up to it. She knew Clara's likes and dislikes . . . she knew how to pleasure this woman more than anyone else alive. She would not go for the clit right away. She would tease her way around, sucking on the inner labia, licking the outer. She would push her tongue deep, widen it, licking the woman to her core. Then she would turn her attention to the clitoris, sucking on it until Clara bucked those slim hips against Shamira's face, covering it with cum. So that was what Shamira did . . . and Clara reacted just as she should. Several times. Shamira had once trained for three hours a day minimum to keep her body in shape. She had run races, participated in body-building competitions, and had been an avid hiker. Never in her life had she felt so completely exhausted as she did at that moment. Someone, probably Clara, lowered the chain from the roof a bit more so the D-clamp could be more easily removed. Shamira wanted badly to sink to her knees, but she wouldn't do it. Not until she was given permission. The cuffs were removed, and so was the blindfold. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the light again, and the first thing she saw was Clara's grinning, beautiful face. "Not bad," Clara said, 'for a beginner." She put a finger under Shamira's chin, raised her face, then kissed her. Shamira could still have been blindfolded and STILL known this was Clara. Clara's kisses were unmistakable for any other experience on Earth. They were everything Shamira need them to be, which at the moment was soft and lingering. "Time to get you cleaned up for dinner," Clara murmured at last, reluctantly breaking her lip-hold. "Join me?" Shamira asked. "Mistress Clara?" Clara smiled again. "Of course, my pet. I still need to get that butt-plug back from you." Needless to say, they were a little late for dinner. --------------- ----------------------- The next evening . . . --------------- ----------------------- Shamira was plastered against the wall of Banshee's room, unable to move. She wasn't bound by chain or rope of any kind. She was a captive of a fear so pure and primal that it had existed since mankind first walked upright. Across from her, in perfectly maintained glass habitats, was Banshee's collection of spiders. The Japanese assassin, who had gotten back earlier that day, actually had a quirk to her mouth. She wasn't well known for smiling, but she was vastly amused by this reaction. It had been decided that Shamira needed to get over this phobia, and she had shown up in the early hours after dark to start her therapy. And Banshee had a lot of therapy. She had one of each of the ten most venomous spiders on the planet, including North American favorites the Black Widow and Brown Recluse, along with some gems like the Red Back and Funnel Web spiders. Every major continent was represented. After the venomous ones were the spiders that really freaked her out -- tarantulas. They were bigger, hairier, and altogether capable of scaring the ever-loving shit out of Shamira. "They can't get you," Banshee explained for the millionth time. "I promise. I've never had one break out of its habitat and run a vampire to ground. Not even once. And you've never even been bitten?" Shamira slowly moved her head from side to side. Her skin was trembling and heart was beating involuntarily. She didn't want to be there. She didn't understand what had possessed her to even try. "You do realize that you're immortal don't you? Their venom wouldn't even work on you," Clara said from the doorway, trying to be helpful. Admittedly, the woman's arrival did make Shamira feel a teeny-tiny bit better. "Actually, that's not entirely true," Banshee replied. "Some have a venom that causes necrosis rather than invading the blood stream and . . . this isn't helping isn't it?" she asked as Shamira tried to physically push herself through the wall behind her. "No, you're being the opposite of helpful," Clara said, moving to Shamira's side. "Listen, you can do this," she told her friend. "Mind over matter. You've been able to do everything else you set your mind to, so this should be a cakewalk." "An evil, eight-legged cakewalk," Shamira muttered. "They are not evil," Banshee replied primly. "Stand over there." She waited for Shamira to slowly make her way to the appointed spot. Then she opened up one of the enclosures and let a hairy monstrosity walk onto the back of her hand. "This is a Chilean Rose tarantula. I just call her Rosita." Rosita lumbered carefully up Banshee's arm. "Beautiful, isn't she?" Shamira was willing to bet the devil himself would be beautiful too. One was still supposed to keep one's distance. Banshee pointed at another cage. That's a Golden Silk Orb-Weaver . . . the kind that Shane's hopefully new acquisition turns into. The web actually seems golden when it reflects the light, hence the name. You're going to have to get a little closer than that to see it." "What part of 'abject terror' are you having a problem comprehending?" Shamira asked. 'Mind over matter,' she thought. 'None of them can kill you. Blood-based poisons won't work on you. You can do this.' Her mind seemed more confident than her feet, because they still weren't moving. Banshee seemed to realize that Rosita's presence in the open might be contributing to the woman's unease, so put her away. "Would you like to try coming a little closer?" Shamira willed her feet to move one step forward, and then another. She was a full yard from the wall, and every limb she had began to shake. Her eyes were fixed on that little glass cell with golden webs. The spider itself was a mix of yellow, black, and red, and looked to her like something out of Starship Troopers. It was just sitting there, not moving at all, but Shamira was convinced that one of those beady little eyes was looking at her, thinking about how it would like to bite her pump venom into her system and -- Someone touched Shamira's shoulder. She screamed so loud that several spiders hid in the back of their habitats, Banshee glowered, and Clara was staring incredulously over Shamira's shoulder. "Did I come at a bad time?" Henry asked to Shamira, who was back against the wall and looking unlikely to move again. "You . . . are . . . an idiot," Banshee said, poking Henry in the chest. "I just wanted to --" "Idiot!" "Uhm, I think I'll be going --" "Idiot!" "Shamira,Ineedtotalktoyouassoonasyou'reavailable.It'sbusinessnotpleasure," Henry replied in one fell swoop, then quickly fled the room. Banshee was an assassin, and she'd been doing her job for one-hundred and seventy years, and wasn't the sort of person you wanted to antagonize. Shamira started inching her way along the wall towards the door. "Stay!" Banshee said. Conflicting fears clashed in Shamira's head . . . spiders or Banshee. "Come here!" Banshee barked. 'Banshee is scarier,' Shamira thought. 'For now.' ------------- -------------- To be continued . . . To Protect and Serve Ch. 05 Proofread by FernieLyn * This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these character and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author. This story is based in an alternative universe, where history took a different course than the one we are used to. In this world, the creatures which we now believe to be legends have walked alongside man for the duration of our existence. Vampires, werewolves, wizards, witches, sorcerers, and a host of other beings share our world. The following story contains, in one chapter or another, lesbian, homosexual, heterosexual, anal, group, sci-fi/fantasy, non-human, and BDSM sexual activity. There may be some erotic horror in there somewhere as well, but I haven't made up my mind. ---------------------- ------------------------ Shamira found Henry waiting in the garage, his head under the hood of the Lincoln Blackwood he loved to drive. "You wanted to see me? At a highly inappropriate moment?" she added, giving him a meaningful glare. She had been in the middle of her "spider therapy" with Banshee when he had crept up behind her and lightly tapped her on the shoulder, freaking her out like nobody's business. Needless to say, she had left that session more freaked out about arachnid's than when she had gone in. "Yeah" He replaced the dipstick and closed the hood. "Remember Tabitha Grunholdt?" "One of Shane's donors, right? The judge's wife?" "Yeah, her." "What about her?" "We're going to kill her." Shamira had been looking over the cars in the garage when her feet stopped moving. "That's not funny." "Wasn't supposed to be," Henry said with a cocked grin. "Early next week was when I was thinking. We want to make it as painless as possible of course --" "You've got to be shitting me! Why would we kill her? No, I'm not --" "Calm down," Henry said. "It ain't like she's gonna stay dead." Shamira paused for a moment. "He's bringing her over? Vamping her out?" "Yep. Don't tell anyone yet though. Shane's going to make the announcement this weekend." "You ass!" Shamira said, punching Henry hard in the arm. She almost knocked him over. "Watch it!" "Sorry," she replied. She didn't mean it. "So why her? Is that common? Bringing over a donor?" "It's not unheard of. Tabitha's a good catch, and we already know she'll fit right in." For some reason, Shamira felt a barb on that comment. She hadn't exactly been making the transition easily. "So why her? I mean, you were a sheriff, Banshee's an assassin, Reaper was special ops, Clara's just hot as hell --" "And Clara is a fast thinker and a shaman to boot," Henry added. "Shane always has a reason. Tabitha is actually a doctor, and served in the Army for fifteen years. Then she did the whole Doctors Without Borders thing, which is where she met her current husband. Actually, she met Shane there too. She'd seen some stuff in her travels that exposed her to our style of life anyway. She can fire a gun, stitch you back together, and has a shrewd mind for politics. Her marriage of convenience to her husband has gone on long enough anyway, and they've both been looking for a way out." "He doesn't know about her though, right?" "Nope. From what I understand, he'll be genuinely distraught. They might not be having sex, but they are friends. So quick and painless would be best. Public would be good, just to make sure there's no suspicion cast on the husband." "No fire, no decapitation, and no bystanders getting hurt," Shamira said, rubbing her chin. "That really only leaves gunfire. I can't believe I'm having this conversation," she muttered. "Get used to it. This is your world now. Why not a car accident?" "Maybe, but they're too damn unpredictable. It might just maim her, the car might ignite, or something else. I'm assuming that there's only so my much that a new vamp can recover from?" "You've pretty much nailed it. Sniper?" Shamira had pretty much figured out that she was being tested at this point. Henry probably already had something in mind. 'Fine,' she thought, 'he wants to try me, then he can try me.' "I would say random shooting. A mugging attempt gone wrong. A sniper would be too headline making, as would a drive-by. Drive-by would be messy anyway and have too many options for collateral damage." Henry raised his eyebrows. "A mugging?" "A mugging." He grinned. "Excellent choice." "But how do we put her in a place where we can pull it off and get away? Downtown maybe? Vine City?" "Let's head downtown and wander around. Walk the streets and see if someone jumps us. If someone does, then we know we're in a bad area." "Your logic is amazing," Shamira said with a smile. "I like to think so." He looked her over, his grin growing. "What?" "Well, if we're going into the bad area of town to look for trouble, don't you think we should look the part?" Shamira's eyes narrowed. "What did you have in mind?" An hour later, Henry and Shamira were walking the streets and neighborhoods near the Georgia Dome. At the dominant's insistence, the submissive was dressed in her finest prostitute-wear, which included knee-high boots, a mini-skirt with an emphasis on "mini," a pink tube-top with no bra underneath, and a matching fuzzy vest. The weirdest part . . . Monique had all these items in stock. 'The girl's got too much damn free time,' Shamira thought. She and Henry had split up to scour the area, but were keeping in touch with inconspicuous wireless earpieces. "Find anything yet?" Henry asked politely. "I think I've passed a couple of guys who might give me a nasty rash by proximity, but I'm not seeing the best spot. It would help if I had some context for why she would be in this area in the damn first place." "Calm down, pet," Henry told her. "Don't forget that I'm in charge." "Yes sir," she replied, growling into the phone. "Would it be impertinent to mention that I am dressed in a manner that might entice a cop to question me which could lead to --" "I have no doubt of your ability to get away easily. You're downtown in the middle of the night, and you're a shadow jumper." 'He's probably already got a place picked out,' she thought as she turned a corner. 'He's just doing this to humiliate me.' She stopped. 'Maybe that's the whole point of this trip.' "Why did you stop?" came his voice. "Are you watching me?!" "Always." She smiled. So he liked to watch, huh? She started to prowl again, a little swagger in her step and wondering where Henry was. She didn't bother to look for him. She noticed an increased amount of attention from the few motorists and pedestrians that were out and about. But she stopped again when she found a spot. "Sir, what about here?" There was a pause. "Why there?" "She goes to the Fox for some event, parks down there," she said, pointing to the lot she meant and assuming he could see her. See the ATM over there? Free-standing with a dark alley no more than fifteen feet away. She walks past the alley, gets grabbed . . . shot." Her already cool blood chilled a bit more. "Problems?" "No sir." Henry sighed into her ear piece. "Don't lie to me, Shamira." "I'm sorry, sir. I know that she'll rise again, but --" she just couldn't continue. "It's okay," he said soothingly. "One shot through the heart and she'll be dead. It'll hurt, but she wants this to happen. She'll be happier with us than she was with her old life. You of all people should be able to sympathize with that." Shamira bit off a retort, wanting to say that her old life had been great. But she would have been lying. She'd been dying slowly, and it took getting killed to find a life that might make her happy. "Yes sir. Anyway, that alley leads away to North Ave., where we could have a getaway car waiting." "Good idea, but no getaway cars. Too easy to trace. What we need is someone who can vanish without a trace." "Banshee? I heard she's good, but --" Shamira's eyes shot open. "Wait, you're not seriously saying --" "You," Henry said calmly. "You shoot, step into the shadows, and you're back at the house. No chance of getting tailed, no leaving a trail behind. I like the location though. Believable." "Henry . . . I mean, sir --" "I actually prefer Master," Henry told her. "Master, I don't know if I can --" "Shane trusted this job to me, and I say that you do the job. You're a good shot, you've got the ability to get away . . . you're the perfect choice. Shane will agree with me, because he trusts you. Shane cares for Tabitha, so he needs this to go right. That means using you. And you realize that your abilities make you the perfect person to help with all of the upcoming creations." "How many is he planning?!" "Three. And he's bringing in an orphan vampire from Europe, but he won't be here until next month. Shane needs his troops and he needs them soon, especially if we're going to move against Shane's enemy in the South." "We're all in the South," Shamira muttered. "What's this guy's name anyway?" "Andrew Lacroix. He's a full vamp, but not yet a vampire lord. He's the political lord down in Savannah, and he seems to think that he had more of a claim to Atlanta than Shane. Hell, he wants all of Georgia. Don't ask me why, since Atlanta is enough to handle, and certainly too much for that twit. I wish Shane would just send Banshee and Reaper after him, balls to the wall. Okay, there might be collateral damage, but what can you do? But hey, this is what makes undeath worth living, right?" "Yes . . . sir," she said, letting her amused exasperation come through. About that time, a car slowed down. "Great," she muttered. "Hey there," a young Latino man said. Shamira heard talking in the shadows of the car. "Mamacita, you've got it goin' ON!" the driver continued. Shamira was on the verge of rolling her eyes and walking away when that annoying little voice filtered into her ear. "You're dressed like a whore," Henry told her remotely. "Play the part." 'Son of a --" She managed a smile. "I've got it all and more," she said, doing the half-closed eyelid thing that the guys from vice always talked about. The kind of thing that working girls did to try and get out of being cited or arrested. 'Actually, this is kind of fun,' she decided. She put her hands on the top of their beat-up Cadillac, exposing a generous amount of cleavage. The driver and his three passengers were looking at her like kids at a nice piece of candy. "I dunno," one said from the backseat. "Lots of muscles. Sure she's not a guy?" That stung home for Shamira, who had dealt with accusations of "manliness" for many years. Without even thinking, she stepped back and pulled up the front of her mini-skirt to expose her black thong. "See any man parts?" "God no," another passenger said. "Hey," the driver said, "how about a freebie? It's my birthday! Almost." "Hmm," came Henry's voice through the headset, "wouldn't it be interesting --" Shamira noticed something . . . wrong . . . in the darkness on the other side of the street. One moment she saw nothing, and then it was like someone flipped a switch in her eyes, like staring at one of those hidden images in the posters. Shadows at night weren't unusual, but these were moving in a most unnatural way. Shadows that didn't seem to be cast by anything. "Hey, what's up?" the driver asked. "You gonna --" "Cop," she said quickly. "Just saw him turn the corner back there. Better split." She actually felt a little disappointed that the game was ending. "Try again in about an hour if you're still up." "Thanks lady!" the driver said, pulling away from the curb. "I didn't see any police, " Henry said. "Are you trying to --" "Something's wrong down here," she said. "I'm seeing shadows move, but I can't see what's casting them." Henry was suddenly all business. "What do the shadows look like?" "They're . . . blobs. I can't describe them any better, but that's what they are." "Did you bring a weapon?" "I've got my snakewhip belt, and a 9mm in the purse." "Silver bullets?" "Do we have any bullets that aren't?" Henry dropped from a nearby rooftop, almost scaring the hell out of Shamira. "Where are they?" he asked. "Right there," she said. "Can't you see them?" "No," he replied, then looked at her. "Are you sure --" "Yeah, I'm . . . fuck, they're moving." She cocked her head. The shapes were moving oddly, moving back and forth as if . . . "They're trying to get over here," she said. They're shying away from the light, and . . . why not just fly through the sky? If they're afraid of light --" "Crap," Henry muttered. "Dark Pools. Nasty monsters. They blend completely in the shadows, and they're basically like big hungry mouths. Shine light directly on them and they dissolve, but people generally can't detect them until it's too late. Someone had to have summoned them, but . . . wait, why can YOU see them?" Shamira shrugged. She looked around and noticed that some things seemed crisper. "Strange. I never noticed it before, but vamps can see stuff better in darkness than in light, can't they?" Henry's eyes slowly opened wide. "No, they can't. Vamps can see just as well at night as during the day, but not better. Fuck, you've got Shadow Sight too! Unfair!" "Huh?" Shamira felt her response was brilliant. "Shadow Sight! It's another shadow Aspect. I can't be sure right here, but I'm willing to bet you just developed the third of the Shadow Aspects. Damn it, I don't even have one Aspect!" "Can we concentrate on the evil buggers trying to eat us?" Henry was grumbling. He was fascinated by this development, but Shamira had a point. "I'm willing to bet that Lacroix sent them." "Why us? Why not Shane?" "Dark Pools are nasty, but they're ghostly creatures, and no match for a poltergeist like Jeremiah. They probably just started looking for the nearest members of Shane's house, and that would be us." He got an idea. "Stall them. I'll be back in a jiffy." "Did he just say 'jiffy'?" she asked of no one in particular. Henry had taken off. When it looked like the Dark Pools were going to try and make their way around, Shamira stepped toward them, careful to stay within the beam of lamppost. She undid her belt, winding the business end around her hand. One of the shadows drifted as close as it could to where she was standing, and she lashed out with the whip. The tip passed harmlessly through it but, when the extending silver tip met concrete on the other side, there was a little bit of a spark. That caused the shadow to jump back, wary of her now. She was so proud of herself that she almost missed a second Dark Pool flowing from the other side when she stepped too close to the edge of the light. She counted three . . . no, four Dark Pools, and all of them had converged around her location. Before, she could have taken one step away from the light, sank into shadows, and vanished somewhere else, but now she was somewhat trapped. Not that she would run even if she could, since that would leave four hungry demons slinking around downtown Atlanta. She was getting scared, but she was fine as long as the light stayed on. She stared at the pools of total blackness that surrounded her, and suddenly her eyesight . . . popped. Like earlier, things became crisper, and all the little nuances hidden by darkness became obvious, and she saw all of the Dark Pools. These things that drifted across the ground were simply the mouths of the horde of tiny, chomping demons. Each Dark Pool was a colony of living, sentient appetite. They were called pools, but Shamira saw that their bodies were oceans, the shores of which bent off into some other world or reality in ways that made it hard to look at. Like all oceans, no one drop could kill, but the whole of it would consume, leaving nothing behind. 'Who the hell could have summoned things like this?' she thought. Then she heard something that scared her even more -- laughter. Somewhere, revelers were out and about, wandering around after getting kicked out of some bar or another. The Pools shifted, but seemed to be keeping their attention on her. But if some innocent wandered by now . . . Shamira had to think fast. She knew they feared the light, but did it hurt them? She got her answer a moment later as a large black pickup truck came tearing around a corner. "They still around?" came Henry's voice in her ear. "They've got me kind of surrounded." Henry hit the high-beams and roof lights on the truck, and the area began to glow. Smoke erupted from the Dark Pools, and for three of them there was nowhere to go. Shamira could see that as the edge of the Pools that touched this world burned under the light, they began to lose their hold on this reality, like a suction-cup after the air-tight seal begins to leak. One by one, they popped loose and vanished into whatever world they had come from until only one remained. It still had enough grip to stay in this world, but not much. It had found refuge from the lights by skulking behind a trash can and a public Post Office drop box. Shamira could practically feel its panic. It was a hunter, not the hunted. It didn't know how to react. Shamira noticed how close it was to the alley. If it got in there, Henry couldn't follow it and it would vanish, and who knew what it might eat when it got free. Shamira saw the edge of the creature just before it made a crawl for it, and without thinking she reached out and grabbed it. Her hands immediately started screaming in agony as the Pool bit into her flesh, but she didn't let go. She dug her stiletto heels into the ground and pulled backward. The Dark Pool stretched like taffy, some getting pulled into the headlights of the truck. It started to burn, dissolving out of one of Shamira's hands. Shamira looked at her hand, wondering how badly -- All she saw were little red marks, but no cuts and no bleeding. 'How is that possible?' Then it hit her. This was a creature of pure darkness . . . she healed faster the darker it got. Because it was made up of lots of tiny little mouths instead of one big one, it couldn't do damage to her fast enough to do anything but hurt like hell. 'Shadow Healing rocks!' she thought, reaching her hand back into the Pool and dragging the amorphous thing towards the light. Henry backed up and maneuvered the truck to capture more of the thing in the headlights. Through her hands, Shamira could feel the thing screaming. She felt like a million needles were getting jammed into her hands, but she didn't let go until she felt its whole weight pulling on her. It was no longer trying to get away; it was falling. Falling back into its own world. She let go and, just like that, it was gone. She fell back on her ass just as a group of college students walked past her location, only half a block away. 'Thank God they didn't show up sooner,' she thought. "Are you okay?" Henry said, getting out of the truck. He looked at her hands. "What the hell?" She grinned. She held up her hurt but intact hands and explained her theory about what had happened. He just shook his head in amazement. "You are . . . good grief," he muttered, his eyes still wide with amazement. "What? You sound disappointed the damn things didn't eat me," she replied, mildly hurt. To Protect and Serve Ch. 05 "It ain't that at all. I just can't seem to wrap my brain around how powerful you are." "What? I've got a few cool tricks, but you're stronger and Shane's stronger, and everyone keeps saying that the weres are --" "They're a different kind of strong, and you are DEFINITELY more powerful than I am. Three of the Shadow Aspects? You're not even three weeks old yet!" "Sorry," she muttered. She felt like she was being given a free pass . . . power she hadn't earned that should go to others. "Don't be. I"m surprised, not upset." He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to her feet, then checked out her hands. They were already as clear as if they'd never even been nibbled. "You're amazing," he murmured. Suddenly, Shamira was uncomfortable again. Someone else should've gotten all this power, not her. Someone better suited to using it. All the excitement and adrenalin of the evening abandoned her, leaving her feeling hollow again. Henry seemed oblivious to her mind's about-face. "Well, your customers should be back around," he said smoothly. "I think you should reward them for their persistence in case they do --" He stopped when he noticed that healthy sensuality that had been there earlier seemed to have vanished. "Shamira, you know that you need to tell me if you're injured or --" "I'm just feeling really drained," she said softly. 'Dammit!' her mind screamed, 'you just got settled again.' She wanted to call her sister and talk it over. She wanted to talk to Clara. She just didn't think that Henry would understand. But Henry wasn't stupid. Part of being an enforcer was the ability to read people. He thought back for a moment. "Shamira, don't you dare feel bad for being strong. Some people are born faster or stronger than their peers. It doesn't make them better, but it gives them tools. You were reborn one of us, and you've got gifts. You just used your healing as a weapon for all intents and purposes. That took smarts, and that was something you earned." "Yes Master," she said, trying to put her game face back on. She didn't want to do this part again . . . the part where she freaked out and denied herself further exploration of her world, and she knew she was being silly. But it didn't change the fact that she had lost the urge to act on her earlier fantasy, and Henry could see it. "You just saved lives," he told her. "Again. Every time you step onto the field of battle, you impress us." Shamira shrugged. "Master, you said --" "No 'Masters' for a few minutes, okay?" "Okay. You said Shadow Sight was the third Shadow Aspect. What is Shadow Sight exactly, and how many Shadow Aspects are there?" "There are five. I'll let Shane or Lillian explain the others, since my ancient lore isn't what it should be, but Shadow Sight means that no creature, magical or otherwise, can hide from you in the shadows, and it means that you can see even in complete darkness. Normally vamp's eyes just amplify light, kind of like night vision goggles, but you don't need any light source at all. Shamira, the darkness of the world is allying itself with you. It's a tremendous gift." "It scares the crap out of me. I learned back in my old life that power always comes with a price." "Don't let it stress you," Henry told her, then looked around. "Let's get in the truck and go grab you a bite to eat, okay?" He even opened the door for her. They drove over to Varsity, a burger joint that had late hours and where they prided themselves on being rude. Henry let Shamira do the ordering and, strangely enough, the drive-in staff didn't seem too hostile. It did take a while to get the guy who brought their food to stop staring at Shamira's "attire", but the service was otherwise impeccable. There was something about a good greasy burger that had always been cathartic for Shamira, and it was more so now that she didn't have to worry about gaining weight. Her body was probably going to be warming up shortly as she burned off the excess matter, but she didn't much care. And the chocolate shake was to die for. She watched the young people who frequented the establishment in the early morning hours, listening to Henry on the cell phone as he explained to Shane what had gone down that night. He glanced her way on occasion, a grin plastered on his face. She could even hear Shane's shocked reply when he heard about the emergence of her Shadow Sight. "Who else has Aspects?" she asked when he hung up the phone. "Banshee and Shane, right? What can they do?" "Banshee has Mind Fog, which is the ability to make people pay no attention to her. It's not like invisibility, because video cameras and so forth still can see her, but normal people in line of sight just decide she isn't worth paying attention to. It's convenient and really spooky, but it drains her a lot. Your Aspects seem to be much more natural for you." "What about Shane?" "Shane has Soul Shield. It means his mind can't be clouded, read, or controlled by magic, which is incredibly useful for any vampire, especially an area lord." Henry took a sip of his cola, then said, "About one percent of all vampires develop one Aspect, and I couldn't even give you the odds of someone having more than one." "Is there a list somewhere? On Mysti-pedia maybe?" "Yeah. Ask Lillian or Clara or Shane though. They're the scholars amongst us, so they can probably give you better answers. I'm just here to kick ass and look pretty." Shamira grinned. "You do that well. Well, looking pretty at any rate. I don't know how well you actually kick ass, seeing as I did all the work." "So you're feeling smart-alecky, are you?" he replied. He saw a sparkle in her eye that showed she was feeling better. "No . . .Master," she said. He powered the windows up, then looked at his crotch. "Unzip it," he ordered. Shamira reached over, feeling him through his jeans as she tugged his zipper down. Once freed, he ordered her to put her hands behind her back and please him orally. She got on her knees in the passenger seat, put her hands behind her and lowered her mouth to his lap, taking his soft member into her mouth. It was an act that pleased her more than she thought it would, actually feeling him harden inside her mouth, letting him swell to the point where she could no longer take all his length easily. Even as he hardened, she took as much as she could. Henry was impressed by her ability, since she had been an amateur by all accounts just several weeks earlier. He grabbed that thick braid of hair and used it to shove her head onto his lap until nose hit pubes, whether she was ready or not. Shamira didn't back down from the challenge, taking it even it choked her. "That's a good girl," he said as he reached full staff, shoving his meat all the way into the mouth and then holding it there. One of these days, he was going to corner her at the house, hog-tie her, and fuck her until she couldn't see straight. He'd wanted to see her with the car-load of Mexicans, and she'd looked like she was game at the time. He glanced across the parking lot and . . . 'Well I'll be damned,' he thought, grinning from ear to ear. "Hurry it up," he told her. "You've got customers waiting." Shamira wanted to look around, but Henry was keeping her so she couldn't raise her head past the end of his dick. Having eaten a good dinner himself, his blood was warm and she was concentrating on quenching that heat, after coaxing the flames a little bit first. She felt the spongy head pushing its way down her throat while her lips. 'Customers?' she thought. 'Like earlier?' The idea of doing what Henry was implying . . . she doubled the speed of her blowjob, wanting to taste him and find out what else she had in store for him. Soon she felt his cock twitch and his warm seed splattered the back of her mouth and throat. "Your potential clients from earlier are just down the way . . . last parking spot next to the main building," he said, pulling her head up and pointing her face in the right direction. Her reflection on the inside of the tinted window showed some of Henry's cum dribbling out of the corner of her mouth. She saw the old Cadillac right where Henry said it would be, and that feeling she'd experienced earlier that day -- hunger. "I believe one said it was his birthday, or close too. Go give him a present, and make sure to share with his friends. Leave your coms unit on, and make sure there's something worth me listening to." Shamira's felt her heart in her throat as she climbed out of the truck. 'I'm actually going to do this,' she thought. She was so excited that her nipples were poking through her tube top, hidden only by the pink fuzzy vest. Her heels made it impossible not to sway a bit when she walked, not that she cared. She wanted the few remaining customers to stare. She wanted them to want her. "Hey baby!" the driver of the Cadillac said. I thought you said to come back in an hour!" Shamira wasn't sure what to say . . . this was all new to her. "What can I say?" she replied. "I don't own a watch." "I can tell her what time it is," said one of the guys in the back seat. The driver was eating her up with his eyes, giving her the kind of look she never remembered getting when she'd been alive. It was time for Shamira to remember the kinds of lines working girls used. She'd talked to a number of them in her days as a cop. She actually hadn't been to keen on arresting or processing prostitutes, thinking it had been a big waste of taxpayer money and police time. "Window shopping?" she asked, "or were you wanting that birthday party?" The young man was grinning like he was all that. "Can my friends come?" "I'm counting on it." The car erupted in cheers. "Lady, where have you been all my life? Hey, you ain't a cop are you?" Shamira tried not to smile. "Nope. Are you?" "Hell no." Shamira reached in and felt the driver's manhood through his low-riding jeans. "Then why don't we cut the shit? I got customers willing to pay for what I'm giving you for free. So are you gonna take me somewhere and fuck me or what?" Shamira couldn't believe the words that had just come out of her mouth. It wasn't just that she'd said them, but that it had felt . . . natural. A minute later, she was squeezed into the back seat between a couple of guys younger than her while letting them paw at her. The driver was looking for a quiet place to do the deed, but it was Shamira who was getting jittery. She wanted this to happen. And Henry's ever-present voice told her that he expected it to happen. It also told her that he was following the Cadillac. She knew that he wouldn't abandon her in this. He wanted to watch, and it was his job as her dominant for the evening to keep her safe as well. Not that she couldn't handle four young men. She smiled inwardly. She planned on handling them all right. "How about here?" she said as the passed by a construction site surrounded by a wooden fence. "Man, the bitch is desperate," one of the guys sitting next to her said, grasping one breast through Shamira's tube top. "These things are fuckin' huge." "So what's the deal?" the driver asked. "You do tricks for free a lot?" "I can honestly say this is my first time doing this," she said, rubbing both back-seat guys crotches through their jeans. "Had someone spending a lot of time telling me that no one would ever want to fuck me," she said, surprising herself with her honesty. Of course, the "someone" she'd been referring to had been herself. "I think we can put that idea to bed, can't we?" They all got out of the car after pulling into the opening of the lot, then snuck through a crack between the boards. "Put on a good show," Henry told her over the ear piece, "or there will be consequences." "So what you gonna do for us?" the driver asked, running his fingers up her body in a crude but still arousing fashion. "Hey, you're the birthday boy. You get to do whatever you want." Birthday Boy pulled his pants down, letting his cock spring forth. It wasn't particularly intimidating, but it was good enough. "Suck this." Shamira lowered herself to her knees and reached between his legs, cupping his balls as her mouth drifted closer to the head of his dick. "Tell me again what you want me to do." "Suck my cock. Hell, suck all our cocks before we fuck you!" "Your wish --" she started, then let the head of his member penetrate the plane of her lips and into her throat. She sank all the way down to the root, then withdrew before downing it again. She saw guys to each side, all with their pants around their ankles. She let off of Birthday Boy and downed another one. Three of them were around average, with one being more substantial at eight inches. She treated them all the same as she worked her way down the line, sucking on one then the next, deep-throating them all. They liked the sound of her gagging on their dicks. What guy wouldn't? "That's a good little slut," came Henry's voice again. "You like being on your knees in front of a bunch of strangers don't you?" Shamira moaned into the eight-inch cock that she was sucking, keeping her hands busy while stroking two of the others. The fourth guy pulled her vest away and pushed her tube top down to her waste before grabbing her tits from behind. He was rough and clumsy, but Shamira didn't much care. She kept moving from one fleshy hard manhood to the next, letting each fill her mouth and throat. One of them grabbed her hair and fucked her face hard, and she moaned with pleasure to encourage the others to do the same. Soon, they were all getting more into it, treating her as roughly as they could. They were still amateurs by the standards of Shane's house, but she gave them points for effort. "I need to fuck this bitch," Birthday Boy said. "What's stopping you?" she murmured, then swallowed someone else's dick. Being nose to pubes, she felt rather than saw the guy lifting her skirt. She was on her knees already, so all he could do with the infinitesimal bit of fabric that made up her panties was to push them all the way down her thighs. Her upper body was pushed forward, making the guy she was blowing having to bend at the knees a little bit. He didn't seem to mind. Then Birthday Boy stroked the opening of her pussy with the head of his dick a few times before plunging inside. She had a cock in each hand, one in her mouth, and now one was fucking her pussy. Birthday Boy reached around and mauled her breasts, twisting her nipples like cheap radio controls. There was a time that she would've thought him clumsy. Now, she thought he was doing it the way she wanted it . . . needed it. She switched to another piece of manhood, but kept the one she'd been sucking close. She tried to fit two of the mushroom-like heads in her mouth, but with limited success. So she went back to deep throating each of them in turn. "This bitch is tight," Birthday Boy said, giving her ass a slight slap. "Harder," she told him before sucking off one of his friends again. She grunted with pleasure when he brought his hand down hard on her exposed ass cheek. "Bitch is a freak," one of the others said. Bigger Dick shoved his meat all the way down her throat and held it there. "My kinda freak though." Birthday Boy grabbed her muscular ass. "How tight is this thing?" "Want to find out?" she asked, drool dripping from her chin. There was a pause, then she was lifted up to her feet, leaving all other concerns behind as she was bent over a pile of lumber. "Check your purse," Henry told her. "Gimme my purse first," she said huskily. One of the guys handed it to her and, lo and behold, she found a small bottle of KY in it. 'Bastard had something planned for tonight for sure,' she thought, then handed the bottle to Birthday Boy. "Use it wisely." The guy probably poured enough lubricant on his dick to shove a whale through a straw, but overdoing it was always better than underdoing it. Then he shoved his six inches into her ass, barely pausing. It made her want to scream, but she controlled herself. "A little slower," she said. But slow wasn't going to be a problem. Once the head squeezed through the initial ring, it was taking every bit of his self-control not to cum right away. Passenger One got onto the lumber pile so he could shove his dick back into Shamira's mouth, and she sucked it down greedily. Back in high school, she'd dreamed of getting taken by an entire sports team, and she didn't care very much which one (though she leaned slightly towards the swim team), but she'd always convinced herself that "good girls" didn't think like that, or want it as badly as she did. It took dying to realize that maybe one could be a good girl and still be a little bad. Okay, a lot bad. Birthday Boy wasn't entirely without merit, reaching around and playing with her pussy while he developed a rhythm in her sphincter. "Clit's fuckin' big," he grunted. Shamira couldn't reply, because she was so close to an orgasm. Apparently fulfilling fantasies was a bit of an aphrodisiac. Having her clit rubbed was helping things along nicely. Her ass was throbbing with pleasure and pain as it was violated with the enthusiasm of youth. And Birthday Boy was digging his fingers into her ass when he came inside her, pumping her full of hot young seed. "Fucking hell," he said, slowly withdrawing. "Bitch is hot." Shamira couldn't remember the last time she'd been called "bitch" this many times without getting hurt or without hurting someone else. Now, she kind of considered it a term of endearment. "I want a turn," Big Dick said. "Wait," Passenger Two said, "I saw this in a porno once." He sat back with his butt on the edge of the stacked lumber, then pulled Shamira over and slid up into her pussy. "NOW tap that ass!" Big Dick lubed up while Passenger One stayed put atop the pile. He waited until after Big Dick had pushed his way into Shamira's ass before violating her mouth. Shamira wrapped her hand around a warm set of testicles and started sucking, all three entrances filled with the flesh of young human men. "I'm going to have to tell Shane that just one partner won't suffice for you anymore," Henry chuckled. "Being treated like a toy by multiple masters looks natural for you. Shamira mostly ignored him because the pressure was too much. A nice sized cock buried to the hilt in her rectum while another slid into her pussy like butter; it was an amazing feeling. Henry was right; multiple partners accompanied by the sensation of just being fucked was incredible. She climaxed hard, letting the dick out of her mouth so she didn't actually bite off anything important. But she didn't leave that cock unattended for long, feeling it slide into her mouth again after her body-rocking orgasm had finished. "She likes it," Big Dick said, plowing her ass with increasing speed. "Total slut." He spanked her ass. "Ain't that right?" "You're right," she said heatedly, stroking the cock in front of her. "I'm a total slut. Fuck my slut ass." Then she swallowed cock again. Passenger Two and Big Dick had a good rhythm going, filling her in a new and exciting way. Passenger Two was the next to get his rocks off, pulling out of her greedy mouth and shooting a hefty load all over her face and mouth. There seemed to be no end to his youthful dispersal. "Don't clean it off," Henry told her. "Don't let him either. "I look like a slut now," she murmured, turning her face towards each of her remaining lovers. "Don't I?" "You look fuckin' hot," Big Dick said. He pushed in and out a few more times, then withdrew and shot his load all over her ass and back. Passenger Two didn't bother to pull out, fulfilling his deep-seated need to breed and cumming inside of her. To Protect and Serve Ch. 05 "Oh, you boys are good," she said, as they slid out of her. "You know dat right," Birthday Boy said. "Hey, you need to give you a ride somewhere?" "You just did," she replied teasingly. "Nah, I can get my new pimp to come give me a ride, but it'd be best if you weren't here when he got here. Get my drift?" She reached into her bag to grab her cell phone. "You work down here often?" "I'm new," she replied. "I'm just now staking out my territory. But if you're lucky . . . REAL lucky, then you might see me around." The guys scattered and she sat down on the lumber pile to wait. She wasn't there long before Henry appeared, jumping down from the steel framework. "Was I acceptable, Master?" she asked, meeting his eyes and daring to look proud. She didn't feel guilty, but instead felt complete. "You were acceptable," he told her. "Lean back." He unzipped his pants and placed his hardened cock between her breasts. "Now push them together. That's a good girl." Shamira's breasts were so heavy that they were putting more pressure than normal, but having cum once already that night, he was able to maintain his composure. "They fucked everything but your tits," he told her, "and I mean to correct that oversight." He pumped her tits several time, then slapped her in the face with his manhood. He shoved his cock into her mouth to wet it, then put it back between her tits. Several minutes later, he deposited a healthy portion of jizz on her chest and neck, giving her that pearl necklace that women always seemed to want. "Get in the truck. Don't get dressed, and don't clean up. I want everyone back at the house to see what you really are." Shamira could hardly wait. ---------- -------------------- Later that evening . . . ---------- -------------------- Shamira had finally been allowed to get cleaned up before coming to talk to Shane. She'd met the gaze of each of her comrades with pride and a certain amount of defiance. All of them had looked pleased, except for the two assassins. She didn't take it personally because neither Banshee's nor Reaper's expressions ever changed anyway. She did get a sense that they were impressed by her increasing acceptance of who she was. Clara had actually slipped from her dominatrix role and given Shamira's cum-covered lips a knee-melting kiss. When she got to Shane's office, she found that Lillian and Clara had also been invited to attend. "Please sit down," Shane told her. "There are no more slaves and masters for you tonight, as we have much to discuss." Shamira sat down, rubbing her hands nervously on her designer sweat pants. "Did I do --" "No, you didn't do anything wrong," Clara said, smiling and heading off her friend's obvious bout of insecurity. "Henry said you performed admirably. In ALL ways that can be interpreted," she added, her smile becoming an evil grin. "You'll be bringing Tabitha over Friday night," Shane told her. "Henry said that your plan was sound. And he also told me how you dealt with the Dark Pools. That's an ingenious way of using your Shadow Healing." He stared at her intently. "And you've developed Shadow Sight too?" "I just thought that was something everyone could do, but Henry says it's different." "Indeed," Lillian said. "But I certainly can understand why this one might have gone undetected. It does make sense based on folklore, but the extent to which you can see is much greater." Shamira looked around the room. "Henry says there are five Shadow Aspects. What are the other two? Is there a reason why they might show up for the same person?" Lillian looked towards Shane and waited for him to nod. "Yes, there is. Now, it could still be a coincidence. You could simply be a very blessed fledgling, but . . . but we feel that you need to be told the entire story of the Shadow Aspects. It has to do with the dragons." "Dragons?! There are dragons?!" Shamira said. She was more amazed than afraid, as she'd had a thing about dragons as a kid. "Yes," Clara said, "but they're not what you think. Well, not anymore. Most of the dragons that we have today aren't much bigger than a large dog and live out in the unexplored areas of the world. They're comparable to humans in intelligence, but need more space than the other mystical beings. Once upon a time, back when most races were building their first huts from mud, the dragons were already old." "The Sun Dragons wanted to wipe out the newer races once they saw how the were spreading, while the Moon Dragons wanted to wait. A war broke out between them and all the old dragons were destroyed except for one, a Moon Dragon by the name of Shadow Wing. Shadow Wing was powerful, with a lair deep within the earth. Some say that the volcanoes blurted fired whenever he dreamed in his great sleeps, but that's an old wife's tale by all accounts. It just goes to show the power associated with him." Shane stepped in. "But Shadow Wing mourned the loss of his kind, and didn't want to continue on for eternity alone in the world. So he passed on to the Endless Sky, but left some of his power behind to guard the world. But in order to gain Shadow Wing's power, you have to be undead, because you have to bring it back from the next world when you return." "Vampires," Shamira muttered. "So the Shadow Aspects are part of Shadow Wing's power?" "Correct," Lillian replied. "The histories have many stories of guardians who have inherited the powers of Shadow Wing, but it isn't all THAT uncommon that we thought there anything to it. You were a cop, so it makes sense that his power might touch you. Two Shadow Aspects as we said is unusual, but again not unheard of. Three --" There was a moment of silence before anyone spoke again, and this time it was Shane again. "I . . . I haven't ever heard of someone reaching three Shadow Aspects without developing all five, and that has only happened a few times in history, usually in times of great strife. A vampire lord achieved all five Aspects last during World War II, and he did what was needed to save the world from destroying itself." "What did he do?" Shane shrugged. "Ever wonder why Hitler's body was never found?" Shamira's eyes opened. "A vampire ate Hitler?" "Something like that. Unfortunately, that vampire died in Japan when they dropped the bomb. The Shadow Aspects aren't powerful enough to withstand that. It's just that somehow, the spirit of the last Moon Dragon seems to know when his power is needed again and if the need is great enough, then the vampire attains all five Aspects." Shamira shivered. "Okay, you're scaring me now." "We don't know for sure that you'll get them all and, if you are, it could be hundreds of years before you need them. It's just that no one has ever come as far as you have so quickly, and no one has ever developed just three. At least not that I've read." "What . . . what are the other two Aspects?" Lillian looked like she was trying to remember the right words. "The fourth Aspect is Shadow Claws, which allows you to draw the darkness in around you and use it as a weapon. If there are any flaws in your opponent's armor, then the shadows can bypass it. It's incredibly powerful if you're fighting at night, like all your Aspects are. The Shadow Aspects were given by a creature of the night." "What's the fifth Aspect?" Shamira asked. Clara was actually trembling, so Shane had to speak. Shamira was scared by her friend's reaction. What could be so bad -- "The fifth Shadow Aspect," Shane said, "is the ability to embody Shadow Wing himself. Not bring him back, but to transform yourself into a Moon Dragon for short periods of time, again under cover of darkness and shadow. There is no more powerful Aspect in all the world, because you would gain all of Shadow Wing's power." "That sounds like a good thing, doesn't it?" Shamira asked. She was waiting for the other shoe to drop, and it promptly kicked her in the ass. Shane looked nervous now as well. "The fifth Shadow Aspect is powerful if it is mastered, but . . . but no one has ever attained it without some kind of trial. Most who have been tried . . . died in the attempt." "Died?! Trial?!" Shamira was on her feet now. "It's different every time," Clara said. "But the power will not go to someone whose spirit is weak. The trials are often painful beyond imagining and, as Shane mentioned, often fatal." "But even if Shadow Wing has chosen you to be the guardian of this day and age, then you could still have hundreds of years to prepare. And being chosen is a HUGE 'if.'" Shamira's hands were shaking. She had just gotten settled again, happy in her new life and having some sense of purpose. Now there was a chance she might be possessed by a dragon? Clara could see the thoughts dancing through her friend's head, making her sigh. Shamira was going to freak out again. Shane gave the girl some breathing room. "I know this is another shock to the system. And seeing as you have a lot of work to do, I want you to concentrate on that until Monday. As of Friday, we'll have a full house, so --" "Full house?" Clara asked. "Yes," Shane said, looking sheepish. "Renata is bringing back five weres to join the house. I feel we've made great acquisitions with them." "And?" Clara said, folding her arms and tapping her foot. She knew when Shane was going to say something she didn't like. "The vampire orphan from Europe was freed from his obligations to the council ahead of schedule and will be joining us Friday as well. And I've decided on the last two candidates to be brought over --" "Cool!" Lillian said. "Well, Pierre for one." "Hmm, Pierre," Lillian cooed. "I thought you were gay," Shamira said, amused at the schoolgirl-with-a-crush sound the necromancer had just made. "I am, but Pierre is just . . . hmm." "He's a submissive, but he's also a helpless romantic," Clara filled in with a smile. "He's also former French Intelligence, and he's been living in D.C. for a while. He's a good choice," she said, suddenly suspicious. "So the orphan Yosyp and now Pierre . . . what aren't you telling me?" Shane took a step backward. "Bunny." Look at Clara's face, Shamira could have sworn that her friend and lover had just been insulted in some dire fashion. "Who or what is Bunny?" Lillian smiled. "You are being way too harsh," she told Clara. "Bunny is the sweetest --" "Sweet? She makes my teeth rot just thinking about her! Pink? No one wears pink bondage equipment!" Shamira snickered. "A pink-loving submissive?" Clara threw her hands up in exasperation. "That's not the half of it! No one is that cheerful!" Then Clara stopped and looked a bit ashamed of herself. "I always wondered if she was just compensating for --" "I think that's who she really is," Shane said. "And it came back. Yes, that's one of the reasons I decided on her." "What are you guys talking about?" Shamira asked. Shane looked at her. "Bunny was diagnosed with Leukemia when she was eight years old. It went into remission, but it's come back." Lillian smiled. "She's only nineteen, which is young I grant you --" "Hey, I was eighteen!" Clara said. "And you turned out rather well," Shane said. "But Bunny has lived every day since the initial diagnosis like it was her last. She's cheerful, bubbly --" "Air-headed," Clara muttered. Shane grinned. Clara couldn't handle that much cheerfulness, but Bunny was completely oblivious. She just liked everyone. "She was involved in sports, she's a black-belt in karate, president of her high-school class, cheerleader . . . the whole shebang. She was another donor until recently . . . I thought she was angry with me when she stopped, but she'd started treatments again and just hadn't wanted to worry me. I think she was hoping it would go away again." "It's not, is it?" Clara asked, her earlier annoyance all but vanished. "No. She'll be dead within four months, and it will make her so weak that I don't think she'd survive the change. I'll give her my blood this weekend, and she plans to overdose on sleeping pills this week. She's already written her 'suicide note.' She even wrote it on pink paper with hearts and bunnies on it." Clara rolled her eyes. "She would." "She's only nineteen? How long was she a donor?" Shamira asked, a little uneasy. But at least she wouldn't have to kill this one. "She discovered our kind at cheerleader camp. Some kids there were attacked by a rogue werewolf in its wolf form. I sent a couple of enforcers out when we heard about the rogue, but it seemed we needn't have bothered. Rabid weres aren't quite as intelligent as they should be. It had gone after Bunny when she was alone in her cabin but she outmaneuvered it and then beat it to death with a ceremonial spirit stick that had a high silver content." "A cheerleader beat a werewolf to death with a glorified baton?" Shamira asked. Shane grinned. "She had no intention of shuffling loose the mortal coil lightly. She's a good person and a fighter. Anyway, the werewolf changed back about the time my enforcers showed up. They called me, calmed her down, arranged a meeting, and she's been a candidate ever since. And no, nothing sexual happened until she turned eighteen," he assured the former cop. "By then, I had told her all about my house and she had admitted her own particular interests." He grinned, but more to himself than anyone else. "She had a most interesting birthday celebration that year." Clara threw her hands up again and left the room. She couldn't argue with Shane on this, but she didn't have to accept defeat with any kind of dignity. "Calm her down," Shane said, still amused by Clara's reaction. "And Shamira --" "Yes?" "You did good tonight. Again. See if you can get Clara to help you with your history and research on that faerie ritual, then get some rest. After taking care of those four young men, I'll bet you need it." Shamira smiled. Thinking about her first-ever gangbang did NOT make her want to get some rest, but she did want to talk to Clara, so she quickly hunted her friend down. "Do you really hate her that badly?" she asked. "I don't hate her," Clara growled, then she let her shoulders fall a bit. "I'm being silly, I know, but it's . . . it's the aesthetics of it. A shiny happy submissive? A shiny happy vampire? It's just not right." Shamira stared . . . then started to laugh, then she started to laugh harder. When she fell on the ground and started rolling around in pure merriment, Clara couldn't prevent herself from grinning. "You . . .you're a vampire snob!" "Am not!" Clara said, sitting down and punching Shamira in the arm. "Okay, maybe a little." Shamira righted herself. "Damn, I needed that." "I'm sorry," Clara said, leaning against her friend and resting her head on one powerful shoulder. "You've had a worse time of things that dealing with your image. So, four guys?" Clara was smiling. "You had quite a night." "Five guys, if you count Henry. Which I guess we should," Shamira replied. "Plotted the death of a woman I hardly know, fought a couple of weird entities . . . no big." "You need a vacation." "I've only been working for three weeks. Hell, I've only been dead three weeks. I don't think I've accrued any vacation time yet." "Bah!" Clara said. "Hey, let's go rafting next week. Go to be early, then go up to the Ocoee River. C'mon, there aren't many outdoorsy types around here. Though we could probably get Renata and Lillian to go. Renata loves the water, and Lillian actually tried out for the Olympics as a swimmer. The season's almost over, and I've been looking for someone to go with me." 'I'd like to go with you,' Shamira thought, then found herself questing that statement. She really did want to "go" with Clara. "Sure," she said. "Sounds fun. Do I have to take an official day off?" "Nah, I'll requisition you for a day. It's all good." Clara stood up. "Well, let's get back to your studies. Figure out how fucked you are when you talk to the faeries on Saturday." Shamira wondered how appropriate of a comment that would be. ---------- ------------------- Friday night . . . ---------- ------------------- Shamira was sitting in the main hall of Shane's impressive estate. She hadn't been sure what the dress code was for meeting future house-member, and she'd fretted so much that Clara had actually been forced to get out of bed and help her come up with a suitable outfit. It was strange, but Shamira seemed to be sleeping in Clara's room so often that a lot of her clothes, costumes, and personal items had made their way in there. She wondered if she was intruding too much on Clara's personal space? 'She hasn't said anything,' Shamira thought. Shamira was dressed in a flowing black skirt from the waist to the ankles, with a bare midriff, and a black-silk vest that stretched around her ample bosom. Her hair was actually out of its braid, flowing down over her submissive collar and muscular shoulders. She'd taken no small amount of pride at the approving glances that she'd gotten from her co-workers. "Nervous?" Clara whispered into her ear. "About meeting the new people, facing down the spider guy, or killing the wife of a judge?" Clara grinned. "You've got a full dance card haven't you? Oh, Lillian's on board for the rafting trip, so we just need to ask Renata. Wait, there's Shane. Means that the limo is probably pretty close." "And that Yosyp guy is coming too?" "He waited at the airport. His flight got in about an hour before Renata's did." Clara leaned back. "I'm in for a long couple of weeks," she said. "How so?" "Well, I haven't subbed for a while, so --" "Wait," Shamira interrupted, "Subbed? As in --" "Whenever we get new doms, I sub for them for a session to make sure that they aren't going to hurt our full submissives." Shamira shook her head. Clara? On her knees? For reasons she couldn't even describe, that offended her. "It's okay," Clara said. "I'm not really fond of it either. I subbed to Shane for a month before I'd let myself be dominant. I knew what I wanted, but I wanted to make sure I did it right. If a dominant doesn't know his or her limits or gets sloppy, then a sub gets hurt. And I'd rather it happen to me than to you --" "Let me do it!" Shamira whispered heatedly. "I can heal faster than anyone else here. You shouldn't have to do that." Clara looked surprised at her lover's vehemence. She also realized she truly saw Shamira more as a lover now than "just a friend." That was odd for her. "Don't worry," she said in a reassuring tone. "It's just one session each, and you can do a lot more kinds of harm than just physical," Clara continued. "Do you really want to be in Sebastian's clutches?" Shamira shivered. Sebastian was the werespider that was going to be joining them in a few minutes, and just the thought of him touching her made her skin crawl. By his picture, he was absolutely gorgeous, but that knowledge that he could turn into an eight-legged, creepy-crawly -- But it wasn't the limo from the airport. Instead, two other people that Shamira had never seen before walked through the front door. One was a man in his late thirties who had an athlete's build but carried himself with a certain sense of flair. Definitely James Bond type in the tux and artfully slicked back hair. "Lillian," the man who was Pierre said, sweeping across the room to kiss the redhead's hand. Monique rolled her eyes but didn't appear to be too jealous. Lillian just liked a person with manners; it wasn't going any further than the art of flirtation for her girlfriend and the Frenchman. The other girl could be none other than Bunny. She even looked like a cheerleader, complete with hourglass figure, medium-sized and naturally perky breasts, big blue eyes and a smile that seemed to be naturally plastered on her face. She was dressed in pink tennis-shoes, a white denim skirt, a pink v-neck shirt with a Carebear on the front. And like cats being able to find the one person in a room who's allergic -- To Protect and Serve Ch. 05 "Clara!" the girl said, jumping up and down. Then she skipped over to the couch and gave the Native American beauty a big hug and kissed her on the side of the face. Clara's hands froze like claws that wanted to rip the girl's eyes out. But Shamira found herself warming to the girl already. She'd known a few like this back in school, who just loved life and didn't hate anyone in it. The world could use more people with that attitude. And Shamira could see a little bit of the tiredness around the girl's eyes . . . eyes that she got from fighting an inevitable death. But Bunny was going to die on her own terms, and she was going to look fabulous when she did. "You're touching me," Clara muttered. "We discussed this the last time you were here." Bunny laughed. "Clara, you so crazy!" She then extended a hand over to Shamira. "Hi, I'm Bunny!" "I guessed," the muscular woman replied, shaking Bunny's hand. "Damn, you're strong! I wish I had arms like yours. You're really hot. Hey, are you going to be a . . . wait," she said, "you ARE a vamp right? I mean you've got the collar on so you're a member of the house though that could mean that you're a magic user or maybe a were or something equally cool but I'm betting you're a vampire and Oh I'm so damn jealous 'cause you're already undead but I'm not yet though Shane promised --" "Slow down!" Clara said, grabbing the girl's face and trying a menacing glare. "Good grief girl, I'm undead and even I have to stop between sentences more often than that!" Bunny looked at her, grinned, then kissed her on the forehead. "You're so cool, Clara. That's why I like you so much." She turned her attention back to Shamira. "Sorry, I didn't get your name. I haven't noticed if you noticed that I kind of run away at the mouth when I'm excited or nervous --" "Or breathing," Clara muttered. "Hi, I'm Shamira. Fledgling vampire as of three weeks ago." Bunny's eyes opened wide. "You're THAT Shamira?! Shane told me all about you and how hot you are and how you got brought over and the two groovy Aspects you have --" "Three," Shane said as she walked over. "Shamira has three Aspects now." He helped Bunny to her feet. "You are a breath of fresh air," he said, soaking in the girl's exuberance. "I was thinking more of an F5 tornado, but hey," Clara added. Shane brushed off the comment. He knew that Bunny and Clara would probably get along just fine once they established some boundaries and Bunny was made to actually concentrate on what they were. "How are you feeling?" "Great!" the blond bubbled. "I decided to push back my chemo for the day and told my folks I wanted to go party with some friends . . . while I still could and all. They're so great," she said, sniffing a bit. "I hate to do this to them, but it'll be easier than making them suffer for months and months, ya know? And they wouldn't understand the whole vampire-and-drinking-blood thing anyway. They're kinda old-fashioned that way." "Indeed." Shane was trying not to laugh as he saw Clara making childish faces at Bunny behind the girl's back. "Shamira here is going to be helping bring Tabitha and Pierre over. She used to be a police officer." "Wait, I'm doing Pierre too? Don't tell me I just used the word 'doing.' I'm sounding like a bad mobster character now." Shane nodded. "Yes, but his death won't be nearly as difficult to plan as Tabitha's was. Members of the intelligence community often meet with 'mysterious accidents,' or so I'm told." "Hey, did we ever find out where the Dark Pools came from?" Shane growled. "South. I'm sure that my adversary in Savannah sent them despite warnings from the Tribunal to desist his take-over attempts. I'm going to have to punish him, severely and soon. But he won't be sending any more demons this way anytime soon." Shane looked immensely proud when he said, "Dark Pools require a lot of energy and resources to summon, and your defeat of them will have seriously damaged my opponent's plans." "You killed demons?" Bunny said, looking like a girl expecting a bedtime story. "Boy, did she," Henry said, coming over and reciting the whole story, including the post-fight "festivities." "You are the coolest person ever!" Bunny said, hugging Shamira tightly. Clara was forced to bite off a scathing comment which, much to her own surprise, was tinged with jealousy. Renata had just walked in the front door. "Shane Stapleton," she started formally, "Lord of Atlanta and chosen representative of the Tribunal, I present you these representatives of the were races, here to serve your will." Shane smiled like a kid at Christmas. "Present your comrades." One by one, Renata spoke the names of the weres she had "collected" to the assembled members of the house. First was Valeska, a lovely and very slender brown-skinned weresnake (of the anaconda variety) from the jungles of South America. She moved with a fluid grace that Shamira envied, and was to become Shane's newest assassin and a sexual submissive. Next was Bangaly, a werelion from the wilds of central Africa. He was a mountain of a black man, with shoulders of an ox and cunning eyes. This sexual dominant would be one of Shane's new enforcers. Bangaly was accompanied by two women that looked like track stars, both Caucasian werelions and sexual submissives. Clara quietly explained that werelionesses were quite often submissives, but not to let that fool Shamira. A werelioness, more than any other female were, determined when mating was going to occur. It came them a great deal of power over their men. The female cats, Kira and Barbara, would be on Shane's security force. When the fifth newcomer walked in, Clara looked over to find that Shamira had vanished. Her friend was standing against the far wall, attempting to merge with it by shear force of will. The man who had just entered was Sebastian Cutler, the werespider. Sebastian was a hunka-hunka-drool-worthy manhood. From the symmetrical features to the just-rolled-out-of-bed hair to that v-shaped surfer body to the permanent five o'clock shadow, the werespider seemed born and bred to bring heterosexual women and gay men to their proverbial and literal knees. "Oh my," Monique said from nearby. "Lillian," she whispered heatedly, then was cut off. "As soon as Clara gives him her stamp of approval, you can play with him. Not before then." Lillian smiled as Monique started to pout. Even Lillian couldn't deny his appeal, though Shane would still be the only man who would be allowed to touch her. But Renata had one more guest. "And now I present Yosyp Lagrouge, full vampire and loyal servant of the Tribunal, come to offer his services on behalf of that august body." For the most part, vampires looked like normal people. Some went the eurotrash route, while others liked the black leather look. Yosyp just looked scary. Standing just over six feet tall, he had curly black hair and that fell wildly down past his shoulders. His face managed to look both strong and gaunt at the same time, with dark eyes looking out from beneath a menacing brow. His skin was pale bordering on white, and he carried a frame of lean muscle. "Greetings Lord Stapleton," Yosyp said, his voice coming out somewhere between a hiss and a murmur. "The Tribunal sends its greetings." The man knelt before Shane. "Rise, and be welcome in my house," Shane replied solemnly. Clara wondered what this all meant. Yosyp was 250 years old and, being a full vampire, would normally be entitled to his own land and command. But he had been a servant of the Tribunal, which mean that he would remain an unlanded vampire. Banshee was the next oldest, being 190 years of age, so she would be the next to inherit. It was a strange situation, but Shane had a strange house. The party began as each of the current members of the house mixed and mingled with the new additions as well as the two members slated to be brought over as vampires. For the night, there were no dominants or submissives . . . just comrades. Shane's house would soon be full. The only member-to-be that was missing was Tabitha, who was patiently going about her evening, waiting for Shamira to show up and kill her. 'Where'd Shamira go off to?' she wondered, then saw her in the far corner of the room talking with Shane and Pierre. Clara ventured over. "-- think it's really necessary --" Shamira was saying. "Shamira, we've been over this," Shane interrupted. "The reason you're killing Tabitha and why I want you to kill Pierre here is because you can get away with absolutely no trace. You're perfect for the job." "Mademoiselle," Pierre added, "it would be an honor to die at your most capable hand." When he kissed Shamira's hand, it didn't even seem that cheesy. Not many guys could pull it off. Shamira growled. "Listen, I'm sure you're a nice man and all, but --" "I am a nice man with many enemies," he replied. "It does not take long for one in my profession to accumulate many such individuals, and they are not quite so noble as you or Shane. My death will allow me to be reborn, to serve the greater good, and to bring safety to my family. Being dead, there is no reason for some who have sought me to use my loved ones as leverage." Clara tried not to smile. Hitting the protection angle and proposed nobility was going to win him serious brownie points with Shamira, even if he hadn't meant to. She watched Shamira's eyes soften and her muscles relax. She was about to respond when she was tapped on the shoulder. Shamira looked over and found herself face to face with Sebastian, the werespider. In order, Shamira screamed, stomped on his foot, head-butted him, and then kneed him in the gut before jumping away and standing on a chair. "Well," Shane said, torn between amusement and annoyance, "that could have gone better." ------------------ -------------- Downtown Atlanta . . . ------------------ -------------- "He's never going to let me back in the house," Shamira muttered as she paced the alleyway. "I can't believe I decked him. Tabitha was chuckling. Technically, she should have been dead ten minutes earlier, but Shamira had stopped to rant about knocking out a werespider and the look of disapproval she had gotten from Shane. Tabitha had never met her would-be assassin before in a one-on-one capacity, but found her to be refreshingly human. After getting pulled into the alley, Tabitha was still waiting to get a bullet through the heart. "I think he'll forgive you," Tabitha replied. "We may not have talked before, but he told me plenty about you. He wouldn't trust you with killing me if he was going to kick you out. Are you really that afraid of spiders?" "Just thinking about them makes me jumpy," the bigger woman said. "If he hadn't surprised me, I probably just would've screamed like a little girl. But noooooooooo, I have to knock out the new enforcer in front of the boss." Shamira stomped her foot. "He got a nose bleed . . . bled on my skirt and everything. Ugh!" Tabitha hugged the woman. "Listen, I've known Shane a long time. Yeah, he can be a taskmaster," she said with a knowing grin, "but he's surrounded himself with people that he trusts. Despite movie villain theory, sometimes people are more loyal if their boss isn't a complete psychopath. Now if you'd hit Shane, then it might be a different." She leaned against a dumpster. "So is the adjustment really that hard?" "I think you'll be fine," Shamira replied tiredly. "You knew what vampires were. You knew what you were . . . you know, sexually. You had some kinda plan. Look at me?" Shamira said, waving the untraceable gun she had brought with her. "I'm freaking out in front of the woman who's patiently waiting for me to shoot her in the chest! I suck at this! I can't even bring myself to drink blood!" Shamira started pacing again. "You've never drank blood? I know you don't need to, but --" "Well, I drank it once." "Anyone I know?" Tabitha teased. Shamira grinned shyly. "Clara." Tabitha smiled outright. "I thought you might have found a regular donor. You can live on food, but you need blood sometime, right?" "That's what they tell me." "So, was it nice?" "What?" Tabitha rolled her eyes. "Drinking from Clara? Did you go for the neck or . . . something else." "Neck, and . . . and it was pretty damn spectacular. She'd just drank, so I got a bit of fresh stuff. She's trying to get me to scan the donor database and find someone, but I'm just not sure I'm ready for that kind of relationship." "You live with a bunch of people that chain or tie you up and then fuck you senseless. How can ANY kind of relationship still freak you out?" "You've missed the whole part about me being an unstable basketcase, haven't you?" Tabitha placed an arm across those broad muscular shoulders. "I think you're just shy. Shane said that you still get weirded out when you're told how absolutely gorgeous you are or how many people really want to play with you. And if it weren't for the fact it would cast suspicion on my murder, I'd let you feed from me right here and now." "Really?" "Really. When I saw you at dinner that one night, I was SO hoping you'd be a dominant." Tabitha actually blushed. "I've never been . . . you know, with a girl." "Really? You seem so . . . wow," Shamira sat down. "Strangely, that was one of the only things that didn't bother me." "Your time with Clara?" "Yeah and I kind of . . . well, Renata did some stuff when she was a jaguar --" Tabitha's eyes shot open. "You're shitting me?!" "Nope. Cats have rough tongues." Tabitha was so looking forward to being a vampire. "I am very much looking forward to joining the team," she said dreamily. "Everyone is looking forward to having you," Shamira said. "I mean that they're looking forward to you joining . . . well, I guess the ARE looking forward to having you in the lustful sense too." Shamira stood up. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling. Thanks for listening." Tabitha smiled. "No sweat. It's been great talking to you." "Thanks." Shamira aimed her gun and squeezed the trigger. --------- ---------------------- To be continued . . . To Protect and Serve Ch. 06 Proofread by FernieLyn This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these character and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author. This story is based in an alternative universe, where history took a different course than the one we are used to. In this world, the creatures which we now believe to be legends have walked alongside man for the duration of our existence. Vampires, werewolves, wizards, witches, sorcerers, and a host of other beings share our world. The following story contains, in one chapter or another, lesbian, homosexual, heterosexual, anal, group, sci-fi/fantasy, non-human, and BDSM sexual activity. There may be some erotic horror in there somewhere as well, but I haven't made up my mind. ---------------------- ------------------------ Shamira was sitting at a coffee shop near the intersection of I-575 and Highway 92. She had a laptop, the shop had wi-fi and . . . well, coffee. It was a match made in heaven. She probably should have stayed at the house, but she couldn't. She'd had an off night just twelve or so hours earlier. She'd embarrassed herself by ko'ing one her boss's new employees just because he had the ability to turn into a spider. She was terrified of spiders. Oh, and she'd killed a person. Okay, it was a really nice lady who would be rising again in a few days and become a vampire, but there had been something unnerving about thanking someone, staring into their smiling face and then squeezing off three 9 mm rounds into her chest. Shamira did what she always did when she knew she'd fucked up. After staring at Tabitha's body for a few moments, shadow jumped back home, grabbed her computer, emailed Shane that things had gone well, and then she vanished. She needed time to think. With all the new people in the house, no one would probably even notice that she wasn't in her room. And apparently no one did. She'd really didn't need much sleep, so she'd simply wandered around for hours and hours until the sun was up in the sky and the first pot of highly-overpriced hot beverage was being poured. She staked out a corner table, pulled up Mysti-pedia on her laptop and started studying mystical zoology. Nothing was sinking in, but she was studying, damn it. Her vampire physiology was just beginning to fail her when the call came in. Her head shot back with a jolt as she recovered from dozing off while grabbing for her phone. "Hello?" "Shamira? Where the hell are you?" came Clara's voice. 'Clara,' Shamira thought. The woman who Shamira's first female sex, first female domme, first friend she'd made after dying . . . the woman who made things make sense for Shamira. Clara apparently acted as a submissive once for all other dominants in the house to make sure they knew their stuff. Shamira couldn't imagine the lean, gorgeous Native American woman bowing to anyone. Clara had the wickedness of the eighteen-year-old girl she had died as, but the experience of an eighty-year-old woman. It was a dangerous combination. "Hello? Anyone there?" "Sorry. Yeah, I'm here. What's up?" There was a pause at the other end of the line, and Shamira could guess that she was about to get yelled at. "What's up?! After last night, you just up and vanish --" "I emailed Shane," Shamira said quickly. "You emailed HIM and told him that you'd killed killed Tabitha, then nothing? I had to track him down after I finished up with Sebastian to find out why you aren't in your room? Then we both find out that you aren't even in the house, and no one knows where you are and --" Shamira's brain kicked in. "Wait, when you were finished with Sebastian?" "Yeah, I went ahead and subbed for him so I could get it out of the way. Babe, if you can ever get over this fear of yours, he's really quite good. I mean, I never really get comfortable as a bottom, but --" Shamira hung up the phone. She didn't even know why she did it, but the thought of him . . . and her . . . doing that. 'I shouldn't have hung up on her.' But she couldn't bring herself to call back. She couldn't even stop herself from turning the phone off. She just stared. Not at anything, but at that little area of space that only existed when neither eye was focused correctly. She picked up her laptop and started walking. She didn't go far, finding an abandoned gas station surrounded by some heavy woods. She sat down around back, leaned her head against the worn brick, and simply fell asleep. -------------- ---------------- Some time later . . . -------------- ---------------- Shamira was getting nudged in the shoulder. Her back hurt, her ass was sore from the concrete, and she didn't feel particularly rested. 'What the hell am I doing?' she thought. 'And who the hell --' "Shamira?" 'Crap,' she thought, 'Clara again. How did she find me? If I just keep my eyes closed --' "She's awake," came Renata's voice. The werejaguar sounded tired. "Shamira, open your eyes," came a third voice. It was Henry. Shamira slowly peeled her eyes open. Three faces looked down at her. Clara looked concerned, Henry looked annoyed, and Renata . . . Renata looked exhausted. "Hey," she said meekly. "What are you guys . . . ack!" Shamira had been cut off by Clara picking her up and shoving her roughly against the wall. "What the hell is with you?!" Those gray/green eyes were blazing as they met Shamira's gaze. Clara was pissed. "What are you --" Clara actually pounded Shamira against the wall so hard that brick dust came loose. "You just vanish from the house and then you hang up on me and then vanish again and we have to get Pierre to trace down where you were using your computer and have Renata, who hasn't slept much in days by the way, has to come with us to track you down just so we can find you asleep by this fucking station, and you've got the nerve to act surprised?!" Clara dropped Shamira and stormed around the side of the building, muttering some unflattering curses in a language Shamira did not even recognize. "I just . . . was walking and sat down and fell asleep," Shamira muttered, a little frightened now. "Bullshit," Renata said, yanking Shamira back to her feet. "Listen, this whole thing where you freak out is getting a little old," Henry added with a scowl. "Taking offense with anything anyone says, freaking out . . . you knocked out a werespider just for touching you." Henry actually looked a little impressed when he said that last part. "Every time you say you've got it together, you do something stupid." He turned and followed Clara. Renata sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Shane's put me in charge for tonight," she said. "Said you didn't seem to be in a good frame of mind to deal with politics. I tried to talk him out of it, but since you weren't around to make your case --" She stopped and shrugged. Shamira's head was swimming. "I didn't mean . . . thanks for sticking up for me." Renata's eyes turned flinty. "It wasn't for you. I'm not really interested in being the lab rat for this little experiment with the faeries. You got us into this, but I guess I'll have to be the one to get us out." Something inside Shamira snapped. "Screw you," she hissed. "Screw Shane too." "Excuse me?" Renata said, getting up in Shamira's face. "You did not just say that." "Damn right I did. I made a deal with the faeries, so I'll be making good. I'm not going to let you or Shane or anyone else make a liar out of me." She shoved the laptop case into Renata's chest. "I'm going to show up at the faeries' land tonight to do what I said I'd do. I'll get Shane his damn information." "You don't get to make that call," Renata shot back, growling. The cat in her wanted to get out and fight. "I just did." "No member of Shane's house defies him. You'd better learn that if --" "You're right," Shamira interrupted. "No member of his house should defy him. Since he's got plenty of other people now who are obviously better at all this than I am, I'll move out in the morning. I'll find the damn morning star dealers on my own." Renata wasn't sure how to handle this. She didn't want Shamira to leave. She was pretty sure no one wanted her to leave, and she was 100% sure that Clara wouldn't want Shamira to leave. "Don't go saying things you might regret," she said, trying to pull the conversation back from the brink. "Talk to me. Please. I hate to use the phrase 'this time,' but what's got you upset this time?" "I don't know," Shamira said, sliding back down the wall and having a seat. "I mean, we went to plot Tabitha's death and we get attacked by those Dark Pools --" "Woah!" Renata's eyes went open. "Dark Pools? Why didn't anyone tell me about this?" Renata listened patiently as Shamira dumped everything that had happened over the last several days into her lap, all the way up to that phone call she'd had with Clara earlier that day. Renata made a mental note to kick some peoples' asses for making Shamira be Tabitha's executioner so early. She'd freaked out when she'd had to kill a bad guy, but to kill a friend, however temporarily, was bound to fuck with her mind. Renata sat down. "Listen, I may not say this right since I can barely remember my own name at the moment and am running on pure black coffee, but I do sometimes think you look for reasons to panic. I'm not saying that you don't get some big drama, but freaking out doesn't seem to be the best way of dealing with it. Just say that you're overwhelmed and ask for help." "I can't! I've already chickened out too many times and it doesn't seem to be getting better." "You've had a busy three weeks haven't you?" Shamira closed her eyes. "Now even Clara's mad at me, and she has every right to be." Renata smirked. She'd anticipated this little issue. "Clara's not mad because of any mistake you made. You scared the crap out of her, and she doesn't like being scared. She told you she subs for the new doms, right? She told you why she chose Sebastian for last night?" "I kinda hung up on her before we got to the 'why' of it." "She knew that he's the one you're going to have the most problems getting comfortable with. She wanted to start in right away to make sure that he'll be safe for you." "Why her? I mean, why not let me do it or another sub? You LIKE being s submissive sometimes, but she --" "An actual sub is much more likely to let things get carried away before calling a halt to it, even if they're experienced. From what I heard, there were some guys who have tried to hook up with the house a ways back who didn't pass muster because they weren't good at being dominants. And you're right, she isn't that fond of doing it, but she did it and the first thing she wanted to do afterward was go talk to you about it. You, her best friend after only being here three weeks. Remember how you felt when you first started going through all this and you couldn't talk to your sister?" "I felt . . . lost," Shamira replied. "I couldn't get oriented. But Clara --" "Clara isn't perfect any more than the rest of us, and she's had to adapt to some changes too. Imagine doing something you really didn't want to do for someone else and then have that person not around to tell. How would you feel?" "Angry," Shamira said tiredly. "Or just plain frustrated." Renata helped Shamira to her feet. "Shane said that I'm in charge tonight, and my first official act is to tell you that you're going to be in the ceremony. This way, Shane will have punished you, but you'll still get to do what you promised. You should probably apologize to Shane, Sebastian, and definitely Clara." "What about Henry? Or you?" "Screw Henry. You can apologize to me by letting me get some sleep." Renata smiled and looked over the girl's body. "You could even join me, seeing as I doubt that you've gotten much rest here." "Uhm, we are actually talking about 'sleep,' right?" "Sure. That too. Assuming it's okay with Clara." "Why?" "Because you're rooming with her until we come up with a more permanent housing solution. We're getting eight new people and we were one bedroom short. Putting you in with Clara just made sense since you're in there all the time anyway." Renata's grin was wide enough to scare small children by this point. This was another moment when Shamira was glad that vampires didn't blush. The two of them walked around to the car, where Henry and Clara were sitting on the hood. Henry glanced at Clara, who had a flash of concern before it was forcibly replaced with snootiness. Or it tried. Shamira sucked it up, walking up to Clara and meeting that glare. "I'm sorry for behaving stupidly. I got freaked out . . . again . . . by what happened with Sebastian, and then having to put a bullet through Tabitha's heart . . . that I won't feel less weird about until we've dug her and she's standing in front of me. You know, so I know it's okay." She saw Clara's gaze soften a bit. "I was embarrassed and I didn't want to go home." Shamira chewed her bottom lip a little bit and tried to convey a to-be-continued apology. She saw the tiniest bit of a smile play at the corners of Clara's mouth. Henry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that's sticking by your guns, Clara," he told his comrade. "I just can't stay mad at her!" Clara said in a teenager girl's voice. "She's so cute!" "Now I feel like a puppy," Shamira replied. The car ride back up to the house wasn't quite as uncomfortable as Shamira would have expected. It was quiet, but mostly because no one knew what if anything needed to be said. As soon as the arrived, Shamira found herself on her way to see Shane. She walked in and saw her boss sitting behind his desk and -- "Calm down," Shane told her, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Sebastian. The hunky new enforcer looked like he had been woken up just for this meeting. Both men had stern looks on their faces, one sitting behind the desk and one leaning against a bookshelf nearby. While Shamira's skin started to crawl the second she saw Sebastian, there was something about the scene that tickled her. She was plastered to the wall, trying to imagine the man instead of the arachnid inside when the weird sense of déjà vu cleared up and . . . Shamira started to laugh. It was a gasping, painful laugh at first as amusement warred with fear, but eventually she just toppled over laughing. Shane was shocked. He looked at Sebastian and said, "I take everything back. She's completely mad." Sebastian just looked baffled. "She scared me less when she was kicking my ass." It took almost a full minute for Shamira to compose herself enough to gasp, "I've been sent to the principal's office! Again!" "Yes, she's lost it all right." Shane had wanted this to be a more serious event, but it was hard not to smile when Shamira was so completely lost in her mirth. She needed to laugh more. "Shamira, please stop laughing and . . . Shamira!" The woman in question set off on another peal of laughter. Shane sounded like her high school principal Mr. Keason when he was yelling at her that she almost died. Maybe Shane was right. Maybe she'd finally just snapped. But eventually she was able to get herself together, stand up straight and face them both with only an occasional snicker. A bit of the fear returned with her control, but it was diminished somewhat. "Sir," she said, directing her voice towards Shane, "I'm sorry for my outburst here. I'm . . . I'm a little out of sorts. And I'm sorry for ruining your party yesterday." She looked at Sebastian, trying to quell the lump in her throat. "Suh- . . . Sebastian, I need to apologize to you as well. You see, I'm a bit scared, and by scared I mean terrified, of spiders. It is difficult for me to separate the creature from the man in this case, and . . . and you surprised me." "Surprised you? Miss Shamira, I haven't been beaten around like that since my first trip into an African revolution. And quite honestly, the combatants there were a bit gentler." He smiled at that part. It was a disarming smile. "My behavior was unforgivable," she said. "Actually, it rather is forgivable," Sebastian said. "Yes, you were . . . shall we say overzealous? Yes, that's a good word. You were overzealous in you administration of physical harm, but Renata had told me that you were afraid of spiders. I should have been more careful." "Sebastian, you don't need to apologize," Shane said. "But I'd like to," the man replied smoothly. "Her punishment is up to you of course, but I hold no ill will towards her. Shamira, do you think that your fear is going to be a problem with us working together?" "I think that I can control myself better," she said. She paused, and then, "But at this time, I think that working together is all I'm comfortable with. I . . . I don't think I could be . . . physical . . . with you. Not comfortably." Shane nodded. "I find that reasonable. No submissive in this house should ever experience fear during the course of fulfilling their duties. I expect you to continue working with Banshee as well as Sebastian on overcoming your phobia. And I've put Renata in charge of tonight's dealings with the faeries." "I know, sir. She told me." "And you don't have a problem with this?" Shamira shrugged. "I would like it to still be my operation, but I'll respect your decision." Shane didn't trust her compliance for a minute, but he'd let Renata deal with it. "I may assign further punishment later. Now go get some sleep, and I mean 'sleep.' Don't let Clara or anyone else start anything else. You look like you need the rest." 'Why does everyone think that Clara and I can't be in the same room without getting it on?' Shamira thought. She actually liked just being around her friend sometimes. Being naked and sweaty was just a bonus. "Yes sir. And sir?" "Yes?" "I know I shouldn't be asking for favors, but could I be there to help exhume Tabitha? I . . . I really need to see her . . . to be sure." Shane nodded. He'd wondered how Shamira was going to react to that. "Absolutely. The funeral will be on Monday so the grave-robbing will occur on Monday night while the ground is still soft. We'll make that a mandatory safe day for you as well. Now be off. You'll be staying with Clara until living arrangements are finalized." Shamira nodded first to Shane and then Sebastian. He had been such a good sport about what Shamira had done to him that she felt even worse for having done it. She got to Clara's room to find Renata asleep in the bed and Clara sitting at her laptop. "How'd it go?" "They were both very nice about it. Shane was disappointed, Sebastian was understanding, and I broke down laughing because it reminded me of the times I got sent to the principal's office." "You did?" "Yup. And Clara, I'm sorry to you too." Clara took her friend and lover's hands. "What was it about me being with Sebastian that made you hang up on me?" Shamira struggled with the words. "Since I got brought over, I've been trying to figure out how this world works. One of the rules is that you're a dominant. The idea of you having sex and . . . and not really enjoying it weirded me out. And it being him, Sebastian I mean, just . . . it just made me really creeped out." Clara smiled warmly. "Shamira, were you jealous?" Shamira wanted to deny it, but she couldn't. "Yeah, I guess I was. I guess I always am. I mean, it isn't as bad when it's one of the other subs, but . . . let's just say I'll be a lot happier when you've 'tested' all the new doms and get back to being you." To Protect and Serve Ch. 06 Clara's dead heart actually thudded a couple of times. Shamira was jealous? Of her other lovers? "Me too," she said. She looked over at the bed where Renata had already zoned out. "She'd wanted to play with you, but she couldn't stay awake." Clara stood up kissed Shamira softly. "Maybe Sunday night, we can make up for some lost time?" Shamira's brain was misfiring and her knees were watery. It was something that Clara's lips did to her. "Sounds good to me." She was quickly stripped down to nothing, and the two of them climbed into bed next to the sleeping werejaguar, pressing their bodies together in warm, comfortable closeness that Shamira hadn't even realized that she needed. --------------- ----------- That night . . . --------------- ----------- Shamira was nervous. She was waiting for the fairies to arrive to perform a ceremony using Shamira's "sexual energy" to contact all all the other faerie colonies in Georgia. They were trying to find out if any faeries had gone missing, as there was a good chance that such creatures had been captured and had their blood used to make the magical drug morning star. That wasn't the part that made her nervous. Shane decided to send Yosyp along with her and Renata, and Shamira wasn't sure how to handle that. Yosyp was pretty much the poster boy for the vampires of horror films. He even had an accent, though it was more Ukrainian than Transylvanian. He didn't speak much, but he also never did anything threatening. All Shamira knew was that he was somewhat handsome, highly dangerous, and had once been an enforcer for the Tribunal. How and why he was here was a question for someone above her pay grade. "And so you agreed to the sexual ritual instead of the blood ritual. Why?" Yosyp asked. Shamira looked out the window. "It sounded less dangerous at the time. It has already been pointed out that I behaved rashly," she said, trying not to sound bitter. That little argument had caused a temporary rift between Shamira and Renata, which had been unpleasant. "I did not mean to criticize, but merely question." Shamira glanced over her shoulder while Renata drove. "I'm new to all this, so when someone makes the choice between sex and blood, I chose sex." A devilishly handsome smile crept up. "Being part of Mr. Stapleton's house, that doesn't surprise me." Shamira found herself smiling back. Yosyp really could be charming. "I don't know if this is an acceptable topic or not, but what brings you here to Shane's house? You're old enough to have your own land, correct?" "Yes," he replied. "I have been on this earth for two-hundred and fifty years. When a vampire is orphaned by the destruction of his or her house, he becomes a servant of the Tribunal until a new home can be found. Much like a were who has lost his pack or other social group. Rogues in our world are rarely tolerated. I was never able to agree with the Tribunal on a new home until this position came open." "Didn't they offer you your own place? Start your own house?" Yosyp shrugged. "While we do not have 'alphas' in the vampire world as the weres have, but there are some more suited to lead. I prefer to be the dangerous right hand of someone I respect. Shane is such a man, and he has put together, or is in the processing of putting together, a most formidable house." "You think so?" Renata asked. She secretly brimmed with pride at Yosyp's words. "Definitely. Few vampire lords of the land who are vampires that would hire on so many weres, nor would were lords take on vampires. I have read your dossiers," he said, directing back to Renata, "and Shane has chosen competent people who can work together. And the vampires he has chosen to bring over are equally well-suited." Shamira fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat. She was the only one in the house who hadn't been chosen in advance after a great deal of careful consideration. She had been an accident. And just like that, her manic mood cycle swung back to self-doubt. This time, she was determined not to mention anything. But Yosyp wasn't done. "You, Miss Shamira, are a most fortunate stroke of luck. Shane considers himself blessed by fate to have found you." "Because of the Shadow Aspects," she muttered. "Because of your passion." Shamira's eyes scrunched up. "Passion?" Yosyp looked out the window. "The Shadow Aspects do not seek out the weak of heart, it is true. But Shane feels in his heart that you would continue to fight the good fight with or without those Aspects." "Dead or alive, you ARE a pain in the Ass of Evil," Renata said matter-of-factly. "Interestingly put," Yosyp replied. "Yeah, I'm a regular Billy Shakespeare." Yosyp shuddered. "Billy . . . never mind." "We're here," the werejaguar said, pulling off the main road towards their parking spot. "Hope you brought your hiking boots." "I'm not worried about muddying my boots," Yosyp said calmly. They all clambered out the car. "We'll see," Renata said, looking towards the swampy area. She turned around and saw Yosyp floating about a foot off the ground. "Not fair!" "Levitation Aspect," he replied a bit smugly. "Rat bastard." "Renata," Shamira started, "can you find the same spot without changing?" The werejaguar sniffed the air. "Yeah. We were just here a week ago and it hasn't rained. I'm good." They worked their way through the muck, following Renata's nose until they got to a familiar clearing. The moon shone down through the trees onto a circle of soft grass. The fairies were arriving at about the same time, most of them forming a circle around the little clearing. "All hail His Great and Royal Majesty the Most Illustrious Leader Frolthac of the Colony of Nature's Glory and Her Delectable and Most Beautiful Majesty Queen Lillia of Nature's Glory. All bow and tremble at their brilliance," announced Thorias, Captain of the Guard. Shamira bowed. Yosyp bowed. Renata bowed while snickering slightly and trying not to smirk. She thought faeries were just too damn funny. "He said it all in one breath again," Renata whispered. "I noticed." "Have you decided on a ceremony as of yet?" King Frolthac asked, wringing his hands eagerly. Renata glanced over at Shamira and nodded. "Sexual energy, your Majesty," Shamira said. The faeries started clapping and cheering and hooting until a disapproving glare from the Queen shut them all up. Lillia floated over to Shamira and said, "Forgive the rabble. There's a reason why they're peasants." She heard one of her subjects boo, and she turned around and blasted him with a small beam of light. The offending party went flying back into a tree, stuck to it for a moment, then slid to the ground with a high-pitched groan. "Sorry about that," the Queen added, flipping her hair and glancing up and down Shamira's body hungrily. "You are a whole lotta woman," Lillia added in a voice far too sultry for that small of a body. "You know, we have spells that could temporarily shrink you to our size, so I could take you back to the royal residence and --" "Lillia," the King interrupted, "I realize that you're probably in heat as always, but can we please move on to the ceremony?" Lillia rolled her eyes at her husband then looked back at Shamira. "He's such a spoilsport," she said. "That and he won our bet that lets him run the ceremony." She was almost pouting at this point. "I tell you, never trust a man with a large penis when you're playing naked Twister." The little Queen bit her bottom lip. "About that shrinking spell --" "Lillia!" the King shouted. "Maybe next time, your Majesty," Shamira said, giving the Queen a little wink. She remembered one of the things she'd read about faerie culture and extend her tongue a bit out of her mouth. The Queen promptly flew up and kissed her on the tip of the tongue, and the little woman tingled all over. It was a greeting of sexual appreciation, and fairies loved such gestures. "I'll look into the spell," Lillia said, then mouthed the words "I'll call you" before flying off to hover beside her husband. "Would the power source please take her place in the circle," the King bellowed, planning to make as big a spectacle of the ceremony as possible. Meanwhile, Thorias flew over and sat on Renata's shoulder. "Hey honey," the Captain of the Guard said, sounding like a 70's lounge lizard in the process. "How about you shrinking down so I can pet the kitty?" "You do realize that I've heard that line a million times," Renata said, though impressed by the little man's audacity. "We're kind of isolated out here," Thorias said, totally nonplussed. "Takes a while for our pick-up lines to develop." He stopped talked as Shamira entered the circles and was told to strip down. "Damn!" he said as that finely-tuned body came into view. "Where did she come from and how do I get there?" Renata just smiled. It seemed that Shamira was the only one who didn't realize just how smoking hot she really was. She was still in her old living-human mindset where many were intimidated by strong women. Not in the world that awoke when the sun went down . . . not for people like this. "Please state your name," the King was saying. "Shamira. Shamira Stapleton," the would-be "sacrifice" said, remembering her new name. "What is it that brings you here?" the King asked. Renata couldn't help it when she said, "What . . . is your Quest? What . . . is your favorite color?" Yosyp glared at her. Thorias just looked confused. Renata had thought she was pretty damn funny. "I am here in hopes of contacting the faerie colonies in the State known as Georgia, in hopes that I might find where members of the faerie community have gone missing. I believe that excessive disappearances might lead to the creators and distributors of the drug known as morning star, and that by finding them we might shut them down and put an end to this evil practice." Renata's smile was now one of pride. Shamira had obviously done her homework and had prepped that little speech in advance. "Furthermore," Shamira continued, "we would appreciate all faerie colonies to reply via His Great and Royal Majesty the Most Illustrious Leader Frolthac of the Colony and Her Delectable and Most Beautiful Majesty Queen Lillia of Nature's Glory, without whose assistance this project could not succeed." 'Slam and dunk,' Renata thought, looking at the Royal couple who were both puffed up with pride. "When the ritual is complete, your message will be sent far and wide," the King said, "and we shall lead the crusade against the diabolical . . . do . . . badders." The Queen slapped her face with her hand and shook her head. "Just . . . just get on with the ritual." Frolthac glared at his wife, then looked back to Shamira. "When you can take no more pleasure, let us know and we will use the accumulated energy to send the signal as far as we can." "The more passion you experience, the greater distance the signal will travel. But should you lose consciousness, the ritual will end. Do you understand?" "Yes, your Majesty." "Make yourself comfortable," the King replied with a devious smirk, then he started to chant. Shamira stood naked in a shimmering circle when the realization hit her . . . she still didn't know exactly how this was supposed to work. The source material she'd read had been somewhat vague. She listened to the sound of chanting, starting with the King and then working its way around the circle. At first, nothing happened. Then, ever so slowly, black smoke started to creep out of the ground, faint glowing lines of green energy flowing through it like veins. It had no form, growing like a cloud until finally it seemed to become solid. Tendrils began to creep out of the center mass; no one watching could tell how many. "Is that thing going to hurt her?" Renata asked, suddenly worried. "Not unless that's what she really wants," Thorias replied. "What do you mean?" "Well, the power source pumps out more energy if truly aroused, so the conduit takes the form of something from her fantasy." Renata felt great relief and tremendous curiosity. Just what kind of passion did Shamira truly possess? Shamira stared at the entity approaching her, and she seemed to recognize it . . . remember it from somewhere. The tendrils lengthened and thickened, and the ends seem to grow into bulbous, mushroom-like heads or little suction cup like objects. Some tentacles snaked out and wrapped themselves around Shamira's ankles while others wrapped around her waist or wrists. Shamira was pulled to her knees as the serpentine forms ensnared more and more of her body. One of the tendrils with the bulbous tip hovered in front of Shamira's face as if it were looking at her, then it shoved itself between her lips and down her throat. "Good grief!" Renata whispered, taking a step forward. Then she glanced at Thorias. "Are you sure this thing won't hurt her?" Thorias was captivated. "Sure, it's created from her mind. It will do whatever her subconscious tells it to. Now be quiet. This chick is sick!" Shamira's had moved her hands just enough so that she could grasp the thing violating her mouth, and it looked like she was stroking it. Two of the sucker-ended tentacles latched on to the vampire's nipples and began to tug, distending them and pulling harshly on her breasts. Then the tentacles pulled Shamira's legs further apart before a particularly thick one rammed its way into her sex. Renata was mesmerized. She saw surprise and concern and a little fear on her friend's face as that . . . thing . . . fucked her, but she could smell Shamira's excitement far more than any fear. 'The girl watches too much damn anime,' she thought, her hand sliding under the waistband of her pants, letting a finger slide between her folds and feel her wetness. The tentacles were doing a number on Shamira's body. The swollen end in her mouth was large enough that she couldn't disengage from it even if she wanted to. It tasted sweet to her, like mint chocolate. The vine in her pussy had knotted up as well, filling her insides and pressing against her g-spot, thudding like the Telltale Heart. And then she felt another tentacle pressing its way into her asshole, penetrating her with excruciating slowness. Her nipples ached under the suction of this creature, and she didn't want it to ever stop. Suddenly, she was lifted completely off the ground and turned horizontal, suspended in the air by this writhing mass of sin that was fucking her in every way imaginable. Shamira came so hard that she was seeing stars, her juices dripping onto the dark mass. When Shamira climaxed, the conduit's green veins started to glow brighter, as did the fairies surrounding the ritual. The tentacle in the vampire's mouth withdrew and spurted a green goo all over her face, which she licked off her lips almost instinctively. 'Sweet,' she thought, licking some more and relishing the taste. She wanted more. The conduit responded, shoving another tentacle to take the place of the last. Those octopus-like arms flipped Shamira over, shoving her chest first down into the grass, pounding away at both her lower openings while giving her mouth a reach around. Renata was masturbating hurriedly. She understood what Shane saw in this woman. Once the real Shamira got out of the box, there was no controlling her, except in the ways she wanted to be controlled. She glanced over and saw a stretching in Yosyp's pants as he watched on hungrily. 'Screw it,' she thought, reaching out and cupping his crotch. "I am not allowed to dominate you until Clara has approved of my methods," the elder vampire whispered. "Who said anything about dominating me? I just want to blow you." Yosyp nodded his head casually. "That is acceptable." Within ten seconds, she had his pants down past his thighs and his rigid member sliding between her lips. She was wetting the length, watching Shamira get ram-rodded by the bizarre sexual conduit that the faeries had summoned forth. The faeries were glowing brighter, as the conduit had just forced another orgasm from Shamira's body. And as before, it "released" shortly after she did, this time depositing its sexual residue in the vampire's womb. Shamira didn't want to let it go, but the tentacle pulled out. She moaned in borderline maniacal glee when another slid inside her body. A small suction arm latched onto her clitoris and began to tug, and she climaxed again. Not only did this one come close on the heels of its predecessor, this one came in a package. Wave after wave of mind-numbing pleasure rattled through her abused body, and all the tentacles started to shoot their sweet loads, filling her pussy, ass, and mouth, and few even splattered their stuff on her back and shoulders. The circle of faeries was glowing so brightly now that it could probably be spotted from orbit, and the green veins of her phantom lover's multiple appendages were as bright as emeralds. The conduit picked her up off the ground again, spinning her to face it. Up from the center mass, a humanoid shape began to appear. Soon, the torso of a slim woman had arisen from the tentacular lower body, black skin riddled with those glowing veins. The head had no face yet, but something stirred in the region of the crotch. An enormous phallus started to grow, mocking even the most generously endowed porn stars. 'That thing will kill her!' Renata though as she buried Yosyp's cock all the way down her throat, thumbing her own clit as she did so. 'But hell, she could handle getting fisted by --" Renata's eyes opened wider. The face had taken on more form and almost looked like -- "Does that look like who I think it is?" Yosyp murmured, relishing the feeling of warm wet mouth around his manhood. If this is how good Renata felt normally, he couldn't wait to get her in chains. He waited until she moaned into his cock, having achieved her own climax, before he allowed himself to deposit his load on her tongue. She milked him dry, all the while keeping her eyes on Shamira and her pseudo-familiar tormentor. Shamira had been getting fucked for longer than she could remember. Her eyes were glazed over, her skin felt alive, and every piece of her body had been used. When her eyes cleared, the conduit had formed a face. 'Clara?' she thought, border lining on exhaustion. She had to be hallucinating. That was the only reason why she might see her friend's face on the conduit's body. The conduit wrapped Shamira's entire upper body up in its tentacles, effectively mummifying her from the waist to the the neck. It lowered her onto its massive cock; Shamira grunted. Her pussy had been battered, but the ache was so delicious. She was strained to take all of this thing's new sexual organ, and she loved the stretch. Then that face, that not-quite-Clara face moved towards her, then kissed her. The superficial appearance of her friend and lover was as far as the similarities went, as the conduit was all substance but no style. Still, when Conduit-Clara's tongue turned into another penis while inside of Shamira's mouth, it was a not-unpleasant sensation. She sucked on the tongue-cock while the conduit's massive member pistoned her sex, causing her cum over and over and over again. The conduit continued to fill her with its fluids, making her feel so very warm and so very content. "ENOUGH!" Frolthac shouted, glowing like a star in the little clearing. The King was giving off so much light now that Renata almost missed that he had his wife bent over and was doing her from behind while he chanted. She looked around and saw most if not all of the faeries had broken out in one tryst or another. She grinned. Apparently she wasn't the only one who had been caught up in the moment. To Protect and Serve Ch. 06 "We have enough energy," the King gasped. Slowly, the conduit began to turn incorporeal, fading back into the ground like the mist it had begun as. Shamira was left lying on the ground, her body covered with light-green and glowing goo. She looked as exhausted as Renata could imagine a being could look. Frolthac continued, "Let this woman's message be heard, sent as far and wide as --" "For the Goddess's sake," his wife said, obviously enjoying her husband's sexual attentions more than his speech. "If you don't transmit soon, you're going to blow up! And you're not done here yet!" The King tried to glower, but he couldn't quite manage. He was far too excited, both intellectually and sexually, to even try and be mad at his wife. Instead, he came inside her, looked towards the sky, and then he and the rest of the circle flashed an impossibly brilliant green. The flash was accompanied by a "whoomp" sound, similar to an explosion happening underwater. Renata and Yosyp both felt a wave of magic sweep over them as it went about its predetermined course. "Good grief!" the Queen said, looking happy and surprised at the same time. "I've never . . . never seen that much power in a sexual ritual before. She's kinky! I like her!" she said, glowing at her husband and sharing a brief moment of genuine intimacy. Renata smiled warmly. Thorias had been right; they really did love each other. The werejaguar looked back to Shamira, then hurried to her friend's side. "Are you okay?" "Was'n s'bad," Shamira muttered, struggling for the strength to get up to her knees. The King and Queen both flew over and hovered in front of Shamira's face while Renata pulled the hair from her eyes. "You were incredible, my dear," Lillia crooned. "I've never seen someone outlast the conduit before!" "How . . . how long?" Shamira asked. "About an hour," Yosyp said, walking over and offering both his housemates a hand up. Renata had to get her friend's arm around her shoulder just to keep the girl upright. "I must say, that was an impressive display. I'm not sure that I'm going to be able to live up to your standards." Shamira just looked confused, so Renata punched the new guy in the shoulder. "No teasing her. She's had a rough night." Renata looked at the two faeries who, having expended their energy, were much easier to look at. "Your Majesties, will you be able to contact us once you hear from the other Georgia colonies?" "Georgia?" the Queen snickered. "My lovely kitty-woman, we'll be getting feedback from Canada with the pulse we just sent. The other colonies will respond if for no other reason that to find out where the Seven Hells we got that much sexual energy from. Can we keep her?" she asked of her husband. "I'm afraid that Lord Stapleton has need of her yet," Yosyp replied cordially. "If he's willing to share, we might be willing to make a . . . political arrangement?" Yosyp smiled. The woman had value in more ways than she knew. "We will mention your generous offer to our employer." "Have an area in or near the house that is green and growing," the Queen said, then handed Yosyp a small crystal from her belt pouch. "Place this inside some potted soil in the green area. It will allow us to contact you." "You are most kind," the full vampire said, offering his tongue as Shamira had done earlier. The Queen curtsied and kissed his tongue. "I like these people," she said. "We need to have them over for tea. Or sex. Maybe both." Renata couldn't keep from grinning as they got Shamira dressed and took her back to the car. She LOVED faeries! ----------- ------------ Hours later . . . ----------- ------------ Shamira's eyes edged open, instantly meeting with the obnoxious glare of a digital alarm clock. She wondered why Clara, who had impeccable taste in the rest of her decorations, had a cheap Big Box Mart alarm. 'Why am I in Clara's room? Wait, it's my room too. How the hell did I get here?' She remembered her time at the clearing; remembered it with a warm, glowing sensation deep down inside her core. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness to find that she was not alone. Clara was sitting in a chair across the room, glancing over a trashy romance novel using a dim reading light. Shamira glanced at the clock again. Four o'clock in the morning . . . it wasn't her safe day until sunrise. "Mistress Clara, you don't --" Shamira had barely gotten that much out before Clara looked up with bright and wicked eyes, lunged across the room and landed on top of the waking vampire. "Okay, tell me absolutely everything!" Clara said, pinning her friend to the bed. "Renata gave me the quick-and-dirty version, but I want the long-and-dirty version." "Shouldn't I report back to Shane?" "Shane shmane," Clara said philosophically. "He's in his office on a conference call with a bunch of Southeastern lords, so he'll have to wait. Looks like we're putting on a party in a few weeks to discuss district zoning. Anyway, Renata told him what happened, and she says you were fucked by a weird Japanese anime octopus monster? Or something like that?" Shamira grinned. Clara had died a teenager and, despite tremendous wisdom gathered over the 62 years since, she was still very much a teenager at heart. Teenage girls wanted to hear the dirt. "Yes, Mistress Clara. What happened was --" "Babe, Shane gave you the rest of the night off. Said you probably needed some rest. So you're not on for the rest of the night." Suddenly, a memory came back to the muscular submissive. She remembered that last image before she'd "won" the contest with the conduit . . . that dark yet pale imitation of this woman. And just like that, her libido switched back on just a little bit. She stretched like a person normally would after just waking up, but she made sure that every one of her muscles rippled under the skin as she did so. She saw Clara's eyes feeding on her. "Are you SURE that I'm not on?" she asked. Clara grinned. Shamira was growing into her sexuality, and far be it for Clara to deny the girl's personal development. She tied her lover's hands together with a scarf, secured them to the headboard, then tugged on the girl's nipples until Shamira confessed everything. Well, not quite everything. Shamira withheld one bit of information: what the conduit had looked like to her at the end. She felt that was a bit awkward to explain, and she wasn't sure how to interpret it herself. Clara made her cum twice over the course of the story as a reward for going into exquisite detail on what had been done to her. The Shamira devoured her mistress's sex until the woman was satisfied. Clara could be a hard woman to satisfy when she concentrated. She was concentrating. ---------------- ---------- The next day . . . ---------------- ---------- Shamira awoke a few minutes before the alarm was supposed to go off, so she slid out from Clara's spooning embrace and turned the infernal contraption off. 'She's so beautiful,' Shamira thought. 'How can anyone looking angelic when I know damn well she's devilish?' She took a step towards the door and began to feel queasy. "Headrush," she whispered. "You okay?" Clara murmured, her eyes creeping open. 'Damn vampire hearing,' Shamira thought. "Guess I just got out of bed a little fast. Got a little light headed." 'Still a little light headed,' she realized. "Babe, we don't get light-headed," Clara said, swinging her long, luscious legs out of bed. "C'mere." "I'm fine. Really, I just --" "Here." This time, Clara's voice came out even. "Don't make me ask you again." Safe day or no, that was a tone that Shamira wasn't going to ignore. She walked over and sat on the bed while Clara placed a hand on her forehead, chanting softly. "I'm feeling something . . . unappeased," she murmured and then with a grin, "and this time it isn't sexual." The grin went away. "Shamira, have you eaten? Blood I mean. Anyone but that time with me?" Shamira shook her head. "No." "When was the last time you ate conventional food?" "Uhm --" Shamira looked towards the ceiling, trying to recall the last time she'd eaten. "I was too nervous yesterday and --" "Good grief woman! Eating regularly is more important now than when you were alive, and drinking blood once every three weeks is NOT healthy." "I'm sorry," Shamira grumbled. "I'll eat during the games today, okay?" "You'll eat now. And we need to find you some fresh blood." Clara looked like she was pondering something. "I wonder if anyone has a donor we can call up on such short notice? Can't use Shane's, since the two most available are getting ready to be brought over. I've got three locally, but they're all probably in church." "Church?" Clara grinned. "I find the pious flavorful." "Don't we have some blood packs in the fridge or something?" Clara made a "ewh" face. "Sweetie, you really need to find some donors and stat. The less fresh the blood, the less power you can draw from it." She sighed. "It's up to you. We can warm some blood up for you for today, but only if you promise to help choose at least two donors before the first game is over. Deal?" "Deal," the muscular woman grumbled. "It's just the idea of shopping for people is weird." "It's a little more involved than that," Clara replied disapprovingly. "In Shane's house and for his children, donors are a valuable and precious resource. Everyone on the current or potential donor list could potentially be a fellow vamp some day, so it's important to develop a good relationship with yours." She kissed Shamira sweetly on the lips. "Don't worry, we'll find a couple of someones who are right for you, and we'll set up an appointment for Tuesday. Oh, we're going to have to cancel the rafting trip since things are picking up around here." Clara seemed genuinely bumped, and Shamira was as well. "It's late in the season anyway. Water would've been cold." "Yeah, but the guide we were going to have was on the donor list and he looks SO delicious." "Clara?! I don't need you setting me up on blind . . . dates. I'll pick by own damn donors!" Clara grinned. "That's the spirit." By the time the first football game had gotten to halftime, Shamira had lowered the number of possibilities down to a handful. Their little television-watching party had grown, as apparently Bangaly the werelion and his werelioness Kira were both die hard fans . . . Detroit Lions fans, to be more precise. The pun had made Shamira groan. Renata showed up just for the hell of it, and spent a lot of time flirting with Bangaly. Between Henry and Clara, Shamira felt like she was shopping for presents with teenage girls when reviewing the donor list. It was a long string of "Ooh, look at that one. That one's pretty" or "You don't want that one. Too scrawny" or "Ewh! A vegan? They taste like crap!" It was a bit surreal. In the end, Shamira chose a young married couple who owned a comic book store over on Canton Highway. Both were cute, in a geeky-pseudo-goth kinda way. He carried a couple of extra pounds and she had glasses so thick that she could probably use them to look at star constellations, but there was just something about them -- "Why them?" Clara asked, noticing that her friend had been staring at the same couple of pictures for a while. "They seem smart, and fun-kind-of-geeky, and --" She stopped. "What?" "Because they're just as deserving as the other candidates, but no one else . . . I'm mean, they're not as 'attractive' as some of the others or --" "In other words, you think the rest of us are shallow," Henry said, feigning offense. "No, it's not that. Not really. But you have to admit, the ones who get chosen tend to be more . . . Beverly Hills 90210." Clara kissed her friend's cheek. She figured these two reminded Shamira of Jimmy Fisk, the boy she thought she should have kept safe. Never mind that she had been a fourteen year old girl getting pushed around by high school boys. Jimmy Fisk had died, and Shamira had been protecting people ever since. Clara was convinced that part of the reason Shamira was a submissive was to compensate for her otherwise constant need to protect everyone. She was a dichotomy, and she was wonderful. "Good choices," the Native American said, moving the laptop aside and laying her head in her friend's lap while sucking down another pizza roll. "Wait a minute," she muttered, glancing one last time at the screen next to her, "did you see the health section?" She sat up again. "They've got --" "Yeah, I saw that. I can't be affected, right? And vampires can't be transmitters?" "That's true." "Then I want to do this. They should see someone's still willing to touch them." Clara smiled, then kissed her friend long and soft before finally settling in for the game. Renata smiled to herself as she watched the two interact. She wondered if Shamira had told Clara everything about what had happened last night, including the last thing the conduit had turned into before the ritual ended. Somehow, she doubted it. 'Oh well,' she thought. 'They'll figure it out for themselves soon enough.' But the whole incident had left Renata realized that she hadn't had a chance to play with Shamira yet, and it was something she planned on correcting very soon. "Shamira,," came Shane's voice from on high, "could you come by my office?" Halftime had just ended, and Shamira doubted that it was wise to keep the boss waiting for another hour and a half, so she gently worked her way out from under Clara's head. "Save my spot?" Clara grinned and eyeballed Henry, who had moved to get the prime real-estate that had just been vacated. "I'd be glad to." Shamira smiled, wondering how much of the lounge area would be intact when she got back. She had wondered why a house the size of Shane's had so few televisions, but she'd been told it was to make people interact more and establish a sense of community. Otherwise, everyone would just hole up in their own rooms, much like teenagers. "Yes sir?" she asked when she arrived. There was an abundance of plant life in his office now that had to be new. Then, peeking out from behind a palm frond, Shamira spotted a faerie. "Shamira, His Great and Royal Majesty the Most Illustrious Leader Frolthac and Her Delectable and Most Beautiful Majesty Queen Lillia of Nature's Glory have already sent a messenger. I thought you should be here." The faerie, a young female by the looks of it, was staring at Shamira with something resembling hero worship. "I appreciate this," she squeaked, glancing at Shane. "And thank YOU, most illustrious Sex Goddess of the House of the House of Stapleton. It is an honor to be in your presence." 'Is she giving me the eye?' Shamira wondered, taken aback by her apparent new title. "Please, call me Shamira." "Oh Goddess, I --." "Shamira." "Goddess." "Shamira!" The tiny woman stomped her foot in mid-air. "Their Majesties have determined that the first person to outlast the conduit will be referred to as the Sex Goddess! I must obey their royal wills!" "For how long?" The woman cocked her head. "How long must I obey? Oh, only as long as they're alive and --" "No, how long am I stuck with that name?" "Stuck?! It is a great honor --" Shane was trying very hard not to laugh. "In your realm," he said, trying to be diplomatic, "she shall honor that title, but in my house, she must be addressed by her real name. It is our way," he said. When Shane used that voice, people listened. The little faerie woman was certainly captivated. "Yes sir." Her face became more formal. "Their Majesties wanted you to know that we have already received directed communications from a number of colonies, all of whom feel this is a noble effort. And they really wanted to know how they'd managed to call up that much sex magic." She smiled and looked at Shamira. "You're famous now." Shamira rolled her eyes. "Anyway, we're getting call-backs from as far as Toronto. I didn't even know where that was, but apparently it's damn far. Anyway, we have a list of faerie colonies that are experiencing missing members." The woman handed Shane a very tiny scroll. Shane didn't look concerned, so Shamira assumed he could read it. "It may take a few weeks to hear back from the other Georgia colonies, but these are the quick responses." "Thank you, m'lady," Shane said. "What was your name?" The faerie blushed. "Glareen, your lordship." "It was a pleasure meeting you, Glareen." "Send our appreciation and thanks to their Majesties," Shamira added, offering her tongue. Glareen quickly flew up and kissed the offered muscle, then looked at Shane. Shane smiled and made a similar offering, which the faerie also took before vanishing into the plant life and then, with a green flash of light, disappeared completely. "Strange people," Shane muttered. He looked down at the scroll. "This will take a while, but I want you to make personal contact with the other Georgia colonies once we get some more responses in. Get a lay of the land. You won't be able to hit all these places by yourself, so I'll put some of the other enforcers on it. I can't spare the security detail, since we've got this meeting coming up." "What's that about?" "The Tribunal just wants all the Southeastern lords to come together and discuss some zoning issues. And I believe there will be some words for Andrew Lacroix and his recent activities. A member of the Tribunal will be in attendance, so everything must be safe and organized." "Will this Lacroix guy be there?" "Yes." "Why? I mean, he's trying to kill you and --" "Allegedly," Shane said. "And any lord or lady who comes here under Tribunal order cannot be harmed for the duration." He smiled an put a hand on Shamira's shoulder. "You still have some things to learn about our world, but you're doing well. I am proud of you. Now go back to your game and . . . oh yes, remember that we're retrieving Tabitha tomorrow night." "Yes sir. And tomorrow is another safe day for me. Oh, I've decided on a couple of blood donors. Clara's going to help set up a meeting for Tuesday. I didn't know if you had anything planned for me that day --" "Don't worry about it. I'm glad you've finally found someone acceptable. I'll have an assignment, but it can wait until you're done. By the way, has anyone told you about donor etiquette? No? While sex with our donors is commonplace, I do no want you to engage in submission games with them. Humans really aren't capable of dealing with that kind of relationship with someone so much more powerful than them." "Yes sir." "Clara can fill you in on the rest." Shamira headed back to finish watching her game. Clara had kept her promise to defend Shamira's spot. Henry was rubbing his shin and looking indignant. She filled everyone in on what she and Shane had talked about, including filling Bangaly in on the hunt for morning star dealers. The werelion took immense offense at the practice, making Shamira like him all the more. At one point, Shamira got back up and headed to the kitchen to grab a case of microwaveable taquitos only to find that she wasn't alone. Renata had followed her and was grabbing a glass of lemonade out of one of the refrigerators. She walked past Shamira and sat at one of the many stools that littered the room. "Hey, how are you holding up?" "You mean after last night?" "No, I mean after the other really weird mystical gangbang you've had recently." Shamira gave the girl a frown. "Sarcasm doesn't become you." The she grinned and said, "I'm actually doing fine." "That was some weird shit. You fantasize about that stuff a lot?" Shamira shook her head. "I hadn't thought about that in a long time," she admitted. "I remember seeing this really creepy japanime flick called 'Curse of the Overfiend' or something like that once. I hated that none of the girls in those movies actually consent, but --" She paused. "This is going to sound sick, but the whole thing with tentacles . . . this unstoppable thing that just fucked you until you couldn't take it anymore just got me excited." To Protect and Serve Ch. 06 "You took the part that you wanted, dumped the non-consensual crap aspect of it and made it your fantasy. Nothing wrong with that. It was neat seeing what goes on in that head of yours. Shane added it to the list, by the way." Shamira actually laughed. "He would." "It must've been strange having your deepest fantasies satisfied like that. And what was that at the end?" Shamira covered her face. She hadn't figured out what that had meant yet. "You mean when it turned into . . . you know --" "Clara?" "Yeah, that. Renata, I don't know what to do with that." "Maybe you should talk it over with her," Renata said smugly. "I can't. What would I say? How would I even tell here?" "Shamira?" Renata said smoothly. "Yes?" Shamira uncovered her face to find that Renata was pointing behind her. Shamira's heart dropped in her chest. "Please don't tell me --" "Shamira, is that true?" came a soft, beautiful and young (sounding) voice behind her. "Gotta go," Renata said, ducking out the other side of the kitchen. "That bitch," Shamira muttered. She slowly turned around to find Clara staring at her wide-eyed. "Is it true?" her friend asked. "The conduit looked like me?" "Uhm . . . yeah. Kind of. I mean, towards the end and . . . yeah towards the end. Well, it still had the tentacles instead of legs and it had a penis and . . . well, a cock for a tongue too, but besides that --" "Why didn't you tell me?" the slim beauty asked. "Because I don't know what it means. You've been amazing to me since I came here and I didn't want to freak you out and have you not want to be around me anymore." "Fat chance. You've had sex with strangers, a weird octopus-thing, and everyone else in this house just about, but you still fantasize about little old me?" Shamira nodded. Clara smiled. "I wish you'd told me. Because I could've told you I fantasize about you too." Shamira's eyes opened wide. "You do? Me?" Clara approached her friend and put her hands on the counter on each side of Shamira, trapping the woman in place. "How could I not?" With that, she kissed Shamira, shoving the girl up onto the counter while she used her lips and tongue to wash away all doubts from the muscular newcomer's mind as to exactly how she felt. "See," Shamira said after a minute, "you kiss a lot better than the conduit could." "I could've told you that." Clara did it again, just to prover her point. "It's okay," she whispered. "You've been important to me since the first time I saw you. It doesn't mean that you or I can't enjoy other people's company. It just means that what we have can be special. We just need to take it one day at a time." It was Clara's turn to look a little sheepish. "I feel kinda silly. I haven't been this nervous about courting someone's affections since I tried to get Shane to bring me over." "Is that what you're doing?" Shamira asked. "Courting me?" She wrapped her arms around Clara's waist. "Kinda feels that way, doesn't it?" The house siren started to blare and Shane's voice came in, telling all enforcers and assassins to meet at the armory. "Damn it," Clara grumbled, stealing another kiss before Shamira had to rush off. "Finish this later." "Looking forward to it." Shamira was off to the armory, finding herself to be the first one there. She was half into her body armor before the others started arriving, starting with the crew that had woken up to watch football and the regular day shift. Soon, nine people were getting prepared while Shane gave them the run down. "We received an anonymous tip that some shell walkers have been hassling a number of non-human owned business in downtown and College Park. They're shaking people down for money and telling the store owners to 'be ready for a changing of the guard.' This likely means --" "Lacroix?" Henry said. "Sir, this is getting out of hand. I can't believe he'd be moving forward with this after the Tribunal has warned him and the meeting is just a few weeks off --" "He has been somewhat arrogant, hasn't he?" Shane said. "Once Bunny and Pierre have been brought over, my personal house will be full. We will then step up our surveillance on Lacroix and work on expanding our out-of-house forces. But to recruit more help from the local populace, we need a show of strength here today." "Uhm, what's a shell walker?" Shamira asked. Sebastian moved to Shane's side before speaking. He wasn't trying to usurp the stage, but was just trying to avoid startling Shamira and getting decked again. "Shell walkers are insectoids that can take the shape of other beings. It's an imperfect disguise that even a regular human can spot; a hard and almost shiny skin is a dead giveaway. They can pass for whatever they're imitating if people don't look too closely. See one in its true form . . . well, you won't mistake it for anything else. If these are working for a vampire, then they're renegade drones, which means they've got a poisonous bit. The poison will kill mortals and make weres really sick, but doesn't effect vamps." Shane nodded. Sebastian knew his stuff, and Shane was glad to have him on board. "We'll be sending out three groups of three to investigate, mixing up the weres and vampires. Henry, take Sebastian and Reaper, and start your search at Antonio's jewelry store. Bjorn, Banshee, and Bangaly, you will all start at Prime Cuts, a were-owned restaurant. Shamira, Yosyp, and Valeska, hit as many other downtown areas as you can. I'm willing to bet Shamira's already memorized the maps and she knows the streets better than anyone. There may be other stores that were approached where the owner's are afraid to come forward. It may be Sunday, but it is daylight in downtown Atlanta. Don't expose yourselves and try to keep things quiet. But make no mistake, I want these things taken care of. Capture one if you can, but don't let any escape. Any questions?" Everyone was gearing up and everyone shook their heads. Then, Shamira stopped. "Sir, how do you know those other two specific businesses were hit?" "They called in. Why?" "Before or after the anonymous tip?" "After." Shane saw the gears turning in Shamira's head. "Why?" "I'm just wondering why someone would call you anonymously." Henry was loading a couple of knives into hidden compartments in his jacket. "They may not want to get involved publicly, in case this gets ugly." "But they aren't a store owner or employee, otherwise they'd have told us who they were so we could help them. So a magical being just happened to see this bug men and call it in, but not tell you who they were? Not try and curry any favor with the boss? I . . . it's nothing. Never mind. It just sounds a little weird to me." Shane nodded, deep in thought. "So you think something else is going on here?' "Maybe, maybe not. Pierre has a couple days of life left, right? He was a super spy? Any chance of him being able to track down who made that phone call?" "I'll contact him right away." "Thanks," Shamira replied, feeling relieved. "And be careful. In the end, this is about Lacroix versus you." The group broke and everyone headed to the garage. Shamira looked at Yosyp on the way. "Are you going to be okay? I know the sunlight affects older vamps more --" "I'll be fine. I can't levitate in the daylight and I would be hard pressed to defeat opponents I might normally take with ease. As long as we do not brawl in the middle of the streets, I will survive." "Good. I'm driving." Shortly thereafter, three nondescript SUVs with tinted windows were tearing downtown on I-75. Shamira realized that, between her and the two other people in the car, that she'd been with Shane the longest. And she really didn't know anything about Valeska. She knew Valeska was a weresnake who could supposedly turn into the biggest damn anaconda she'd ever seen and that she was going to be Shane's newest assassin, but that was about it. "So," Shamira started, "tell me more about you." Valeska was a tall, lean, beautiful woman with that light-brown skin similar to Renata's. She gave a shy smile, showing off perfect, pearly white teeth that contrasted well against her dark lips. Her dark brown hair was done up in cornrows that reached to her shoulders and was decorated with dark green beads. "This is a little out of the chute, isn't it?" She had a definite accent, but Shamira couldn't place it. "Seems to be par for the course around here." It turned out that Valeska was from Chile and was of Spanish/Amerindian descent. Her mother and father had been staunch opponents of Augusto Pinochet when he began his coup. She and her parents had gone into exile in the jungle, because they were too poor to escape to the "civilized" world, and most places they could afford to go were almost as bad. Valeska was taught to hunt, track, and kill by tribesman from her mother's side of the family. Her father had been captured when Valeska was only ten, and had become a victim of the infamous Caravan of Death. Shamira's heart broke a little as she listened to her new colleague's tale. Being born into that kind of oppression and losing your father that way . . . Shamira had it easy by comparison. Valeska seemed comfortable talking about these things, probably because she'd accepted them a long time ago. She had been a cold and calculating revolutionary, killing who she could in the new Chile's upper echelons and hoping for a shot at Pinochet himself. But even after being forced out of power and being arrested, she'd never been able to get to him. But once one started down the road she had taken, one could never really turn back. She was a revolutionary without a cause, which had led her to become a mercenary, willing to strike out at those who would do harm towards those who couldn't defend themselves. She'd been helping take down a criminal organization in Chicago when Renata had come looking to recruit for Shane. "How did you become a were, if you don't mind my asking?" Yosyp asked from the back seat. "I was in Brazil and was spending some hard earned money on . . . extra-curricular activities." "Sex? You can't possibly be telling me that YOU --" Shamira was shocked at the notion. Valeska, like everyone else in the house, was the kind of person you paid to be WITH. "Well, I kind of had . . . have certain things I like which I wouldn't trust to just anyone," Valeska said with an unrepentant smirk. "Besides being submissive, I'm into erotic asphyxiation." Shamira glanced at her, confused as ever. Yosyp explained it for her. "It means that she likes her orgasms to be intensified via oxygen deprivation, such as by choking." Shamira's eyes were wide opened. "People like that?" She grimaced. "Sorry. I'm really in no position to criticize. It's just not something I knew people did." "It's okay," Valeska replied. "Lots of people freak out about it. I discovered it kinda by accident, and finding someone who knows how to do it right and safe and all is hard. A lotta doms don't even know how to do it, so I generally just found a pro, ya know? Someone I knew would do it right. Turned out the guy who did it for me in Rio was the same guy who looked after Renata when her change went bad. Anyway, I didn't know none of that. I just knew that he knew how to use his hands. Of course, finding out later on that he was a constrictor, it all kinda made sense. Anyway, I accidentally saw him change once, freaked out, then kinda realized that it turned me on, ya know?" Shamira grinned. "I think I can sympathize." "Yeah, I heard you could." Valeska's smile was just as big. "The things one can do with a giant snake if you like being restrained and strangled. He made good use of the tail too." Shamira's heart started to pound involuntarily. The problem wasn't the mental image . . . it was how horny that image made her. "Maybe you can show me some time." Valeska nodded. "I'm sure that one of our masters or mistresses can arrange it." Yosyp pulled out his blackberry and started typing a message. "Shane instructed us to send him notification any time we had anything to this list of yours," he said to Shamira. "I believe this counts." "List?" Valeska asked. "Yeah. I . . . Oh, just ask Shane. It was his idea. So, this guy in Brazil bit you?" "Yeah. Actually, he wanted me to do a job for him, so I took getting changed as payment." She looked over her shoulder at Yosyp. "What's your story?" "We're there," he said with a slight smile. "Ah, dark and mysterious . . . huh?" The three of them got out and got "dressed." Their body armor was hidden under their baggy clothes, and each was armed to the proverbial teeth. Valeska was even carrying her special briefcase that contained a sniper rifle, complete with scope and silencer. 'I have dangerous friends,' she thought. She pulled out the list of businesses, many of which she already knew. She just hadn't known they were owned by magical beings. The three of them walked from business to business within the area of interest. Shamira met goblins, light and dark elves, vampires, and weres in varieties she never could have imagined. None of them had seen the shell walkers, but all were grateful for the heads up and promised they'd call. Then they got on their phones and called some local sorcerers to get the "Black Flag" ward, which Shamira could only surmise worked well against insectoids. "This is odd," Shamira muttered as they turned the corner and headed back towards the parking garage. "An anonymous caller reports these guys, but no one else has seen hide nor hair of them." She pulled out her cell phone and called Henry. "Hey, you guys seen anything? No, us neither. But they were there right? Okay . . . okay . . . got it. No, just wondering. Give the other a call and see if they're chasing their tails the same as --" Shamira stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, causing Yosyp to walk right into her. "Something wrong?" he asked. She raised her hand to ask for silence, then got back on the phone. "Henry, is there any chance that this is just to get us running around? I mean . . . no, I don't doubt that they were down here, but why just hit two stores with the whole doom and gloom thing but that's it. It's like they just happened to confirm the anonymous tip. Yeah, you're right. Sounds like they're just getting our measure, but it also got nine enforcers out of the house. Yeah . . . yeah, I got it. Just keep me in the loop." She hung up the phone and looked at her compatriots. "Henry's going to get a hold of Bjorne and his crew and send them back up to the house. We rendezvous with Henry over by the Fox and then we'll --" "We have company," Valeska said, her eyes not moving from Shamira's face. Shamira looked back down the way they'd come, pointing towards a random building. "Where?" she asked. "Parking garage. Saw three distinct forms looking down at us." Yosyp looked across the street at an unrelated restaurant. "They've ducked away, but one of them looked back . . . probably at another. Assume four minimum." "You're in charge," Valeska muttered. "How do you want to do this?" "Let me think," she said, turning on her cell phone in her pocket while inconspicuously activating her blue-tooth headset. "Henry, we've got bugs." She smiled and laughed at an untold joke. "Premiere Parking on . . . yeah, that's the one. Good point. No, you're right. Keep Bjorne's crew headed home. If you come up from the south side and cut across from those . . . no wait, that side is fenced off. Okay, you figure out how to get in and we'll come up under their skirts. Oh yeah . . . I CAN do that, can't I?" She hung up. "We got most of that," Yosyp said. "What did you mean by 'I can do that' though?" Shamira smiled nervously and looked around for a shady spot to hide. "I'm going to jump into the interior while you guys take the more traditional way in. I'll see see if I can spot them and relay their positions." "Jump?" Valeska asked dubiously. "Ah," Yosyp said. "I forgot you had so many weapons at your disposal." He looked to Valeska. "Shamira is a shadow jumper. The shadows are her allies and doorways." "I'm going to use the bathroom," she said, making sure her face was pointing in a direction where the insectoids could see her. "I'll see you two at the car." Shamira waltzed into a nearby McDonalds and immediately turned into the restroom. She had to wait a minute for the one lady using it to leave before switching off the lights and looking . . . her vision tore out, crossing the white landscape and finding the dark places, however few there were in the daylight hours. Finding the parking garage was easy enough, and there were patches here and there she could use. Then she tried something new . . . she used her shadow sight, looking to see if there something already in those shadows that sought to hide from -- 'There you are, little buggers,' she thought. The shell walkers were hiding in what shadows were available, concentrating on what Shamira guessed was their car. 'Wait, how would they know it was our car unless --" She quickly dialed Henry on her cell phone. "Hey." "What's up?" "They were waiting for us. They wanted us to come down here. They're watching our car, and the only way they could've known what we came in is --" "-- if they were watching us. Well, we've got the upper hand on them now but --" Henry was muttering something, then, "Shit! Just got a text message from Renata. A bunch of these suckers just hit the house! You were right to be suspicious." "Crap, are --" "They were on guard, so they've got the advantage, but there's a lot of the buggers. Pardon the pun. Let's clean these guys out and get home." "Okay. I'm seeing six on the second floor, but those are just the ones hiding in shadows." She relayed their positions. "And where are you in relation to them?" "I'm in a McDonalds bathroom about a block away." "Wait, then how are you seeing them?" "It's kind of hard to explain, but I'm sort of combining the whole Shadow Jumping thing with Shadow Sight." There was a pause on the other end of the line. "I didn't know you could do that." "I just kind of made it up. Anyway, pass that info along to the rest of your guys and then call mine. I've found a place I can breach. Wait, what do we do if there are innocents in there?" "Wait for my signal. I'll drive 'em out. After that . . . well, humans tend to suspend belief when things get hairy." Then he hung up. "What signal?" she muttered. Then she called Yosyp and let him know the plan and the probably locations of the enemy. He seemed as surprised as Henry had been that she could even do what she had done. Then, Shamira jumped into the building, appearing underneath a Hummer on the third floor in a part of the structure that was untouched by the sun. Sliding out from underneath, she looked around. The lots weren't as busy on Sundays anyway, so she didn't see anyone nearby. She pulled out her snake whip from around her waist and her 9mm with silencer from beneath her vest. It was a time she was glad that she was ambidextrous. She found another shadowy spot and surveyed the level below her. Her enemies hadn't moved. She found another spot next to the stairwell that had enough shadows for her to move to so, with baited un-breath, she jumped again . . . and almost completely blew the element of surprise. There was a shell walker standing three feet in front of her, facing the other way. And then, Henry signaled. By "signal," Henry had meant the fire alarm. All the shell walkers did what most humans would do when they heard an alarm. They looked up. Shamira cursed silently and then put a bullet into the back of the insectoid right in front of her. The thing's hard "skin" exploded, sending goo all over the Pontiac Aztec it had been hiding behind. The lights started to flicker and the sprinklers came on, and the shell walkers were looking around for the source. Whatever they were, they weren't stupid. It was interesting watching them spring into action. They looked vaguely human, but their clothes and skins looked like watercolor . . . close to reality, but not quite. For the softness of their colors, their was a hardness to their edges, and lines where there shouldn't be any. Then those lines broke apart, allowing wings and additional insect-like arms to come out. To Protect and Serve Ch. 06 "Crap!" she said quietly. Apparently, not quietly enough as two other shell walkers looked her way, pulling out far too many knives to make her comfortable. Shamira felt a surreal experience as she stepped into battle, the cowboy hat that Shane had given her blocking the water from reaching her eyes. These things were violating the rules . . . it was her job to enforce justice. That made her grin a little, then she whistled the theme from high noon as she pointed her gun at another, but it dove away before she could pull the trigger. "Damn! That thing's fast!" With the the lights out and the water falling, she looked out with her shadow sight. She just barely was able to dodge the knife thrown violently at her head. All the remaining shell walkers were converging on her location. And there were more of them than she'd thought . . . twice as many. With her gun in her left hand, she took several shots at one while doing a wrist-snap with her whip, keeping another honest and at bay. She put another bug on the pavement when she heard a buzzing noise. She'd forgot . . . wings probably meant they could fly. She ducked and rolled, avoiding have a knife shoved into her skull but suffering a gash in her arm several inches long, the knife somehow finding one of the bare-spots in her armor. She yelped but turned on the ground and fired straight up, bringing the bug down on top of her, dripping some heinous goo all over her. She shoved the corpse aside and rolled under a car to the other side. 'Fuck, I should've waited," she thought. She lashed out with the whip while rolling, causing something that had once resembled a knee to explode in goo. Unfortunately, she was wrapped up in incredibly strong and hostile arms when she regained her feet. "You will --" the thing behind her started to hiss, but it's one and only possible soliloquy was cut off when its head exploded. Shamira looked around but didn't see the perpetrator of her rescue. The rest of the fight went rather quickly, making Shamira realize just how carefully chosen Shane's house was. Reaper and the newcomer Valeska were picking people off from another building entirely. Henry came in under sniper cover and blasted another insect to bits. Yosyp provided cover fire while Sebastian . . . Sebastian danced. Dancing was the only way Shamira could think to describe it. He moved with uncanny grace, jumping over cars and shooting down into the top of an opponent's head, then landing on one foot, jumping again, and blowing someone else's head off. Shamira barely remembered to finish off her knee-capped opponent from earlier with a silver-tipped whip shot to its head. "Duck," Henry shouted and, without hesitation, Shamira ducked and rolled forward while her compadre shot over her head. She finished her roll and dove over his head, firing at a shell walker behind him, then rolled again and came up to her feet. She found herself face to face with Sebastian, who looked impressed. Then he put both his guns on her shoulders, looking her in the eyes while he shot at two remaining opponents. He got one, but the other one was able to stand up and take aim. Unfortunately for the bug man, standing up exposed him to Reaper's bullet from across the street. The garage was quiet except for the falling rain. The entire fight had taken less than twenty seconds, but it had felt so much longer. Shamira smiled at Sebastian, and the werespider smiled back. "You're not afraid of me right now are you?" Shamira grinned and shook her head. "Way too pumped and --" She was cut off when he placed his mouth of hers and kissed her. ---------- --------------------- To be continued . . . To Protect and Serve Ch. 07 Proofread by FernieLyn This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these character and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author. This story is based in an alternative universe, where history took a different course than the one we are used to. In this world, the creatures which we now believe to be legends have walked alongside man for the duration of our existence. Vampires, werewolves, wizards, witches, sorcerers, and a host of other beings share our world. The following story contains, in one chapter or another, lesbian, homosexual, heterosexual, anal, group, sci-fi/fantasy, non-human, and BDSM sexual activity. There may be some erotic horror in there somewhere as well, but I haven't made up my mind. ---------------------- ------------------------ Shamira had endured a lot of new experiences as of late, but getting kissed in the middle (okay, at the end) of a firefight with magical insectoids was pretty damn unexpected. Sebastian had confirmed that she was too pumped up to be afraid of much of anything, then he had laid a big one on her. It wasn't sweet and perfect the way Clara's were, but it was a manly, forceful, and consuming act that warmed her up in all the good places. "I have been waiting oh-so-patiently for that," Sebastian said with a grin. The first time they had met, she had screamed and knocked him unconscious. She was deathly afraid of spiders, and he turned into one whenever he felt like it. It had been an inauspicious beginning to their friendship. "I hope you liked it, because there's more where that came from." "Shamira," Henry shouted from nearby, "jump back to the house to help. We'll gather up the corpses and do damage control." Shamira nodded, biting her bottom lip as she and Sebastian backed away from each other. She ducked into a dark stairwell and jumped back home. The shell walkers had launched a two-pronged assault, and there was still work to be done. Shamira appeared in Reaper's room, as the lights were off and it was closest to the armory. She activated her headset as she hit the armory. "Shane, I'm back. Where do you need me?" "We managed to keep them out of the house itself," came Shane's voice after a second of static. "We've got about a dozen or so left out on the golf course. Bring something quiet, but no flame throwers. I just got the fairways how I wanted them and don't want scorch marks." There was another pause. "Stop rolling your eyes at me. I love this golf course." 'How did he know?' Shamira thought as she stopped rolling her eyes, slung a silenced semi-automatic rifle and the net guns over her shoulders, grabbed her silver-tipped bull-whip to match her snake-whip, and headed out doors. It was more of a hunt than a fight by the time she got out there. Shane's human security forces were pretty damn good, and shell walkers weren't much of a match for weres in full blown combat mode. Shamira had actually beaten Bjorne and his crew back to the base, so they were actually outnumbered in regards to magical creatures. Shamira needn't have worried. She actually saw Renata in her jaguar form and both of the new werelionesses in their beastly forms, and they seemed to be having fun playing with their prey. Clara and Lillian were standing together on the ninth-hole green and were chanting, but Shamira couldn't tell what they were doing at first. Then, Shamira saw a shell walker grabbed by a tree and then smashed into tiny bits. 'That seems like a Clara thing,' Shamira thought, glancing towards her lover. Shamira jumped into action, finding another walker skulking through shadows. She went double whip on it, and felt a little tingle in her nethers when she popped it in the chest with the bull-whip and made it scream before collapsing in a heap. She flicked it again with the smaller whip, just to make sure, then returned to the hunt. She saw Monique and Raul hunting like pack animals in their wolf forms, nipping at their enemies and driving them towards the bigger cat weres. Shamira pulled the net gun around and started looking for the few remaining insectoids. It was hard to see them with her shadow sight, since every living (or undead) thing out and about was moving around frantically. Just to be safe, she moved towards Shane. He was the big target at the end of the day, and she'd be surprised if they didn't make one more play towards him. Sure enough, she had just emerged from the trees and spotted him in the hole - one tee off area when three shell walkers made a break for it, trying to run Shane to ground. Shamira learned something that afternoon . . . it had something to do with a phrase that her brother had said once. Some dogs like to chase cars, but don't have any idea what to do when that car stops. Shane wasn't armed, and apparently he didn't need to be. Where Sebastian had fought with grace, Shane was simply dominant. Step one, break a shell walkers neck with a knife-edged chop from the right hand. Step two, duck two knife swings and then land an upper-cut that broke a second neck. Third, stare down your remaining opponent until -- 'Crap,' Shamira thought, taking aim and then firing the projectile. A small ball of matter quickly opened up and the net incapacitated the last shell walker. "I had him you know," Shane said smugly. "Yes sir. Of course sir. I just figured it would be easier to interrogate him if he was . . . oh say, not dead?" "I'm sure Lillian could have managed it. Regardless, it was a good idea." "So we caught them all?" "Looks like it." Shane put his hand on her shoulder. "It could've been bad if someone hadn't suspected this might happen." He was obviously proud of Shamira's insight. "Now go help with clean up and then --" He paused, waving his hand in front of his face. "Go clean up yourself." Shamira wandered off, muttering to herself. Why was it that dead magical bugs always stank to high heaven? Lillian had already given the all clear, so the shell walkers' corpses were getting gathered up and deposited at the house's "disposal center," which meant the addition to the house where interrogations were done and where the incinerator was located. Shamira wasn't ready to have any part of that. On her way back to the house, Shamira felt a presence walking beside her. She looked over and saw Renata prowling around, rubbing against her legs like a common house cat and looking up at her. "Don't think I've forgiven you for that sneaky shit you pulled in the kitchen," Shamira said, smiling and scratching behind Renata's ears. "But I guess it turned out all right." "What did?" Clara said as she approached. "Oh," she said dryly, looking at the big cat. "You found a stray." "She found me is more like it," Shamira said. Clara wrinkled her nose. "You're covered in bug goo." "That keeps happening to me. Notice that the guys with sniper rifles never have to deal with this?" "Yes, but they don't get the glory. How'd the bug hunt go downtown?" Shamira sighed and recounted the entire event, up to and including the surprise kiss from Sebastian. She felt that she should tell Clara about that for some reason. "Sounds like you had a good afternoon," Clara crooned. "You got to kill bugs, you impressed the hell out of Shane, saved the day, and then the princess got kissed by the prince. And it didn't freak you out?" "I had the adrenaline thing going," she muttered, embarrassed by the flattering comments. "He's really amazing to watch in action." "He's not bad to feel in action either," Clara laughed, then frowned when she saw Shamira flinch. "It still bothers you, doesn't it? Me subbing for him?" "Just still freaked out by the idea of you on bottom is all. I'm good, really. So, have you evaluated everyone?" "Yep. I got Yosyp Friday night, so that's everyone. The new vamps-to-be are subs, so I should be off the hook for a while." She took her friend's arm. "So, want any help showering?" Shamira smiled. "Don't I always?" Renata purred loudly, nuzzling Shamira's crotch, then doing the same to Clara's. "Okay, you can come too," Shamira said. "If you're lucky," Clara added, stroking the Jaguar's back. Renata shifted back to her normal form, her curvy little body perfectly naked. "I'm feeling lucky," she said. The three women wandered into the house and invaded Clara and Shamira's room, as they had the biggest shower. It was one of those walk-in that could comfortably fit a family of ten, except that a family of ten didn't need waterproof chains and cuffs attached to the walls. Renata was already naked, her generous curves and ghetto booty on proud display for all. "So, how hot do you girls want it?" the werejaguar asked innocently, bending over and grabbing the faucet handles. Clara smiled and proceeded to undress. "As hot as we can stand," she said. She watched as the Brazilian sexpot turned on the water, then grabbed her and dragged her to the center of the room. "It's Shamira's day off," she whispered as the water started splashing over the woman's skin, "but you . . . oh, I can make you do whatever I want." She looked over at Shamira. "Whatever WE want," she corrected. Shamira smiled back and started to disrobe. It took her longer, since she still had her body armor on. When she was completely undressed, she saw the Clara had actually cuffed Renata to a chain hanging directly down from the ceiling. Shamira didn't remember those chains being there before. 'How many surprises does she have in this room?' the muscular vamp thought. She walked around, getting a good look at the were in their clutches. She wasn't sure what to do; she wasn't dominant, but it was obvious that she wasn't going to be uninvited to play. Then Clara handed her a bath loofah and a bottle of body wash, and Shamira didn't need more encouragement. She poured a generous amount of wash onto the loofah and began lathering and scrubbing Renata's body as Clara watched. "Get her very clean," Clara said as she stuck a finger into her own folds, "especially around the ass. I want her asshole squeaky clean when I fuck it. She likes it that way, don't you?" "Yes Mistress," Renata purred, enjoying Shamira's strong hands all over her body. "Yes what?" "Yes, I love being fucked back there." Shamira was imagining what it would be like to see Renata's round, muscular ass being split and violated. It was a serious turn on for her. She wrapped her arms around the Brazilian from behind, pressing her chest against the girl's back while scrubbing her breasts, stomach, and sex. She was a tool in this, same as Renata. She just wasn't in chains. She was beginning to get a reaction as the werejaguar pressed back against her hand and the relief it promised. "Pull your hand away," Clara said, reading Renata's expression. "Oh no naughty kitty, not yet. You thought you'd slip that one by me?" She stepped forward and grabbed her captive's dark nipples and pulling on them hard. "You're in my shower," she whispered, pinching hard, "which means you'll get as wet as I let you." She released the nipples and then slapped each breast hard. "So firm," she muttered. "Shamira, don't you think they're firm?" Shamira did a reach around, fondling those generous breasts and feeling their weight. "Very firm." She gently tugged on Renata's nubs. She wasn't a dominant; she had no interest in inflicting pain. Clara looked at the captive were. "Shamira's body . . . do you like having it pressed against you like that? Tell me how it feels?" She slapped Renata's breasts again, sending water splattering across the shower stall. "It's hard," Renata said, pushing her butt against Shamira's crotch. "So strong." Clara grabbed one of the nozzles from the wall, handing the shower head to Shamira. "Keep her entertained. I'll be right back." Shamira didn't question her lover, but just took the shower head and directed it up at Renata's pussy. Her other hand slid between those luscious ass cheeks and a single finger penetrated the woman's rectum. "Oh Goddess," Renata groaned. She was so close to cumming that it was blowing her mind. "Not yet," she whispered. "I can't cum unless she gives me . . . me permission." Renata was gasping, her body at odds with her brain on what should be happening. Shamira continued to finger the girl's tight asshole, but pulled the shower head away, directing down her neck and breasts, watching the trickles of water flow around those perfect mounds. She kissed Renata's neck, feeling the blood beneath her lips. She knew better than to bite without permission, but she loved knowing that she could. Clara returned, and she had on a strap-on dildo of impressive proportions, and she was carrying another smaller phallus complete with handle. She handed the second toy to Shamira. "Make sure it's nice and wet before you fuck her ungrateful ass with it," she said. She took a ball gag that had been tucked into the harness, fixing the ball in Renata's mouth and tying the straps around back. Shamira dropped to her knees and grabbed one of those full cheeks with one hand. She let the dildo get nice and slick, then pressed the head against Renata's asshole. "I've always wondered if this looks as sexy as it does in porn," she muttered. "You watch a lot of porn?" Clara chuckled. Shamira nipped Renata's ass with her teeth. "I had a lot of spare time on my hands." Renata got on her knees behind her lover and shoved the dildo into her sex from behind. "Not anymore," she whispered, barely audible over the falling water. Shamira let her core be filled by Clara while slowly pushing the toy in her hand into Renata's greedy rosebud. It was incredible for her to watch from so close, as inch my inch penetrated that glorious behind. She could hear the werejaguar grunting into her gag, but it wasn't from pain or discomfort. Shamira gently bit ass flesh again, pushing further into Renata as Clara pushed further into her. It was a thick toy, but Shamira realized she liked it. She was turning into a bit of a size queen, and a bit of a slut. The thought warmed her. Clara was nibbling on her ear, but stopped to murmur, "What are you thinking?" Shamira thrust upward while pushing back on Clara. "How weirdly . . . happy . . . I am here." She reached around and started rubbing Renata's mound, then bit her ass again. Clara's heart fluttered a little bit. She didn't realize how much Shamira's happiness meant to her, but it gave her such contentment knowing that this woman was finally accepting herself and her place in the house. "Make her cum," she said. "I'll do the same for you." Her lips touched her lover's neck as she thrust in and out of that tight pussy. "Let me bite you," she said. "Let me show you how you make me feel." The bigger woman was a little nervous, but she nodded her consent. She felt lips affix themselves to her neck, and then she was penetrated in more ways than one. She gasped as a sensation of deep, satisfying joy crept through her. It was like a warm fire in the hearth on a cold winter's night, or the heat of a lover's body first thing pressed against one's self in the morning. It was safety, but it was also excitement. She lost track of Clara's movements, but never of her feelings. Shamira orgasmed almost instantly . . . and continuously. Her hand must've been moving awfully fast, as Renata was grunting for permission to climax. She apparently was willing to risk not getting Clara's permission, because Clara wasn't home anymore. She was caught up in the sensations she was projecting into her friend. Clara withdrew her fang, licking the few traces of blood from Shamira's neck. She had barely taken anything, but had simply wanted to share that moment. "Was it good for you?" she asked, feeling a little bit shy. "It . . . was . . . (gasp) . . . amazing," Shamira replied, turning her head and kissing her lover. Clara pulled out of Shamira and stood in front of Renata's pleasure-racked body. "You came," she said, sniffing the woman's neck. She slapped those breasts several more times, waiting until Renata began to whimper. "I think she's feeling a little left out. What do you think?" "We really shouldn't be so rude," Clara said, looking hungry. She pulled the gag out of Renata's gasping mouth. Then she spread the were's legs and pushed her enormous strap-on between those nether lips until she bottomed out. "That's what the little bitch likes. She likes being mounted by big . . . powerful . . . cock." She thrust upward with each of those last words. "Stand up, but keep fucking her ass," Clara said. Shamira did as she was told. Okay, maybe she wasn't supposed to be taking orders on her day off, but damn it, she wanted to. "Renata," Clara said, kissing the nap of the woman's neck. "Do you consent?" Renata knew what her friend wanted. She'd been bitten before, but generally when someone needed food. Strangely, she hadn't been bitten often during sex. She nodded. "Say it. Say that you want us to penetrate you with our fangs, just like we're penetrating you with everything else . . . everyWHERE else." "I want it," Renata groaned, feeling sex toys in both her lower entrances, developing a rhythm inside her body. Clara nodded at Shamira, who gently sank her fangs into one side of Renata's neck, then the senior vampire did the other. For Renata, she felt lust and friendship, a warm breeze as she hunted through the jungle, the feel of the muscles as she pounced . . . it really was her idea of paradise. And she realized just how infatuated her two lovers were with each other. 'And Shamira really has an unnatural interest in my ass,' she thought amusedly as she was brought to multiple climaxes. Clara grabbed her nipples and twisted them, while Shamira was content to continue cupping one of Renata's ass cheeks with her free hand. Both vampires withdrew their fangs, but they weren't content until they had double-penetrated Renata to yet another orgasm. By the time her body stopped its ecstatic tremors, she was a hanging side of sexual meat . . . just one of the bonuses of working with people like this. "You haven't cum yet," Shamira told Clara. "Doesn't seem fair to me." Clara grinned, and the two of them undid Renata's cuffs. They dried each other off and quickly found themselves in bed. Renata's head was between Clara's thighs, her talented tongue working away while the Native American vampire had a death-grip on Renata's hair. She was grinding her pussy against her friend's face, only occasionally letting her up to breathe. Shamira lay next to her on the bed, stroking Clara's body and sucking on her breasts in between kisses. Then she slunk down the bed and coaxed Renata up on to all fours, then grabbed two handfuls of that ass while eating her sweet nectar from behind. Sometimes, she let her thumbs slip inward and penetrate Renata's ass, and it made the girl groan into Clara's sex. "She likes that even more than you do," Clara said approvingly. "Of course, I don't think Renata's ever taken on four guys at the same time before. She'll have to play the submissive more often if she wants to regain her top-slut status." Renata latched her lips onto Clara's clitoris and sucked while her fingers worked their magic. She felt she had just been challenged to some degree, and was looking forward to meeting it down the road. After she'd had a chance to dominate the newbies of course, starting with Shamira. She made Clara cum in no time, taking delight in making that lean and sexy body writhe beneath her attentions. To Protect and Serve Ch. 07 "Now, I want you to eat me like you ate Shamira," Clara said, her eyes glowing with anticipation. It took Renata a second to think of what the girl was talking about, then grinned. "Yes, Mistress Clara." She concentrated, pulling the spirit of the jaguar into her and letting it shape her bones and muscle. Golden-yellow and black fur crept up through her skin and the teeth . . . oh what beautiful teeth. Shortly, there was an enormous jaguar lying in bed. Before she could even get to business, she felt Shamira pressing her face to Renata's side. "So beautiful," Shamira muttered, listening to the heartbeat and feeling the breathing. "Yes, but kitty has something else she should be doing," Clara growled impatiently. Renata lowered her head submissively, then extended that powerful tongue and flicked Clara's sex, and the recipient had to bite her bottom lip to stop from crying out. The jaguar had to be careful, as when used too roughly her tongue could actually rip skin off. That would be bad, not to mention really gross. She started to rumble a bit as Shamira stroke her coat while she gave Clara a tongue bath. It didn't take long before a long, slow lick sent her Mistress over the edge into a screaming orgasm, and Renata lapped up every drop of her reward. "That didn't suck," Clara murmured happily. "Human form please," she said. Her tone indicated that playtime was over, so Renata shifted back. The three women collapsed into a heap on the bed, each enjoying the soft touches and caresses of the others. Then Clara noticed Shamira looking at the clock. "You want to move the snuggle fest to the lounge so we can watch football, don't you?" "If you wouldn't mind," Shamira said a bit eagerly. Renata laughed. "Well, I'm going to go talk to Shane about putting up some new sensors. I'll join up with you gals in a bit." She grinned. "Finally I got to play with Shamira! I figured I couldn't separate you two, so getting between you would work." "You make it sound like I'm hogging her," Clara said. "Like the covers on a cold night, babe." Clara tried to look indignant, but she wound up sighing happily as Shamira threw on a pair of boy-short panties and matching black Underarmour shirt that strained to contain those large breasts while emphasizing her muscular body. "Hmm . . . yummy." She jumped up, threw on a g-string and a half shirt, then went to catch up on football. ------------ ------------------- Two nights later . . . ------------ ------------------- Shamira was wondering if she'd ever NOT be nervous again. Okay, maybe having been turned into a creature she hadn't known existed was grounds to be edgy, and maybe being forced to acknowledge her own hidden desires for lots and lots of deviant, mind-blowing, generally submissive sex when she was used to passionless interactions was a bit much to handle. Yet she had gotten through it. She had accepted that she was quite the slut in training, and she liked the way it made her feel. She also accepted that she had a major thing for her best friend, who just happened to be another female vampire. And when she and other members of her house had retrieved Tabitha Grunholdt from the grave Shamira had put her in, that had alleviated a lot of stress. Tabitha had actually managed to be buried with a book-light and a copy of Stephen King's "Salem's Lot," and was completely calm when she was brought out of her coffin and met the world as a member of the undead community. Hell, Tabitha had to help assure Shamira that everything was fine. Shamira had been doing the vampiric equivalent of hyperventilating. Now, she was freaked out because she was just hours away from meeting her first donors. These were people who were giving one of the greatest gifts one could give to a vampire, and Shamira would be honor-bound to protect them and look over them. Arthur and Kira Blanks . . . nice innocuous names for a geeky comic-book store owner and his wife, who in turn did tech support for a major financial firm. They had both been avid vampire enthusiasts before they even got confirmation that the creatures of the night existed. They had been in a Vampire the Masquerade live-action group, and did all the vampire parties. It'd been love at first sight for both of them, and then lust at first bite. Then, one party had changed everything for them. They'd gone to a party where blood was shared in preparation for a sexual "unleashing." Problem was that the whole party had been set up by a rouge vamp who was looking for some tidbits for him and his friends. This vamp hadn't done the proper prep work, including health screenings. Both Arthur and Kira had contracted HIV that night. They weren't supposed to live through the evening anyway, but Shane's enforcers had heard about the party and broke it up with tremendous fervor. A few party goers had been drained while others were so stoned out of their minds that they didn't know what was going on. Bjorne had been one of the enforcers, and he had sat down with these two survivors. They understood about magical creatures now. They promised not to tell, and Bjorne trusted them. They didn't complain when they realized they'd been had. They didn't even complain when the blood tests came back positive. They had discovered true vampires just a little too late. She finally had to move on to something else. She'd spent the day working on the morning star problem, putting numbers and rough dates of disappearances down in a spreadsheet as well as putting markers on Google Earth. They'd gotten a few responses from out of state, but most of the faerie disappearances were occurring right there in Georgia. There was an entire colony down in Macon that hadn't reported in, which surprised those in the colony of Nature's Glory. Relations between the two groups had always been amicable. "Huh," she grunted to herself. "Looks like most of the disappearances are from the southeastern part of the state." She started hiding the more recent ones, and it definitely looked like . . . "Savannah?" It definitely appeared that the first several disappearances over the last year were from that area. "Lacroix's territory," she murmured. "What about Lacroix?" came a voice behind her. It made her jump a little, and she turned her head to look at Sebastian who had . . . "I did NOT sneak up on you!" he chuckled. "You're just kind of absorbed. May I sit?" Shamira nodded. She was being foolish for being afraid of him. He wasn't a spider right now; in fact, he was very much a handsome man. And her spider-therapy with Banshee had gone well the last couple of days. She had even gotten within a foot of the glass holding most of her specimens. "So you were saying something about Lacroix? I've been trying to catch up on him and I must say, he's a royal ass." "He's an arrogant ass at that," Shamira said, her skin tingling just a little bit. There was a time that a guy who looked as good as Sebastian never would've notice her, much less asked her advice on anything except exercises on developing hamstrings. "It's just that some of these faerie disappearances happened in his territory. Some of the early ones anyway. It's going to be hard to go down there and investigate seeing as he probably won't cooperate." "Think he could be involved?" "I don't know. I can't imagine a vampire participating this, not after that one guy that Henry told me about. The one that created his own vamps and then drained them? It'd be suicide for him, not a way to get more territory." "True. He's on thin ice with the Tribunal as it is. Still, it's something to put in the 'consider' column." "How'd you know I had a 'consider' column?" she asked. She didn't think she'd put the spreadsheet on the server yet. Sebastian just grinned. "I was guessing. You actually even named it 'consider'?" Shamira couldn't think of anything to say, so she stuck her tongue out at him. He laughed, and it was a good, sexy, warm-the-cockles-of-your-heart laugh. "You're an analyzer, that's for sure." He looked her over. "Going out this evening?" he said appreciatively. Shamira was dressed in her tight black-leather pants, a leather vest that laced up the front with a gap to expose cleavage, a bare midriff, and of course her hat. "What does the hat read?" he asked, staring at the main concho. He read when she handed it to him. "Justice without force is powerless; force without justice is tyrannical." He smiled. "Sounds like a cop thing." "Clara gave it to me. It fits nicely," she added, pulling it over her head. "It certainly does," he murmured, leaning back and giving her a very meaningful look. "You know, you seem to be more comfortable with me, and since your day off was two days ago --" "She has today off too," Clara said smugly from the doorway She saw that Shamira was beginning to have a panicked look, so she figured she'd shown up just in time. "She's meeting her first donors tonight." "And I thought she'd gotten dressed up for me," Sebastian replied, feigning indignation and disappointment. Well, maybe the disappointment wasn't feigned. "Darling," Clara said with an outrageously bad My Fair Lady accent, "if I were you, I'd be more interested in her dressing down for me than up." She offered her hand to Shamira. 'Besides,' Shamira thought, 'she's the only one I want to dress up for. Thank goodness she can't read minds.' At that moment, Clara kissed her on the lips. "Ready to go?" She waited for her lover to nod, then smiled sweetly at Sebastian. "She'll be ready for you soon," she promised. "I will?" Shamira asked. "Got to give the man some hope," Clara said, leading her out to the garage. "By the way, when did I become your secretary? I'm setting up your appointments, fending off the boys --" "Oh what-EVER would I do without you?" Shamira replied. "Have you thought about how you're going to do this?" "Just get to know them and then . . . well, we'll see what happens. Not much of a plan yet." Shamira grinned. "Sebastian is playing easy to get isn't he?" "I think the two of you are just a little therapy away from good sex. Hell, I'd pay to see it." "We could make another video." Shamira covered her face. "Tell me I didn't just say that." Clara grinned. "Please! Henry told me that you got off on being watched when you got gangbanged, and I'm willing to bet you're glad I recorded our first session. You're a harlot, an exhibitionist, a submissive --" Clara paused, letting the affection show in her voice. "And you're still a proud, honorable, sweet woman. Well, sweet vampire." "I . . . I like you too," Shamira replied. Clara's synopsis had been flattering and, to her, touching. She got in the driver's seat of a Corvette Stingray and settled in. She was still trying to find a favorite car. "Hey, did you want to go to a movie or something . . . later . . . this week?" Clara looked perplexed. "Sure. I'm not sure . . . wait, are you actually asking me out? Like an actual date?" Shamira revved the engine. "Yeah. I just thought . . . based on the conversation on Sunday that . . . never mind. I guess it's kind of dorky --" "Not at all," Clara whispered, leaning over and kissing Shamira on the cheek. "I said you were special and I meant it. I just wasn't sure you'd actually ask. Considering I've already fisted you, a 'first date' seems kind of sweet by comparison." Shamira laughed. "Well, if you put it that way --" "No, you asked. You've got until Friday night to think of what you want to watch. And I expect you to go Dutch." "Cheap bitch." "I may be cheap, but you're easy," Clara said, sliding her hand in between Shamira's thighs and rubbing her mound through the leather. "Stop that or we're going to be late." Clara smiled. "Can't have that now can we." The two women were able to restrain themselves, and they pulled into the parking lot a few minutes ahead of schedule. It was well after most of the shops in the little strip mall had closed, but there was a light on inside their destination and a slim, pretty young woman in horn-rimmed glasses standing next to the door. Her face lit up in pure wonder when she saw Shamira and Clara get out of the car, dressed in their vamp-worthy best. The woman herself was dressed in a long, black dress made of stretchy fabric that clung to her frame nicely. The woman wasn't busty, so she hadn't bothered with a dipping neckline, so her pale neck jutted up strikingly from the dark material. The gown flowed at the bottom, making her a shoe-in for the next Adams Family movie. "She's dressed for the part," Clara said. "So, which one are you going to bite tonight?" "Both," Shamira replied. "They're married. I don't want either of them to think they're more important than the other." Clara's smile was more warm than mocking this time. "You really thought about this." They approached the store and the woman opened the door. "Heh . . . hello," she said. She was obviously confused, which wasn't surprising. The vampires had pictures of the potential donors, but the donors had no idea who the vamps were. She probably didn't know which of the two of them would be THEIR vampire. Shamira hoped they wouldn't be disappointed, seeing as Clara was a hard act to follow. 'Here goes,' Shamira thought. "Hello Kira. My name is Shamira. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." She kissed the girl on the cheek. Kira took a deep breath and smiled. "Pleased to meet you, m'lady. I didn't know you'd be bringing company." "My name is Clara," the other vampire said, giving a matching kiss on the woman's other cheek. "I spoke with you on the phone." "Of course. Please, come in. I hope you don't mind the surroundings. Our apartment isn't far if you'd rather --" "This is perfect," Shamira said, looking around at the myriad of comics, graphic novels, gaming supplies, and geeky novelty items. "I haven't been in a comic shop in a long time. Where's your husband?" "Right here!" Arthur Blanks said, hurrying forward. "I apologize, m'lady, but I was . . . uhm . . . indisposed." Shamira introduced herself and her companion while Clara laughed. "Nature called?" "And I had to answer," he said, giving an extravagant bow. "What's with all the 'm'ladys'?" Clara asked. Both humans looked sheepish. Arthur said, "We just got back from a renaissance fair in Texas. We're kind of in a rut." He wrung his hands, completely unsure how to proceed. "It's okay," Shamira said. "I'm new at this too." She nodded her head toward Clara. "She's here to make sure that I don't do anything wrong." "Bleh," Clara said. "It's like riding a bicycle --" Clara started to say. "If you jump on it without the seat, it hurts like hell?" Kira asked, her face straight as an arrow. Clara actually shifted her hips in sympathetic pain. "Ouch! That's just . . . ouch!" "Would you like something to drink?" Arthur asked, turning towards a small fridge but then stopping. "Considering why we're all here, that's kind of a dumb question isn't it?" "Diet Coke?" Clara asked. "Mountain Dew or Doctor Pepper is fine. Whichever you have more of." Arthur looked at her suspiciously. "How did you know we had . . . Can you see through walls?" he asked, his eyes wide as he stared at the closed appliance. "No. My brother's a gamer. I know what they drink," Shamira added with a grin. "That's profiling, you know," Kira said, mostly straight-faced but with just the hint of a smirk. "Life's not fair. Want to show us around?" Shamira waited as the two showed their guests every inch of the store. As was expected, both of them knew everything about every comic in stock, and both had been avid role-players since they learned to speak it seemed. Kira had an office in one corner where she worked for her firm remotely. Getting the two of them to talk shop was putting them at ease. It was their world, and they still had some control over it. They wound up back in a small room away from the front that was equipped with a comfortable looking sofa in front of a television that was attached to every gaming system imaginable. "This is where some of the regulars come to hang out. They're good at picking up after themselves." He looked embarrassed. "Listen, it's really not the most . . . nice of places. Our apartment isn't much --" Shamira smiled. "This is perfect. I want you two to be comfortable as well." The two of them looked at each other. "Listen, you . . . you know that we're both HIV positive, right?" "I understand. We don't get diseases nor can we pass diseases on to others. I don't understand the whole biology of the thing, but that's the way it works. Your blood won't harm me, nor will it pass on to anyone else. Okay?" The two of them looked like a weight they didn't know they bore had just been lifted, but Kira had a question of her own. "Why us? Don't get me wrong, we're honored to be part of this, but we figured there are other candidates who could probably give you more than we can." "More? I wasn't looking for disciples or anything like that, and my boss pays pretty well." "Boss?" "Sweetheart," Clara said, "we call him our Lord. Remember?" "We do? No wonder he has an enormous ego." That elicited a snicker from Kira, but Shamira wasn't done. "Both of you remind me of someone I used to know . . . someone who was important to me. He deserved better than he got too. And I was looking for someone I thought I could trust, and who won't try and abuse that trust." "We would never do that," Arthur said quickly. Kira nodded. "We used to have a life that we thought was daring and wild. When that got taken away from us, a lot of our 'friends' stopped coming around." She actually looked like she wanted to cry. "We just want to feel like we're part of something magical again, and we don't want it to be fake any more." Shamira felt a welling up in her heart, and Clara kissed her on the cheek. "I'll be watching the door love," she whispered fondly. "Just call me when you're ready, and . . . and take your time." Then Clara vanished. "Are you . . . is she --" Arthur stammered. Shamira nodded. Honesty seemed to be the best policy with these two. "She's my friend, my lover, my mentor, and . . . well, she means a lot to me." Kira smiled. "Which one of us did you want to . . . uhm, drink? From?" "I was hoping to sample both of you," Shamira said, trying to sound sexier than she usually felt. "Normally I figure I'll let you two decide and then just alternate, but tonight," she said, stepping in closer and placing one hand of each person's shoulder, "I want to establish a good bond. For all of us." Arthur looked like he was ready to pass out. "So . . . do we sit you just bite us or --" "Arthur, are you wondering if you're getting vampire nooky?" Shamira asked, feigning a pout and then breaking out into a grin. "I certainly hope so. You two DO swing, right?" "Oh yes," Kira hissed. "Then be a dear and help me with my vest?" Shamira was a little amazed at how confident she was feeling. Normally she'd never be this forward, but it was nice they way they looked at her, as if she could save them . . . even if it was just for a little while. She turned her head, and kissed Kira on the corner of the mouth, then on the lips, then turned back to Arthur and the same for him. She pulled him close to her and ran her hands down his chest, over his small spare tire, and then around to his ass. She felt a stirring in the man's pants that wasn't at all diminutive. She unbuttoned his trousers and reached in feeling him growing hard in her hand. Kira had managed to undo the vest and was running her fingers over Shamira's back. "My Goddess, you have the most amazing body I've ever seen," she whispered. "Twelve years of lifting and competitive bodybuilding," Shamira said. "And this isn't my competition form either." She used her free hand to reach back and direct one of Kira's hands forward to grab her breasts. "That's nice," she said, pushing her hips back while Kira fondled her breasts. She wasn't used to being the seductress, which is one reason she'd gotten more comfortable being a submissive at the house; she was simply told what to do. Now, she was just trying to figure out what Clara would do. To Protect and Serve Ch. 07 "May I?" Arthur asked, his fingers brushing with the button to Shamira's pants. "I hope so, otherwise this is going to be really tricky," Shamira joked, noticing him blush. "You two have done this before right?" Arthur blushed ever worse. "Sort of but . . . but someone like you was usually out of our league." That stung Shamira more than she let on. How many times had she thought that? According to Clara, it had only been a matter of confidence and persistence, but seeing other people who'd felt the same way she had just irked her sense of honor. Her hand stroked him gently in his pants while he unbuttoned hers, feeling the zipper slip down until it formed a "V" ending just above her sex. She'd gone without underwear for the occasion, something that Arthur seemed to appreciate. Shamira removed her hand and scooted back. "Kira, would you mind?" she asked pointing towards the top of her pants. Kira dutifully knelt and pulled them, pressing her face against Shamira's muscular ass. The vampire kicked her pants away. "I seem to be the only nude one here," she said. She grinned. "Is that how it's supposed to work? Kira, help Arthur with his --" She looked at his cock straining against his pants. "-- problem." Kira smiled. This she was used to. She walked over and kissed her husband, and it made Shamira smile wider. She loved her husband. Shamira was glad to be included in their bond, even for a short while. While Kira was helping Arthur out of his shirt and pulling his pants down, the vampire unzipped her dress from behind and slid it down when she stood back up. Then she kissed Kira's neck while staring at Arthur, watching his eyes light up as the creature of the night touched his wife. Shamira's hands reached around and touched the woman's small breasts, then sent them down Kira's abdomen to touch the neatly trimmed patch of hair above her sex. "This is going to sound weird --" Arthur started to say, the stopped when Shamira giggled. "Sound weird? You and your wife are about to have a threesome with a vampire before she bites you both in the neck." Arthur covered his face and his grin with his hands. "Okay. Good point. Anyway . . . could I just touch you? I mean, I haven't seen anyone with a body like yours outside of a comic book." "Touch away," she said. She lay down on the couch, propped up on one elbow. She was a palm frond and some peeled grapes away from feeling like royalty. Regardless, her two "subjects" knelt and started to run their hands over their muscles, following every line and crossing every plane. Their words, eyes and fingers told Shamira something – they appreciated her body. They appreciated what she had done to get it. And for a little while, they got to be close to it. Arthur sought out Shamira's breasts, kissing her nipples and sucking on the nubs. Kira was attending parts of her that Shamira wouldn't have thought of, such as her muscular thighs, her calves, the backs of her knees . . . "Oh, that's nice," she said. She glance over and saw that Clara was peeking in on her and smiling, taking mental notes of what these people were doing that she could use later. Clara had once told her that the secret to eternal youth and not growing bored is to keep trying to learn. Once, when Arthur stood up, Shamira grabbed his eight-inch shaft and held on to it. "My turn," she said, drawing him closer and wrapping her lips around the head. Once that boundary had been broken, the vampire felt Kira pushing her legs apart, letting her nimble little tongue move into Shamira's pussy. Kira didn't have Clara's skill or experience, but there was something about her that was so eager to make Shamira happy that it made up for a lot. Shamira took Arthur's member all the way down her throat, holding it there for several seconds before releasing. She sucked on it several more times before letting it pop out of her mouth. Arthur seemed really excited and since she doubted he'd be able to get it up again if he came, she wanted to save that for the finale. So she kissed it and sucked gently, not in any hurry to do the deed. Besides, Kira seemed to be having a lot of fun doing what she was doing. "You, here," she told Kira, patting the end of the couch. The human woman reluctantly obeyed and sat down, and then Shamira had Arthur sit next to his wife. She took turns orally performing, her head dipping between Kira's legs for a little honey, then moving back over for something a little harder. "You shouldn't be . . . we should be pleasuring you," Kira gasped as Shamira's tongue lashed her clit mercilessly. "You are," Shamira said, licking her again, while stroking Arthur with her hand. "You're sharing each other with me." "But --" "Climb on board," she said, looking at her husband. "Looking at him." Kira didn't need much encouragement, and she swung around, her hips poised above Arthur as Shamira moved his cock into place. Kira sank down, staring lovingly at the man who shared her life. She bounced several times on his impressive cock before she felt her hair being pushed away from her neck. "Keep going," Shamira whispered, reaching around and putting her fingertips on Kira's clitoral hood. She rubbed gently as her lips lowered to the side of Kira's neck, kissing . . . kissing -- "Please," Kira whimpered. "Do it!" Shamira smiled, met Arthur's eyes, then sunk her fangs into his wife's neck. "Oh Goddess!" Kira cried as the pleasure overtook her. Her body felt so warm, caught between her love and the icon of vampirism who was taking her. She felt incredible passion and she felt . . . safe. She had a disease that might likely kill her and the man she'd married, but for the moment she was untouchable. Shamira's hand on her mound was like like a nimble feather, exciting her skin. She felt so complete that at that moment, she wanted for nothing else. Then she came, her lips seeking out Arthur's as her pussy gripped his manhood As Shamira took multiple draws of blood, Kira experienced multiple orgasms. "So, it was good?" Arthur asked, a goofy smile on her face. "It . . . was . . . amazing," she gasped, collapsing against him. She looked over her shoulder, and her eyes showed gratitude and fondness. She leaned back and kissed Shamira, tasting a faint amount of her own blood on the vampire's lips. "It's healing already," Arthur said in amazement. "And I'm still . . . hungry," Shamira purred. Kira pulled herself off of her husband's rigid rod and watched with relish as Shamira mounted it, keeping her descent slow so that they could both feel every inch penetrate her. His hands grabbed her ass as she started to bounce, and Kira leaned in so that she could suck on Shamira's breasts. 'They work well as a couple,' Shamira thought. She pulled Kira against her back, as if the human woman was riding her. "Are you ready?" Shamira asked the man beneath her. "All my life." She lunged for his neck, sinking fangs in and drinking deeply. He was so hard inside her, but was no longer capable of moment. She clenched her vaginal muscles, milking him for a moment and then letting the euphoria of the bite bring her to orgasm in sink with him. Arthur felt the same warmth and safety and passion that his wife had experienced. His seed and his blood both left him, both finding a home in this magnificent woman. He knew she wouldn't take much, certainly not more than she needed. Goddess, he wondered what it felt like to be -- "Did you . . . want to try?" she murmured, pulling her mouth away when she felt sated. "How did you know?" he murmured, his eyes wide with wonder. "I . . . don't know," she said. "Did you?" "Yesssssssss." Shamira reached up to her shoulder and slid a nail along it for an inch or so, digging in and drawing a little blood of her own. "Quickly, before it heals." Arthur was fulfilling all his fantasies that night: making love to a real vampire with his wife, becoming part of their world . . . he was happier than he'd been in a long time. He leaned in and touched his mouth to the wound sucking on it for just a moment. He looked at his wife, who eagerly followed his lead, tasting the life-force of their mistress before the wound healed over. Shamira stayed on top of Arthur for a moment, kissing him and then kissing Kira again. Then she pulled their heads together so they could kiss each other, and slowly she disembarked. "Next time, we can take more time," Shamira said, then grinned through her embarrassment. "I was a little anxious." Her human cohorts laughed, considering they'd both been nervous wrecks since Clara had called them. "How often will you need us?" Arthur asked. "She'll probably need to come by once a week, give or take a few days," Clara said from the door. "What?" Shamira asked with mock indignation. "Were you watching?" Clara smiled, sauntered over and kissed Shamira long and soft, showing the humans how it was done. "Like you really object to being watched," she murmured happily. Shamira smiled back, then looked to Arthur and Kira. "So, was it what you thought it would be?" The both laughed. "Honestly," Arthur started, "I was expecting more . . . formal? Yeah, formal. Darker, more mysterious . . . this was better." Kira actually giggled. "A lot better." "Are you sure? I could try the whole Elvira Mistress of the Dark thing next time." Arthur's eyes lit up, and his wife punched him in the arm. "ONE of us might like that," she scolded. Shamira gave them her private cell phone number and made them promise to call if they had any questions, reservations, or even if they just wanted to talk. She wanted them to be friends, not just business associates, and they seemed happy with that notion. They talked comics and gaming, and Arthur and Shamira exchanged gamer tags for the Xbox. Clara sat at Shamira's side, pointing out rules of contact and helping achieve realistic expectations for the donor-vamp relationship. Finally, the humans escorted their vamp visitors to the door, looking eagerly forward to the next week's feeding. "You did really well," Clara said once they were safely in the car. "You're good with people, you know that?" "I guess. I just hoped they weren't expected something more grand." "A gorgeous vamp shows up, treats them like they mean something, shows a willingness to please as well as be pleasured . . . trust me, they got everything they wanted in you." Clara started licking and nibbling her lover's neck. "You seem to have that effect on people." "God you're good," Shamira gasped. "Need . . . get home . . . report to --" "Your session with your donors is over and it's not your day off," Clara interrupted. "How should you be addressing me?" "I'm sorry . . . Mistress Clara," Shamira said, slipping easily into the role of sex toy. It was always easier with Clara. "But you're right, of course. Start the car, and Shamira?" "Yes Mistress?" Clara shoved her hand down her pet's pants and started to finger her. "Try not to wreck." They made it back in one piece, but only barely, and Shamira had to clean the seat before heading to Shane's office. Shamira realized how much her life revolved around sex when Shane insisted on taking her report while taking her from behind, shoving her face into his desk. He expressed his pleasure with her, in more ways than one, then sent her to her room. But she hadn't gotten out of the door when her cell rang, the familiar Tubular Bells ringtone erupting from her pocket. The caller ID identified it as her sister. "Hey Samantha!" she said as she slid the phone open, only to feel her blood chill. Her sister was crying. Shane walked up, noticing Shamira's change in posture and realizing something was wrong, but she put a hand on his chest and shook her head. One agreed on rule was that she couldn't be ordered around for any reason when she was on the phone with her sister. "What's . . . hey what's wrong. Samantha --" It took a minute before her sister's crying lessened enough and her speech became coherent enough for Shamira to get any answers out of her, but as she did, Shamira's concern turned to pure, unadulterated rage. She was so mad she almost crushed the phone. "Samantha," she said coolly, "I'll be there in three hours. No, I'm coming. I'll be back from the road. I promise. Don't do anything until I get there," she said, then hung up the phone. "What was that?" Shane asked, not liking Shamira's body language. "Family problem," she replied. "I'm taking the rest of the night off." "Shamira, that means we can't dominate you, but you still work for me and more importantly, we're still your friends." "Shane, this doesn't affect the house, so --" "No, if it affects you, it affects all of us." He grabbed her by the shoulders. "Don't make me get Clara." "Already here," the Native American said, peaking around the corner. "I was planning on taking her over to Reaper. He reserved her for the evening, but I guess not. Shamira, what's wrong?" Shamira gritted her teeth. "My soon-to-be-ex-brother's twenty-one year old secretary is what's wrong! Son-of-a-bitch cheats on my sister and then has the nerve to blame her?!" Shamira was seeing shades of red that never appeared on any rainbow. "I'm going to --" "Calmly reflect on what would happen if you tore him apart out of anger?" Clara put out. "I'd feel better." "Only briefly," Shane said, standing in front of her. "You can't go killing humans or even harassing them for simply being stupid and . . . well, human. You're dead, Shamira. You can't even threaten him." "What are you going to do?" Clara asked. "Risk exposing yourself and our kind?" "I know how to avoid leaving trace evidence," Shamira growled. "They won't find his body for months." "Shamira," Clara said, using that disapproving tone that was normally reserved for mothers. "I'll just kill him a little bit." "Shamira," Shane reiterated. "How can I do nothing?!" "You can't," Clara said. "We just don't want you committing homicide. Now tell us exactly what happened." Shamira growled. "My sister was able to get away from work a little early and thought she'd surprise her husband at the office. Well, apparently she surprised him, because he was fucking his secretary on his desk. Then he yells at her for working too many hours and never having enough time for him! That son of a bitch! Then he says the only reason he hadn't asked for a divorce was because he didn't want to do it while she was grieving my death. Bullshit! If she hadn't caught him, he probably never would've asked for anything, and . . . and . . . and I just want to rip his heart out of his chest." "Which we've established that you WON'T do, right?" Shane asked. When she didn't respond, "Right? Shamira, you're not leaving the house until you promise you won't kill your brother." "Or his secretary," Clara added, almost smiling when she saw Shamira mouth the word "damn." Shamira could be sneaky when necessary. "Or his secretary," Shane agreed, "or anyone else involved in this affair, such as former mistresses or --" "All right, all right!" Shamira said. "Can't you just deal with this on the phone?" Even Clara glared at Shane after that, but it was Shamira who said, "She was there for me every time I cried over anything. You want me to give her a shoulder to cry on over the PHONE?!" Shane looked at Clara. "I said the wrong thing, didn't I?" Clara just nodded at him, so he sighed. "Okay, but I want you to call Clyde Pritchard before you get to the Alabama. And take Sebastian with you." "What?!" Clara looked puzzled. "Sir, I think that I could handle --" "Oh no," Shane said. "You've gotten too close to be objective," he said, though he was smiling when he said it. "She might bat those beautiful eyes and convince you to let her get away with something. And I need you to help Lillian upgrade the wards." "Sir, I can do that anytime." Shane pointed down the hallway. "Go get Sebastian." "Yes sir," Clara said shortly, shooting him a glare. Shane matched her gaze. "Tell Sebastian to pack an overnight bag and to meet Shamira in the garage. Then you come back here. We need to talk." He watched Clara leave, then turned his attention to Shamira. "Don't get mad at her because of me," Shamira said. "She seems to have forgotten that I'm still the boss," Shane said coldly. "Personal issues aside, I've been very lenient towards you, but this is the last time. Unless your sister is in actual danger, you'll have to work it into your schedule, no more running off on a whim. This house has lands to run, and I demand that my employees do their jobs." Shamira knew that he was being fair, but she was in no mood for fair. She turned to walk away, but Shane stopped her. "I haven't dismissed you yet," he continued. "We have an incredibly important meeting coming up, drug dealers to find, and a rebellion to quell. I need your mind in the game. If something threatens my house's position, whether it be your relationship with Clara or with your sister, I will take steps. Do I make myself clear?" Shamira wanted to hit him . . . a lot. "Yes sir," she said, her voice coming out in a whisper. "You have living relatives who can help her and be there for her, and I suspect she has friends. I'll give you 24 hours to comfort her and do what you can, but then I expect you back here. Otherwise, the morning star investigation will go to someone who's willing to concentrate his or her energy on it." Shane hoped that the threat of taking away her investigation would make her pause, though his threat obviously pissed her off in the short run. "Now you may go." As she left, he was tempted to light a fire in his office's fireplace, because things had just gotten colder. ----------------- -------------- The next night . . . ----------------- -------------- Shamira felt mildly less annoyed when she and Sebastian pulled back into the garage after a whirlwind trip to Huntsville. To give Sebastian credit, he had been completely innocuous, not getting in Shamira's face, not trying to make any moves, and not doing anything that would get him decked. He had spent some time talking to Clyde about general were business while Shamira snuck in some time with her sister while the kids were asleep. The parents were driving up the next day to console and help watch over their grandchildren, and Samantha was going to go to a lawyer's office. Apparently, the words that had been exchanged in Patrick's office indicated that there were no other options. After the kids had gone to sleep, Samantha had gone out to a remote corner of the yard and had indeed cried on her sister's shoulder. It had taken all of Shamira's willpower to keep her promise and not go do something really unpleasant to Patrick. He'd been upset about all the long hours Samantha had worked and the lack of "quality time" they'd had to spend together. Shamira knew that her sister wasn't exactly a saint, so she seriously doubted the man's claims. She spent a lot of time reminding her sister that she was a beautiful woman in her early thirties with a job she loved, children she adored and who adored her, and would have tons of men knocking on her door in no time. That had set Samantha off crying again. So Shamira reminded her sister that she still had a pulse and was therefore one-up on Shamira. That had at least gotten a giggle. Eventually she helped get her sister calmed down to the point where it looked like neither woman was going to do anything rash. Shamira wanted so badly to go, throw on a pair of pajamas and eat chocolate ice cream like they had done when it had been Samantha acting as caretaker, but they couldn't risk the boys seeing their dead aunt in the kitchen with a spoon in her hand. So Samantha had gone back inside after promising she'd call if she needed anything and Shamira would do her best to help out. Shamira had gone back tot he Waffle House to meet up with Clyde and Sebastian. To Protect and Serve Ch. 07 Clyde had been filled in on the basics and didn't look happy. When Sebastian had been off in the bathroom, Shamira asked to check in on her from time to time at the office and make sure she was all right. Clyde promised, looking more than a little offended by Patrick's behavior. He was under the same restricts as Shamira about not exposing their world, but she was confident that the werewolf had "ways" of doing things. "Thanks for driving," Shamira said as the car rumbled to a stop. "No sweat. I'm glad you can be within three feet of me and not scream, faint, or punch me." Shamira rolled her eyes. She was actually fairly comfortable about being around him, though intimacies were still a way off. "Pansy." Still he'd made her smile. Out of spite, she went looking for Clara before she talked to Shane, finding her in the casting room with Lillian. Clara smiled as soon as Shamira walked in, nodding toward a bench along the side of the room. This was something that Shamira really didn't understand yet: magic. Lillian was a necromancer, which meant her power revolved around the death, but didn't generally mean killing and necromancy wasn't considered evil. Death was part of life, and being about to draw on its power when you're surrounded by vampires and a poltergeist was pretty impressive. Clara's shamanism was much more tuned into the natural flow of life and the elements. One wasn't going to get any super-kill spells with it, but it could make one wish to be dead in so many other ways. There was a circle of bone surround by a circle of colored powder, with each woman working in their own element. This was why it was nearly impossible to magically attack Shane's house – he had multiple lines of potent defense. "Hey, I'm going to be a while longer," Clara said. "Report in to Shane, then I'll catch up with you in a bit." "Okay. You still at this? I thought you started after I left?" Lillian blushed. "Someone," she said, looking at Clara who was simply grinning unrepentantly, "needed to work off some steam after her discussion with Shane yesterday. 'This is one of those places where you can tell our relationship isn't normal,' Shamira thought. 'Clara probably fucked the hell out of Lillian last night, and I'm jealous instead of angry.' She smiled and looked at her lover. "Hussie." "Takes one to know one," Clara replied as Shamira wandered out the door. Shamira really didn't want to face Shane again, but she marched straight to his office and knocked. She heard grunting from inside, but that didn't stop him from calling her in. Tabitha was dangling in some kind of harness suspended from the ceiling. Her panties were shoved in her mouth, her legs were spread with her ankles tied off to different parts of the harness, and her arms were secured behind her. Much more elaborate than what Shamira usually got. She wasn't sure whether or not to be offended. "Shamira," Shane said calmly as he had his way with his victim, "things are happening faster than I anticipated. As a result, I need to shore up the troops. Pierre is prepped and ready to be brought over, so you'll be killing him tonight. Anytime before sunrise. Bunny overdosed today rather than Wednesday, so the funeral will be Thursday. I left you the location of the cemetery in your email. Go find good access and exit points for the retrieval team. Come back here at sunrise tomorrow." He then turned his attention completely back to Tabitha, leaving Shamira in a rather awkward near-silence. So she turned and left, going to get another untraceable gun so she could kill Pierre. ------------ ------------------ Four days later . . . ------------ ------------------ Shamira was exhausted, both physically and mentally. Things had been hectic all week, what with two graves to rob, faerie colonies to contact, research to do, hand-to-hand training, weapons training, and her work with Banshee and Sebastian at overcoming her spider phobia, she had been swamped. But Shane's house was up to full staff and almost completely ready for next weeks Tribunal meeting. Yet Shamira wasn't happy. Except for quick bouts with Clara, no one in the house had claimed Shamira for playtime. She couldn't help but wonder why she was still in Shane's doghouse, and if he had gotten others to boycott her for some reason. 'I just wanted to help my sister,' she thought. She was sitting in the hot tub, letting her body release its aches after Reaper had tossed her into oblivion while trying to teach her judo. The door opened and Renata came in, looking as weary as Shamira. "Mind if I join you?" the Brazilian asked, stripping down and tossing her clothes aside. "Go ahead," she murmured. "You okay?" the other woman asked as she eased into the water. Shamira tried to convince herself that she should just let it go, but she couldn't. "Renata, is Shane mad at me?" She glanced over, her body obviously in bliss thanks to the warm, swirling water. "Not that I know of. Why?" "It's just . . . well, ever since I flew off to help my sister, he seems like he's not letting me have any time to rest, I barely have any time to see Clara, no one seems to be . . . interested in me," she said, sliding down to her neck as she realized that she was whining. "Sorry. I guess everyone's getting worked hard right now. It's just he seemed so pissed at me." Renata shrugged. "He might be, but you're right that everyone is working hard right now. Clara told me what happened, and I just think that you need to treat this like any other job. Emergencies happen, but you can't always just take off." Shamira nodded. "So what have you been up to?" "Getting a hold of as many of Shane's non-house personnel as I can and getting them here for the meeting, tracking down some unregistered weres, and I was practicing with the other weres on team hunting exercises." "Even Sebastian?" Shamira grinned. "I don't imagine that the itsy-bitsy spider could keep up?" Renata grinned back. "Actually, he helped Clara and Lillian make some adjustments to the wards. Werespiders all have a magical ability to set up ward lines in the shape of a web around their homes. Once Clara and Lillian hooked their magics into it and got it powered by their circles, they came up with something that no one is going to be able to sneak past." "Cool. I wish I understood that stuff better. Why were you tracking down unregistered weres?" "Magical creatures are supposed to let the lord of the land know they're their when they're passing through to do business or whatever. Sometimes people just aren't able to or whatever, and sometimes they're up to mischief. Either way, it's the security officer's job to try and track these folks down." Shamira pursed her eyes. "So you'd know if someone like a were was in the area and was . . . what's the word, a lone wolf?" Renata nodded. "We call them strays at that point, but yeah. Why?" "Something Sebastian said. I kind of doubted it, but --" "What was it?" "The whole morning star thing. Seeing as there's a lot of faerie disappearances down in Lacroix's area, he was wondering if Lacroix might be involved. But it'd be a great way to find 'components' wouldn't it? I mean, imagine a stray comes into the area . . . someone who wouldn't be missed." "It's a scary thought, but it's just speculation. Tracking missing strays is a hell of a lot harder than finding missing faeries." "I know, I know." "Oh, and no one is avoiding you. For sex I mean. They're interested but don't have time." Sebastian, Clara, Lillian, and Monique all walked in, looking as tired as Renata had. Luckily, it was a really big hot tub. Soon everyone was naked and in, complaining about their evenings. Monique and Lillian were cuddled up together, and Clara was attached to Shamira at the hip. No one seemed to be in a dominating mood, though Lillian was making it clear that Monique was going to be her figurative and literal bitch when they got back to the room. Shamira threw her idea about Lacroix and stray weres to Sebastian. He reacted basically the same as Clara, but there was a gleam in his eye that said he was interested. "Well, we've got to get through this party first," Renata replied, getting Lillian break away from Monique long enough to give her a shoulder rub. "Don't go running off on a tangent." "I could drive down to Macon for a bit," Shamira said, oblivious to Renata's comments. "They don't really need me for security stuff." "Shamira," Clara growled. "Did you hear what Renata just said?" "I know basically where the faerie colonies are supposed to be in that area," Shamira continued, muttering to herself. "Shamira!" Monique and Lillian said together. "It would only take a couple of days or so, and I could be back before the meeting." "SHAMIRA!" Sebastian shouted. "What?" she finally replied, looking around and ending at the werespider. Sebastian grinned. "I want to go with you." Renata, Lillian, and Monique all looked at him. "Sebastian!" ---------- --------------------- To be continued . . . To Protect and Serve Ch. 08 This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these character and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author. This story is based in an alternative universe, where history took a different course than the one we are used to. In this world, the creatures which we now believe to be legends have walked alongside man for the duration of our existence. Vampires, werewolves, wizards, witches, sorcerers, and a host of other beings share our world. The following story contains, in one chapter or another, lesbian, homosexual, heterosexual, anal, group, sci-fi/fantasy, non-human, and BDSM sexual activity. There may be some erotic horror in there somewhere as well, but I haven't made up my mind. ---------------------- ------------------------ "Are you sure? Weren't we supposed to turn left back there? I REALLY thought --" "Bunny, we're looking for a county road, not an interstate," Sebastian said, grinning and watching Shamira grip the steering wheel that she was wanting to strangle it. Sebastian had been the one to propose a quick trip down to Macon to investigate the faerie colonies and disappearance, since Shamira was still sort of in Shane's doghouse. Shane had finally agreed, but had asked them to take Bunny along on her first enforcement mission. Before they left, Renata had chuckled and told Shamira that if Bunny didn't get out of the house for a bit, Clara was going to kill her. Clara could only handle so much of the overly perky new vampire, and that limit had been passed. So the three of them were driving all over the Macon area, making contact with faerie colonies and asking about any disappearances. They were out looking for the last colony on their list and were having a bit of trouble finding it. "Whoever heard of a county road that wasn't on any map?" Shamira growled, hoping like hell they found it soon or she'd have to explain to Shane why she'd killed Bunny a second time. The girl was actually very sweet, and it wasn't like that perfect cheerleader body was hard to look at, but she just LOVED to talk talk talk talk talk talk . . . it was driving Shamira batty. She'd suggested that Sebastian spend some quality time in the back seat, but he'd informed her that Bunny was apparently fond of noise during sex. By all accounts, she sounded like a porno movie. And she was a moaner. Sigh. And she was a backseat driver. "But maybe the road intersects that road?" Bunny said, blowing a huge bubble and then giggling. Blowing bubbles with bubble gum was actually a trick when you had to remind yourself to inhale air first. Breathing was a hard habit to get used to again. "County roads don't intersect highways without an actual exit, and we drove down . . . oh fuck it, I'm stopping and asking directions!" Sebastian spoke up with, "And that's why I'm not driving. On the off chance we got lost, man rules dictate that I can't ask for directions." Shamira glared at him, but then she smiled and shook her head. He really was just too damn charming. And sexy. Don't forget sexy. She knew she'd made progress with her phobia, because she could accept that he sometimes turned into a spider, have him be right next to her, and resist the urge to punch him. She thought she might even be ready to be dominated by him which, according to those who had tried, was quite an experience. "Ask directions?" Bunny chipped in, "Where? Seriously, I don't know why --" Shamira tuned the girl out and hit the button on the GPS unit that showed nearby points of interest. There wasn't jack . . . "Wait, there's a garage." She put her foot to the floor and got there in record time, if for no other reason than to get out of hearing range of the bubbly sex bomb in the backseat. "Hold on," Sebastian said as they pulled into the parking lot, which was empty except for one tow truck off near the closed garage doors. The werespider was staring intently at the front door and the small wooden sign that hung above it. The lettering on the signed had long since faded, but . . . "I see wards. Some magical being owns this shop." "Damn it, it doesn't even look open," Shamira muttered. There was a dim light around the front, but that could just be a night light. Apparently there were motion detectors near the garage doors, because flood lights came on. The three of them got out of the car and Sebastian headed to the front door. Shamira looked over and had to accept that, annoying or not, Bunny was hot. She had on a pink mini-skirt that hid virtually nothing, strappy pink sandals, and a pink tubetop that clung to her sizable young breasts quite nicely. Actually, Shamira liked the girl, but the non-stop chatter just to fill time . . . that had to stop. The door opened and they heard a bell, but that wasn't what caught their attention. "Oh mama, I need to bring my own car down here and rip the engine out," Bunny murmured, her face slipping into full-on sultry mode. A man had come out, and oh what a man. He was about six feet tall and wearing a greasy sleeveless green jump suit, his arms were pale but nicely muscled, as was the hint of his chest that was showing. And that face . . . oh, that face could make a nun wet her granny panties. Smooth shaved, high cheekbones, firm full lips that were probably in a perpetual half-smile, and his eyes seemed to sparkle under a shock of blond hair. "Sorry, but we're closed," the man said with a full, satisfying voice. Much to his credit, he met all three's eyes before scoping out the two women's bodies. "But I'll help you in any way that I . . . Hey, is that a Roadrunner?" he asked, now ignoring them all completely. "Sweet ride! What's wrong with her?" he said, turning and looking straight at Sebastian. Shamira's libido was completely quenched. Bunny didn't seem to care, but Shamira HATED it when one guy assumed that no woman would possibly want or understand a car like this. She knew more about cars than her brother or father ever did. "Actually, it belongs to this fine young woman," Sebastian said, smiling over at Shamira. "And the car is fine." The two men just stood there staring at each other for a minute, making the two women wonder what the hell was going on. The werespider cocked his head, staring at the side of the mechanic's head and the red bandanna that was helping keep his hair at bay. Shamira was getting nervous and took a look a round with her shadow sight. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary except for the garage, which was like a great big blank spot to her. 'Well, Sebastian said there were wards up.' "Were?" the mechanic asked. "Yep. Elf," was the more confident response. The man . . . elf was now looking at them more critically. "Okay, so what brings a were and two vamps down here to my neck of the woods with a perfectly functioning sweet ride?" "Lookin' for county road 83, but we can't seem to find it." "Shit, you need to head back down about twenty miles for Forsyth and hang a right through town. You'll run into 83 on the other side." Shamira was on the verge of saying something, but Sebastian kept going. "Trying to get to Culloden." "That little shithole?" the elf replied, his eyes narrowing. "Why?" "Going to see a man about a horse," Sebastian replied with a grin. The mechanic smiled back, and Shamira could see Bunny's knees buckle. "In other words, mind my own damn business?" "Well, I ran into a problem with these two's master up the coast. See, he was rather fond of his babies, and so was I. Turned out they were a lot more fond of me." "But Culloden?" "Friend has a trailer there where I can hole up," Sebastian finished, his hands sliding down to grip Shamira's and Bunny's asses. Bunny giggled and actually said, "That's right, sugar bear!" She lifted one foot up and kissed the werespider in the sluttiest, sloppiest way possible. 'Damn, she looks good doing that!' Shamira thought. She was beginning to understand some of Bunny's charm. She knew they weren't supposed to reveal their mission to strangers, but she didn't know where this scenario of Sebastian's had come from. She wished that he had shared his ideas with the whole class before playing. So if Bunny was going to be his easy date -- "Trailer?" she growled. "You didn't say a damn thing about a trailer. You said a hotel with room service!" Sebastian pushed an eager Bunny away for a moment. "Well, I paid 'im for the room. That kind of makes it a hotel." He grinned and kissed her neck, getting a very real tremble from Shamira. "And you will be getting the finest service imaginable," he finished. "Y'all want me to get you a hose?" the elf said, finally offering his hand. "Name's Daniel. As I said, I'm closed up, but you can grab some coffee or drinks before you go," he said, eyeballing the two women. "Babe, mind getting us some coffee for the road? You know how I like it," Sebastian said. "The coffee is kind of like your plans for the night," Shamira replied before heading to the building, "you ain't getting any from me." "Don't be like that!" Sebastian shouted after her as she turned away from him, trying really hard not to smile. This was more fun that she thought it would be. There was a pot of coffee just inside the door and it actually smelled pretty good. She picked the pot up . . . smelled fresh too. She filled up a styrofoam cup and dumped in a pack of sugar. She knew that Bunny liked Diet Sprite, but didn't see any in the free-standing cooler next to the counter. So she grabbed a bottle of water and was getting ready to put some money down on the counter when the bells jingled behind her. "Don't bother, miss," Daniel said as he walked in, giving her a warming smile. "I figure I owe you for the slight outside." Shamira gave him her 'I don't know what the hell you're talking about' face. "What slight?" He leaned against the counter next to her and kept his eyes on hers rather than letting them fall to her tits. He at least got points for that. "For assuming the car was his. Ain't the first time I've made that mistake, so I know the look of a woman who knows about cars being treated like she don't know a tire from a wheel. You'd think that after all these years, people like me would understand that not everything's what it seems to be." She smiled at him. "Smells like you just put this on," she said, taking a sip of coffee. "Thought you were closed." "I don't take customers except for emergencies at this hour. I don't sleep much, so I get a lot of work done when the sun's down." Now he let his gaze fall more appreciatively down her body, though he spent more time on her arms and thighs than most men might. "Might I say, it's nice to finally see a Southern woman who isn't all delicate and the like." "What makes you think I'm a Southern woman at all?" she asked. "You've got an accent, though not much of one." Shamira raised an eyebrow. Most people never picked up on that. "You got good ears." He pulled away his bandanna to expose slightly pointed ears. "Thank you. My momma thought so too. So, if you're really unhappy with your ride, I could provide some company for the evening." 'He even managed to not sound sleazy,' she thought. 'But no one dominates me outside the house, and the only casual sex I have I'm saving for Clara.' Out loud, "You know, if this trip turns out to be the bust I'm expecting it to be, you might see me again really soon." Her voice had drifted off in a murmur as she imagined this dashing creature putting her up on blacks and giving her a tune up. "Real soon." He grinned, then something passed over his eyes. "Listen, word of advice. There are some around here that get a bit . . . edgy . . . when unaffiliated folks like yourselves come through. Be careful who you talk to, and try not to draw attention to yourself." Shamira wanted to ask him more, but she wasn't willing to break cover quite yet. "Thanks," she said, running one hand down his arm. Then she left, feeling quite proud of herself. Once they were back in the car on on the highway, Bunny broke out laughing and even Shamira had to smile. "Where'd you come up with that?" the blond babe asked when she got control of herself. "In our world, you need to be able to think fast on your feet and faster on your back. You'll learn." Sebastian grinned, then looked at Bunny. "I didn't think we'd need a story, but you should always have one ready. You're gonna be an enforcer, right?" Something came over Bunny, and Shamira could see why she'd excelled academically as well as socially and athletically. She knew when it was time to be serious. For the next twenty minutes, Sebastian gave a good, solid lecture on field behavior, back stories, and dealing with unknown factors such as gorgeous hunk elf mechanics. Say nothing of your mission or your house unless directed by Shane or unless you were sure it was necessary. And Shamira was told quite specifically by Shane before she left that she wasn't to discuss her aspects with anyone outside the house. "But I just wanted to have sex with him for a little while," Bunny whined, slipping back into ditzy mode. "We've got work to do," Shamira said as they pulled off the county road onto an old fire road. Ten minutes later, they were near the faerie colony of Golden Grass. This colony hadn't contacted Nature's Glory at all, so Shamira had a bad feeling about it. She stood back and let Sebastian do his thing, reaching out with his senses and his mystical web to try and -- "Don't . . . move," came a tiny but firm voice. The clearing around them started to glow more and more as they became surrounded by the hundreds and hundreds of little glowing people. None of them looked happy. "We come in peace," Shamira said. "Okay, that sounded really corny." "You have exactly fifteen seconds to explain why we shouldn't --" It was Shamira's turn to talk. "We're here on behalf of Shane Stapleton, Lord of Atlanta, to investigate the morning star trade and this location was given to us by the King and Queen of Nature's Glory in hopes that you could aid in our attempt to destroy this evil practice." The clearing was silent until one of the faeries said, "Damn. She said all of that in fourteen seconds." "His Great and Royal Majesty the Most Illustrious Leader Frolthac of the Colony of Nature's Glory told me about the fifteen second rule that you all have," Shamira explained. "I practiced." Two figures floated up from the ground, surrounded by guards. Unlike the faeries she was used to, these were wearing armor and brandishing small swords. No, not swords . . . wands. "I am the Exalted Lord High Majesty, King Timan of the Colony of Golden Grass," one said. "And this," is said, the word "this" coming across as highly acidic, "is my wife." The faerie in question, without even looking, extended her hand and punched the King in the face. "I'm Falora," the Queen said. "Just . . . Falora?" Shamira said. "Sorry, it's a beautiful name, but --" "Yeah yeah yeah," the little woman said, waving her hand dismissively. "Us damn faeries waste so much time giving our titles when we COULD be doing something more interesting." The King turned around and nailed the Queen in the shins with his wand. She started bouncing up and down in midair, grabbing her leg while the King spoke again. "Royalty should behave as such. Anyway, what are you doing here? You said something about investigating the morning star trade?" "Yes sir. We had hoped that you had gotten King Frolthac's message about our search." "We got a message, but . . . Owh! That's it!" The King was reacting to being nailed in the back by his wife, and the two of them began to scuffle, poking, punching, kicking, and pulling hair like it was going out of style. While they scuffled, a new faerie floated over, flanked by two guards. It was a young woman wearing a tiara, and she was possibly possible the cutest woman that Shamira had seen in a long time. She had a slight bit more flesh to her than other faeries, but she could hardly be considered overweight. She just looked . . . soft. And touchable. And if she were human-sized, those breasts would probably lower most men's IQ levels by half. "I apologize for my parents' behavior," the girl said sweetly. "They're . . . well, they're idiots. I'm Princess Coramen." "Greeting, Princess," Shamira replied, offering her tongue. The Princess flitted forward to accept the offering, but her guards tried to block her path. That lasted for about one glare before they split, looking quite well chastised. 'Good for you, girl,' Shamira thought approvingly as Coramen touched her tongue. "We did get a message," the Princess explained, but it was somewhat garbled by the time it got through our wards. If it hadn't been such a powerful message, it wouldn't have gotten through at all." Coramen floated backward. "There has been a shadow cast over this corner of the world, so we are forced into certain precautions. I would like to take your word about what you're doing, but --" "All we're trying to do is find out what colonies have faeries that have gone missing." She quickly outlined her beliefs and how she hoped they might lead her to find the producers of the heinous drug. "I understand that you should be cautious. Is there any way you could contact Nature's Glory? My name is Shamira, and the King and Queen could both . . . what are you doing?" As soon as Shamira had mentioned her name, the faeries' eyes had opened wide. "The Sex Goddess? In part of the message that got through, Frolthac said that a Goddess named Shamira overcame the conduit and . . . and that's never been done. How can you prove that you are who you say you are?" "I don't know? How can I? Besides a repeat performance, which I'm REALLY not up to." She felt a little flushed when the Princess looked disappointed. "Listen, I think it's pretty obvious that the people that we're after and whatever has got you spooked are connected. That means that if we were the bad guys, there'd be no reason for us to pretend to have stumbled onto you. We'd already know where you are, and we'd probably have already done stuff." "True, but caution is still warranted." She looked at her still spatting parents and rolled her eyes, then floated close to Shamira's ear. "If we help you, will you get me the hell out of here?" she whispered. "Seriously, if I have to stay here with them for another year . . . hell, another day, I'm going to go out of my mind." "So . . . this isn't an act for them? They don't secretly love each other?" Shamira whispered back. "Oh no. Arranged marriage. They can't stand each other, and I'm constantly in the middle of it. Seriously, I'm a good sorceress! I could help you and your lord. Please?" "I can speak with my master, but I can't make any promises. I might be able to arrange a conversation, but I don't want to insult your parents or your people by saying anything else here." "I understand." The Princess looked around, then back to the three interlopers. "Okay, a month or so ago, we had a rash of disappearances. We felt a presence pushing at our wards, but nothing tried to penetrate. Then, we had some of our people disappear when they were out collecting food or . . . frolicking. Faeries don't breed quickly, so any loss is very important to us, and we lost a dozen in the course of a few weeks. Finally, we just put up the strongest wards that we could and withdrew to . . . to a hidden place within our territory." 'Good girl,' Shamira thought. 'Still being cautious.' "Have you felt the presences since then?" To Protect and Serve Ch. 08 "We felt the push, but they weren't able to get past our shields to locate us. We're sure of that at least. We haven't lost anyone since. We may not be big, but no one comes into a faerie colony with hostile intent who isn't willing to pay a price." "I am quite willing to believe in the power of the faerie race," Shamira replied. "If this is a morning star issue as you say," the Princess said, trembling now with anger, "then they must be stopped. Our people should not pay the ultimate price so that some human can feel powerful for a moment. It is barbaric." "I agree. Had you heard of such disappearances from other colonies?" "Only from Sunshine Downs. It's near Savannah. They lost a couple several months ago and were wondering if they'd run away up here. They pretty much circled the wagons after that, much like we have. They're the oldest colony in North America, so they have enough power to keep their shields and still check their messages." "I understand. If we need to contact you again, would it be easier for us to come down here then?" Princess Coramen actually looked a little embarrassed as she scanned around to make sure no one was close enough to listen. "Call my cell phone." Shamira stared, then had to suppress a snicker. "How did you get a cell phone?" Coramen grinned. "I have certain abilities that make it easier for me to interact in the human world. I wanted a damn phone. Even have V-Cast." "What abilities? No, it's not my place to ask." "Maybe I'll get a chance to show you," the insanely cute Princess said while giving a grin that was very grown-up. She looked over at Sebastian. "I wouldn't mind showing him either. Or her. Damn, are they all this hot where you come from?" "I'm actually the homely one," Shamira said. The Princess raised an eyebrow. "Homely? Lady Shamira, if you're homely, then I'm a troll with acne. And since I'm pretty sure I'm not --" "She gets like this sometimes," Sebastian interrupted with a grin. "I'm Sebastian, by the way, and this is Bunny." "Oh crap. I forgot to introduce everyone." "It's okay," Bunny said. "Faeries are cool!" She had been watching the King and Queen beat the holy hell out of each other until they'd finally been separated by their guards. "Did you see how I stuck out my tongue earlier? Go ahead. It's a traditional faerie greeting," Shamira said, wanting to impart some of her limited wisdom. Both Sebastian and Bunny greeted the Princess, Shamira exchanged phone numbers with the faerie, and then the vampires and were headed for home. They hadn't been on the road long when Shamira noticed a patrol car in their rear-view mirror. She double-checked to make sure she wasn't speeding, letting off of the gas just a bit. She didn't see anything odd about the situation, so she was surprised when the cop's lights came on. "What the hell?" Shamira said. "Guys, I don't have my new ID yet," Bunny said from the backseat. "Fuck!" Shamira said. They were an odd assortment to begin with, and to have a girl Bunny's age with them and no form of identification . . . it wasn't illegal, but it was going to be damn suspicious. "Our licenses should check out, so Shamira's my wife and you're her little sister, visiting from college who left her ID at the house." "And why the hell are we out at this hour so far from Atlanta?" "Visiting that friend who lent us the trailer," he said with a grin. Shamira wasn't sure how she felt about lying to police. This was the first time she'd encountered any since she'd been killed in the line of duty. She actually felt a bit cheap when Sebastian suggested that she show some cleavage, though she quickly acquiesced. Hey, she liked being looked at. She pulled over and watched the guy get out of the car, and she immediately became even more uneasy. His hand rested on the butt of his gun. The guy's partner got out of the car on the other side. Then, another patrol car pulled up in front of them. "This isn't good," Shamira said. The driver of the first car came over and looked in the window. "License and registration please," he said. "Yes sir," she said. Luckily, everyone in the house was on the insurance for every vehicle. But a traffic ticket was the least of their worries. They did not need two cars for a routine traffic stop. She glanced at his side mirror and noticed something else odd. The man stepped back and gave his partner a look, giving Shamira a chance to mutter, "Those cuffs aren't regulation," she said so that just her passengers could hear. "They look more like manacles, and they look more like --" "Silver," Sebastian said, looking out the other mirror, seeing that the other guy was carrying them as well. "This is an ambush." "But how . . . you don't think the faeries set us up do you?" Bunny asked. "No," was Shamira's response. "That reaction we got wasn't fake. They're scared too, and these guys wouldn't have had time --" She clammed up when the guy came back to the window. "Ma'am, please step out of the car." "Why? Why did you pull us over?" she asked. "Ma'am, please just step out of the car," he said again, his hand resting menacingly on the gun. If these guys were carrying silver manacles, then they probably had silver bullets. "Honey," she said, keeping her eyes on the cop while talking to Sebastian, "I don't feel very safe right now. Could you call 911 and --" "I wouldn't do that if I were you," the cop said, glancing at his partner then at the other car. Two more "officers" got out of that vehicle. "Just step out of the car and keep your hands where I can see them." "Officer, what exactly is the problem?" Sebastian said, leaning over and poking his face into the window. Shamira felt something cold press into her hand. It was a gun. "Sir, get back in your seat. Ma'am, get out of the car." Shamira's eyes met Sebastian's. "Your call," he whispered. "Ma'am --" the officer threatened. "Yes, I'll get out of the car," she said, reaching for the handle, "as soon as we get home." She reached through the window and grabbed the officer's shirt, yanking him against the car as hard as she could, which was hard enough to send him reeling to the ground while she fired up the car and put the gas pedal on the floor. "Duck!" she shouted as the car jolted forward and the remaining officers pulled out their guns. As she passed the other patrol car, she shot out its back tire and made the two humans dive for cover. She heard gunshots and heard the impacts on her car as she sped down the road. Bunny was down on the floor, pulling a 9 mm out of her purse while Shamira handed the gun back to Sebastian and pulled her Desert Eagle special out from under the seat. "Keep your head down," Sebastian shouted to Bunny shortly before the rear windshield got hit. Strangely, it didn't break. "Fuck, we have bullet-proof glass on this thing?" Shamira said, admiring the foresight. "You didn't know that?!" Bunny shouted from the back. "Nope." Strangely, the thought made her grin. This was kind of fun. Sebastian was grinning too. "They're following. Looks like they all got into the car you didn't shoot. Think they're involved in the disappearances?" "Damn straight. This must've been what Daniel warned us about." Up ahead, a third car was tearing down the road towards them, its sirens and lights coming on while it turned to block the road. "Bullshit! This county probably doesn't have this many fucking patrol cars and they certainly wouldn't be on the same nowhere road," Shamira growled. It was time for some "defensive driving." "Get ready to shoot," she said, grabbing the emergency break and starting a skid towards the blocking vehicle, turning the passenger side towards the enemy. Two supposed patrolmen were just getting out, one armed with a pistol and the other with a shotgun. "Are we willing to deal with fatalities?" Sebastian asked. Shamira froze for just a fraction of a second. If she was wrong . . . No, she wasn't wrong. "This is self-defense," she said. "Do what you need to do." Sebastian squeezed off a whole clip into the two officers and their car, and both officers were dead before they ever hit the ground. Shamira was able to shoot forward again, getting out of the way of the pursing car and letting it plow into the one blocking their path. "Well, I guess we fight it out," she shouted. "Try to take one alive," Sebastian said. "I want answers." They got out of the car and took positions around the patrol vehicle. There was no motion inside, so Shamira took a step closer. "Please step out of the vehicle," she said, feeling a little smug about being on the other end of that statement. "Move in," Sebastian said. Bunny was actually crouching so low that her skirt was riding up to her hips, exposing her g-string clad nether region. 'Yep, they're pink too,' Shamira noticed. She watched the young woman move to the back of the car and saw her breathing heavily almost out of reflex. 'Fuck, she's probably never fired a gun before in her life.' "Hold there," she told the younger vampire. She moved to the driver's side while Sebastian took the passenger side. They needn't have bothered, as everyone inside was dead. None of them had bothered putting seat belts on, and they'd hit the other car doing about fifty-five miles per hour. No airbags appeared to have deployed. "This is an older model car than I thought," she told Sebastian. The were was rooting through the remains of the front of the vehicle. "We need to get these off the road and quickly," he replied. Shamira nodded, then noticed the expression on Bunny's face. The girl was numb. She'd just been in a firefight . . . people had died. "It's okay, Bunny," she said, wrapping her arms around the girl. "I know just how you feel, but I need you sane right now. I need you to help Sebastian get these two cars off the road as far into the trees as you can, and I'm going back for the other one." She looked at Sebastian. "Come to think of it, I may call the Princess and see if she and the faeries can hide these things once we're gone." "Good thinking," he said. "Bunny, grab their identifications and those guns. I don't want anyone finding those on accident. Then --" They made plans while Shamira shadow jumped back to the scene of the first crash. She was loving the vampire strength as she drove the car, bad wheel and all, back to a small dirt road and then pushed it into the trees. She called the number she had, wondering how a faerie princess could answer a phone, but Coramen picked up on the fourth ring. Shamira explained what had happened, and the Princess assured her that the faeries would be more than happy to make the cars and the bodies "disappear." Shamira and company had just rid them of potential enemies, so they had just earned bonus points with the colony of Golden Grass. Shamira jumped back to find that the cars were off the road and her compatriots were cleaning up debris. "Take a look at what Bunny found," Sebastian said, tossing a small stone circle to Shamira. "Look at us through it." Shamira did, and both of her friends were suddenly surrounded by red glows. "Hell! Magical creature finders?" "Looks like it. They probably just sit by the side of the road and pull over anyone they see who they don't recognize. Not a bad system," Sebastian muttered. "The faeries will make sure the forest hides the remains. That was a lot more excitement than I was expecting. You okay?" Shamira asked, wrapping an arm around Bunny's shoulders. The girl was trembling a little. "I've never seen anyone killed before," she whispered. "Not even me." Shamira could see the loss of innocence in that moment. This was permanent death. There were no take-backs, just-kiddings, or rising for the six men who had accosted them. "You did good," Shamira said. "I've got a whole bunch of stuff I could tell you from my days back on the force that might help, but I'm not sure you really want to listen right now." "I don't mind listening," Bunny said, forcing a smile. "Fine, but I can't do two things at the same time, so you're going to have to drive." Bunny's face lit up. Sometimes, being given responsibility, however small, makes people stand up a little straighter. So they got back on the road and headed for home, Shamira and Sebastian telling war stories from their days before coming to Shane's house. Shamira had gone from the "new girl" to the veteran, and it was a heady sensation. ---------- -------------------- Back at the house . . . ---------- -------------------- "You got into a shootout . . . with police," Shane said calmly, his voice as chilly as a winter night. Shamira was a little surprised by her chilly reception, but plowed forward regardless. "Yes sir. We tried to make a break for it, but they had a third car." She'd already explained everything, so she wasn't sure why she was repeating herself. Shane looked over at Sebastian. "And you felt this was the best course of action." "It was Shamira's call and yeah, I thought it was the right one. She tried to avoid loss of life first, but they weren't going to give a choice. They were hunting magical beings. She spotted the cuffs right off, they were behaving weird for cops, and then when we popped their magazines afterward and saw the silver bullets --" "This was a very dangerous situation," Shane interrupted. "The Tribunal meeting is just a week away and has become a far bigger event than I had anticipated. We cannot afford to draw undue attention to ourselves." Shamira was pissed. Why was Shane asking Sebastian? It had been her run. "Would you rather we just let ourselves get captured next time?" she said, then wished she hadn't. "Shamira, do I need to remind you to treat me with respect?" the lord of the house said icily. "I . . . no sir. I just don't understand what I did wrong or what you expected me to do. This was still technically within your territory, so it wasn't like we'd stumbled into someone else's yard." "True." Shane leaned back and pursed his lips. "Very well. Yes, you probably made the best choice under the circumstances, but it was too close. I think that we need to hold back on the morning star investigation until after the meeting." Shamira should've known to keep her mouth shut, but she couldn't. "So you want us to let kidnapping and murder happen just because we don't want to risk looking bad for the guests?" Shane looked at Sebastian. "Excuse us." Sebastian stood up and left, leaving Shamira to feel quite abandoned. He had admitted that she'd been right, but apparently wasn't willing to help her stand up to Shane. "Shamira, I realize that you're still young, but I can't afford to have your inexperience hurt this house. You may see this upcoming meeting as just a social event, but the balance of power in the magical world can change in events like this. We have to work in the shadows, and avoiding exposure is incredibly important. Another thing that is important is acknowledging the chain of command. If you insist on challenging me constantly and in front of others, it makes me look weak. And I think that it's time to talk about punishment." "Punishment?! I did everything right, and I'm going to be punished because of what I said in front of Sebastian? Who agreed with me?!" "Actually, I just wanted to discuss with you the kind of punishment that we have. Yes, you were correct to do what you did down south, but you can't keep challenging my authority whenever you see fit." "Even when I'm right?" "Even when you're right. Please come with me." Shane led her to the basement where she knew people had been "interrogated" in the past. Of the main room was a hallway containing a number of doors with sliding panels about face level on an adult sized being. Shane opened one of the doors to find what was for all intents and purposes, a standing padded coffin. "Twenty-four hours is not uncommon for minor offenses. Food is provided for longer stays as necessary. Once locked in, no one will be allowed to communicate with you. Violation of that rule means getting put in the cell next door. Understand? I want you to step inside and I'll close the door. I promise it will just be for a minute." Shamira paused for a moment, then stepped forward into box. There was just enough space to turn around, but that was it. Shane closed the door, leaving his charge in total silence. The overhead light was ensconced in a thick glass casing, and the area was bathed in an eerie white light. Shamira began to realize how much her new senses had developed when she found herself completely cut off from the world. Except for the light, this was how she'd felt when she'd woken up dead the last time. She was already feeling a bit claustrophobic when Shane opened the door again. "I don't like punishing my people, and you're probably thinking to yourself that this is cruel or disgusting. But that is because you're still thinking about this in the logic of your old world. This is actually somewhat progressive for ours." Shamira stared at the ground, then looked up. "Permission to speak freely?" Shane felt a little relieved. She was trying to learn, which was as much as he could ask for. "When it is just you and me in a room, you always have permission to speak freely." "I don't get it," she muttered, looking him in the eye. "I don't understand how ceremony and image is more important that actually doing good work. You've seen that video that Henry had about the bleeding houses for morning star dealers. How can you ask that I wait until . . . until it's convenient?" "I ask because it is necessary. If this meeting goes well, it means more power for me and this house, which means we have more authority afterward. That might mean getting permission to bring over more vampires, which gives us more assets to hunt our enemies down. And I'm not saying to stop work, but make it more on the research side of things. If you really need to step out any time for the next week or so, you need to make sure it's important and you need to make sure that you keep it low profile. Understand?" Shamira didn't understand, and she'd never understand the way things worked around here. "It's just that this goes against everything I know." She stiffened her spine and said, "And I won't knowingly let an innocent person die for the sake of propriety, even if it means getting punished." Shane nodded his understanding. The very things he admired about this woman were the same things that frustrated the hell out of him. She was single-minded and honorable, and she now lived in a world where one couldn't always afford one or the other. "Well, we need to find some kind of compromise," he told her. "I want you on my team, but I need you to play ball." He smiled slightly. "Even when you're right." She couldn't bring herself to smile back. "Was there anything else you needed to talk to me about? Sir?" Shane should've just let her go and think, but he was afraid that she'd mope and let her anger and irritation build up inside. "Monique wanted to see you about a fitting for uniform for the gathering. Then maybe you should go find someone to play with . . . just to unwind." Shamira had turned to leave but then she stopped. "Don't patronize me. Give me that at least. If someone actually wants to fuck me, they can order me. Besides that," she muttered, "I'm going to sleep." This time, Shane pinched the area on the top of his nose, a reflex action from his living days for when he was fighting an urge to scream. He'd make sure that no one requested Shamira for the morning. To be forced to submit in her current frame of mind would be disastrous. 'Hopefully Clara can calm her down,' he thought. Shamira went walking through the house, trying to avoid the places where people might catch up with her. She had so little sexual desire at the moment that she was almost impressed. She'd been a bundle of sexual energy for weeks. Standing outside the room she shared with Clara, she heard the sound of leather on flesh and a male voice moaning. To Protect and Serve Ch. 08 Normally Clara would take a sub to a playroom, but with the influx of new people competing for play space, she sometimes had to bring someone back here. If Shamira went in there, Clara might command her to participate. Shamira turned and went back to the lounge, only to find that Bangaly and his two lionesses were playing "assert feline dominance" with Renata. Apparently, the big werelion used his other submissives to hold his prey down while he mounted her and fucked her senseless. Renata seemed to be enjoying it thoroughly. Shamira gave up and went to Monique's shop to get fitted. She and Lillian had been making out, but Monique was willing to stop and do some measurements. The werewolf woman had the sense to keep conversation to a minimum after one look at Shamira's face. Eventually, Shamira simply got tired of looking for a place inside the house and wandered out to the golf course. She debated working off some irritation by playing around, but then thought better of it. Her golf skills were such that it would probably make her angrier, not calmer. She kept her eye out for spiders, but didn't quite feel the dread she used to. She made her way over to the garage, pulled herself into the back of a Cadillac Escalade and drifted into a fretful sleep. ------------ --------------- The next day . . . ------------ --------------- They say that when you sleep that you resolve personal issues and tend to be less depressed than when you went to sleep. Needless to say, not all such ideas are absolute rules. When Shamira pulled herself out of the back of the SUV, she had a crick in her neck and a scowl in her heart. She went straight to the firing range to get her ranged weapons training in. Her reflexes had improved since her death, leaving her able to cluster her shots together at will. She was practicing with a modified M-16 when she got some unexpected company. Banshee was smart enough to wait until Shamira had emptied her clip before making her presence known. It wasn't that she was afraid the other vamp would intentionally hurt her, but the message the doms had all gotten from Shane indicated that the girl wasn't in a stable frame of mind. "Are you ready to work on your spider wrangling?" Shamira stared straight forward. "I'm not really sure that today is a good day." "Good or not, it is part of your regiment." Shamira pulled the clip from the weapon and put everything back in storage. "If you were going to pull rank, why bother asking me?" "For some, the illusion of control is enough to achieve contentment. I should have remembered that you see through illusions." Banshee held the door open for her companion. "After you." Shamira wanted to stomp all the way to Banshee's room, but it would have been to childish, even for her. She followed her mentor in to the spider habitat area, feeling that familiar chill overtake her. It wasn't nearly as potent as it used to be, something she was somewhat proud of. "Let me guess," Shamira said, "Shane told you what happened? Why is it I'm not supposed to say anything negative about him to anyone, but he gets to trash me to everyone on a whim?" "Because life is horribly unfair. And because he is the boss," Banshee said smoothly. Banshee quizzed Shamira on which species were venomous, which ones might were web spinners, which ones were ground walkers, and other characteristics of the different types. Shamira was able to get close to the glass on all of them, and didn't even freak out when Banshee let one of the tarantulas out to crawl across that delicate Asian skin. "I've always loved spiders," Banshee practically crooned, looking at the arachnid as if it were her child. "Just very efficient creatures. I never understood why some people fear them. Then again, I grew up in a much different culture. What is scary by some peoples' standards to us was . . . was like Saturday morning cartoons." She moved slightly closer to Shamira, happy that the woman didn't back up. "Culture is more important to some people than others, particularly for those whose culture is somewhat extreme. You are angry with Shane because vampiric culture, or the culture of magical creatures, conflicts with your culture. Human rules . . . police rules. And you take those rules more seriously than many. It is an admirable quality," she said, "but you must learn to adapt." "These rules that you consider so harsh . . . the notion of leaving some to die while Shane puts on a gala . . . is barbaric to you. To me, or at least the 'me' that Shane first brought over, he is far too compassionate. Where I came from, absolute ruthlessness was how one gained and kept power. Perhaps that is why I enjoy working for him so much. Not having to worry about being killed for minor insubordination is strangely refreshing." "So you're saying that I shouldn't be mad at Shane because there are worse ways of doing things than his?" "I am saying nothing of the sort. Shane did not ever truly understand the world I once lived in. Mafias from every country play by their own rules and whether you like it or not, the rules don't change when a new player enters the game. If Shane attempted to enter my old world and attempted to play by the laws of magical creatures, he would have accomplished nothing or been killed. Likewise, if I attempted to play by the rules of the Yakuza, not that I would ever want to again, I would be hunted down and killed by the Tribunal. Both worlds have their ceremonies, their brutalities --" Banshee took a step forward, but Shamira didn't step back. She held up her hand so that the tarantula's many eyes were looking at the young vampire. It was an alien creature, but it had become familiar to her over the years. "-- and they each have their own beauty. Shane attempts to change the rules, but he can only do so much in the face of thousands and thousands of years of tradition and secrecy. These things take time. You walk in, barely a month old in our world, and want all the rules to change just like that . . . for your sole benefit." "Screw my benefit!" Shamira growled. "People are dying out there, sacrificed to make this evil fucking drug, and I'm supposed to sit on my thumbs or do 'research' while Shane gets ready for the fucking prom." "So as a police officer, you broke the laws that you found inconvenient? At will?" "However stupid some of those laws were, no, I didn't break them at will. But there were exceptions --" Shamira stopped for a moment. Banshee and the tarantula were very close now, and she had to divert her attention towards it. 'It's just a big bug,' she said. 'Okay, it's not really a bug, but it's still creepy.' "And there are exceptions to our laws as well. We do not know who the Tribunal is sending, but we know this is going to be important. If Shane does not appear to be in complete control, he might lose power or territory, and then the hunt for the morning star trade may not happen at all. So he does what he can, in silence and secrecy and staying off the human radar." "I'm sure the vampires being bled to death will appreciate his discretion," Shamira replied bitterly. That damn spider was just a foot away from her, and it looked much bigger up close. "Actually, they might. Do not make the mistake that this does not weigh on Shane's conscience, or any of ours for that matter. You insult us all and do us a disservice to think that the suffering of others is a small matter for us. I have witnessed more suffering in my almost two centuries than you can imagine." Shamira had dug in her heels on this issues and wasn't about to change. "How much of that suffering did you stand by and watch?" Banshee was hard to unhinge but just for a moment, her eyes tightened. Shamira had pissed her off. "I did what I had to do." "And how does that excuse help you sleep?" Shamira shook her head, knowing that she should leave and cool off, but she couldn't go until Banshee allowed it. "All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." Shamira visibly winced as Banshee held her hand close and the spider was able to reach out and touch Shamira with one hairy leg. She would not run . . . she would not scream. "I can't stand by and do nothing. Those faeries were terrified. If we hadn't gone down there, no one would even know about their problems. They need us, any weres or vamps that might be getting drained need us, and --" She stopped again, as the tarantula had climbed completely onto her shoulder. For the first time she could remember, she was too angry to be afraid. Banshee had recovered from her own moment of anger. She sympathized with the girl's plight of compassion. "In answer to your earlier question, I still have nightmares sometimes . . . about the things I have seen, done, have allowed to be done, or have had done to me. And to this day, despite it all, I do not regret my actions. In your world, it is unethical to torture someone, even if it means saving thousands." "Other humans do not share your view. You should know that given the choices I have just mentioned, I would torture someone, and I would do it with tears in my heart. I wish that we could play by your rules, but creatures of the night would simply not abide. You are an ally of the shadows, but there are things in deep darkness that would rip you asunder as soon as look at you and not consider it wrong at all. It is simply their nature. You must understand these things if you plan on surviving in this world." She took the tarantula back onto her hand, and she was able to see a definite relaxing as the arachnid was put back in its enclosure. She looked back and just saw stubbornness in the other woman's eyes. She wasn't going to back down, and Banshee knew that could lead to problems and heartache. In the end, she felt she had lied a little bit. She had just wanted Shamira to realize that she should obey because things could be worse. Shamira just wanted them to be better. "You may go," Banshee finished. She had yet to sample this woman's wares one-on-one, but today would not be that day. The younger vampire would not embrace it and, for Banshee, that meant there was no point. All she could do was watch Shamira stalk away. Shamira was angry, but she was trying to calm down. Banshee had actually gotten her even more worked up, so she decided to let off some steam. She grabbed a set of golf clubs and headed for the course. Okay, maybe her game sucked even more when she was mad, but she needed to do something. She wasn't sure how far she could push Shane without being punished, but she knew it was inevitable. She tried reminding herself that sting operations sometimes took a long time, but thanks to Henry, she couldn't get the image of what the blood-letters did to their victims. She'd seen the face of the faeries, full of fear and mistrust at what had been done. Okay, maybe she was only being asked to wait a week. She wondered if the rest of the house would be content to wait a week if they were the one who was captured. After completing the full nine holes forward and backward, and accomplishing nothing more than wrapping her five-iron around a tree, she decided to go for a drive. No one had called her to claim her for the evening, so she figured she was still on Shane's shit-list for challenging him. She got to the garage and began looking for a car. The Roadrunner was out of commission for a while, so she had to pick a new favorite. In a huge garage full of the finest vehicles imaginable, nothing seemed to really catch her eye, and she wasn't in a position to go asking anything of Shane. Hell, she wasn't in the mood to ask him for anything. Bunny came bouncing in as cheerful as the day she died, which was an odd sentiment as far as Shamira was concerned. "Hey! Going somewhere?" "Apparently not," she muttered. "May take a walk." "Hey, Shane asked me to go pick up some stuff so the magic types can expand the wards. Wanna come?" Shamira didn't mean to say it the way she did, but her next diatribe came out as a mockery to the ditzy quality of Bunny's voice. "Oh, I so totally don't want to!" Then she growled, "Go run his errands. Heck, why don't you fetch his paper and his slippers too." Bunny stopped and looked like she'd been punched in the face. "Listen, I'm sorry . . . I didn't mean --" "Oh don't cry," Shamira snapped, her anger continuing to feed itself. "Go do what you're supposed to, then go do WHO you're supposed to. Just get out of my face." Shamira left the garage on foot, no idea where she was going. She just knew that she had to get going before her dead blood started to boil. Shamira didn't look back as she just started walking. If someone needed her to do something besides sit quietly on her ass, they could call. She didn't understand why she couldn't think rationally anymore, and she was damn sure that Bunny hadn't deserved to get yelled at, but her mouth was on a roll and her brain couldn't catch up. She'd only been gone for fifteen minutes when the phone started to vibrate, indicated that someone had texted her. She looked down and saw it was from Clara. It basically read that Shane was pissed, on a warpath, and that she had better get her ass back right away. Shamira sighed, and she knew it was time to pay the piper. Clara was waiting for her outside, her face unreadable. "What has gotten into you?" the young-looking beauty said. "You actually got Bunny so upset that she couldn't drive. She's been in with Shane trying to figure out what SHE did wrong to set you off. Then Banshee showed up and suddenly Shane gets this look in his eye . . . anyway, he's damn mad." Shamira clenched her jaw and looked away, then started to walk past Clara, figuring she might as well get it over with. Clara put a hand on her friend's shoulder, only to have it shrugged away. "What is with you?!" she asked, getting in front of the more muscular woman and blocking her path. "Why won't you talk to me? You didn't bother coming to bed last night, I haven't seen you since you left for Macon, and now you've got Shane pissed, Banshee frustrated, and Bunny is practically crying --" "Oh, give it a rest," Shamira snapped. "When did you start caring about Bunny's feelings?" Clara's face hardened. "Yeah, she grates on my nerves sometimes, but I've never done or said anything to try and hurt her. She's a sweet girl who's been through a hell of a lot, and she didn't deserve to have you go off on her like that." Then Clara's face grew more gentle. "Shamira, I really care about you, but I can't help you if you don't talk to me." Shamira wanted nothing more than to just rant and rave and do the old cry-on-her-shoulder bit, but she couldn't. Her state of mind was way too far gone for that. Her mouth opened, but her voice was denied access. "Please?" Clara asked, her normally stern voice breaking. Shamira looked at that face and felt something uncomfortable deep in her chest. She didn't want to hurt Clara. The woman had been her friend, mentor, confidante, and lover since Shamira had been brought over. She had embraced Shamira's perversions and helped the new vampire come to grips with them. The two of them had a connection that had been born when a human cop locked eyes with a homeless girl who had turned out to be a vampire in disguise, and that relationship had made Shamira whole. And Shamira was afraid that if she forced Clara to take a side that she would side with Shane. Shamira wasn't sure if she could handle that. "You can't help me here," she whispered, her voice ragged with anger and anguish. Then she walked on, leaving Clara by the door, and headed for Shane's office. The room was chilly, despite the fact that Shane's eyes looked ready to burn holes in Shamira's skull. Bunny sat off to one side, trying not to look as broken up as she obviously felt. Banshee sat on the other side, looking resigned. And Shamira felt a presence slide into the room behind her, and it smelled unmistakably of Clara. Shane's voice came out even and dreadfully calm when he finally spoke. "I have had enough. I tried being patient. I tried remembering the circumstances of your rebirth. But I have explained the reality of the situation, and you continue to defy me, question the way I run my house, and now you're taking your petty issues out on other people." "Petty?!" Shamira blurted. "Shamira," Clara whispered, "don't --" "Clara, keep out of this. As a matter of fact, leave." "Hey, it's me you've got a problem with!" Shamira growled, but she heard Clara slip out again. "And you have a problem with me, but you took it out on Bunny. Correct? Shamira, I asked you a question." Shamira was gritting her teeth so hard, she thought that she might break a fang. "Yeah, I took it out on Bunny, and I'm --" "No," he interrupted, "you don't get to apologize yet. You will apologize when I tell you that you can." He watched as she raised her hand as if to point at him, but she wound up just snarling and otherwise staying silent. "It's obvious that you're not ready for all of this. I need my enforcers to understand our law and respect it. I thought you would be up for it, but I think we need to start you over at square one. You need to learn to be a vampire, and then maybe --" "What the fuck?!" Shamira said, her anger growing. "Learn to be a vampire?" "You make your situation worse every time you speak," Shane said. "Yes, you need to learn to be a vampire. Vampires need to understand their world and understand the traditions of the magical world. How can I expect you to deal with the culture of others with any sensitivity if you can't even respect your own?" "Hey, so far YOUR culture is the only damn one I have a problem with." Shamira was going to say something else, but someone grabbed her around her from behind, putting a hand over her mouth while wrenching one arm behind her back. Somehow, Banshee had snuck up behind her, and she was fucking strong. Shamira was powerful for a fledgling, but Banshee was bordering on full vampire status. That was when she remembered that the Asian vamp had some kind of ability to cloud minds so that you simply didn't pay attention to her. "Bitch!" Shamira shouted. She tried to twist away, but she stopped when she felt her shoulder try to pop out of its socket. "Lord Stapleton, please --" Bunny started. "Bunny, this is for her own good. All I asked is for her to compromise a little . . . wait a week. Instead, she behaves like a child. Banshee, take her to solitary." Shamira was so pissed she was seeing red. She felt her fangs extend, and she was damn well going to bite Banshee if she got the chance. But this wasn't the assassin's first time at the rodeo, and she maneuvered Shamira out the door. Outside, Clara was standing there looking lost, but Shamira noticed that she didn't say or do a damn thing to help. Shamira actually got free for a moment by rolling forward, bringing Banshee with her and then headbutting the other woman when they were on the ground, but Banshee latched on and Renata appeared out of nowhere. Renata actually looked scared, but the two powerful women wound up shoving Shamira into a coffin shaped cell in the basement and closing the door. ----------- --------------- Two days later . . . ----------- --------------- They had actually let Shamira out after of her cell after the first day, but she'd cursed at Banshee, spit on Shane, then turned and stepped back into the cell on her own. The hunger kicked in on the second day, and they actually slid her a blood pack which she refused to consume . . . at first. She hadn't eaten at all since before her trip down to Macon, and vampiric hunger was much more intense than anything she had experienced when human. She drank and cursed herself, though she wasn't sure why. To Protect and Serve Ch. 08 In the last three days, she had gone from loving her new life, loving her purpose, and basking in the feel of family, to suddenly feeling about as alone as she ever remembered being. Shamira could never go back to being the woman she had been before, but she couldn't imagine being around any of these beings anymore. She knew that she'd brought a lot of it on herself, and she wished she'd been able to control her temper. But she still felt that her basic position was right and that Shane's was wrong. She didn't know how to compromise on this. She didn't know if she wanted to. So when she got out the second time, she didn't speak to anyone. She didn't meet Shane's gaze or answer any of Tabitha's questions. She was trembling, but more from a sense of loss than from any actual illness or even rage. The house had become a blessing to her . . . almost a heaven. It had been a place where she could be who she wanted to be. But it turned out that she could only be herself if it was okay with Shane. Clara tried to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but Shamira shrugged her off. Shane motioned for everyone else to leave, though he had to stare hard at Clara before she obeyed. Once they were alone, he turned back to Shamira, and the bastard had the nerve to look upset. "Are you ready to apologize to Bunny and me? And mean it?" Shamira stared at him. "I'm ready to apologize to Bunny. I don't feel sorry for a single thing I said to you." He shook his head sadly. "Shamira, don't do this. Don't make your life her harder than it needs to be. Everyone in the house loves you and respects you --" "Everyone in the house let you shove me in that box, so everyone in the house can kiss my --" "Stop it!" he hissed. "You think you're the first one to be punished? Good grief, how can a submissive be so damn stubborn? I have compromised with you far more than you can imagine, and you can't even be civil to me. I saw the way you reacted to Clara, and damn it I will not let you treat her like that after all she's done for you." "You mean like bravely watching Banshee and Renata manhandle me?" For a moment, Shane actually looked angrier than he had the other day. "She spent half a day in the cell next to you for arguing with me about your punishment and wanting to come speak with you, breaking the punishment of silence." For once, Shamira was speechless. Why had Clara allowed things to progress that far before she had spoken up. Had she just felt guilty? 'Probably,' Shamira thought. That had to be it. Shane relaxed a bit. "I don't want us to be like this. I still see in you the first thing I felt when I brought you over. You're passionate, dedicated . . . damn it, don't think I've forgotten at how well you've handled the faeries or the bugs or the Dark Pools --" "But as soon as my 'dedication' runs contrary to what you want, you accuse me of being petty and stick me in that hole. Caring about beings that might be getting tortured is not petty," Shamira replied, her voice cracking a bit. She was incredibly thirsty. "I could get over this," she said, waving her hand at her cell. "I could calm down and maybe not hate you as much as I do right now. But I can't change who I am." "Then don't change," Shane told her. "Unless you're saying that you've never compromised before." "I don't see middle ground here." She paused, gathering herself for what she needed to say. She realized she really wasn't angry anymore so much as tired. "I want out, Shane. I've done everything else you asked of me, albeit badly sometimes, but I can't condone putting your traditions ahead of innocent lives. So either kill me right now where I stand, or let me go." Shane didn't move, and his heart was as heavy as it had felt in years. "Where would you go? What would you do? You're too powerful to roam free, especially if you play it rogue like you seem to want to, and I guarantee that any other lord would be less . . . lenient . . . than I. And more importantly, I don't want you to leave." Shamira had a hard time meeting his eyes. She'd rehearsed this in her head over the last two days, but saying it out loud was hard. "You know, I almost wanted to cry the first time you took me? I'd never actually seen anyone look at me like I meant anything, and you made me feel beautiful. And Clara --" She choked on her own voice. She couldn't put into words what Clara had made her feel. "Now, I can't even imagine letting you touch me. Any of you for that matter." 'Except that beautiful Native American girl,' she thought, then suppressed the idea. "There are a lot of things I didn't know about myself, but this . . . How can you even ask me to? You sent me to a shootout with EFIs and Shell Walkers and that's okay, but if I pull a gun to defend myself, you go apeshit on me." "Killing humans changes things. Magical beings disappear from the world all the time and without notice. Six humans are dead and . . . okay, you were one-hundred percent right. Happy? Sebastian had Pierre run the plates and all those patrol cars were sold at auction six months ago. Guess what? I've been wrong before and I'll be wrong again, but I can't be a lord in name only. If I chastise you and wind up wrong, I'll admit it, but you can't challenge me on every little thing." "I don't want to challenge you," Shamira said. "I don't want to work for you anymore. I thought you'd be happy to be rid of me at this point." "No. As I said, I don't want you to leave. I want you on my team and in my house. You adjusted to certain things so quickly and --" "Shane, you don't get to choose which parts of me to keep. I became a cop to protect people. You know that. Now you want me to be something else." "Absolutely not. I want you to be an enforcer. The goals are the same, only the methods. You criticize us for our callousness because you don't think we'll do what it takes. When we first brought that man from Prometheus here to interrogate him and find out about the morning star trade, you balked. How can you claim that you're willing to break the rules to save the innocent, but condemn us for doing the same?" Shamira hung her head. She had no response to that. Of course, she hadn't truly understood what morning star was at the time, but torture . . . it was something she just didn't have the stomach for. "Shamira, we're fighting a war here. Yes, we spend a lot of time it seems indulging pleasures of the flesh, but that's because we have a dangerous lifestyle. Today might always be the last day of your existence, and most everyone here believes that one true sin is to die with regrets and things left undone. But we get serious when we have to, we do what we can and what we must, and sometimes it sickens us that we can't do more. I promise you though that if the Tribunal doesn't think I have control of this post, that they could very well take it away. I also promise you that this city and the victims you wish to protect or save will likely fall much lower on the priority list than you desire if someone else takes over. I know that for you, choosing between the lesser of two evils isn't a good way to go, but it's the only choice you have. If you go rogue and I'm replaced, the next lord might well exert his or her right to bring you in and kill you." "Great," she replied. "Great choices. Miserable or dead." "You don't have to be miserable, and I'm quite opposed to you being dead. Listen, I need everyone on their game for the meeting. Give me that long. Do the job for four more days and then if you still want to go, I'll stand aside. I'll fix you up with a new identity, and you'll have no more contact with me or this house. Is that what you really want?" Shamira looked past him to the stairs. "I'll give you your four days. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go talk to Bunny. Sir." Shane heard the latent sarcasm in that "sir." He knew then that she wasn't even going to try to work things out. She was done, and he couldn't think of anything that would change her mind. "I won't tell anyone of your decision. I'll leave that up to you." He turned and went up the stairs ahead of her, leaving her alone for a moment in a hallway full of coffins. Shamira found Bunny in the gym, where she was practicing some bizarre martial art with Monique. She appeared to be back to her happy-go-lucky self, something that made the muscular woman envious. She wish she could stop feeling like she did, and she wished that she could just let it go. She didn't want to leave, but she felt she had to. Finally, practice let out, with Shamira waiting outside for the young woman to have a free moment. Monique glanced over and started to wave, only to receive an indifferent stare. She looked down, then left by another door. "Hey!" Bunny said, oblivious to the exchange that had just happened, "Are you okay? I'm SO sorry about what happened. I should have kept my mouth shut." Shamira shook her head. "Don't apologize to me. I didn't do anything to deserve an apology, and you didn't do anything wrong." Bunny wrung her hands. "I need to be tougher, I know. I shouldn't go crying just because someone talks loud to me, and I so completely deserved that after that trip --" "What are you talking about? You didn't deserve me treating you like crap." "But I just hid in the backseat and screamed for most of the fight, and then I freaked out --" "Bunny, you did fine. I doubt you'd ever been in a gunfight before, so you did right. You hid, you listened to Sebastian and me, and you learned. Me ripping your head off the other day had nothing to do with you. I was just mad about . . . about a situation I have with Shane, and I took it out on you. You're going to be a great enforcer for Shane, as long as you don't take shit from people like me. Promise me that you won't? And I am really sorry about the things I said. Don't take crap like that from me. Hell, from anyone." "What . . . what situation with Shane?" Bunny asked. The girl looked so relieved at the apology that it surprised Shamira. 'Does what I think really matter that much to her?' she thought. "It's a private matter. Listen, you'll be a great enforcer. Something tells me that you've been good at everything you've ever tried. Just ignore me, listen to Henry and Sebastian and Bjorne and Yosyp, and you'll be just fine at this too." "Thanks," Bunny said, her smile back in full force. The girl just had so much positive energy . . . it was amazing. "Hey, wanna go grab something to eat?" Shamira's stomach grumbled angrily, but she shook her head. "Maybe later. There's someone else I have to talk to." "Okay. Maybe breakfast? Or whatever the hell it is we call the meal we have right before dawn?" "Maybe. I'll let you know later." Shamira felt bad about lying. No reason to try and develop a friendship that will only last four days. She was dreading the one she knew she still had to end. Before she could find Clara, her search was interrupted by a couple of phone calls. One was from her sister, who seemed to be on much more solid ground than she had right after she discovered her husband's infidelity. Patrick had apparently planned on trying to take the kids and everything and even get child support, despite the fact that he'd been the one cheating, but he had suddenly withdrew a lot of his requests. Samantha thought his attorney must have talked some sense into him. And apparently that Clyde had dropped by her clinic several times to check on her, and she was getting a lot of business from the were community in Huntsville. Shamira hadn't known the community was that big, though it apparently involved most of northwestern Alabama, some of northeastern Georgia, and even southwestern Tennessee. Shamira found herself wondering if Clyde had anything to do with Patrick's sudden compliance to the rules of decorum. If so, she owed him a big thank you. The second call was from Arthur Blanks, part of the married couple that were Shamira's only official donors. She hadn't even thought about them since deciding to leave. If she was exiled from Shane's territory, they would go back into the candidate pool, and she doubted anyone else would see them for their worth. Arthur was just calling to confirm a date for the next feeding. They worked out a time for the next day, and it broke Shamira's heart to know that she'd be dumping them too. They deserved better. She was glad to hear Arthur's voice though. He sounded surprisingly energetic. She wondered how he'd feel when he found out that she was leaving. She finally found Clara running laps around the golf course and since the girl looked tired, she must have been doing it for a long time. "What the . . . Shane said he wasn't letting you out until ten! I wanted --" "It's eleven," Shamira interrupted. Clara looked down at the watch that she just realized that she wasn't wearing. "I wanted to get cleaned up and be there and make sure you had at least one friendly face when you got out." "There wasn't anything friendly about any of this," Shamira replied, looking away. 'Just say what you have to say,' she told herself. "I heard about you getting thrown into a cell too. You didn't need to do that. You should've just stayed out of it." Clara stared. "Are you mad at me?" "No," Shamira said quickly. "I just feel bad enough for Bunny getting hurt in all this, and I don't want anyone else to suffer. Like I told her, this is between him and me." Clara grabbed her companion by the vest, picked her up and pinned her against a tree. Needless to say, it wasn't a reaction that Shamira had been expecting. "Listen to me and listen good," Clara said, her voice low and edgy, "What matters to you matters to me too. Yeah, I believe in rules, and sometimes it bugs me that we can't do more. Yeah Shane's incredibly progressive, but he can be just as stubborn in some ways as . . . well, as stubborn as you. He thought that he'd been too lenient in some ways up until now, but I thought he overdid it. We've always been allowed to question him, assuming we do it with some tact. But you're so powerful that he overcompensates, and I know you! I know you better than he does. There's no way that you were going to just stay there complacently, come out and say you learned your lesson and that you'd behave. Tell me that I'm wrong! Tell me that you aren't thinking about leaving." Shamira was a little nervous. Okay, she was terrified. Not only that a woman thirty or more pounds lighter than her was holding Shamira a foot off the ground, but by the fact that Clara knew . . . somehow, that this woman knew her better than she'd ever let anyone know her. "Yeah, I'm leaving." Shamira pried Clara's hands away and dropped to her feet. "He asked me to give him until the meeting was over, but I can't see staying in this house." "And me?" Clara whispered. "So do I get to factor in to your decision?" "You've already gotten into trouble because of me, and I don't want that to happen. Besides, do you really want this? Me getting shoved into that box just for being myself? I can't look at most of the people in this house anymore, and I certainly don't feel . . . anything towards them," she continued, waving her hands. Why did Clara have to make this so difficult for her? "Two days. I feel like such a weakling because it only took two days to completely fuck with my head." "Most people don't get stuck in solitary before they really understand. You were still so angry. Like I said, you're powerful, and Shane's so damn concerned about making sure that you behave responsibly that he isn't even hasn't realized that you are responsible. One day or two days shouldn't matter, but only if you're going to use the time to actually reflect, not stew in your own anger. And don't be too hard on the rest of the house --" "They watched me get stuck in there, and they even helped. They don't give a damn --" "They do too care!" Clara said, backing Shamira up. "I told Shane I thought he'd made a mistake. So did Bunny and Sebastian and Yosyp and Renata and Banshee --" "Renata and Banshee?!" Shamira shouted, taking a step forward. "Before you start, think about their positions," Clara pleaded. "Renata is Shane's chief of security and Banshee is his assassin. They have to do what he says, and both of them walked back to his office afterward and told them they thought he was wrong. You think the secret service will avoid protecting the president just because they disagree with his policies?" "So if everyone was so offended, why were you the only one who got stuck in a cell?" Shamira said, unable to really question this logic. Clara, in spite of her rant, looked sheepish. "I was the only one who threw a lamp at his head and called him a dumbass." She dug her foot into the ground, making herself almost appear as the eighteen-year-old girl she had died as. "That was probably pushing my luck a bit." "You actually threw a lamp at him?" Shamira found it hard to be angry or cynical when picturing this gorgeous creature hurling furniture at her boss. It was just so . . . preposterous. "It was an antique too. It's why I grabbed it. I was actually trying to make a point of what happens when you destroy something priceless just because you're being pissy. Seriously, I know you've heard this, but people have to obey rules they don't like all the time, and sometimes people get hurt. I think you know that. But you've seen the faces of the victims and you've seen what happens to them and you're too damn passionate and wonderful that you can't let it go." "Wonderful?" Shamira asked mid-rant, but Clara wasn't done. Clara put her hands on her friend again, this time more gently. "You need to stay because you were right. You need to stay because someone needs to keep everyone else honest, and you have to stay --" "Clara, I came out of that cell, I looked at Shane, and I can't imagine ever wanting him to touch me. And I'm so damn mad at him that it sucked all the energy out me. When I was human, I was used to doing the right thing and getting ignored, but to do it and be punished?" Clara was looking pained. "Like I said, Shane fucked up. But I know him and I know he'll make amends somehow." "Bullshit. All he cares about is his image." "That isn't true! Okay, image is part of his job but it isn't the only thing. He spends most of his days finding homes and arranging new lives for magical beings immigrating to the United States. He keeps the peace and makes sure everyone obeys those laws he was talking about, and he keeps the magical world from being exposed. He just inherited one of the most important territories on the planet, and he spends a lot of time trying to get his secret weapon ready." "What secret weapon?" Clara just stared at her for a moment. "You really don't get it, do you? You! You're the secret weapon." "I'm not that much --" "Shamira, you're faster and stronger than any fledgling vampire I've ever heard of. In a world that lives in the dark, you heal quickly, see everything, and can go anywhere. The one excuse I'll make for Shane in this is that the idea of you, with three different Shadow Aspects, running loose through the land with a sharp mind and a chip on her shoulder . . . well, that's something else you should be able to understand. He can't allow vigilante justice, no matter how much he wants to. Please, just think about this before you make your decision." Clara paused again. "And think about me. Damn it, I don't want this thing between us to be over. I haven't even gotten that first date." She turned and started to head back to the house, but she stopped after a few feet. "I still want to share a bed with you, but I won't kiss you again if it means that I'm kissing you goodbye. I can't handle that." Then she left. Shamira was stunned. She had known how she'd felt about Clara, but she'd underestimated the girl's feelings about Shamira. Again, she found herself cursing Shane for putting her in this position. She gave Clara a head start because both women needed a chance to cool off. Before she got back to the house, she saw Sebastian waiting in the shadows next to the house. To Protect and Serve Ch. 08 "You want something?" she asked. "You, secured to a wall and glowing with sexual satisfaction," the dashing werespider said, "but given the circumstances, I'll settle for a talk. If you're up to it." Shamira nodded. "I'm tired and I'm hungry, so make it quick." "Shane asked me to take over the investigation," he said. "Looking for the morning star trade." She nodded again. She suspected as much. "Congratulations," she said, not meaning it at all. "I told him I didn't want it. It's your baby, the ideas are yours --" "Sebastian, don't cross him because of me. YOU at least have a real future here." "So do you," he replied. "Listen, I try to avoid being serious whenever possible, so feel free to revel in the moment. I've always respected cops, and I for one think you're a great enforcer, especially since you've only been at it for a little over a month now. Except for dealing with Shane, you've got some great diplomatic skills. Anyway, when Shane tried to get me to take it and I tried refusing. He kept after me, so I told him I'd only do it if you stayed on. Renata told me about how she worked with you before and I figured we could keep the same working relationship. I'm beginning to think there's something to Lacroix being involved." Despite her wavering desire to leave, Shamira's interest was perked. "How so?" "Those guys we tangled with had three decked out patrol cars, magical detection devices, and specialized weapons. None of that shit comes cheap, and I haven't heard about anyone in Macon who had that kind of stroke. Any bigwigs wouldn't be able to stay off of Shane's radar, but Lacroix is a lord. He would have the resources, and you did say that the disappearances started closer to Savannah." "True. How much money does Lacroix have?" "I don't know. And apparently he isn't required to report it to Shane. Shane could request the information through the Tribunal, but then Lacroix would know he was being audited." Something tingled in the back of Shamira's mind. "Kira," she muttered. "Who?" "Kira Blanks. She's one of my donors, and she works for one of those big financial firms downtown. I don't know if Lacroix does business with her company, but she might know how to find this stuff out. I could barely do my own taxes." Sebastian grinned. "I haven't paid taxes since I got transformed. All my jobs have been under the table. Until now at any rate. Shane seems to want more stuff to be above table than most of my employers." "Cheating bastard," she muttered, but her mind was somewhere else. "I don't know if it's appropriate to involve a donor in vampire business though." "Yeah, because that stops you all the time." Shamira glared at him, but he just grinned back. "I've knocked you out once before you know." Even as she said it, she realized that she'd miss this wholly gorgeous and arrogant punk-ass. "Listen, I'll ask Kira how we could hypothetically trace this info down, but I don't want her getting involved if there's a chance she'll get hurt. I'll pass it on to you and you can do with it as you will. Take Shane's offer," she said. "You're a good guy. Sometimes. When you're not being a putz." "A glowing recommendation if ever I heard one." He stepped aside to let her by. "Oh, Bunny was looking for you. It looks like she's attempting to make enough breakfast to feed a small army and was wondering how many pancakes you wanted." "Good grief." Shamira rolled her eyes and headed inside. Shamira found Bunny in the kitchen, and she was making a mess that was giving the cooking staff a fit. But the girl's natural enthusiasm was winning them over, and some even began to help. Bunny's mouth was apparently connected directly to her long-term memory without the benefit of a filter, so she told everyone absolutely everything about her, though she stopped often when other people had something to contribute. Several people showed up for breakfast, though they and Shamira avoided conversation with each other. Renata and Banshee both looked like they wanted to, but respected the cold vibe that Shamira was giving off. Only Bunny seemed oblivious to it. Finally, the silence grew too uncomfortable. Shamira thanked Bunny and then wandered away. She wanted to go back to the room, but wasn't sure she was ready to deal with Clara. There wasn't anyplace that she really felt at home. And damn, was she tired. Vampires didn't require as much sleep as humans or weres, but she hadn't been able to sleep much at all in her cell. She walked through the house, hearing the distant din of leather lashing against flesh, chains rattling, orders being given, and moans being made. Things she would miss. Things she already missed. Eventually she lay down on a recliner in the back corner of the lounge and fell asleep almost instantly. She woke up an hour after sunset, feeling only slightly better rested that she had before. Around the house, her ears began picking up the sounds of training. The time for pleasure would come later . . . after the chores were done. Shamira didn't give a crap. She was going to go meet her donors in a few hours and talk to Kira about helping spy on Lacroix. Then the intercom came on and Shane's voice told everyone to meet in the den to discuss the meeting. She didn't want to go, but she'd made a promise. She was on the job until the day after the big meet-up, and wouldn't put it past Shane to lock her up again if she didn't show. Shamira had no intention of missing her appointment with the Blanks. She walked into the room and saw that most everyone was there, and pretty much everyone glanced at her silently. Each gaze carried a silent inquiry, and each inquiry went unanswered by Shamira. Clara was the only one who didn't look, though there was an empty space next to her on the couch. Shamira stood at the back of the room, leaning against the wall and waiting. Shane walked in last, and he was flanked by a number of people Shamira didn't know . . . about two dozen of them. They turned out to be other vampires that Shane had changed, as well as some weres in his employ. These were those that worked for him but weren't officially part of his house for one reason or another. Bringing up the rear was Travis McNeil, the head security guy from Prometheus, and all of Shane's human security forces. The werebear looked every bit as massive now as the last time they'd met, and he wound up settling against the wall next to her. He nodded to her, but didn't say anything. Shamira appreciated his silence. "Okay everyone," Shane said, "this is how everything is going to go down. Guests will start arriving tomorrow, and we are responsible for their safety while they are in our territory. Most of them will be bringing their own security contingents, but I still want everyone on their guard. We'll be getting the canopy set up outside, and that's where the meeting will be taking place. We'll have about a hundred guests, and then we've got the far-reach spell. For those who don't know what a far-reach spell is, it's pretty much a WebEx for the magical world. We'll be talking to lords and Tribunal members all over the world, so I want everyone on their best behavior. Anyone who instigates a conflict without warrant will be punished harshly. Best dress, best behavior, and total vigilance." He looked over at Renata, who took her turn to step forward. "Members of the house will be teamed up, with each dominant having at least one submissive on leash. Submissives, be on your best behavior. You may be stared at or ogled, but you should be used to that. But you have every right to defend yourself if someone tries to take liberties. Our guests know that our subs are just that . . . ours. You may be asked to entertain one of our guests at Shane's discretion, but ONLY at Shane's discretion. We look after our own." Renata's glance fell briefly on Shamira, then she looked away and continued. "Clara and Lillian will be maintaining the wards from the casting chamber, so they'll not be topside." "Oh, we'll have some magical help for them," Shane murmured, also glancing at Shamira. At that point, a little green flitting ball of light shot out from behind a fern. "This is Princess Coramen, faerie and sorceress of the colony of Golden Grass. She is here on generous loan from Golden Grass, with the help of our allies from the faerie colony of Nature's Blessing. The faerie presence at this meeting is somewhat unprecedented, as both the colonies that I just mentioned will have delegates. So please, make sure that your knowledge of faerie customs is up to snuff." Shamira had mixed feelings about this. She was shocked to see Coramen, but was happy that somehow Shane had gotten a hold of them during Shamira's incarceration and had arranged to give the girl an audition. But she was also angry, because there wouldn't have been a faerie alliance without Shamira, something which Shane seemed to have forgotten. Or maybe he just wanted to take credit for it. "The faerie presence will be to our advantage," Renata said, watching Coramen settle on Shane's shoulder. The little person seemed to be looking around, finally noticing Shamira, she started to wave, but stopped when Shamira turned her head. Renata continued with, "In an outdoor setting, their magic is powerful and it's hard to hide from them." "Their Majesties from both Golden Grass and Nature's Blessing express their honor at being included," Coramen shouted, her tiny voice projecting nicely through the room. "The faeries feel we need to become more involved in the magical community, and appreciate the house of Lord Stapleton taking us in as allies." Shamira suppressed a snort. 'Great,' she thought,' now even Coramen is giving him credit.' "We welcome the aid of the faeries," Shane said, offering his tongue as greeting. Coramen accepted. For a moment, Shamira hated them both. Renata nodded. "With a shaman, a necromancer, and now a sorceress, we'll be as protected magically as we can get. And don't forget that Jeremiah will be keeping an eye out, so we think we've got that angle handled. Travis," she added, pointing towards the werebear, "will be organizing human security in real-time, and he'll be in the security control room unless the shit hits the fan." "All enforcers and assassins are on standby for the next two days. The Tribunal representative will be arriving, but we won't know until that person is in the air. Henry will be running that show, so he'll explain how it's done." "All y'all come talk to me after Shane wraps up. I'll explain the game," Henry said. Shane looked around. "I want everyone to familiarize yourselves with the grounds and security measures by Monday. We're going to drill, plot, and plan every contingency. Members of the house will work with remote employees to make this happen. Everyone, take your jobs as seriously as you have ever taken them, because this sort of even could make or break this house and everything it wants to accomplish. That's all for now. Enforcers and assassins, remember to talk to Henry before you disperse." Shamira scowled. If Shane meant "on standby" to include not going to visit her donors for probably the last time, he could kiss her ass. What was he going to do? Fire her? There were a dozen or so people that she didn't recognize who acted as Shane's enforcers in the outlying areas of his territory. They were stretched thin since he inherited the extra land, but he was working on expanding that part of his empire as well. Shamira realized just how powerful Shane must be . . . he had a veritable army of very dangerous people at his beck and call. Henry explained that they'd be playing a shell game, taking four identical black SUVs and one limo. The limo might or might not be a decoy, as they would decide when they got there which vehicle the Tribunal member would ride in, dividing up the rest of his or her staff as necessary as well as Shane's people. Everyone was to wear body armor and be armed and ready to go the entire time, even when sleeping. Shamira rolled her eyes. 'No chance in hell,' she thought. Henry dismissed the group, but put a hand on Shamira's shoulder. "Listen, what's going on between you and Shane sucks, but I need your head in this. You can see stuff the rest of us can't." "Yeah yeah," she replied. "Shadow sight and all that." "Actually, I meant just suspicious activity. I'll trust good old-fashioned training over those fancy super powers of yours any day," Henry said with a grin, though he didn't get one in return. "Whatever. I'm going to go visit my donors now, so --" Henry looked annoyed. "Did you not hear anything I just said? Armor and armory until we get the Tribunal member back here safe and sound. Don't go pissing Shane off just for the hell of it. That doesn't mean you have to back down to him all the time, seeing as I know that's not your style when it comes to your work, but the time goes by a lot faster when we aren't at each other's throats." Shamira realized that Henry didn't know she planned on leaving, hence his misinterpretation of her indifference. "I promised them I'd come, and I'm keeping that promise." "You made a promise to Shane too. You promised you'd act as his enforcer in whatever capacity you could, and he's called on you." He put both hands on her shoulders. "No matter what you might think of him right now, I need you to be a professional. If it helps, don't think of doing it for him, but maybe doing it in spite of him." Shamira just glared. Henry had nailed a very sore spot for her, which was her pride. Shane had wounded it, but that didn't excuse her going back on her promise. 'Four days,' she thought. 'Just four more days.' "Fine. At least let me call them and let them know why I'm letting them down," she said, hoping her words stung just a little bit. She whipped out her cell phone and walked away; Arthur picked up after the second ring. He sounded disappointed that she was canceling, but understood when she explained that she was going to apparently have to work for four days straight. She promised she'd come visit them next Tuesday, even though she knew she'd have to get Shane to agree and give her one more day. She'd consider it her severance package, since she didn't want anything else of his. She still had fifteen-thousand dollars tucked away from when she and Henry busted those drug dealers, which would help her get set up wherever she was going. A nice apartment, a used car, and enough money until she found some new kind of employment. Then she asked to talk to Kira, who also sympathized with having to work too hard. Shamira asked how hard it would be to trace someone's finances, particularly if they didn't bank at all. Kira sounded almost giddy at the prospect of doing some investigation. Apparently, she and a lot of the people she worked with check out the stocks and financial prospects of celebrities and the like for fun on their coffee breaks. She did it all the time, and promised she could even hunt down a lot of info if they banked elsewhere. Shamira promised to provide more information when they met in person. She didn't add that it would probably be their last meeting. She'd make sure that Sebastian had their contact number. She just hoped someone else would pick them up as donors. "Hey!" Coramen shouted, flying up when Shamira got off the phone. "Thank you so much for recommending me to Lord Stapleton!" The little faerie got this sparkly look in her eye when she said, "Isn't he dreamy?" "Yeah. A real peach," Shamira said. Coramen looked concerned. "Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?" 'Besides complimenting the enemy?' was the silent response. "No, you didn't. Hey, I hope it works out for you. Any problems getting up here?" "Nah. I followed the magic streams all the way up, paid my respects to their Majesties at Nature's Glory, had sex with that cute Captain of the Guard . . . what's his name?" she pondered, scrunching up her cute little face. "Thorias," Shamira replied, smiling a bit in spite of herself. "He's a good guy." "Very good," Coramen replied wickedly. Were all faeries perpetually horny? "Listen, I gotta go get geared up. I'm on call for the foreseeable future." "Okay. I need to go find that Lillian person. She and Clara and I are going to adjust this freaky ward system of yours. You guys have some serious mojo! That weird magical web that you have is wickedly cool!" "You have fun playing with magic," Shamira finished, touching tongues with her much smaller counterpart. She watched Coramen quickly locate Lillian and Clara, flitting over and landing on Clara's shoulder . . . that beautiful, smooth-skinned shoulder. Clara looked and started to smile, then her face fell for a moment before she smiled again. Coramen wasn't who she'd been expecting to touch her there. Clara didn't look over. Shamira walked away. Shamira went and got into her armor, then picked up the rest of her gear. She had one whip wrapped around her waist as usual and the bullwhip hanging off the side. She had two shoulder holsters, each sporting a 9mm with silver hollow-points. A couple of knives in her boots and a double-barrel, silver buckshot shotgun slung over her back made her feel like picking a fight. Probably not the best thing for her current frame of mind, but Shane had been the one to demand it. The second she stepped out of the armory, she found herself face to face with a half-dozen people she'd never met before. "Lord Stapleton said that you'd show us the ropes," one young man said. He smelled like humanity and Irish Spring, and Shamira really had no patience for this. 'What is he thinking?' Shamira wondered. It was Henry's words that got her mind back on track, but she didn't have to pretend to like it. A woman spoke up. "I believe our assignment is supposed to be the patrolling the golf course. Shouldn't be so hard." Shamira glared at her. "I've played that course. Were you ever my caddy?" "No," the woman replied, looking slightly perplexed. "Lord Stapleton's caddy? You've played those holes then? No? Well then you don't have a damn idea what you're talking about. We've got a couple of miles of perimeter, some heavily wooded areas, and a lot of places to hide. I've already been in one fight out there, and it wasn't fun. The house and the meeting area can be accessed easily from the course. Keep that in mind before you put up your hammock and take a nap." 'Damn,' Shamira thought, 'I'm being extraordinarily bitchy aren't I?' The girl was looking suitably chastised, so Shamira led them outside. It turned out that there were a couple of human trackers, both former military, and a bunch of werewolves in this group. They had great senses of smell and were highly territorial, so they'd do just fine. They went over not only where possible points of access were, but also what can be seen from the exterior. Not everyone would be going for direct harm: spying was an option. It turned out that everyone, including the woman she'd snapped at, wound up taking their jobs incredibly seriously. The woman, a werewolf, was an avid hunter and had a keen eye. Shamira felt bad about snapping, so she made her a patrol captain. All in all, they proved that Shane seemed to know what he was doing when he hired them. And she knew she'd miss this. She released her troops in time for midnight meal, but decided to keep patrolling the area herself. The werewolf she'd yelled at, whose name was Mindy, offered to help, but Shamira sent her with the others. They needed to bond with the others. Shamira wanted to be alone, and since there was no requirement to eat with the others, she put her feet to walking. She was looking at the moon and the lights, sketching a map in her head of the deepest shadows . . . the ones easiest for her to jump through and to heal in. And . . . and she wasn't alone in the darkness. To Protect and Serve Ch. 09 Proofread by FernieLyn This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these character and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author. This story is based in an alternative universe. In this world, the creatures which we now believe to be legends have walked alongside man for the duration of our existence. The following story contains, in one chapter or another, lesbian, homosexual, heterosexual, anal, group, sci-fi/fantasy, non-human, and BDSM sexual activity. ---------------------- ------------------------ "Well, that went well," Shamira muttered as the crowd continued to yell and scream at each other at the tops of their lungs. Five minutes ago, a magically broadcast meeting arranged by the Tribunal, a council of magical creatures, had just announced to the mystical community that they would indeed be implementing a plan to make their presence known to the human world. Shamira thought things were going well, based primarily on the fact that no one had actually killed anyone else yet. Yet. Every submissive in Shane's house had been paired up with a dominant for the meeting, and they were all in their best BDSM uniforms. Shamira had been paired with Sebastian and they both looked quite fetching. Sebastian wore white leather breeches and a matching vest, both of which showed off his drool-worthy underwear-model's body. Much to her surprise, Shamira was getting a lot of attention as well. She was wearing a leather thong underneath a black spandex, fishnet body stocking. She also wore a spandex mask that completely covered her face except for her mouth. The area over the eyes was thin enough that she could see out but no one could see in. Shane had explained that he didn't want Lacroix, his rival from Savannah, to see her face since she was actively investigating him now. His acquisition of Sebastian's services were well known enough that there was no point in trying to disguise him. For one of the few times in recent days, Shamira and Shane had been in agreement. Shamira had been ogled and propositioned constantly since guests started arriving. She had kept her head bowed and let Sebastian deal with them. He pawed her frequently and publicly, but would no allow anyone else to touch her. She didn't mind, which surprised her. It helped that Sebastian made her feel sexy when he showed her off, pointing out the chiseled body she had worked so hard on when she was alive. Still, Shamira would rather have been paired with Clara, but her lover as well as Lillian and the faerie Coramen were busy in the casting room keeping the wards up, the far-speak spell going, and generally keeping an eye on things. "Keep quiet, my pet," Sebastian muttered, his hand resting on her ass and then squeezing. "I'd hate to have to punish you later." "You're already planning on punishing me later, Master Sebastian. You laid claim to me." He squeezed her ass harder. "Yes, I did." He cocked his head. "I'm going to make it so that you're too tired to do anything with Clara." Shamira grinned a little. They both knew that was a hollow threat. Since she and Clara had made up several days earlier after a tense spell, there wasn't anything that kept them from sneaking in some sex whenever possible. Sometimes Shamira was on her knees in bondage, sometimes it was much more akin to "making love," but it was always fabulous. "Of course you will." Sebastian smirked. Hell, he'd been invited to play with them a time or two, but nothing short of a crowbar wielded by a giant was going to pry those women apart unless they wanted to. He glanced over and saw Shane debating the proposed policy with a number of other regional leaders. Renata was at his side as his submissive, and the Representative stood on his side of the issue. Shane and Sebastian locked gazes, but Shamira looked away. She and Shane were still not on the best of terms. Shane looked disappointed, but then returned to the debate. Worldwide, there was great division on this issue. A vocal and still sizable minority vowed that they would never accept the edict, another group thought it was a good idea but that it was too soon, and yet another that wanted to do it today. Luckily, the Tribunal stepped down hard on that last option. "Well, you folks certainly have riled up the bee hive, haven't ya?" Clyde Pritchard said as he moseyed over. "So where do you stand, Lord Pritchard?" Sebastian asked. Clyde frowned and then looked straight at Shamira. "Okay, why didn't someone tell him I hate that whole 'Lord" crap. It's Clyde. Just Clyde. And what's with the mask?" Sebastian leaned in. "Lord Stapleton though it wise that certain attendees not see my companion's face at this time. I would request that you keep your knowledge of her identity to yourself, as a favor to this house." Clyde shrugged his massive shoulders. "I understand. 'Course, I couldn't mistake her smell for anyone else's," he said with a grin. "You're looking lovely, young lady." When Clyde spoke to her, he looked straight into her eyes, not checking out her body once. Shamira wasn't sure whether to be insulted or thankful. It wasn't as if Clyde was hard to look at himself. Clyde looked back to Sebastian. "I'm not sure the protocol on this, but I'd like to speak to her for a moment. Alone. Trust me, I ain't going to try anything funny." Sebastian saw no harm in it, and Clyde Pritchard would be a good man to stay in the good graces of. His territory was relatively small, but it was an important refuge for weres that needed to get out and stretch their legs from time to time. Hell, the only were that Sebastian was probably more scared of was Travis McNeil, the werebear in charge of security at Prometheus. At least he worked for Shane. Clyde's voice carried weight in the were community. Sebastian nodded. "Follow me." He led the threesome out to the edge of the gathering area. "Just try and keep it brief so we can go back and keep an eye on things." Sebastian turned and engaged a young female vampire from Chattanooga in a conversation laced with innuendo. "Incorrigible," Shamira muttered through a smirk. Sebastian didn't have an off-switch for his libido. "So what's up, Clyde?" She liked Clyde Pritchard . . . he was kind of like that redneck uncle who let you ride the tractor, pet the hound dog on the porch, and eat way too much ice-cream. He could also rip a man in half when the mood struck him. For the first time since they'd first met, Clyde actually looked nervous. He rubbed the back of his head, then stroked his beard for a second as he struggled for the right words. "Listen, this probably ain't the best place --" "What? C'mon, spit it out," Shamira replied. "Well, it's just so recent, and I wasn't plannin' on askin' anytime soon. You know, not until after the dust settles and everything, but just for future reference --" He paused. Damn he looked nervous. "Okay Clyde, you're scaring me. And confusing me." He took a deep breath and then, "Once the divorce is settled and all, I was hoping to court your sister." Shamira's jaw almost fell off her face. "Excuse me?" "I know, it's too soon and all now, but . . . but your sister is a fine woman. Ain't many around with that kind of heart and spirit, and she ain't exactly hard to look at --" He stopped as Shamira stepped forward and scowled. "Diplomatic immunity!" he practically squeaked. The sound coming out of such a rugged man was almost comical. "But . . . but --" Shamira stammered. "Don't give me no guff about me bein' a werewolf and all. You're a vamp after all. And I wouldn't push myself. I know what 'no' means and I respect it." "But my sister?!" Shamira hissed. "You? But aren't you already . . . mated?" Clyde shook his head. "I lost my wife five years ago to a drunk driver. Took me a while to get over it, and I figured the kids didn't need a new mom so much as a good dad, so that's what I tried to be. But it can get a might lonely," he said. "Your sister knows what I am and don't seem bothered by it at all." Shamira was actually stunned, but mostly because she actually kind of liked the match. Clyde had a sense of honor that the asshole-soon-to-be-ex of her sister couldn't comprehend. "I don't want her in danger," was the only thing she could think to say. "Real world ain't perfectly safe," Clyde said respectfully, "but I can promise that anyone who might mean her harm will have to go through me." Shamira looked down at the ground, then back up. "Have you been harassing Patrick?" she asked, almost spitting her soon-to-be-former brother's name. "You know he and his lawyer have backed off of Samantha a lot. Seems to have started right after I asked you to check in on her." Clyde grinned. "I may have a couple of associates that might have calmly discussed the situation with Mr. Patrick outside of his place of work late at night. Just possibly." Shamira smiled back. "Give her space for a bit. And if you hurt her, you know what happens right? I wasn't allowed to go after Patrick because he's human . . . kind of . . . but your ass I can kick." "Of that I have little doubt," Clyde replied, giving an outrageously extravagant bow. "Well Lord Pritchard, I see that you've taken to sniffing at table scraps," came a voice about ten feet away. Both of them turned to see that Lord Lacroix was sauntering over. Shamira hated the fact that Lacroix was pretty damn gorgeous in an annoying kind of way. His tux fit his six foot frame well, and his short black hair played well off his flawless pale complexion. Good-looking or not, she was convinced this man was evil beyond words, and her guard was up. "Why is it that it always takes a redneck to remind a prissy-boy like you about minding your manners?" Clyde said, stepping between Lacroix and Shamira. Sebastian instantly appeared at the werewolf's side, and the two of them made an imposing pair. This caused Lacroix's security chief, a swarthy-looking vamp named Jonas, to step forward as well. "What do you want, nancy-boy?" "How droll. I'm assuming from your uncouth behavior then that you're already humping Lord Stapleton's leg and have signed on for this lunacy?" Lacroix glanced at Sebastian and sneered, but paid no attention to Shamira at all. She wanted to deck him. "This is more of zoo than a real house." Finally he looked at Shamira. "And apparently that one must be a true dog to need a mask." Sebastian's hand on Shamira's shoulder tightened to prevent her from moving forward and punching him in the nose. Insulting was acceptable behavior apparently, but beating the crap out of someone who richly deserved it wasn't. Instead, she just observed. Several others came over to join in yet another argument about the Tribunal's edict. Shamira just looked at Lacroix and his guard. There was something wrong about him, but Shamira couldn't put her finger on it. Then she used her Shadow Sight, and . . . she suppressed a gasp. That was odd, very odd. The one thing that finally got Lacroix to shut up and stop insulting everyone around him was when Shane and Alessandra came over. Lacroix's look towards Lord Stapleton was nothing short of acidic, and his opinion of the Representative wasn't apparently much higher. "Lord Lacroix," Shane said, making an effort to look down his nose at his rival, "I see that you have wasted little time ingratiating yourself into my more civilized company." "I rarely associate sleaze with civilized, but whatever makes you happy," Lacroix replied. "Lord Lacroix, you WILL show some respect," Shane said smoothly. "Even if you have forgotten how to behave around a regional lord, surely you haven't forgotten the rules for when a Tribunal Representative is around?" "Of course," Lacroix said, his voice turning to wine as he reached for the Representative's hand and kissed it gently. "Truly a flower amongst all this . . . rabble." Lacroix and Shane began to debate for the millionth time that evening, and everyone else pretty much kept out of it. Alessandra made sure that things stayed cordial, though Shamira could almost feel her dislike for Lacroix rolling off in waves. Shamira pulled on Sebastian's hand until he glanced at her. She motioned gently to one side, indicating a desire to speak with him elsewhere. Sebastian nodded and drew his slave away, cornering her against a tree and fondling her openly. It was expected for the dominants in Shane's house to treat their subs like this. Of course, it still got her a little hot . . . okay, a lot hot. "What's on your mind?" "I can see his blood," she whispered. Sebastian blinked, trying to process that statement. "Come again?" "I can see his blood inside his veins instead of just smelling it. The inside of his body is dark, and his blood . . . he can't hide what is in his blood from me. There's something hiding in his blood. I could pick it up with . . . you know," she added, rolling her eyes around. She wasn't supposed to mention any of her Shadow Aspects out loud. "Then I looked normally, and his eyes are weird. I didn't think vamps got bloodshot eyes, but his are. Just a little anyway. And he's got all these nervous twitches --" "You don't think --" Sebastian muttered, scarcely believing his ears. "You think he's ON morning star?" Shamira nodded, groaned softly as Sebastian rubbed her crotch. "Yeah, that's what I think. It makes sense. He's basically challenged Shane in defiance of the Tribunal's orders, he seems to think he's got a lot more stroke than he does . . . Doesn't morning star give you a feeling of god-like power?" "It makes sense," Sebastian replied, slapping her pussy through the leather. "You think better when you're angry or horny don't you?" he chuckled. "Yes sir," she murmured. "Sir, shouldn't we --" He grasped her crotch harder. "Don't be contrary with me. If I want to take a moment to remind you of what you are, then I will." Then he put his lips close to her ear. "As soon as the meeting breaks up, we'll talk to Shane about this." "And I need to call Kira and . . . and see if she has anything for me." Shamira bit her bottom lip as she pushed herself against Sebastian's hand, but he withdrew it. He put his fingers in her mouth, and she sucked on them like a good little submissive. "Next time we do this, your cum will be on those fingers." Sebastian pulled his hand away and led her by leash back to where Shane was arguing with Lacroix. " -- and you'll fail," the vampire from Savannah. "Maybe you've forgotten what being human was like, but I have not. Groveling in the darkness of ignorance, savage and uncouth. But maybe it will be for the best. Humans will react like the apes they are, and it will finally give us an excuse to take our rightful place at the top of the food chain." "Be careful what you say," the Representative said in voice that silenced the rest of the crowd. "Outright revolution is and will always be a direct violation of Tribunal law." Lacroix drew himself up and replied, "And you think the humans would care about your Tribunal's rules when the time comes. Maybe we should take the same frame of mind." Lacroix was impervious to the gasps of the crowd. In fact, he seemed to relish his borderline-defiance of the member of a Tribunal to her face. Lacroix's security chief stepped forward and put a hand on his employer's arm. The two locked eyes, but Shamira couldn't really get a good feel for what they were thinking. "Pardon me," Lacroix said at last. "In the heat of argument, I seem to have . . . lost leave of my manners." He bowed. "Please accept my apologies, Representative." Alessandra nodded, which was all the recognition she would offer. Shamira could tell that Shane wanted more, but violence was strictly prohibited at this meeting. The meeting began to break up, with some guests going to their quarters while others chose to return to their home ports. Shane had told everyone to meet up in the dining hall once everyone else had left, so the two of them headed there right away. They were the first ones there. "Okay, I think the first thing we should do is --" Shamira started to say, then felt Sebastian's hand grip the back of her neck firmly. He'd been playing with her all evening, never letting her know if they were off or on. When he pushed her forcefully onto the table and moved her legs apart with his foot, she knew they were on. And when he stuffed an apple in her mouth and told her to hold it -- "You should be already wet enough," he told her, unbuttoning his pants and releasing his already rigid staff. "So we can skip the foreplay." He pushed her fishnet body-stocking and thong enough to the side so that he could shove his length into her core with one swift stroke. "Now move your hips," he ordered, smacking her on the behind. "You think that I should have to work to fuck you?" Shamira pushed back and the pulled forward, using herself as an object to stroke that magnificent cock. He slapped her ass harder to spur her on, but there was only so much she could do. She knew he was probably just doing it because he enjoyed spanking her. Also because she enjoyed it. Yosyp wandered in with Valeska on the end of a leash. "You realize that we eat off that table?" he asked, his amusement obvious even with his accent. "You think this is the first time this has happened?" He smacked Shamira's ass harder. "A lot worse has been done on this table, I assure you." "Perhaps we could explore some of those 'worse things'? Valeska, strip," he ordered. The Chilean assassin slowly slithered out of her clothes, managing to look both shy and sultry at the same time. Yosyp whispered something in her ear which caused Valeska to get a massive grin. Slowly, the woman began morphing into a really, really . . . really . . . big snake. Shamira hadn't seen Valeska's animal form, and she was quite intimidated by the twenty-eight foot anaconda slithering down the table toward her. "Just let her do what she's going to do," Yosyp said. Shamira was wondering what Valeska was supposed to do, then remembered the conversation she'd had with the assassin on a mission downtown. Valeska began to slowly loop herself around Shamira, then began to roll. Soon, there was nothing visible of the vampire's body between the waist and neck, and Shamira was powerless to move. Super strength or not, she could feel an unnatural power in Valeska's snake body that was a bit frightening. But Valeska was as much a tool now as Shamira herself, living bondage gear for their amusement. With Shamira suitably restrained and still basically bent over the table, Sebastian plunged back into Shamira while Yosyp knelt on the table, undid his fly, and let his cock poke out. Semi-rigid, he put it in the captive's mouth (after removing the apple of course) and ordered her to bring him to full size. Shamira hummed and sucked, feeling him grow in her mouth. It was something she enjoyed doing, and something she was proud she could do. She couldn't remember ever feeling quite so confined. All the chains, ropes, and leather in the world couldn't quite compare to her living prison. Sebastian had to do most of the work after all, since Shamira couldn't move. He didn't seem to mind as he penetrated her folds while smacking her ass with his bare hand. He was more man than Shamira thought she would ever be with. She was amused at the notion that he still didn't quite measure up to Clara in her mind. After all, her fist was still bigger than the end of Sebastian's cock, but this was still very, very good. "I'm reasonably sure this wasn't the idea behind the meeting," came Reaper's voice from the door as he led Bunny into the room. To Protect and Serve Ch. 09 "She had several good ideas tonight," Sebastian replied, filling her with his cock and himself with the sensation of a magnificent woman. "I was not meaning to complain," Reaper continued, "simply making an observation." "Shane's on his way with Renata and the Representative." This time it was Lillian making the announcement as she, Clara, and Coramen made their appearances known. Clara made a point to sit where Shamira could periodically see her, and she had a smile that let Shamira know that Clara would have her turn later. Sebastian was driving hard, angling himself to nail her sweet spot. It didn't take long before he was able to make her cum, feeling her clench greedily at him with her sex. More and more people came into the room as he continued to fuck her, digging his thumbs into her asshole and eliciting more pleasurable sensations there. Yosyp didn't seem to be in much of a rush, pulling his rod out and slapping Shamira's face with it. Sebastian felt his own climax approaching, and he made sure he was as deep as he could go before releasing his seed. It was one of those good cums where he needed a minute after the last drop had been squeezed from his cock before he could pull himself free. "Turn about is fair play," Yosyp said, pulling out of Shamira's mouth. "Valeska, change back." Shortly thereafter, there was a lean, nude, attractive woman lying on the table. He maneuvered her until her butt was on the edge of the table and her legs were spread to accommodate him. Then he looked at Sebastian. "Might I borrow your pet for a bit?" When Sebastian nodded his consent, Yosyp had Shamira sit directly behind Valeska, after which the weresnake leaned back against her. Shamira wrapped her muscular legs around the assassin's midsection, then Yosyp leaned over and whispered something to her. Then, Shamira whispered something to the woman in her arms. "Tap me on the arm when you want me to stop." Valeska looked confused, but that look went away when Shamira locked her in a modified sleeper hold. Valeska, as everyone in the house had been told, was seriously into asphyxiaphilia, meaning she got off on being choked or deprived of oxygen during sex. For Valeska, the ability to orgasm depended on it, so every dom in the house had been getting training in the art. Shamira knew how to choke someone out from her academy days, so she was confident she could help her friend achieve the release she needed. And she could see the eagerness in the submissive's eyes before she turned back to her master for the evening, waiting for him to penetrate her. As soon as he did, she felt Shamira's arms constrict. Shamira took it easy at first, wanting to let Yosyp build a little momentum before she started to help out. Of course he was going to tease her for a bit, pulling out, holding himself at the entrance to her body, then slamming in again. Shamira flexed her arms, cutting off her friend's oxygen supply. She held on, watching Valeska's body be used for a vampire's pleasure, inspiring her own. She felt for signs of Valeska's body weakening too much, possibly even too much to signal . . . no, there it was. The woman knew how much her body could take and lightly tapped Shamira's arm, earning herself several deep breaths of air. Valeska's body was reacting favorably to this treatment, having already developed a thin layer of sweat as her muscles tightened. After a few moments, Shamira tightened her grip again. After several sessions of this, Valeska came like an earthquake, trembling violently as her heightened senses allowed her to reach a state of heavenly bliss. "If you are all quite through," Shane said from the end of the table, "we can get to business." He was smiling though, and Yosyp, Sebastian, and even Valeska responded with good-natured grins. Shamira looked away from the boss and slid into a chair next to Clara. Shane noticed the diss, but since it wasn't blatant, he let it pass. "For the moment, there are no dominants or submissives. I need everyone thinking and speaking their minds. What do you all think of the meeting?" Each of the members of the house spoke up while Shane and the Representative listened. Many noted that the magical community was afraid and while not many took Lacroix's stance, there was serious concern about hate crimes and the retaliations they might spawn. Sebastian bypassed his turn, saying that Shamira would report the findings for that team. So when it got to be Shamira's turn -- "I'm not sure whether or not this is something I'm supposed to talk about," she started. "It involves an accusation against one of the delegates." Alessandra looked at the doors, which were promptly closes. "Princess Coramen, can you ensure secrecy? It is a common spell for faeries I believe." The little woman floated to the center of the room, chanting and gesturing. A smell of fresh pine wafted through the room on a magical breeze and then, "Done. For the moment, this room is a secret place." "Excellent. Now, Lady Shamira?" "Okay, I . . . I looked at Lacroix with Shadow Sight and I saw something kinda weird." Shane raised an eyebrow. "Define weird?" "It was like I could see his blood. Or at least something that was hiding in his blood. And the way he acted during the debates was really weird. His eyes, the way he moved . . . what if he's on morning star?" Henry growled. "That's one hell of an accusation, even for someone like Lacroix." "But it fits!" she replied excitedly. "The way he's acting is consistent with morning star's symptoms. His constant challenges to you in spite of the Tribunal's orders, the arrogance that he showed, the jittery movement, and the eyes all fit. The morning star trade could be providing the capital for all these attacks on this house." "The way that his security chief had to almost restrain him, like he wasn't in control of his own faculties, is another tell," Sebastian contributed. Shane looked deep in thought. "I am hesitant to accuse him of consuming the drug," he started slowly watching Shamira's reactions, "but if you saw something odd about his blood, then there is something warranting investigation. The financial connection is viable." He looked at Alessandra. "How much leeway is the Tribunal willing to give me in pursuing this investigation?" The Representative stood up. "There is something that you all should know. Lord Stapleton has been pushing for more authority in pursuing this issue, but the Tribunal requested that he hold back. Regime changes can be messy, and it was something that we did not want or need heading into the announcement." "This evening showed that Lord Lacroix is going to make things difficult for all of us, if not outright defying us. Any official approval for outright conflict will need a vote of the full Tribunal, but I have already been instructed that Lord Stapleton's house may do whatever it feels necessary to defend itself, its lands, and the Tribunal's interests in this region." Shane stood next to his creator. "From this moment on, I am slipping the leashes from the members of my house. Yosyp, Bunny, Bangaly, Bjorne . . . you all will work with the security team to keep the peace in my territories. Henry, I want you, Sebastian, Shamira, and the assassins to head into Lacroix's lands. Find out what he's up to and how he's financing his operations. I want to know who may be allied with him, and what his role is in the morning star trade. If it turns out that he isn't involved, then find out who is." He looked around. "Once our guests are on their way, then our job begins. Now, patrols will continue until tomorrow evening since we still have guests, so I'm canceling 'play time' until . . . Oh stop whining," he said as several "awhs" drifted up from the room. At least one of them was from Sebastian, which made Shamira smirk. She slid her hand into his lap, stroking him through his pants. 'What the hell,' she thought, 'he deserves some kind of consolation.' "Okay, you're teasing," he groaned. She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm sure you'll make me pay for it sometime." She got up and headed to the armory. ---------- ------------------ The next night . . . ---------- ------------------ "Please, come in!" Kira said anxiously, rubbing her hands on her apron as Shamira, Clara, and Sebastian stood outside the the door. She gawked a little when she saw the werespider . . . Sebastian had that effect on women. "We weren't expecting you for another hour, so I haven't had a chance to clean up yet. Who . . . who's your friend?" Shamira smiled. "This is Sebastian. I'm working with him on that investigation I told you about, so I thought you should meet since you may need to interact with him directly. Sebastian, this is Kira Blanks." Sebastian gave Kira a smile that made the girl's knees buckle, and then he kissed her hand. He knew about the condition that afflicted both Kira and her husband, but he understood it and wasn't afraid to be near them. The Blanks needed more people like that around. "Very pleased to meet you," he said. "Very meet to pleased you too," she stammered. "Okay, that wasn't even English was it? Arthur! Honey! Our guests have arrived." Arthur Blanks stumbled out of the single bedroom of the small apartment he and his wife shared. They lived frugally, saving as much money as they could for current and future treatment of the HIV that flowed in both their veins. The apartment was actually quite tidy, with pleasant-smelling candles burning on a number of surfaces, and the overall decorating theme was goth inspired. Arthur was tucking his black silk shirt into his pants "Uhm . . . hi? Okay, not the impression I wanted to make here." "It's alright. I'll tell all the other vampires that you were dark, mysterious, and dignified." Shamira introduced him to Sebastian, then they settled down for business. Kira pulled out a stack of papers that she had printed. "Okay, I looked into this guy's finances. Andrew Lacroix . . . says that he's thirty years old." She looked at her guests. "He isn't, is he?" "Not for two-hundred and twenty years," Clara responded. "Damn. How old . . . no, I won't ask. Anyway, most of his finances are tied up in real estate, and he has a number of hotels and clubs in the Savannah area. All of it seems to be above board, but then you've got his import/export business. The weird part is his exports." "What's weird about them?" Sebastian asked. "There aren't any. He seems to dish out money and the proper paperwork for bringing stuff into the country, but I can't find anything that gets shipped out." "Any idea of what he's been bringing in?" "Can't say that, but I can tell you where he's getting it. Africa is the big one on the list, but he's getting some stuff on the Middle East. I just don't find any records of him selling anything. This wouldn't be as unusual if he was simply listed as a collector, but as a business model it doesn't make any sense. What's strange is that the business STILL is reported as being in the black. Whoever he's got cooking his books is good. And there's more," she added excitedly. This was apparently the most fun she'd had in a while. "Which is?" Shamira was smiling. Kira looked incredibly energetic, even more so that during their tryst on her last visit. "I've seen people with doctors, lawyers, masseuses, and security on retainer, but this guy . . . he's got archaeologists, geologists, and even a herpetologist." Shamira looked thoughtful. "Okay, what the hell is he up to? He could be using money from the morning star trade to beef up the import/export business, but --" "What the hell would he need scientists like that for? What is he looking for in places like Africa?" Sebastian pondered. "And someone who studies reptiles?" Clara muttered. She had a really, really bad feeling about this, but she wasn't going to bring it up in front of the others. Not until she'd had a chance to research it first. "Hey Kira, you're amazing." "Yeah, you went above and beyond the call of duty on this one," Shamira said. Kira blushed. "It's okay. It's nice that someone remembers that we're still useful." She had tried to keep her tone light, but tears tinged her voice. Most of their "friends" from their prior life had faded into the woodwork the day she and Arthur had been diagnosed. "I won't forget it," Shamira replied. She glanced over at her friends, then directed her eyes to the door. Clara grinned. "Anxious, are we?" She leaned in and kissed Shamira softly before standing up. Sebastian followed suit, minus the kiss. "I can't follow that," he said, grinning at Clara. "Call us when you need a lift." Then Shamira and her donors were alone. "So, the bedroom is that way?" Shamira asked, standing up and pulling Kira and Arthur with her. Kira smiled. "Did you decide which of us you wanted to donate this time, or --" Shamira grabbed both of their shirts, and pulled them close. "I think I can handle both of you," she replied. "I'd hate to break up such a perfect pair." She stepped into the bedroom, untying her vest and leaving it on the floor. Arthur and his wife stared at the door, then at each other, then hurried into the bedroom. Shamira had unzipped her pants and laid back on the bed, waiting expectantly with her breasts jutting up proudly. Kira slid up next to the vampire while Arthur removed Shamira's boots and pants. He'd wanted the Elvira Mistress of the Dark get-up, but peeling black leather off of that sculpted body was a pretty damn good substitute. He left the thong on for the time being. He'd never thought that a woman like this would wear a thong until he remembered that she used to be a bodybuilder and had worn just as skimpy outfits on stage. He looked up and saw that Kira's eyes had already glazed over as Shamira kissed her neck. There were no fangs yet, but his wife had a serious neck fetish. He loved seeing her like this, especially since they'd never thought they could have this life again. Strangely, the disease that might kill them both had delivered them into the life they had always wanted. They thanked the Goddess that someone like Shamira had taken notice of a couple that most wanted to forget. Arthur kissed his way up the inside of Shamira's thigh until he reached her sex, then he worked his way along the other thigh. He was enjoying this too much, both what he was doing and what he was seeing his wife on the verge of cumming just from having her neck played with. Shamira pulled away and rolled onto her side. "Why don't you two play for a bit?" she said as she leaned on her elbow. Suddenly the couple was flashing nervous smiles at each other, and it was actually kind of fun for the vampire to watch. 'It's nice seeing people like this,' she thought. 'In love.' And that made her think of Clara. A lot of things made her thing of that wicked, wicked woman. After everything that Shamira had done in her short but active new sexual career, Clara was still the one that could make her want to blush. She decided to help out, lending a hand to Kira at getting her husband's pants off. When they were done, both of their heads were close to his rigid member, and they smiled at each other. Kira went first, taking it into her mouth and slurping noisily, sucking on the head and then going halfway down the shaft. Then she pulled away and let Shamira have a turn, the vamp licking that purple mushroom before swallowing him to the root. Ah, the advantages of not needing to breathe. She sucked on Arthur for a minute while Kira sucked his clean-shaven balls into her mouth. Then they switched places again. The vampire pulled back for a moment to watch Kira work her husband's shaft. She looked good . . . hell, they both did. She wasn't sure, but it actually looked like Arthur had lost a little weight, which might be cause for concern except that he also seemed less pale. And his sex drive wasn't exactly hurting, as he was grabbing his wife's hair and plunging his root into her mouth. Shamira slid her hand down Kira's back, slipping a finger between her folds as she blew her husband on all fours. She let Kira take sole control of the rod and slipped behind her, fingering the woman's sex while biting her on the ass. Then she pulled those ass cheeks apart and let her tongue do some exploring, cutting through cleft with broad strokes. Kira forgot how to blow cock for a moment. Her experience with women was limited, but Shamira seemed to know what she was doing. "Damn," she muttered, looking back for a moment. "Where'd you learn to . . . uhm, you know." Shamira smiled. "Clara is a good teacher." "Just checking. Ooh!" Kira cooed as the vampire went back to work. She gave her husband a lustful glance and then let his pole penetrate her mouth again. Shamira flicked her tongue against that hard little clit, loving how it made Kira's body shake just a little bit. She sucked on each labia, swirled her tongue deep, then when back after the clitoris with a vengeance. Kira was moaning like a banshee . . . or at least what Kira imagined a banshee would sound like. She'd never met one. Shamira got a naughty idea. She grabbed Kira's climaxing body, lifted it up, and placed it securely on her husband's dick. "What . . . are you --" Kira gasped. Then she felt Shamira's arms wrap around her from behind, lips pressed against her neck, and then -- "Oh Goddess!" Shamira's fangs dipped into that perfect skin, diving into the river of blood beneath the surface. Kira's heart felt like it might burst, but she felt no fear because that wasn't what Shamira wanted. She felt so hot that she thought her blood had become molten. It course up through her body and into Shamira's fangs, and she felt . . . every . . . single . . . drop. Kira climaxed over and over, clenching her husband's rod within her own body, connected to the man she loved. The vampire withdrew her fangs and let Kira collapse against Arthur's chest, her chest heaving like only a satisfied lover's could. The couple kissed, then both looked slyly over at Shamira. Kira slid aside, allowing for the vampire to straddle Arthur's lap. "I don't think I'm going to last much longer," he gulped, blushing a bit at the admission. "You'll last long enough," Shamira replied. She sank down on to him and without missing a beat, sank her fangs into his neck. Each small movement of their hips away and then back towards each other felt like a jackhammer blow, and Arthur's sweat conducted his heat into her body. He came quick and he came by the gallon, but he didn't shrink until Shamira pulled her fangs away. Then she reached up and dragged a nail along each shoulder, letting a bit of her own blood flow up. Kira and Arthur each attached themselves to a shoulder and tasted briefly of Shamira's blood, thrilled that they got to be, even if just for a moment, the kind of being they had idolized for so long. Shamira got dressed and they said their goodbyes after Kira had promised to do a little more discrete digging into Lacroix's finances. Clara and Sebastian showed up in the parking lot a little while later, with Sebastian looking annoyed and Clara looking like the cat who'd just had a saucer of milk. "I'm just saying," Sebastian was mutter as Shamira climbed into the car, "that us weres need something equivalent!" "Equivalent to what?" Shamira asked. "Donors. I mean, the vamps all get the house sex, then you vamps get a steady stream of somethin' somethin' on the side. Hell, you're encouraged." "We NEED donors, you whiny bitch," Clara said, sounding vulgar and prim at the same time. "You can get all the action you want outside the house." "If I want to get something but things are busy, I can't go," he explained. "You, on the other hand, are obligated to go get blood, and all of y'all pretty much turn it into nooky." To Protect and Serve Ch. 09 "Please! You can fuck Shamira any time you make a reservation, and you're worried about not getting enough?" "Okay, that's a valid point, but --" Shamira glared at both of them. "Sitting right here!" Clara leaned over and kissed her. "I know." They went on to discuss the finer points of being able to have their way with Shamira's body, and she really had nothing else to contribute. It wasn't as if she really minded. Apparently, Clara had gone off to meet with one of her donor's as well, meaning Sebastian was the only one of them that had gotten any that night. "Shamira, I was thinking we need to take a road trip. I want to check out Lacroix's warehouse, as much of his residence as we can, and come up with a pattern of his movements. From the way things sounded when the meeting ended, he's probably pretty pissed right now, so he might make a mistake. Shamira nodded. "When do we leave?" "This afternoon, I think. Banshee and Henry are older vamps, so they can sleep on the way down. Probably take two nondescript cars, loaded for bear." "Afternoon, huh?" Clara said. "I guess that means I'm going to have to trump ownership of you," she murmured, giving Shamira a steamy look. "You may be gone for a few days --" "Hey!" Sebastian yelped. "I had dibs!" "You had her last night. And besides, what part of 'trump' don't you understand? I saw her first. Literally." Sebastian was grumbling. "I'm sure there's something in the rules about slave-robbing." "There is. Seniority. And the only ones who have more seniority than me are smart enough not to try and take her away from me if I might not be seeing her for a while." Shamira's heart gave one of those rare, involuntary thumps. That was the most romantic thing anyone had said about her. Which was kind of odd, the more she thought about it. They got home, Shamira and Clara hoping to get a few minutes to themselves before Shamira had to get ready, but they had a message waiting for them. Shane and the Representative requested Shamira and Sebastian's presence They headed over to a small conference room off of Shane's office. The Representative, Henry, Banshee, Reaper, and Valeska were already there, and Shane wanted to discuss the upcoming foray into Lacroix's territory. They were there for about an hour, hammering out times, places, and communications strategies. Then everyone was dismissed except for Shamira, and soon she was alone with Alessandra and Shane. "Yes ma'am?" Shamira asked. The Representative smiled. "I was hoping you might join us for a bit. I sense that there is still some tension between you and Shane, and would like to help resolve it." Alessandra waited for a moment, sensing reservation on the young vampire's face. "For the time being, you can say anything and fear no reprisal. This is at my behest." She smiled. "I'll even say 'please' if it makes you feel better." "Representative, I know you mean well, but my issues with Shane are just that . . . with Shane." "But your issues are unresolved, and I cannot have that. Not now, not with so much at stake." Alessandra stepped forward and met Shamira's gaze. "This is not about petty rule disputes anymore. This is about putting our foot firmly down of the snake in the garden of Eden. Not only is Lacroix a possible dealer in the most diabolic substance in our community, but he has been openly defiant of his regional lord and of the Tribunal. We need to do more than defeat him. We must make an example out of him." "Yeah, I get it. Anyone who challenges the system gets squashed." Shamira could hardly believe it, but for a moment she empathized with her enemy. Then she felt disgusted with herself. "It's not the same thing and you know it," Shane grumbled. "I am at least trying to reconcile." Alessandra looked the younger woman over. "In life, was it your nature to hold a grudge like this? Are you so disgusted with Shane --" "It's not disgust," Shamira interrupted. "It's disappointment. I thought he'd be different than other bosses, but he isn't. And by whatever laws you people live by, he doesn't have to be. I'm still here because the job is important and . . . and because there are people here that mean something to me. I know that you want me to get over it and to some degree I have. I'm not mad anymore, but it doesn't mean that I trust him like I used to. And I don't feel . . . that way . . .when I look at him." "And you are afraid this might affect your working relationship?" the Representative asked. "Around here, there's not much difference between the work relationship and the house relationships. He made that perfectly clear when I first came here. Am I just supposed to lie back, spread my legs and think of England?" She noticed Alessandra's cocked eyebrow. "It's a saying I heard somewhere." "You really think that I would do that to you?" Shane looked and sounded shocked. "If you needed to show off your control to your peers, are you saying that you wouldn't? Isn't the rule in this community that appearances are everything?" Shane looked beyond offended, bordering on a dark and brooding anger. "Maybe you SHOULD leave then," he replied coldly. "Finish this job and then set you up as an independent enforcer downtown. Or perhaps Lord Pritchard would be willing to take you on --" "Lord Stapleton, would you excuse us?" Alessandra asked. "But --" "Shane, please," she continued, her voice flowing like a sweet Italian wine. As each sound passed escaped those promising lips, Shane's stiff posture melted just a little bit . . . in all places except one. "Wait for me in your workroom. I shall be there shortly." Now her voice held more eagerness than promise. Shamira was reminded of something Shane had once told her . . . his creator was also his first real submissive. That look of fondness returned as he glanced at the Representative before exiting the room. "You hurt his feelings." "Yeah, feeling really bad about that," Shamira replied flatly. "It does not strike you as strange that you could insult his leadership, his person, his culture, or even his manhood without causing a serious trespass, yet to say that he might take sexual liberties with someone less than enthusiastic is what finally does the job?" "He gets offended anytime I challenge him on anything." "He gets annoyed, yes, but not hurt. He would never take someone unwilling. To do so would violate his sense of honor at its very core. From the moment I first laid eyes on him, he has been the sort to protect those that needed it, and would never use his power to attain sexual favors. And if you were not so invested in being angry at him, you would probably acknowledge that one of Shane's visual appearance and style does not need such lowly tricks to bed a woman. Or a man, as his mood strikes him." Alessandra looked towards the door. "I do not understand your almost fanatical need to not like him. I cannot understand anyone feeling that way about him. When we are done speaking, I shall go to him and he shall do things to me that very few are allowed to, and none who do them as well. I cannot understand NOT wanting him." "How . . . how do you manage?" Shamira asked. "You're the most powerful woman . . . hell, the most powerful person that I've ever met? So how --" "Vampire culture is about age," Alessandra interrupted. "The older you are, the more powerful you become. The more powerful you become, the more responsibilities you take on. So simply surviving in our world means taking on responsibility that not all of us want. I want to continue my existence, but there are those who covet the power I possess, not understanding that I would freely give it to them if I could. I would rather stay here, in Shane's arms, bed, and chains for the remainder of my days." Her voice was soft and sensuous, and Shamira could hear deep, genuine love in every tone. "But I cannot, at least not yet. The rules need to be changed, and that will take patience, perseverance, and most importantly, passion. So you see, my desire for you to stay and help Shane has a selfish component." "Which is?" "Shane's house being the vanguard of change means that it will need direct support and supervision from the Tribunal." Shamira grinned in spite of herself. "So to help the transition go smoothly, the Tribunal sends a member such as yourself to have a more hands-on role in the process?" Alessandra nodded. "Note that this part is simply me being opportunistic. It was not as if I swayed the entire Tribunal to expose the magical realm just so that I had an excuse to come back here." "Hey, you saw an opening and you took it. So are you staying here for a while, then?" "I must return to Italy at some point to make certain arrangements, but I am in no hurry. Shane and I have much catching up to do." The elder vampire flashed a wicked smile. "And I would not be at all adverse to sharing him or being shared BY him should you someday find yourself more agreeable to being with him again." She stood up. "I am going to him now, and he will probably strap me to the barrels and do unspeakable dastardly things to me, and for a while I will not have to be one of the most powerful people you have ever met. Enjoying my body will distract Shane from his current petulance." "You use a lot of big words, you know that?" "I've been alive for almost a millennium. I have received many word-of-the-day calendars in that time." Alessandra pressed a hand to Shamira's cheek. "The more I know of you, the more I am convinced that there is no better place in the world for you than right here. Perhaps when you get back, you could sit with him and talk. No apologies, no accusations, but just getting to know one another." She smiled. "Now if you will excuse me, I am sure that we both have people waiting for us." Shamira nodded and left, looking for Clara. The Native American was already naked and lying on top of the covers of the bed they shared. Shamira was spanked suitably for making Clara wait, and then both those cheeks were nibbled on until the muscular woman almost came from just the touch of her lover's teeth. There were many more games to play for them, but they kept it light for the evening. When both were sated several hours later, Clara reminded her of a promise. "When you get back, we're having that first date, dammit." Shamira had grinned. This relationship, the weirdest she had ever been in by far, just always managed to make her smile. ----------- ------------------ Three days later . . . ----------- ------------------ Shamira was beginning to wonder how undercover cops and agents dealt with the mind-numbing boredom of stakeouts. She'd thought that there would be cool gadgets, skulking, espionage . . . in fact, there was a lot of waiting in vehicles that slowly began to fill with junk food wrappers and Starbucks cups. The six of them had spent their first day in Savannah getting the lay of the land, and then had broken into teams to start investigating Lacroix's haunts and patterns. For some unknown reason, Henry had decided to pair Shamira with Banshee, and the two women were not exactly bosom buddies. Shamira had not spoken to the assassin since she and Renata had thrown Shamira into a cell at Shane's behest. At the moment, they were parked near a warehouse owned by their adversary, waiting for the sun to fall so that they could make their way in. It was nearly impossible, they had discovered, to keep Shamira out of a place without serious spellwork. And if Shamira could not shadow jump past them, Banshee could use her Mind Fog to walk right past guards. It was a difficult one-two punch for Lacroix to defend against, particularly since he did not know it was going on. Banshee was sipping at one of those frou-frou kinds of coffee that Shamira had no tolerance for. Coffee should have sugar in it or nothing at all in her opinion. The svelte Asian woman glanced through the binoculars at the lighted grounds, verifying how many people they were going to have to contend with. And the place was inundated with external security cameras and the like, which is why this particular place had drawn extra scrutiny in the first place. "The thing about most vampires," Banshee muttered, "is that they are too race-centric. Lacroix seems to employ humans, but he doesn't utilize them. And the lack of weres or other major magical creatures is a weakness." "So you've mentioned," Shamira replied flatly. "Doesn't explain how we're getting around these ones. These guys are all human, right? So we can't hurt them?" Banshee shook her head. "No, we can hurt them. We just can't be noisy about this, and we should at least try and avoid casualties. Human guards are not great threats to Shane, but murder investigations could be." She put the binoculars down. "So, you and Clara are getting serious, correct?" Shamira smiled a little as she looked out of the car. "I guess. We haven't really . . . Hey, since when did you care --" "Clara has been a friend for a long time, and I would like for us to be. And I bring it up because it was pointed out that you are in a better mood when you think of her. I was hoping it might make you more receptive to talking with me." Banshee's mouth quirked. "Unfortunately, social subterfuge is not a specialty of mine." Shamira scrunched up her face. "Is this really the time to talk about this?" "We have thirty minutes until sunset, and this time is as good as any. You have shown no interest in talking at any other time." "Listen, Shane's the one I want the apology from --" "That is good, because I have no intention of apologizing." Shamira was a little confused by this tact. "So then what did you want to talk to me about?" "I just wanted to talk. Shamira, I did what my lord demanded and while I disagreed with the decision, it was not evil. I would not serve him if I felt him capable of asking for truly evil things. I owe Shane more than you can imagine, and it will take more than one bad call to make me defy him." "So when push comes to shove, you'll back him? Even if he's wrong?" Banshee fixed those dark, knowing eyes on Shamira. "You speak of 'wrong' as if it were a black or white concept, and we both know that is not true. Cheating on your taxes or running a red light is on a completely different scale from draining the blood of vampires, undead, and faeries for profit. Punishing a child who did not truly deserve it by sending them to their room hardly constitutes a mutiny-worthy offense." She looked away. "I have served Shane for a hundred and sixty years. I served him unquestioningly because that was the only way I knew how to serve a lord. Those I served before would have seen me eventually drown in the blood of my victims, but it took a vampire to save what was left of my soul. Shane saw something in me worth saving, as he has with all his children." "Not all of them," Shamira said. "I mean, it seems that everyone is sane enough." Banshee's mouth quirked again, making Shamira wonder if she ever actually gave full-fledged smiles. "Henry was an alcoholic with a tendency for vigilantism, even when he was a sheriff. Bjorne suffered from serious depression and was suicidal when he was brought over." "Reaper was on the verge of becoming the worst sort of mercenary . . . the kind that had seen too much in a short life and was slowly ceasing to care. Bunny was headed towards the vapid debutante until her disease returned, and Pierre was falling into a paranoid world of shadows and mistrust before Shane first approached him." "What about Clara?" "And we return to the object of your affections," Banshee replied. "Suffice to say that Clara had . . . anger management issues. I will leave it to her to explain the details should you choose to ask. Her transformation over the last sixty-plus years has been quite remarkable, though she still has a temper." Shamira smiled, remembering when Clara told her about throwing a lamp at Shane's head. "I envy you, you know that?" Banshee continued. "For that look on your face when you think of her, or the look on her face when she thinks of you. I do not have a relationship like that. In fact, I never had. But I am content with my afterlife, and I am happy to have found the home Shane brought me into. Last but not least, I am happy to have met you. You are an insanely stubborn, incredibly appealing woman. You fear the smallest of creatures, yet you would charge head-on into battle with Dark Pools to protect people you barely know. You crave submission, yet you defy authority with almost reckless abandon. Quite frankly, you seem to have 'stirred the pot' as they say. I am glad you are here, and am still willing to put my friendship and existence in your hands. I simply want to know whether or not you value them." Shamira smiled wryly. "I don't want to see you get hurt if that's what you mean. Which is strange, because I also want to punch your lights out." "How typically American," Banshee replied smugly. "Says the former Yakuza bitch." "Touche." "Heads up," Shamira said, cutting their heart-to-heart short. An armored truck was approaching the front gate. "What the hell is that doing here? Not your usual delivery vehicle is it?" "I should think not. Can you see inside?" Shamira looked. The warehouse grounds were warded so she could not use her Shadow Sight to look in, but the armored car wasn't. Unfortunately, "No. There must be a light on inside the back. Damn it." "Remain calm," Banshee said, as the driver of the vehicle spoke to a security guard, showing identification and so forth. Her binoculars drifted downward. "How about the shadows underneath the vehicle?" Shamira looked again and sure enough, there was a dark patch under the car. "This may be our best opportunity to sneak in," she agreed. They both got out and Banshee opened the trunk for her compatriot to climb inside. "Once you are in, find a place to hide. I'll keep watch from out here. Do not use the phone unless you have to, but do not be afraid to call for backup if necessary." "I'll keep that in mind," Shamira replied as the trunk closed. Instantly she homed in on the shadow cast by the heavy carrier and jumped into it. She quickly oriented herself, spotting the guard's feet from her hiding place. She grabbed onto the frame of the vehicle from underneath, lifting herself up just as the vehicle began creeping forward again. Being a vampire had many advantages. The car pulled into the warehouse, where there were plenty of shadows to jump to. Luckily the wards were all around the perimeter, separating the inside from the outside, but allowing Shamira to move freely within the confines. She popped over to behind a stack of crates and took a looked around. It was an odd warehouse, and by odd she meant freaky. There were crates and so forth to be sure, but they were all broken and empty and carelessly discarded. In the center were dozens of large glass tubes hooked up with all sorts of random paraphernalia which Shamira couldn't recognize. Science had never been her strong suit, but science fiction was a little more up her alley. They looked like weird stasis pods or something similarly cheesy. They contained murky bluish fluid that resisted both her normal and Shadow Sight, the latter of which made her nervous. She watched as several warehouse workers moved to the back of the armored car and hauled another crate out of the back. Then two people who looked like they had slightly better breeding took over once it was loaded on a truck. These two looked more like scientists than grunt labor, and they took the crate apart with delicate precision to reveal a smaller container that was similar in sophistication to the tubes scattered around the room. To Protect and Serve Ch. 09 One of the scientists prepped an empty chamber, pressing buttons to cause the glass to lift up. Inside was a small concave stand. The other individual lifted the lid off the smaller container and reached her glove-protected hands into the thick liquid, pulling out . . . something oval. 'What the fuck?' Shamira thought. Whatever it was, it was quickly put onto the stand in the larger tube and the glass was lowered. Another few button presses and the tube began to fill with a liquid that was both chemical and magical in nature. Then the truck started up and began to turn. Shamira made a decision and, when it paused to let the warehouse doors open, she jumped back beneath it and let it carry her outside. Banshee felt the weight of the car shift. She got out and, gun at the ready, popped the trunk. "You realize that you coming back out rather defeats the purpose of us trying to sneak in." "I think I got the picture," Shamira said as she got out. "We need something with a bigger trunk. The spare tire is really not comfortable --" "And now we return to the point," Banshee said irritably. "What did you see?" She listened as Shamira gave a detailed description of what she had seen. "What did you think it was?" "An egg," Shamira muttered, her face showing her confusion. "It looked like a giant fucking egg." Just then, they got a phone call from Henry telling them to meet up at rendezvous point. As a standing joke, they always met at a Waffle House somewhere, and this time was no exception. Banshee and Shamira hurried over, moaning when they realized they were the last to arrive. Somehow, every Waffle House had a couple of uncomfortable seats at every table, so that was where the latecomers got to sit. Each team gave a quick rundown of what they had uncovered. Henry and Reaper had been tracking down businesses owned by Lacroix and listening to the local rumor mill as much as they could. The local lord had been neglecting some of his smaller enterprises for some time, and he rarely had his enforcers actually do anything to protect the general public. Sebastian and Valeska had been watching Lacroix's personal estate, noticing a relatively large number of guards for someone with the amount of territory that the vamp actually held under sway. Lacroix himself stayed holed up in his house, apparently sending his security chief Jonas to do the day to day operations. Shamira finally got to tell what she had seen, which was met with skepticism and confusion. Henry figured it would be best to get Shane on the phone and talk to him. They called up the house and soon she was explaining everything again to a mini-conference of Shane, Clara, the Representative, and Lillian. There was some muttering in the background before Shamira interrupted. "Clara, you said that you had a theory about this didn't you? Does this make sense to you?" She waited for a moment, picturing her lover thinking. "Is there anyone around to hear this?" "I'll turn the phone down, but there's no one else nearby." "The geologist, the herpetologist, the areas that Lacroix is digging, and now this? I think . . . I think that was a petrified greater dragon egg." "What?" Banshee said, leaning in and being very intense. "Why would anyone do something like that? There has not been a greater dragon since --" "Since before the pyramids were ever built," the Representative added. "Only lesser dragons survived the Dragon Wars. Well, the lesser dragons and the spirit of Shadow Wing." It was Sebastian who noticed Shamira visibly blanch. The woman really did not like being reminded of Shadow Wing and her potential role in the legacy of the last Moon Dragon. "Okay," he said, moving the conversation along, "Why would Lacroix be looking for old dragon eggs? There's no way they could still be viable, could they?" "The few times that old eggs have been found, they were nothing more than rock or shells. But for Lacroix to have spent this much time and energy . . . how many tubes did you see?" "A couple dozen," Shamira muttered. "About fifteen filled with that goo. And whatever that stuff was had some magic in it too, not just chemicals and crap. Damn, I should've tried to get samples." "You might have tipped our hand a bit early had you done so," Shane said. "Though we will certainly want to investigate this further. The question remains, if he is attempting to hatch a dragon -- " "We're left wondering why," Henry muttered. "He wouldn't want to use it as a weapon would he?" Valeska asked. "I mean, he's completely unhinged and trying to take territory." Shamira furrowed her eyebrows. "That doesn't follow though. From the sound of things, that would be WAY over the top. Once we go public, it wouldn't be quite as insane, though it still sounds like hunting mosquitoes with a bazooka. But that's a new idea, and he's obviously been up to this for a while. And masterplanning usually isn't a characteristic of drug addicts. BAD planning maybe, which this kind of is, but it's also kind of involved." "Maybe he intended to go public with or without Tribunal approval? Or maybe he was just going to threaten Shane. Even one Greater Dragon would easily tip the balance of power." "But with several, he could threaten the Tribunal itself," Sebastian whispered. Silence overtook all of them. Such an idea was unheard of, and revolutionary notions against the Tribunal were responded to with quick and generally painful death. "Regardless, " the Representative continued, "I want you to obtain one of those eggs and have it brought back here for study. Any word on the morning star trade?" "Not yet," Sebastian replied. "Lacroix never leaves his house." "But Jonas does," Shamira almost whispered, and for a moment everyone stared at her. "What if we've been barking up the wrong tree? I mean, Jonas is the security chief, right? So any stray weres or magicals that come through report directly to him. He has to know what is going on, and maybe --" "Maybe he's even behind it?" Henry leaned back. "It's worth looking into. Banshee, you and Shamira trail Jonas the next time he leaves the house. Sebastian and Valeska are going on an Easter-egg-from-hell hunt, and Reaper and I are going to start arranging for Shane's remote enforcers to get down here. I think it's time we turned the heat up under Lacroix." "Agreed," Shane said solidly. "I'll have Renata start making arrangements to move people down there." "Could we have Coramen warn her people?" Shamira asked. "If things are going to get hairy, they might want to be on their guard." "Good thinking. She wanted to go home for a bit and explain her new living situation anyway. Now she can help bolster the colony's defenses as well." "New living situation?" Sebastian asked. "Yes. Coramen will be joining the household. She has the skills and the . . . well, skills to be one of us. Very talented woman, which I'm sure she will be happy to explain herself the next time she sees you all. We'll have to set up some new rules, but I think everyone will be happy with the arrangement." "She's only four inches tall," Reaper muttered. "How . . . never mind. I figure we'll find out soon enough." "Assuming we all live through this." Inwardly, Shamira was pleased. Like Reaper, she wasn't sure how Coramen was going to be an active sexual part of the house, but weirder things had happened. Many of them had happened to Shamira. "Oh, Clyde Pritchard has been invited to participate in this hunt. He was more than happy to volunteer his people after his altercation with Lacroix, and he has great influence in the were community. And," Shane's voice became amused, "he said that Shamira might appreciate the help. What exactly did you do that's made him so interested in your approval?" "I . . . he . . . it's none of your . . . okay, he wants to date my sister." Everyone except Banshee started to snicker, and even the assassin's lips started to quirk. "I see," Shane said after a moment of silence. "Does your sister --" "He asked for permission to court her, that's all. It's still her call. And since when --" Sebastian covered his friend's mouth with his hand before she could start yelling at the boss. "We'll be in touch." He grinned as Shamira glared at him while he turned off the phone. "You heard the man. Let's get to work." ---------- ---------------------------- A few hours before dawn . . . ---------- ---------------------------- "It's about fucking time," Shamira bitched. "I thought this guy was never going anywhere." Banshee glared at her. "Yes, I am sure your time went by so much slower than mine, considering the hour long phone conversations with your sister and with Clara." Shamira suppressed a grin. "Total agony." "For one of us anyway." Banshee made a point of cleaning out her ear with one fingertip. "Let us give chase." "Let us give chase," Shamira mimicked childishly. "Who talks like that?" She started up the car. "I am beginning to think that I liked you better when you were not speaking to me." Jonas headed northwest of Savannah, finally turning off to Dublin and seeking out one of the seedier areas of town. Jonas was driving alone, which meant that he was very secure or incredibly stupid. When he pulled into what appeared to be an abandoned garage, Shamira and Banshee could both briefly make out a number of police cruisers on the interior. "Fuck!" Shamira hissed. "Just like the ones that pulled us over up north of Macon!" "And the proverbial plot thickens," Banshee replied. "We can tie Jonas to the kidnapping attempts, now we just need to tie the kidnapping to the morning star trade." They sat in silence for a while, watching the garage. Shamira was suppressing a desire to go in with guns blazing, something she had never experienced as a living beat cop in midtown Atlanta. Her hand caressed the handle of her gun as if it were Clara's leg, smooth and hard and promising her great fun. 'You are one sick puppy,' she thought. Finally, the garage door opened again and cars came streaming out and began to separate into two groups. "Crap, now what?" "There is Jonas's car," Banshee said. "He is our primary target." "But the last time we saw those patrol cars out on the road, they were going to kidnap people. Us, to be more precise. We can't let them do that." "Well what do you suggest? We only have one car, so we can't very well . . . Where do you think you're going?" Shamira was climbing out of the car, the keys still in the ignition. "I can follow one group and report their locations and activities to the new guys coming down, and you can find out where the hell Jonas is off to." Banshee's delicate features looked troubled. "I do not like the idea of splitting up while in hostile territory." The younger vampire looked away anxiously. "Listen, this could be important. What if they're off to grab someone to take to a bleeding house?" "It is too dangerous." "Our jobs are dangerous. You kill people for a living. But MY job is to protect people." Banshee sighed. "Stay out of sight, and you are only to report on their movements. No heroics." But even as she said it, Banshee realized that Shamira would do whatever she felt necessary. There was a hunger in her eyes and soul that was unquenchable . . . something that Shane did not fully understand. She would give so much of herself for other's pleasure, but this . . . this need to guard those who could not defend themselves . . . this was a part of her that she kept for herself. It made her difficult to work with, but it was what made her so special. 'No wonder Clara feels for her so,' she thought. Banshee knew what Shane would say or what Henry would say, but neither of them were here. "Be careful," she said at last as Shamira faded into the darkness of an alley and vanished into the shadow world that only she could traverse. Banshee immediately got on the phone with Henry. 'Please let me have done the right thing,' she thought. Shamira was surprised how easy that Shadow Jumping had become for her. She reached her eyesight down the road, finding shadows and sliding through them, then watching where the caravan of patrol cars was going before getting in front of them again. In the enveloping darkness of the night, she did not seem to tire as quickly, and she began to play with her aspect, appearing on tree limbs, standing on top of building or even briefly on the top of a telephone pole. She grinned as she accomplished balancing acts that a circus performer would have balked at. 'Being a vamp is kinda cool,' she thought. She trailed the caravan until it reached an area she was a little familiar with. 'This is where we were attacked. Do they really have that many strays coming through this area?' She watched as about eight cars began to take up positions near a remote intersection. She snuck away and got Henry on the phone. "Hey Henry," she whispered. "Listen, I don't know if Banshee --" "Yeah, she called. What the fuck are you thinking?! You remember the whole point of pairing up is for protection, right? "These guys are up to something!," she replied. "Listen, they're set up in a classic ambush pattern, and there's a lot of them." "If there's a lot of them, then it makes it that much important that you get your ass back here right now. You're outnumbered by an unknown quantity." "I've faced them before. Besides, don't we have more people on the way yet?" "It's going to take time to get down there. Shamira, it's too dangerous -- " "Henry, if I'm right, and they ARE here to catch some vamp or stray or faerie for the morning star trade, do you really want to be the one that let them walk into a trap?" Instantly, she could feel the chill emanating from the other end of the line. " Don't you dare use that line with me," he growled. "Not now and not ever. I know a hell of a lot more about what this fight means than you do. I want the source, and that's back here in Savannah. Now, you WILL get your ass back here in the next three seconds or --" Shamira didn't even wait until the end of the statement to express her outrage by hanging up on Henry. He wanted the big fish? 'So that's the way it is now? Screw the little guy while you go for the big prize?' Even as she thought it, she knew that she was not being fair to him, but she couldn't just walk away until she had negated this threat or confirmed that they weren't going to catch anyone this night. Her phone started vibrating before she even got it into her pocket, but she chose to ignore it. She figured she'd probably just bought herself more time in one of Shane's cells, but she could live with that a lot more easily than knowing that some innocent creature was being bled to death when she could have prevented it. Her phone stared vibrating again, so she checked it, figuring it was just Henry refusing to give up. 'Crap,' she thought. 'It's Shane. I guess I could just not answer it.' She mentally sighed and flipped it open. " Have you completely taken leave of your senses?!" came Shane's angry voice before she could could say anything. "Are you still trying to get kicked out of the house? Every minute you spend ignoring Henry's order will be an hour in the cell. Your recklessness is putting the entire operation at risk." "Risk? I'm just keeping an eye on the bad guys. I thought that's what we were supposed to be doing." "You are supposed to be observing Lacroix, not chasing his lackeys across hellfire and creation. And you are most assuredly not supposed to be doing it alone. Banshee showed poor judgment letting you do this, so she'll be punished as well." "Why don't you stop threatening us and let us do our job? Don't take it out on Banshee because you're pissed at me." "The senior partner on every squad is responsible for his or her decision. Banshee admitted to Henry that she did nothing to discourage you, so she must be held accountable. Now jump back to Savannah or --" "I can't," Shamira whispered. "Something's happening. One of the cruisers just turned their lights on." She stared through the dark woods. "Man, I think the backseats of the cars are spelled, because it's dark as hell out here but I can't see in." "Shamira, this is incredibly dangerous. You shouldn't --" "They're pulling over a bus . . . no, an RV. One of the other cars is creeping in behind it." Shamira didn't like the looks of this. RV to her said "family." She saw an officer talking to the driver of the RV and heard them talking. The driver sounded confused, then alarmed when the officer started shining a flashlight in his eyes. There was something wrong about that light . . . it reminded Shamira of the glow given off by those . . . "Detection devices," Shamira muttered. "He's making sure they're magical." "What? Shamira talk to me!" Shamira saw another two fake cops sneaking up on the RV. With no warning, they opened up the side door and charged inside, with all their comrades rushing to support. Then Shamira heard screams, and they chilled her to the bone. "They're attacking them!" Shamira growled into the phone. "Dammit Shane, I heard kids!" She heard Shane screaming at her to wait for backup, but she was no longer listening. Her phone fell to the pine-needle covered turf as she hurried to join the battle, Shane's voice becoming nothing more than a distant murmur in the South Georgia wind. She hurried through the woods, taking inventory of what was facing her. Two guys per car and six cars equaled twelve opponents. Two had gone into the RV now, and one was holding a gun at the head of the driver. He had to go and quickly. She looked out with Shadow Sight and saw the two remaining cars pulling up, cutting off both avenues of escape for the trapped family. One man was still in one of the original two vehicles, leveling a shotgun at the vehicle parked in front of it using the crook of the cruiser's open door as a brace. . 'Gotta take out the heavy lumber,' she thought. She saw the shadow underneath the car and jumped to, then rolled out the other side, standing up behind her quarry and breaking his with a quick turn of her hands. For a moment, she felt greatly disturbed by how easy that had been. It was the second time in the last two months where she had broken someone's neck, and she was beginning to believe that become a vampire either was changing her more than her compatriots would admit or that she had been repressing more feelings than even she could comprehend. No more time to think about it. "We got company!" shouted a voice from further down the road as two men clambered out their patrol cars. One was pulling a car out while the other held some kind of amulet. For some reason, the amulet made Shamira more nervous than the more traditional weapon. And when it shot a burst of flames out, she was just barely able to physically jump out of the way, hurdling the car and using it as cover. Shamira heard screams coming from inside, and her mind started into overdrive. She was surrounded, and these guys could kill her. The ones in the RV would probably take hostages and . . . 'The RV!' she thought. She looked and her opportunity in the form of a tiny but dark bathroom towards the back of the vehicle. She rolled under the police car and then Shadow Jumped into the RV. She appeared in the bathroom and then put her ear to the door, listening intently to everything outside. The fake cops were shouting, having just been alerted to an attacker that had mysteriously vanished. She smiled as she identified the rough locations of her enemies. Two up front now, and one back here. She heard the muffled screams of several occupants, and one set was getting nearer. To Protect and Serve Ch. 09 'He's bringing up a hostage from the back,' she thought. She waited patiently for the voice to get closer, listening to the scuffle as someone was pulled past the bathroom door. Shamira quietly opened the door and grabbed the gunman by both the neck and the wrist. He struggled to keep hold of the little girl that he had grasped against him . . . a little blond-haired girl that clung just as tenaciously to her doll. In an instant, Shamira took in the surroundings. The RV was obviously not a luxury item for a family traveling across country. It was well worn on every edge, with carpet that looked left over from the seventies. These people had invaded another family's home, threatened their lives, and scared a girl who couldn't be more than eight. Her hand quickly covered the man's mouth so he couldn't scream and she yanked him back into the bathroom. She didn't know why she did what she did next . . . she'd never felt a need to do so in her previous fights, but now she was feeling savage. She yanked the man's neck to the side and buried her fangs in his flesh. As she drained him of his life's essence, she let her anger backlash through his mind. All he did was let out a whimper as she fed, growing stronger by the second. He made no noise at all when she broke his neck. She looked at the little girl who was a hair away from screaming and motioned toward the back of the RV with her head. The girl nodded and fled. Shamira walked outside again and pulled both pistols from under her vest. Two men stood towards the front, looking out for the thing hunting them, not knowing they'd locked themselves inside with it. Each had one of the parents heads locked in the crook of their arm with a gun pointed alternately at the head or the window. There was another child, this one a young boy, cowering next to the beat-up table halfway down. He froze when he saw Shamira slowly approaching, her finger pressed to her lips. She put the tips of the silencers inches from the backs of her enemies heads and promptly sprayed brain matter all over the front windshield. Luckily, the parents were already screaming, so the fake cops weren't instantly alerted. But they would probably notice the red smears on the windows pretty quickly, so she had to act. "Listen close because we don't have a lot of time," she told them. "I'm going to clear a path for you. Get to the interstate and head north." She took a deep sniff. "Weres?" The man nodded. "What's going on? We were told we had permission --" "Permission from who?" "Lacroix," the wife stammered. "His security guy," the husband countered. "Jonas?" Shamira asked. "That's him." "Do NOT contact them again." She grabbed a crayon off the ground and started to write on the back of a receipt. "Call this number and ask to talk to Renata. She is Lord Stapleton's security chief. Tell her what happened here." "But --" "But nothing," Shamira hissed. "Lacroix and his people betrayed you." The man looked angry. "Let me help. Werehorses may not be the most ferocious , but --" "But you have a family that needs you. Once I get those cars out of the way, you floor it and don't look back. Got it?" They heard more shouting and Shamira had to duck as bullets came flying through the windshield. Apparently, the bad guys had figured where she was. She handed one of the fallen men's weapons to the driver, and he looked like he knew how to handle it. "Guard your family," she whispered angrily. "They're what matters." She meant it. He nodded. She moved. Shamira dived out the door, drawing gunfire and flame blasts away from the RV. She moved faster than she'd ever thought possible as the surround woods erupted in nightmarish noise, minor explosions, and burning wood. 'Gotta get those cars out of the way,' she thought. From the shadows of the woods, she jumped behind the cops and watched them scan the shadows for someone they couldn't catch. The closest patrol car to her new location was empty. 'Perfect.' She crept slowly up to the car, crawling into driver-side. She needed to time this perfectly. She scooted down in the seat until three of the surviving assailants were in the road. She started up the patrol car and gunned it, plowing forward and t-boning the other car. Smoke erupted from the tires as the squealed in agony as Shamira shoved both cars through the enemy ranks and then off to the side. She managed to mow one guy down, but the other two were able to dive for cover. But the road was cleared and the RV began moving forward awkwardly, as the father was trying to keep his head down and drive at the same time. Shamira physically jumped out of the car with guns drawn, shooting at the enemy and drawing their attention to her. She was able to down one permanent, while another hit the dirt but was still moving. They apparently had body armor. 'Six dead, one injured,' she thought. She hid behind a tree as another hail of shots sought her out, but she was able to see the RV passing the wrecked cars. 'They're going to make it.' That was when she saw one of the fake cops hold up an amulet and point it at the back of the slow-moving vehicle. She leaned over and put two shots into the man, making sure he stayed down. Then she heard another series of shots and her arm exploded in pain as silver bullets ripped through it in two places. She quickly collapsed to her knees, trying to avoid going into shock. She'd never been hit with silver before, and it made the night she was killed and brought over seem like a flu shot. The substance seemed to infect her blood, searing through her veins like liquid fire. 'Seven dead,' she thought again. 'One injured.' The RV was far enough away that she hoped the remaining guys would catch it. 'No, I've got to be sure,' her thoughts laced with agony. With her good arm, she leaned out and shot at the two remaining patrol cars, puncturing tires with uncanny precision. All the while, her injured arm screamed at her, defying her mind's attempts to achieve clarity. She had done all she could . . . it was time to jump. But the silver was draining her energy, and the pain clouded her mind. She could not picture where she wanted to go, so she decided to make a run for it. Shamira ran through the woods, and she could hear the pursuit through the pounding in her ears. She had lost her cell phone, so she couldn't call for help. 'What the hell am I doing?' she thought. She looked back and saw her pursuers shining eerie blue lights through the trees, and she knew that they'd be able to find her with those lights. Of course, they also helped her find them. With no small amount of effort, she steadied her gun in her fully functional hand and fired just behind one of those lights, and she heard the death sigh of the man carrying it. Two lights turned towards her and she took aim. She extinguished one through silver-tipped violence, and the other turned itself off. They realized what she was doing. 'Nine dead, one out.' She burst through the trees to find herself back on pavement. She was too exposed there, and it wasn't where she wanted to be. She saw lights approaching from up ahead, but it didn't look like any cop car. She dove off the road just before a tow-truck came trundling up, its brakes whining and complaining at the sudden stop. The woods rustled behind her and she stumbled back towards the road, trying to keep her eyes on the truck and on her pursuers at the same time. The truck door opened and she was able to make out a single lean shape getting out of the driver side. The temporary distraction brought her guard down just a little, but it was enough for one of her enemies to graze her arm with another silver bullet. But those same enemies thought that the darkness hid them from her, not realizing that the thick black night was her ally. She made them out as easily as if they had been glowing, and her remaining shots in that gun ended two more lives. 'Eleven dead, one out. That's all of them,' she thought as she sunk to her knees on the far side of the road. "Hey," came a warm, masculine voice from the truck. The man stood in the light, so her night-sight was actually backfiring on her. But as he got closer, she recognized him. "Daniel?" she whispered. It was the elf she, Bunny, and Sebastian had met on that last trip down into this area. "What . . . what are you doing here?" He approached and looked down on her, then offered her his hand. "You're not just some random passerby are you?" he asked softly. Shamira struggled to her feet, shaking her head and trying to concoct a cover story. She was pissed that she wasn't as quick and creative as Sebastian had been, but she need not have bothered. "You lied to me," the elf said, his voice suddenly less warm. "I was nice to you and you lied to me." His other hand swung at Shamira's head, holding some object he had gotten off his belt, and it connected with the side of her skull like a ton of bricks. Shamira barely had time to groan in pain before her consciousness left her and she heard, "I warned you. You should have stayed gone." After that, a less comforting darkness than that brought on by night claimed her and she heard and felt nothing more. ---------- ---------------------- Elsewhere . . . ---------- ---------------------- "Damn it!" Shane said, slamming his phone onto his desk and breaking it into small shards. Renata sighed and grabbed another one out of his desk drawer. Ever since Shamira had joined the house, they'd had to keep a lot of extras for just such tantrums. "She's not answering!" "You think she's hurt?" Clara asked nervously. "She could have just turned off her phone," Renata mumbled, not at all convinced of that. "No, it's on. It's not going straight to voicemail. Why does she absolutely refuse to listen to anything I say?" fumed Shane. "At this point? Probably because YOU say it. Besides, she's just making the same kind of decisions that got her killed the first time that you admired her so much for." Instantly, Renata wished she hadn't said that, because Clara looked even more edgy. "You don't think . . . damn, why can't she wait for back-up?" the shaman replied. Shane shook his head. He did not want Clara getting more agitated than she already was. He also felt lost. He knew that everyday there was a chance that one of his children could get into trouble, but Shamira was a special case in more ways than one. He'd never felt like such a failure as a sire before, and he selfishly resented Shamira for making him feel this way. "She made this bed," he said slowly, locking Clara's eyes with his own, "now we have to see how it plays out." "Sir," Renata asked quietly, "might it be possible for you to send me?" "You're my chief of security. Your job is here." "My job is to protect your house. The Representative and her entire bodyguard contingent are here, so I doubt anyone will be insane enough to come after you. I'm a better tracker than anyone down there." "Lord Pritchard's men are nearby, and he has a number of weres that he has dedicated to my command. I'll send a team of them." "Sir, please!" "Any issues or guilt you have regarding Shamira must be put aside. We still have a job to do, and I can't drop everything else to go chasing after a renegade vampire." "She's just trying to protect people!" Clara growled. "Like she always does! Yet you seem to see that as a bad thing. She defied you, so you're hanging her out to dry?" Clara actually squeaked a bit when Shane charged across the room and grabbed her by the front of her leather corset, lifting her off the ground. "I will only tolerate so much insolence," he said, his voice cold and edgy. "And don't you dare think that I don't care. I love all my children and my house, even if they do drive me crazy." He knew he should send her to a cell for her challenge, but not this time . . . not tonight. Not with Shamira missing, and not when Clara was currently helpless to do anything about it. Sticking this woman in a cell now would put too much of a strain on her psyche. So he put her down and turned away. "Sir, we need to show that we can look after our own." Renata looked almost as pained as Clara. "Send Pritchard's men as well, but we should have one of our own leading the search, and Banshee's talents would be better suited tracking down Lacroix's flunkies. Please," she whispered. Shane stopped and looked back. "We give her a few more hours, then I'll decide. We don't even know where to look." "Please be all right," Clara whispered, mostly to herself though the other magical beings picked it up. "Please, please --" ------------- ---------------- Some time later . . . ------------- ---------------- Shamira's mouth felt like cotton and bile when she woke up. Her vision was blurred, and the intensely bright light hanging somewhere overhead was not helping matters at all. Her hands were secured, with what felt like leather-lined metal, and her restraints were secured to a chain attached to the ceiling. She hung freely, her feet cuffed together with similar devices, and she was at least two feet off of the ground. She was also naked as the day she was born. "Wuh . . . what --" "You should have left when I warned you," came a masculine but now no-longer-tempting voice from behind her. "I was nice to you because I disrespected you about your car, so I gave you a way out." Daniel the elf walked into her view. He still looked like a Greek god, with a chiseled and smooth chest exposed to the world, tight leather pants and his beautiful hair flowing unrestrained by a headband. But his eyes were anything but friendly now. They were just . . . dark. "Why . . . what --" Shamira babbled, trying to get her eyes to focus. Slowly, things began to clear up, and she saw chains . . . chains lining every wall in her field of view. Those walls, those chains, and the floors beneath were splattered with rust covered splotches . . . blood. "You aren't who you claimed to be," Daniel continued calmly, then slugged her hard in the ribs. Shamira growled in pain and yanked on her bindings, but they didn't give. This elf apparently knew how to restrain people. He sighed, then continued talking. "You lied to me. Who are you?" He slugged her again on the other side. Shamira stopped trying to pull on her chains, realizing that she was just wasting her strength. She blocked out the pain she felt from where she had been shot and more recently punched. She felt so weak. "What . . . I was just passing through and those guys . . . Augh!" She yelped when another blow landed solidly in her midsection. "Stop . . . lying. You killed eleven well armed and trained men, and wounded the twelfth. You carried substantial firepower. You've been shot several times, and yet you kept fighting. And you cost us so much blood," he whispered, gripping her arm in a place a silver bullet had passed through, digging his thump in until it ruptured the scar. Shamira bit back her scream this time, though the pain rampaging through her system was worse than anything she had ever imagined before. "You fucker!" she hissed at last. "You're a bleeder?! You . . . you son of a bitch!" He was one of them. She had been looking for those involved in the morning star trade, and she had stared one of the worst of them in the face and did not even know it. She looked up and saw a couple of grates nearby and she knew . . . she was underneath the garage. Damn it, she had stood not more than twenty yards from where she was now. How could she have been so foolish? She had completely and utterly failed, and now she was going to die for it. "Luckily, weres are a dime a dozen," Daniel said softly, pulling his had away and wiping Shamira's own blood on her exposed abdomen. "We still have one left over," he added glancing behind her. Shamira heard chains rattle, and she realized that she wasn't alone in her captivity. "He's too scrawny though. I doubt he'll give us even a sixth of what we need for another batch. And faeries have gotten damn hard to catch around here." Daniel hauled off and punched Shamira in the kidneys. She may not officially need them anymore, but it still hurt like hell. Then he spun her around so that she could see the other captive, and her heart broke. Were or not, the kid couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen years old, and he was a scrawny as Daniel had claimed. He did not look starved, but he did look . . . empty. "You couldn't just stay gone," she heard Daniel say from behind her, "so now . . . now I make you less of a problem and more part of the solution." His voice dropped to a thin whisper. "I may not be able to bleed you dry yet, but I can do so many things with a body like this without spilling a drop." Shamira thought about those words, especially "a body like this." When Clara said those words, it made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, even if the feeling only lasted for the utterance. The way her friends at the house had looked at her had made her feel so amazing. Hell, she even admitted to herself that the first time Shane had said something similar had been one of the first times she'd genuinely felt desirable. When Daniel said them, she felt a void inside her, and that void was growing. Suddenly, she felt a sharp and searing pain in her back and she heard the familiar sound of a whip cracking. A silver-tipped whip . . . Shamira's own whip. She screamed into her teeth, but trapped the sound there. "It will be a while until my partner is able to round up more men," Daniel said, running his hand over the scar he had just created. A normal whip would have opened her up and caused her to bleed, but the silver caused the wound to instantly cauterize and form a nasty scab. "When he does, they'll go hunting, and then you'll be nothing more than a blood cow. But until then, I'm going to practice my art on you. You might as well let the scream out," he added, letting the whip fall on her left shoulder-blade. "They all do." Shamira didn't know how long it took before she started to scream . . . then sob . . . then whimper. The elf landed lash after lash on her skin until she the scars covered almost a fourth of her exposed skin. When he broke both of her knees with a sledgehammer, she let out a shrill whine that she could not even recognized as herself. Daniel had to magically revive her after a shot to her jaw dislocated it, leaving her jawbone only attached on one side and otherwise hanging limply in the skin. Shamira though she had no screams left in her. Her face was covered with sweat and tears, her body with sweat and scars. The were looked at her with terror and revulsion. The only weeping Shamira could do was in her own mind. She prayed for death. She had never been particularly religious, but she prayed as hard as she could. Daniel had won. Lacroix or whoever this partner is could have her. She'd sell her soul for just a second without pain. But Daniel was not quite done. She saw him approach with some kind of high powered dremel saw that sported a blade that shone like silver. He started it up and let the blade roar into her back. Shamira screamed as her captor dug into her spine. She screamed and moaned like the broken soul she had become. She screamed until she could no longer feel anything. She screamed until the world finally and thankfully went black. --------------- ---------------- To be continued . . . To Protect and Serve Ch. 10 Proofread by FernieLyn This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these character and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author. This story is based in an alternative universe, where history took a different course than the one we are used to. In this world, the creatures which we now believe to be legends have walked alongside man for the duration of our existence. Vampires, werewolves, wizards, witches, sorcerers, and a host of other beings share our world. The following story contains, in one chapter or another, lesbian, homosexual, heterosexual, anal, group, sci-fi/fantasy, non-human, and BDSM sexual activity. There may be some erotic horror in there somewhere as well, but I haven't made up my mind. ---------------------- ------------------------ Clara paced the floors of Lord Stapleton's manor in a frenzied manner, unable to see or think straight. Her friend and lover had disappeared almost a day ago, and the search team had not reported anything in the last several hours. What was left of the logical part of her mind knew that Shane, her vampiric lord, master, and friend was doing the right thing, diverting only the resources that he could while keeping his eye on the major prize, namely his enemy in Savannah, one Lord Lacroix. Lacroix had defied his elder lord, the Tribunal, and just about everyone in his quest for power, and was now connected with the evil morning star drug trade. And to Clara, the only thing that mattered was that Shamira was missing. The only solace that she was able to take was that Shane had finally relented and allowed Renata, his werejaguar chief of security, to lead the search for his missing dark child. The werewolf lord of Huntsville, namely one Clyde Pritchard, had lent a contingent of his lycanthropic brethren to the cause. Shamira had apparently helped a wandering family of werehorses escape from fake police officers who had been gathering up specimens to be bled dry, and they had called hours after Shamira's disappearance to tell what little they knew. With their help and some cellular triangulation, the searchers had found Shamira's cell phone and had been able to track her scent through the woods to another abandoned stretch of road, but then her trail simply vanished. Renata believed that magic had to be involved, because there was no way that this many weres would fail to track anything otherwise. "Clara, please," Shane said as softly as he could, approaching her from behind, "I need you to calm down. You and Lillian and Coramen could try again and --" "We . . . have tried . . . everything!" Clara snarled, knowing that she was being insolent for the sake of it. "Every locater spell, every tracking aid . . . everything. She's vanished and it's eating at me that I can't do a damn thing to find her." Shane understood all too well. He knew that Shamira had gotten herself into this, but he also knew that he loved her like he loved all those he had brought over to the world of the undead. He knew that his assumption that because she was a sexual submissive would make her less like to be rebellious in other areas had been completely off. He had pushed at her and ordered her as of late, partially because he had been stressed out about his own problems and partially because he simply did not know how to handle the woman. "She still lives," he said, though he knew instinctively that Shamira was in dire trouble. "That means we still have hope. I understand your pain --" "Bullshit," Clara said, a drop of blood welling up in her eyes as she turned to face Shane. "You have no damn idea how I feel. Eighty years, Shane. I've been around for eighty years now, and I've NEVER felt this way, so don't you damn well tell me you understand." The vampire lord sighed. He was not going to punish her, because doing so now would be pointless cruelty. And Clara was crying, something he had never seen her do. "You love her, don't you?" Clara clenched her fists. She'd never been able to put a name to her feelings for a woman she had only known for a few months, but love . . . love fit. She had never said it, not to Shamira or anyone. She had not said it because she was afraid that it was rushed or that it would not be returned. She had not said it because she could barely wrap her mind around the concept after having gone without for an entire human lifespan. But she would be damned if the first person she admitted it to was Shane. It would be Shamira or . . . or she would take it to her own final grave. But Clara was not truly angry at Shane. She knew he bore a heavy burden. "How do you do it?" she asked in a choked voice. "How do you deal with it when one of your enforcers or assassins goes out and does something dangerous?" "I pray," Shane replied. "To whatever gods might be listening, and to any being capable of smiling on my house. I pray that they are strong enough to survive, and weep when they are not." Clara brushed away the tear, for she would not weep again. 'Shamira is strong enough,' she thought. 'She has to be.' ------------- ----------- Elsewhere . . . ------------- ----------- What was left of Shamira Stapleton hung from the ceiling of the chamber like a side of meat at a slaughterhouse. She had been wounded badly in a gunfight with a dozen armed agents, then thought she had found refuge with a potential friend before being swiftly and brutally betrayed. The elf who had once warned her to get out of town many days earlier had apparently been in league with the fake cops and evil forces that had conspired to produce the drug known as morning star. He had knocked her out with the help of an enchanted club, chained her up, and tortured her until she barely resembled hamburger. Her body was riddled with hundreds of deep scars, both of the breast implants she had possessed when she was turned had ruptured, leaving her body as deformed as a Picasso painting. Her jaw had been dislocated, her ribs broken, her knees fractured, but that had all just been the warm up. Daniel, the vile entity who had worked her over for the last . . . who knew how long . . . had then paralyzed her. Even now, the only thing Shamira could feel from her waist down was the burning caused by the silver disk that Daniel had used to separate the two halves of her spine after sawing it into two. Shamira had gone from experiencing pain that she never even could have imagined to feeling . . . nothing. And that "nothing" terrified her even more. Finally, he had apparently decided that he was finished. He looked up at her like an artist appreciating his finished work. He went to a nearby shelf and grabbed a digital camera and took several pictures of her. "People will speak of my work for centuries to come," he said proudly, his voice completely lacking even the most basic of warmth. "Would you like to see?" He held the digital display up to her eyes. Shamira would have wept if she could. Frankenstein's monster would have cringed at the sight of her. The young were chained to the wall across from her was certainly cringing. He did not want the elf to do this to him. He did not want to wind up like Shamira. "You are my masterpiece," Daniel said again, running one strong hand across Shamira's mutilated skin. He looked aroused by what he had done. Was he going to rape what was left of her? The thought no longer frightened the vampire. She felt nothing at all. A bell rang and Daniel's eyes were drawn instantly towards the ladder that led from his garage down into the bleeding room. His hand fished a gun out of the back of his pants, but it relaxed when he heard a voice drifting down through the grates. "Daniel? We need to talk." "Come on down," the elf said, grinning and looking at Shamira. Shamira's response was to drool. For a moment, something flashed inside her . . . hate. Complete, blinding hate. A vampire slid down the ladder and turned to face them, his face displaying disgust when he saw Shamira's remnants hanging there. "That her?" "Yes. This was the troublesome creature that killed all of your collectors," Daniel replied, running his fingertips around Shamira's neck. "Well, all but one." Shamira's eyes finally focused on the newcomer . . . Jonas. This was Lacroix's security chief. She had been right, though that little victory meant nothing at this point. "Fucking cunt," the new vamp muttered, punching Shamira in the rips. She swung in the breeze and grunted. "Do you have any idea what you've done? How long it took to get this operation rolling?" He looked at Daniel. "Couldn't you have left her face intact long enough for me to see if I might recognize her?" Jonas preemptively waved off Daniel's response. "Bah. At least tell me you tortured her to find out who she works for." "No, but does it really matter? She had to have been from somewhere nearby. Maybe one of Stapleton's whores?" "Hmm, maybe. He's made a bunch recently." "Here's her picture before I started working on her." Jonas stared at Daniel's digital camera and frowned. "I don't recognize her, but I spent most of the party trying to keep that ass from ruining everything." "It's your job to control him," Daniel said. "Trust me, I've got my end handled. Except thanks to this thing, I'll have to send some of Lacroix's enforcers to get a few more weres and possibly a faerie. Damn Florida and Alabama lords have shored up the borders, and Stapleton has an army down here right now. Lacroix's basically outlived his usefulness anyway. It would have been nice if we could have gotten Stapleton's territories, but I'll be satisfied with southern Georgia. For a while, at any rate." "Don't forget your promise," Daniel growled. "I'm not a fool like Lacroix. I won't stab a business partner in the back. You'll get Macon, just like I promised." Shamira's mind was furiously processing information. Too little, too late, but she was understanding. Jonas had done something to Lacroix to destabilize him. Shamira was now convinced that her theory about Lacroix being on morning star was correct, and now she was sure Jonas had gotten him hooked. It made the elder vampire unstable and easy to control. So Lacroix makes a big mess, gets killed by Shane or the Tribunal, and a too-young but handy vampire like Jonas gets his territory? It made sense. All this evil, just because Jonas wanted to be in charge of a small patch of Georgia? It made Shamira's blood boil. Too bad her body was incapable of doing anything about it. "What about the insurance policy?" Daniel asked. For the first time, Jonas appeared nervous to be talking in front of Shamira. "Not here," he muttered. Some dark part of Shamira had a chuckle about that. What could she possibly do to them now? The simple act of existing was unbearable. The parts of her that could still feel cried out for death, while the rest simply hung there. Before he left, Daniel gave her another grin, then his hand drifted to the wall. "I'll leave you alone to think about what it means to lie to me," he chortled, then flicked the switch. And Shamira's body screamed in agony even when her throat could not. Her Shadow Healing had kicked in and it was trying to repair damage that could not be repaired. Wounds cause by silver scarred over instantly, and vampiric healing, even when boosted by her Aspect, could do nothing. Unfortunately, it didn't stop her body from trying. The worst pain came from the base of her spine, with her body attempting to reconnect bones separated by silver. It was like hot magma was being bored directly onto the small of her back. The elf had no idea that she was a Shadow Healer, so he had just inadvertently caused her almost as much pain as he had when torturing her. 'Can't . . . do this,' she whimpered mentally. But her eyes fell on the young were who was trembling against the wall. 'He's next,' she thought. She couldn't let what had been done to her be done to him. But how . . . 'Darkness,' was the thought that penetrated the cloud of her mind. She closed her eyes and concentrated as she had never concentrated before, "seeing" the darkness around her. She tensed up with what was left of her energy and did the smallest, hardest jump she'd ever made. Her body broke down into shadow and slid out of the magically enhanced shackles, but she was only able to make it a few feet away before collapsing in pool of pain and flesh. She let out a whimper because, again, that was all she was capable of. "Who is that?" the young were whispered from his spot in the wall. He could smell her, but could not see her in the absolute darkness of the pit. Shamira could see him just fine. It took all her will to avoid passing out due to pain. It was if a thousand pins were digging into her skin and a thousand razorblades were embedded in her bones. But while her arms were bruised and battered, they were not broken, so she dragged herself forward. Maybe she could gather enough strength to pull the were free. "Duh . . . duh muv," she mumbled through her broken jaw. She grabbed the chains connecting his feet to the wall and pulled. No give. "What . . . how did you get free?" he asked, his voice tinged with hope. That hope cut Shamira like one of Daniel's instruments of torture. She did not see how she could free this poor kid, but now he seemed to think she would. She could not let him down. She pulled again, but still nothing. Shamira slammed her hand on the ground in anger, then looked around. There were some tools at the far end of the room, and she guessed they were extras for his garage. She did not see any cutting implements though, and her frustration grew. That was when something wholly unexpected happened. She was reaching for the were's chains again when she saw the darkness around her hands begin to grow . . . deeper. Yes, "deeper" was the only thing that made sense. Shamira could see in any darkness, except that blackness which now encircled her hands resisted even her vision. Total darkness, cold and hard. It crept along her hands, then began to extend from her fingers like . . . claws. Shane's words echoed in her mind. First was the Shadow Healing, then the Shadow Jumping and Shadow Sight. The fourth Shadow Aspect was called the Shadow Claws. Four Aspects, mean the fifth -- 'Screw you Shadow Wing,' she thought angrily. Where was his power and blessing when she had been stripped of her soul, one pound of flesh at a time? She had never asked for his damn power or the trials to get it. She would give it all up to have avoided the last twenty-four hours. No amount of power was worth that. Angrily, she swiped at the chains before her. The were's bindings sliced clean through, parting beneath Shamira's claws as easily as butter around a hot knife. "How did you do that?" the were asked. "Never mind. Cuh . . . can you get my wrists?" Shamira looked up as best she could. It was at least six and a half feet up to those chains. There was no way . . . An idea came to her. She concentrated hard and tried another small Shadow Jump, appearing six feet in the air. She swung hard at the chains before she started to fall, severing them. Then she was able to pull off another small jump back to the ground, avoiding most (but not all) of the pain she had experienced escaping from her own bonds. "Thank you," the boy whispered. "Nuh tuh get 'ou ouf," she said, struggling to form the words. "How?" he asked. "I can't see." Shamira looked around with her Shadow Sight. She could not see pass the bounds of the room, so she knew it was warded. She could teleport within this area, but she could not pass the borders. She was trapped, but the kid did not have to be. Then she saw a small window up above the shelving at the far corner of the room. It had been painted over with some kind of black substance, but it might just be a regular basement window otherwise. "Oh-er 'ere," she said, then realized that the boy could not see where she was pointing. She was so tired that she was afraid she would not be able to jump again. She had not eaten anything in a couple of days, and her body was craving sustenance. Not just any food would do. Oh no, she needed blood. Her body was going to fight against her injuries, and was going through her energy reserves like mad. She needed to get this guy out of here before the only available warm body started looking like a good food source. "I nuh-eed 'ou to 'o tuh uh uv-er side of fuh room." Then she started to crawl over. She figured they did not have much time, so she needed to free this young man. Then, maybe, she could find a way to end her pain. She and her young charge made it to the other side of the room at about the same time. "Uh 'air, 'ere is uh 'indow. I 'old the 'elves an 'ou huh-limb up. Break 'indow and run." "Run? What about you? I can't leave you here," the boy whispered, his voice filled with fear. "'Ou 'ust. Need tuh huh-inish 'is." She reached out to steady the metal shelves. "Huh-limb." "But --" "Huh-limb!" She wanted him to climb . . . to go and to not look back. Slowly and with obvious reluctance, the boy climbed up, looking around anxiously any time a tool rattled. But he got to the top and then -- "Now what?" "Huh-rap your huh-and in your huh-irt." The kid nodded, removing what was left of his shirt and wrapping it around his hand. He had seen enough movies to know what to do next. He punched the window hard enough to shatter it, but the padding around his hand helped muffle the sound. Through the opening, they could both see the distant twinkling of stars. "Go!" Shamira managed to say when the whole was big enough for the were to slide through. He was skinny, but it would still be a tight fit. Shamira never would have made it out anyway. "I can't --" "Go!" she hissed violently as she heard footsteps upstairs. With a last whimper, the young man pulled himself up, cutting himself on the remaining glass but pulling himself to the outside. Shamira smelled the blood on the glass, and it smelled incredible. Her body wanted it, but her mind hesitated . . . barely. Her last act would not be to rob an innocent young man of his life. As she heard the door open above her head, she knew how she wanted her life to end. She wanted to be bathing in elvish blood when the final darkness claimed her. "I swear I heard something," came Jonas's voice from the top. "They're both quite secure, I assure you." Daniel still sounded smug, and Shamira watched from her dark corner opposite where she was being held, waiting. Her body still voiced its agony to her, but her thoughts were savage and spoke much louder. His blood . . . his blood will do. Shamira scuttled across the floor, propelling herself along with her hands while her Shadow Claws dug deep into the floor. "Daniel, watch out!" shouted Jonas. The elf's feet had hit the floor, but he was still looking the other way. His hand had not even reached the light switch when the crawling creature passed underneath the ladder and attacked him from behind. The first swipe of Shamira's claws severed both of the elf's Achilles tendons, spurting blood as Daniel screamed and collapsed forward. "Jonas! Get your ass . . . AUGH!" Daniel screamed again when Shamira started to crawl along his back, sinking claws all the way through his flesh and into the floor, puncturing veins and arteries while slicing bones and tendons. She reached into his back and ripped out his kidneys, then stared up at the hole in the ceiling and saw Jonas staring back at her. To Protect and Serve Ch. 10 Jonas's face was a twisted vestige of hate and horror. His casual handsomeness was all but buried under that look, and he recoiled away from the opening for a second. Then he pulled a gun and pointed it downward. Shamira had no idea how she thought of the idea, but she grabbed Daniel's gurgling corpse-to-be and turned over, using him as a shield as the first bullets hit. One bullet got through, but it didn't stop Shamira. She was so far beyond a mortal concept of pain that this was just icing on the cake. From behind, she thrust her hand through Daniel's back, causing it to emerge from the other side while holding the elf's still-beating heart. Jonas fell backwards as he saw his most important ally ripped apart before his very eyes. "It's not fucking possible," he mumbled, crawling away from the whole. There hadn't been enough life in that sack of flesh to warrant still being called alive, but it had somehow just killed an elvish sorcerer and metal-smith in a matter of moments. Daniel was lost, so Jonas decided to cut his own losses and run. He could set up his operation again somewhere else. Below, Shamira was rending her enemy limb from limb. She poured blood into her open mouth, consuming his power. But it was not enough, and she knew it. She had only bought herself a little more time, and it was time she had not even wanted. The door above her closed, and she knew that she was lost. This knowledge was hammered home a few moments later when she smelled smoke. Jonas was burning the garage to the ground with Shamira trapped in the basement. She lay down and waited for death to release her from what Daniel had done. --------------- -------------- Not far away . . . --------------- -------------- "Are you sure this was the road we were supposed to take?" Kristoff asked from the driver's seat. Kristoff was one of Lord Pritchard's friends from Huntsville, and he was a werewolf with a fine nose for tracking. Renata growled as she checked the instructions again. "Yes, this was the road Sebastian said to take. He said that they'd run into an elf who warned them about local goings-on and that it was on . . . Jesus Christ!" she shouted as the car she and three other were's were in screeched to a stop. Some young, half-naked teenaged boy who was bleeding from some cuts in his side raced across the road, looking like hell itself was on his heels. Renata jumped out of the car and yelled after the boy, "Hey you! Stop! Are you okay?" The boy didn't stop, and the werejaguar was forced to run after him. She took a deep whiff as she hauled ass trying to catch him, and could tell that he was a were of some kind. Probably a young werebear if her nose was not lying to her. He was hurt and she was hyped up on adrenalin, so she overtook him quickly, jumping on his back and pinning him to the ground. She could feel him trying to shift, but the poor kid did not have the strength. "I'm not going to hurt you," she said, trying to sound calm. "My name is Renata and I work for Lord Stapleton --" She realized she had just said the right thing, because the boy stopped struggling so hard. "You . . . you're not with them? That elf and --" "Elf? What elf?" The boy started to gasp and cry. "I can't go back there. Please, don't take me back. That elf . . . he was going to bleed me and that woman --" Renata rolled the young man over and locked his gaze while holding his jaw. "What . . . woman?" "He . . . he was really angry at her. God, the things he did . . . somehow she helped me get out, but I couldn't . . . I ran and I heard screaming but I just kept running --" The young man just started to cry uncontrollably. "Renata!" shouted another one of the hunting party. "You might want to look at this." Renata turned her head and saw a plume of smoke rising in the distance. Her heart turned to lead even as she hauled the young were to his feet. "Is that where you came from?" she hissed. When the young man nodded, she hauled him back towards the car. "You're coming with us. It's not safe for you out here by yourself." "I can't go --" "You WILL go because MY friend is in trouble!" she shouted, making the boy cower, allowing himself to be put into the back seat of the car. Renata had not meant to scare him, but they were wasting precious time. It only took them a few minutes to get to the source of the smoke. "Is this the place?" Kristoff was asking, but Renata was jumping out of the passenger side. She couldn't smell anything but oily smoke, which was odd. She should smell a lot of stuff, meaning that this place was spelled. But Sebastian had said he'd seen wards, so that made sense. "There's a woman in there? Did she say her name?" The boy was terrified, both of Renata and the fire before him. As a rule, weres didn't like fire. "She barely said anything. She barely had a face left!" he screamed. "I just know she got me out!" Renata knew that she had little evidence to support it, but she believed in her heart that it was Shamira. Rescuing the boy . . . staying behind. It was just what Shamira would do. Tears and anger and fear all found a place in her ordinarily heart-breaking face as she stormed towards the building, before turning around. "Where was she?" "In the buh-basement," the kid stuttered. Then something inside him turned from jelly to steel, and he got out of the car on his own. The woman in the basement had freed him while asking nothing of him. He had to try and help her. "I got out through a window . . . over here," he said, pointing at a small opening that the flame was rapidly approaching. Renata stared at the whole as the other weres gathered around. "You'll never squeeze through that," Kristoff told her. "There's got to be another --" He was cut off as Renata rushed towards the front of the building where a tow-truck was parked. Renata jumped in, noticed the keys were in the ignition, then started it up. "Renata, do you know what . . . yikes!" The werejaguar piloted the bulky vehicle like it was an intoxicated bison, rolling around and then backing up to the opening. Braving the increasing heat, she jumped out and latched the hook to the window frame. Kristoff took the cue and activated the wench, yanking the window out and enlarging the opening significantly. Renata saw that the flames were spreading rapidly, and she knew she had little time before the building was completely engulfed. "Renata, what the hell --" Kristoff started, watching the Brazilian beauty dive headfirst through the opening and into a burning building. Renata rolled and hit the dark and putrid floor of the basement, pulling a gun out of instinct. She smelled blood . . . so much blood. Most of it was old, caked into every crack and crevice, but some was new. Near a ladder leading up to the burning floor of the main structure was a pool of dark liquid surround a pile of . . . meat. Renata couldn't even identify what it used to be, at least not with her eyes. She took a whiff and smelled, identifying it as some kind of fae, most likely that elf everyone had been talking about. Her eyes scanned the darkness, finally spotting a huddled mass in one corner. "Sweet Goddess," she whispered, tears flowing freely from her eyes. She smelled Shamira, but the creature before her bore little resemblance to her friend. "Shamira?" she added, her voice choking up her throat. "Ruh . . . Ruh-nata?" whispered a voice so empty of life that Renata thought she might have imagined it. "Cuh-ant 'ee 'ou." "It's me," Renata said, approaching Shamira's pathetic form. "I'm here to --" Shamira screamed and held up her clawed hands. "'O away! Don' 'ook at muh-ee!" She tried to crawl further away, but she was out of space. Renata's heart continued to break as she watched how Shamira moved. 'She's so broken,' the werejaguar thought. 'What did they do to her?' However the elf had died, it could not have been painful enough. "Shamira, I'm going to get you out of here. "I need you to put those claws away," she said, wondering where THOSE had come from. But this was Shamira, woman of a thousand surprises. "I need you to let me help --" She stopped for a moment. Shamira was crying, drops of blood trickling from her eyes. Renata knew she could not afford to cry now. A crying vampire meant a vampire was losing blood, and Shamira did not appear to have much to spare. Renata put her gun away and crawled forward. She could feel the heat intensifying above her, but she could not afford to spook Shamira. The woman was hanging onto sanity by a thread. "Shamira, let me help you. I'll take you back home and we'll undo what they did and then we'll get everyone responsible." 'How do you "undo" someone breaking your soul,' Shamira thought as she sunk to the ground. She felt Renata gently lifting her, apparently realizing that something was wrong with her back. No one could put her back together again. But at least, while she died, she had a friend's arms around her. Shamira felt horrible about how she had treated Renata before. "Ah'm suh-orry," she muttered. "Don't you dare apologize," Renata said through her own tears. She knew that Shamira would only be apologizing now if she were giving up, and Renata was not going to let her. She hoisted the broken vampire and carried her to the window. Someone had lowered the tow rope again, so Renata grabbed it and screamed to be pulled up. She turned so that her own back was scratched up as they were hauled to safety, but she barely felt the pain. All she could think of was the pain she was going to cause others. She would find everyone even remotely responsible for this and mete out a horrible vengeance. "Good grief," Kristoff said when he saw what Renata was holding. "Is she --" "She's alive, and we're damn sure going to keep her that way." -------- -------------------- Many hours later . . . -------- -------------------- Shane was standing anxiously on his golf course as the helicopter he had sent to retrieve Shamira slowly began to land on the green. The entire house that was still present in Atlanta was outside waiting, with Clara standing so close that the chopper's turbulence was threatening to knock her off her feet. Even the Representative and her entourage were out. It was unusual for this many vampires to be awake during the daytime, and it was clear that the Representative was incredibly uncomfortable. But no one was going to miss this. When Renata had called, she had sounded so angry, and she had warned Shane that Shamira was in worse shape than anything she had ever seen. Tabitha, one of Shane's newest converts and his new household medic, had gotten her miniature operating room ready, and was in constant contact with Renata. She had to push past Clara when the chopper landed in order to help Renata get Shamira's stretcher unloaded. Clara watched helplessly as Tabitha moved the cover away from Shamira's face, and she saw the medic make a face like she wanted to throw up. Tabitha's reactions were still very human. Clara moved forward, but the medic covered Shamira's face again. Tabitha shook her head and pushed the gurney towards the house. When Clara approached -- "Don't," Tabitha whispered. "For her sake and yours, just . . . just don't." Clara followed, never moving more than a few feet away. The not-knowing was killing her. How bad could it be? Shane had moved up close to Tabitha and they exchanged a look. "Anything you need," he said. "No price tags, no reservations." "I . . . I don't know . . . thank you sir," Tabitha replied. They moved Shamira into the OR and Tabitha gently moved Shamira onto a sterilized table. She looked around. "I need everyone to clear out so that I can work and see what I'm dealing with." "I'm not leaving," Shane replied. "Everyone else --" "Don't you dare ask me to leave," Clara said, her voice as cold as an Alaskan December. Shane was going to object, but the Representative put a hand on his shoulder. "Let her stay," the older vampire murmured. "I will stay as well. Everyone else may wait outside," she said, glancing around the room. Renata's eyes were red from all the crying she had done, and obviously did not want to go. The Representative put a finger under her chin. "You have done more than anyone could ask. She may yet be saved because of you. Now go tend to your own wounds and that young were you helped escape." Renata nodded and reluctantly left with the rest of those present. Tabitha grabbed she sheet covering Shamira and then looked at the remaining onlookers. With a heavy heart, she pulled the sheet away. Clara gasped. Shane ground his teeth together so hard one of them chipped, and the Representative went . . . cold. So cold that Tabitha could feel it in her bones. She began a slow, methodical examination of Shamira, who moaned in pain even while unconscious. She pulled out a handheld voice recorder and started the rattling of injuries, and that took a while. She rolled Shamira over and immediately noticed the massive scarring near her lower spine. "What's that?" Clara asked. "I don't know yet," Tabitha replied. She moved Shamira to the x-ray machine, snapping shots of her entire body. When the shots were developed, she put them up on the light boards and started to stare. "What's the diagnosis?" Shane asked, his voice dripping with a rage that Tabitha had never known from him. She had been his donor long before she had become his daughter, and now . . . this was a side of Shane that scared her. "Everything is broken," she replied, trying to keep her voice even. "She's got half a dozen bullets still inside her, and who know what that silver poisoning has done to her. I count eighteen breaks, at least as many fractures, plus intensive scarring and . . . and this," she said, pointing to the shot of Shamira's back. "She's got something embedded in her spine. I know vampires can heal a lot, but this . . . I don't know. Whoever did this didn't just want to hurt her. He wanted to break her." "You can fix her, right?" Clara whined. "You've got to. Why aren't you fixing her?" She was beginning to become frantic, and the Representative moved behind her and embraced her with abnormally powerful arms. "Let Tabitha work." Shane nodded. "What do you need?" "I . . . the wounds are all cauterized. I'm guessing silver. All of her wounds look like they tried to heal around what was done, so --" She stopped. "What?" Shane asked. "In order to put things back in the right places, I . . . I have to break them all again. Rip open every scab, break every bone. Everything that this guy did, I have to do over. And I need to get that blockage out of her spine." "She won't . . . she doesn't have to be awake, does she?" "I don't think so," Tabitha replied. "But there is no anesthesia that works on vampires, or at least none that I ever saw in the literature. Someone has to knock her out or maybe put her to sleep with magic. And we need to get started soon." "Clara, can you put her to sleep?" "No," the Native American beauty replied. "That's outside my realm of power. Lillian might." "I'll get her," Shane said, quickly looking out into the hall. Everyone was still waiting. He brought his necromancer in, and Lillian reminded everyone that she was still human by throwing up into the sink when she saw Shamira. "Sweet lady of Death, how --" "You have powers that affect the dead," Shane said. "Can't you keep her unconscious while Tabitha works?" He explained what Tabitha was going to have to do, and watched as the redhead's face contorted in horror. "I think I can help." Then she threw up again. The Representative went over and held her hair, handing her a towel when the necromancer had regained control of herself and splashed water on her face. "But it will only do so much. I mean, that much pain . . . she's going to keep coming out of it. I can try and keep her out, but I won't be able to do much else for the pain." 'She doesn't deserve more pain,' Clara thought. As Lillian tried to explain the mystical dynamics of keeping a tortured vampire with as much power as Shamira had unconscious for that long, Clara began to chant softly, placing her hand on her lover's ruined face. She could not put Shamira under, but she might be able to help with the pain. "Clara, what the hell are you doing?" Lillian asked. "It's too much --" "Clara, what are you doing?" Shane asked. Clara kept chanting. It was a simple spell to cast. The aftereffects however -- "Shane, stop her!" Lillian shouted, beginning to panic. But by the time Shane moved, it was too late. "You shouldn't have done that," Lillian whispered. She looked at Shane. "Shamanic magic is about balance. Causes and effects." "What did you do?" Shane looked angry but also scared. He knew how Clara felt about this woman. Clara just closed her eyes and took Shamira's hand. Lillian placed a hand on the shaman's shoulder. "In order for a Shaman to take away pain, they have to be willing to share it." "What else was I supposed to do?" Clara whispered. "Whatever she went through . . . I can't let her go through that again." Tabitha shook her head. "Shane . . . I have to start working." Shane quickly walked over and grabbed Clara while the Representative held Shamira down. "Everyone ready?" When everyone who could nodded, Tabitha started reconstructing Shamira from the ankles up, and the room quickly filled with the groans of one vampire and the sympathetic screams of another. ----------- ----------------- Some time later . . . ----------- ----------------- Shamira felt like she'd been trampled by a heard of bulls when she finally regained consciousness. It hurt to move, breathe, or even think. The memories . . . the god-awful memories . . . they came back in a wave, along with an intense, smothering fear. She remembered the twenty-four hours of hell she had experienced at the hands of that elf. She remembered drinking his foul blood after disemboweling him. She remembered a young were in chains, and then . . . she remembered fire. Then Renata. In the back of her mind, she had heard a sweet, beautiful voice, and then that voice had cried out in horrible, horrible agony. It took an act of sheer will to open her eyes, finding herself in a dark room. Had Jonas found her? No, Renata had. Her eyes adjusted, and she found herself in a pitch-black room that would have challenged the senses of even the most perceptive vampire, but her Shadow Sight went right through it all. 'Some kind of medical facility,' she thought. She glanced to one side and saw the outline of medical equipment, but everything was covered in towels, blocking all light. 'Darkness to help me heal?' Another memory came to her, more painful than the rest. Had she healed? She tried to raise one leg . . . nothing. She reached down and while her hand made contact with flesh, that flesh felt nothing in return. Shamira was grabbing her own leg. She was still very much paralyzed. Shamira began to weep. She wanted to scream, but her throat was dry, and there was something that was keeping her mouth closed. She reached up to feel some kind of metal contraption that seemed to be holding her jaw in place. 'What the fuck am I?' she thought, the mental anguish returning. She remembered what she had looked like when Daniel had finished with her. 'Why didn't they just let me die there?' she thought. She wanted to end it. She didn't want to see herself like that. She didn't want to be some helpless monster kept around for the sake of pity. She extended her hand and made the claws form around her fingers again. 'I won't live like that.' She wanted to plunge them into her own chest and -- "Shamira?" came a soft voice from off to her side. The muscular but crippled vampire turned her head, pain shooting through her neck. Clara was lying on a gurney right next to her, looking gaunt and pained and . . . 'She's still so damn beautiful.' That beauty hurt Shamira as much as anything else that had been done. How could Clara ever want to look at her again? How could any of them? To Protect and Serve Ch. 10 "Shamira, are you awake? Please say something." Clara didn't hear words, but she heard the bed next to her creak. Her hand was shaking as she reached across the thin dark divide that separated them. Shamira cringed away. She did not want to be touched. Broken things should never be touched, because you cut your fingers on them when you try. In her efforts to get away from Clara's encroaching hand, she unbalanced the gurney, sending it and herself toppling to the ground. "Shamira?!" Clara shouted, unable to see in the total darkness that had been created for her friend to heal. She slowly slid out of her own bed, her feet gingerly touching the floor while she struggled to lower herself safely. Her pain and her hurts were more a matter of memory than physicality, but her memory was good enough. For a while, she had experienced a fraction of what Shamira had, and she could not imagine what the other woman was feeling now. "Shamira, I'm here." She caught herself before asking if Shamira was "okay." No question could be less appropriate considering the circumstances. The door opened and Shane bolted inside. He looked disheveled and altogether exhausted. Tabitha was close on his heels, and she threw on the light switch. Shamira was cowering in a corner of the room, her gurney on its side. The poor woman was peeking out from behind her unkempt mass of hair with feral, angry, hurting eyes. But the scariest part were the long, dark claws that seemed to have been born of and formed by absolute, impenetrable darkness. Shamira was holding those claws out, trying futilely to cover her face and body. Shane knelt down, trying hard to control his expression. Someone was going to pay dearly for this. He just had not figured out who yet. "Shamira, I need you to put the claws away or . . . retract them. Please, we need to have a look at you and --" He was forced to retreat a bit as Shamira hissed angrily at him, pushing herself harder against the wall in an attempt to escape. Clara ignored the claws and the desperate glances and crawled painfully forward. The wounds that Shamira had suffered still echoed faintly on Clara's skin, but even then that remnant was harsher than anything Clara had ever experienced. That elf had tried to systematically and methodically destroy someone, which was something Clara had never even truly understood before. "Just let me touch you," she whispered, her voice expressing a different kind of pain. She reached out and touched her friend's leg, but Shamira just stared at that point of contact. Her leg didn't move. 'She doesn't feel it. Please no, don't let her be --' Her thoughts were interrupted when Shamira's primal face broke, leaving behind . . . nothing. Hopelessness was setting in, tinged with a sorrow so profound she had no word for it. The claws faded from Shamira's hands, reverting to whatever primordial blackness that bore them as she collapsed entirely against the wall. She knew that Clara was coming closer, but she barely saw her. "You're going to be okay," Shane said, kneeling nearby while Clara pressed herself against Shamira's body. But the wounded vampire wasn't responding, but rather just lay there staring at a spot she could not feel. Tabitha looked around and found a mirror. "Shamira, look. See?" Clara had to move Shamira's unresponsive face towards the mirror. To the naked eye, all of Shamira's scars were either gone or reduced to thin white lines. There was a metal apparatus that was keeping her jaw from moving. But Shamira saw past the mirage. She still saw the shadow of every wound as if it were freshly made. She saw her jaw barely hanging on, and her chest mangled. She didn't see what Tabitha had fixed. And she saw shame . . . something she could never let them see . . . never let them know. She wanted to lose the memories she had, but how? She smashed her head against the wall, pain billowing around her skull. What was surprising was that Clara gasped in pain, gripping her head and looking confused. "What's wrong?" Clara asked. "Please --" "What . . . happened?" Shamira muttered, her voice dry and cracked as she touched Clara's head. "She cast a spell of balance," Shane said, hoping the knowledge he was about to impart might keep Shamira from doing something rash. "Until the next full moon, any harm done to you will be shared by her." "You shouldn't have done that," Shamira hissed through clenched teeth. "Not for me." She closed her eyes, blocking out the picture in the mirror, though not the one in her mind. "You shouldn't suffer for my sins." "Sins? What sins? Dammit Shamira, this wasn't your --" Clara wanted to complain, but she could see that Shamira wasn't paying attention anymore. Due to stress and exhaustion, she had fallen asleep, looking anything but peaceful. So she picked her friend up and placed her back on the bed, and she could not help but wonder how deep those wounds still ran. --------------- --------- A week later . . . --------------- --------- Shane stood on his balcony, staring down at where Shamira sat in her wheelchair, overlooking . . . nothing. This is what she had been doing since she had agreed not to kill herself, at least not as long as she was linked to Clara anyway. She barely spoke to anyone, though there was always at least one or two members of the house nearby in case she needed to. Even his field agents had taken turns coming back up to Atlanta for a few hours to check in on her, though none had any luck getting through to her. Banshee's return had been particularly painful to watch. Shane knew that his eldest child held herself responsible for Shamira's injuries, and it hurt her to feel that she had failed. Banshee and Shamira had sat next to each other, not saying a word. The assassin had wrung her hands so hard that she had broken one of her own fingers, a sure sign that she was distressed. They had parted company without communicating at all, and then Banshee had traveled back down to Savannah and had unleashed a massive, dark, and all-encompassing fury. Lacroix had already been completely cut off from his resources. When Jonas's compliance in the morning star trade had become confirmed, all the local lords took action. Lords from Florida, Georgia, Alabama, and Louisiana had sent enforcers to the region, shutting down Lacroix's businesses, seizing his assets, and pushing what few allies he had back to his compound. But while they applied pressure, Banshee was applying steel. She killed anyone she could find that still held loyalty to her enemy. She did not torture them, beat them, or even question them. She sought them out and cut them down, and it was the only thing that could bring a smile to her heart. Even the other two assassins knew enough to stay out of her way until her wave of death had run its course. The warehouse with the dragon eggs had been ransacked by Lacroix's people and the contents moved back to his property during the early days of the assault. Lacroix's compound was still formidable, and the remaining members of his house were desperate. In their world, desperate meant exceedingly dangerous. Shane had sent a message, written in blood and shoved into the mouth of an enforcer that Banshee had decapitated before delivering it to Lacroix's doorstep. The only choice that Lord Stapleton's enemy had was how quickly he was going to die . . . slowly or very slowly. "Slowly" meant turning over Jonas, as Shane meant him to pay for his complicity in Shamira's torture. And yet despite having a veritable ton of things to do, Shane found himself spending most of his time worrying about his damaged vampire child. He sensed Clara one floor below him, staring out the window of one of the reading rooms at a woman she had suffered for . . . who seemed to resent her for doing so. Then Shane felt a presence in the room with him, and there was no mistaking who it was. "I know that it is not wise for a lord to show weakness," he said as his visitor approached, "but I am simply at a loss for what to do." Alessandra put a hand on her favorite child's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "You will find a way to help her. It is what you do. While I hate to be the . . . as you Americans say, the 'bad guy," but Shamira is not your only priority. Lacroix must be put down once and for all." "Lacroix is surrounded. We have cut off his funds, his supply of blood, and any reinforcement he might have been able to call in. Without open and obvious warfare in Savannah, the best thing we can do is starve him out. I will not let Lacroix get away." He and the Representative watched as Clara once again approached Shamira. The shaman knelt down next to Shamira's chair, her head bowed. It was an uncomfortable pose for her . . . submissive. Shamira was just staring off into space, her unbelievable eyes focused on nothing. Clara took some comfort in that her friend looked good, barring the hollow expression. Tabitha had managed to reset everything that was broken, remove all the scars, put her jaw back on, and had even replaced the breast implants. But Shamira's hair was unkempt and her cheeks sunken. She refused to eat, but barely put up a fuss when she was given blood intravenously. Shamira was waiting to die. "Please," the Native American woman said for the hundredth time that week, her voice tired and full of fear, "talk to me. Shamira, you survived so much. I just felt a small part of it, but I couldn't have . . . I don't know how you did it but you did. You survived, you killed that fucking elf . . . you beat them. Lacroix and Jonas and all of them are going down because you. Don't you want to see that?" Shamira turned her head away. "What does it matter?" she asked with a raspy voice. Clara was startled for a moment, as this was the first time Shamira had said anything, but she was not going to let that horrible, vast silence that had existed between them to return. "It matters because you can show them they didn't beat you." "Didn't beat me?" Shamira laughed, but it was as empty as her gaze. "They DID beat me! Don't you fucking get it?" Her voice broke back to a whisper. "There's nothing left in here," she added, tapping her chest. Clara placed her hand on the spot that her lover had been jabbing at. "YOU are still in here. The woman I fell in love with is still in here." Shamira's face broke from its stoic resolve a little bit, but it was only to let more pain seep through. "Don't say that. You can't love me. Look at me," she continued, still seeing every wound that was inflicted on her. "I'm going to be a fucking paperweight for all eternity. You can't love something like that. You don't love monsters without souls or . . . or whatever the hell I am." "What are you talking about? You're exactly who you were before --" "You don't know what I am," Shamira growled. "You weren't there. You think you felt it? You didn't feel yourself cut in half. He took half of me away. I gave the rest of me up. You didn't feel your soul die, so you can't possibly know what I am." "You didn't lose your soul," Clara said, wiping a bloody tear from her eye. "They can't take that away --" "They didn't take it! I gave it up, or aren't you listening?!" "I don't understand," Clara said, wanting badly to calm an increasingly frantic Shamira. "How did you give up your soul?" "I . . . I wished it weren't me," Shamira whispered, so angry with herself that her own words tasted vile to her. "I wished I'd just let that family be taken so that they could suffer instead of me." Shamira hung her head. "I wanted it to be over so badly that I would have sacrificed an entire family just so that I wouldn't have to hurt anymore. They had two kids. Only a monster would think of something like that." "Shamira, you're not Superman! I've never heard of anyone suffering what you did, much less surviving. When people get tortured, they make a deal with God or the Devil or whoever they need to make the pain stop. It's how it works." "But --" Shane had been listening to the entire conversation from the balcony. He kissed Alessandra's hand and then leaped to the ground below. "But what?" he asked, his voice unable to remain calm, compassion slipping from his tongue. "Clara is right. You saved four people, and they've taken refuge in Huntsville until this business is done. You had escaped your chains, and the first thing you did was rescue that boy in the bleeding room." "You did not save yourself," Alessandra added, sliding up next to Shane. She had come down so quickly and quietly that no one had noticed. "You thought of others first." "And I know you," Clara said, kissing Shamira's hand. "Knowing what you went through, if you were faced with going through it again, you would, no matter the cost." "You don't know that," Shamira replied, shaking her head. "I would have done anything --" "No, you wouldn't," Clara interrupted, her voice growing more secure. "You say that now, or you might think it when the world dumps more on you than you can handle, but you would never actually do it. How many times do you have to put everything you have on the line protecting someone else before you accept that THAT is who you are? No elf, vampire, demon, angel, or monster can make you anything else." Shamira was crying freely. Clara knew that meant the wounded vampire would need more blood soon. Vampires wept blood, which was one of the reasons they did not do it too often. Crimson spots dotted her cheeks. "I'm not anything," came a voice tinier than the muscular form that uttered it. "I'm just so empty." Clara slid up and sat in Shamira's lap, wrapping her legs around the chair. "Let me fill you," she said. She slit her neck with one fingernail and offered it to the other vamp. "But --" Shamira had actually felt a twinge in her own neck, reminding her that they were still connected. "I've eaten recently. You need this," Clara interrupted. "I need this." Shamira resisted, but she was still fairly weak, the blood being offered was potent, and it was Clara offering it. Through everyone she had experienced over the last several months, this woman had been the one true, wonderful, good thing in her life. It pained Shamira that the sexual rush she had always felt around her was gone for good, but if this could make her feel anything at all . . . well, anything was better than nothing. Her lips touched that smooth, beautiful skin where the blood still stood, and her fangs bore deep into Clara's neck. She felt Clara cradling her head as she drank and, just for a moment, Shamira felt whole again. She fed, she wept, and she allowed herself to be touched. She sensed Shane and Alessandra depart, letting her and Clara share a brief moment alone. It was not much, but healing has to start somewhere. Shamira withdrew her fangs, unwilling to take more than her fellow vamp could safely give. "I don't know what to do now. I keep thinking I should have listened to Banshee or to Henry or to Shane, but . . . but then I think of what would have happened if I HAD listened to them. I don't know if I could have lived with myself, but now I don't know if I can live at all." "You can live," Clara replied, kissing her friend on blood-stained lips. "Because no matter how many times you've threatened to leave or have almost died, you just don't quit. I love you for that. I love you put your heart into everything, even if it might get broken. I love . . . damn it, I just love you. I . . . I don't expect you to say anything, especially if you don't mean it. I can't even imagine what you're feeling --" Shamira rested her head on Clara's chest, feeling neither breathing nor heartbeat, but was still somewhat comforted. "I never would have let you share my pain," she whispered, "because you shouldn't let someone you love go through that. I knew I was falling for you before . . . this," Shamira said, motioning to her crippled lower body. "I just don't know what I can offer you now. I'm only half a person --" "Bullshit," Clara said, holding firmly onto her lover's face. "Yeah, your body always made me tingle, but it wasn't what sung to my soul. That part of you is still intact. And I believe you'll beat this," she continued rattling Shamira's wheelchair, "just like you overcome everything else. Let me help you," she said, then looked over Shamira's shoulder. "Let all of us help you." Shamira turned the chair and saw every member of the house that had not been sent to Savannah was somewhere nearby watching on. One by one they came forward, placing a hand on her strong shoulders, or kissing her cheek or lips. One by one, they gave her a silent promise that they stood with her and, with that, her heart thawed. ----------- ------------------ A few days later . . . ----------- ------------------ Shamira had never been a big fan of dresses or skirts, but putting on pants was too frustrating for her. Monique had quickly provided a number of long, flowing wrap skirts that she could pretty much roll into on her own. No one had offered to help, but not out of a lack of desire to assist her in any way they could. Shamira wanted . . . no, NEEDED to reestablish some semblance of independence. But in her mind, she could not equate being able to dress herself, play golf with the others, or feel any sexual longing at all. Tabitha had assured her that the sexual urges would return to a certain degree, but that almost made Shamira more depressed. The idea of wanting something she could no longer perform. No sex . . . no bondage games. The very thought of being put in chains again made her skin crawl. The notion of being whipped with a leather strap for mutual pleasure filled her with dread. She had been whipped until she gave up. She had been chained when she had been cut in half. But she knew now that she would never be kicked out of the house for inability to "satisfy" the masters. Her master felt sorry for her. Pity was an unwelcome savior. She hauled her butt over into the wheelchair, then threw on a sweatshirt. Three months earlier, this was her standard fair. She hated going back to it, because it meant that the clock had struck midnight. She wasn't sexy anymore; the coach had turned back into a pumpkin. She wheeled herself down to Banshee's quarters. Shamira, who had once been terrified of spiders, had appointed herself the caretaker of the assassin's arachnid pets. For some reason, they just did not seem that scary anymore. She had even gotten fond of the tarantula she had first handled a short time ago. It just wanted something warm to walk on. Shamira could give it that. She was just finishing up with the highly venomous Red Back from Australia when she sensed a presence at the door. Renata came over and gingerly placed a hand on one muscular shoulder. "Done? Dinner's almost ready and . . . and your guests will be here soon." Shamira let out a mental sigh. She had tried to get Clara or one of the other vamps to take up Kira and Arthur Blanks as donors now that Shamira was unable to provide real compensation for their blood, but Shane had insisted that she explain everything to them in person. Shamira had objected. Strenuously. The fewer people that saw her, the better. But Shane was still in charge, the ass. "I guess we should go," Shamira replied, her voice tired. "I really wish I didn't have to do this." "It's really for the best," Renata replied softly. "Renata . . . I'm really sorry." "Why? I mean, you don't have to --" "I mean from before. I shouldn't have held it against you for doing your job. I just --" "Shane was an idiot," Renata said firmly. "Yeah, I did what I was told, but he never should have told me to do it. You didn't know the rules very well, and what did he expect? You're one of the most impossibly stubborn people I've ever met. You're going to save the world in spite of anything anyone else says and . . . oh damn, I'm sorry," she finished, noticing that Shamira was beginning to squirm. The young vampire was incredibly uncomfortable thinking about her rebellious nature or heroics. Those were why she was in a wheelchair, and she blamed herself completely. To Protect and Serve Ch. 10 "How is your shoulder?" Shamira felt incredibly callous at not having asked earlier. Renata had risked her life going into a burning building to save her and had gotten cut and burned in the process. "It finished healing up a few days ago." Renata cut off phrases like "no big deal" or "we heal quickly." These probably weren't wise things to say to a woman in a wheelchair. Shamira wiped her eyes, making sure that she hadn't bled tears again. Every moment of her life still seemed so painful. If Clara had not bonded their fates together for another several weeks, Shamira probably would have killed herself within days. Now, she knew she wouldn't go through with it. But that didn't mean that she was enthusiastic about her existence. "Let's go get this over with. I've never broken up with anyone before." 'Then don't do it now,' Renata thought. She walked a step beside her friend, making sure the chair did not snag on anything. The house had not exactly been designed to be handicapped accessible, but it was roomy enough that there had not been any incidents. When Shamira got to the greeting area, Arthur and Kira were already there, deep in conversation with Shane. Clara was nearby, looking incredibly uncomfortable, and she shot Shamira an apologetic look. 'Don't you dare,' she thought. 'Don't you dare have told them --' But Shamira's thoughts were cut short when she saw the looks on her donors' faces. Outrage and anguish each had claim to their visages. It was odd, but Shamira thought that even as upset as they were, both of them looked amazing. She had only been with them a couple of times, but both carried themselves much more proudly than the two HIV-infectees that she had first met. Kira broke from the conversation she was having and rushed to Shamira's side, embracing the vampire so tightly that Shamira feared the human woman might hurt herself. "Just tell me what I can do to get the bastards that did this," she hissed. Shamira had not heard the woman angry before. "You can't," Shamira said, trying to strike a more conversational tone and act like she was not in a deep-seated mental agony. "I already eviscerated the guy who did this. The rest of them will be taken care of soon enough. They have too many enemies." She ran her hand up Kira's arm in a comforting motion. She did not want anyone else getting distressed over her condition. "You look good, by the way. Have you been working out?" "Don't change the subject. I want to hurt someone for this and Lord Stapleton told me I could." Shamira glowered. "I don't want them getting hurt. You had no right --" "Shamira," Shane interrupted calmly, "shut the hell up." Everyone just stopped and stared at him. Clara was looking around for another lamp to throw at her boss's head, and Shamira's jaw was just hanging open. Shane was not done. "Shamira, I love you as much as the day I brought you over, and I will do everything in my power to make you better. I have not always handled you the way that I should have, and I will probably screw up again." People looked even more surprised, since a Lord publicly admitting an inadequacy violated certain social rules. "You died protecting me, you risked your life protecting innocents from the Dark Pools, you risked my wrath again by breaking ranks and helping that were family, and then you rescued a young werebear from death with no regard for yourself. And this is in less than three months! Just once, you're going to have to let US look after YOU. With Kira's access to certain financial information and Pierre's hacking skills, we can cut off what little resources that Lacroix has left. If necessary, I will personally go down to Savannah and drag Jonas kicking and screaming all the way back up to my threshold and exact my pound of flesh. And I will want you there to remind him of exactly why he is suffering and to show the world that no one and I mean NO ONE does what he has done to you or to anyone." Shamira noticed that her sire was practically bristling with energy. He was beyond angry. This constituted a full-fledged display of the sin of Wrath . . . capitalized and all and straight out of the Seven Deadlies. Part of her hungered for the revenge he promised, but part of her -- "We can't," she said. "How can we show that what they did was wrong by doing something worse?" Not that she could think of anything worse. Shane looked stunned. "You don't want revenge?" "Oh, I want it. I just . . . No one should go through what they did to me. Not even them. You want to kill them, fine. Roughing them up first works too, but . . . not this. I'm still trying to figure out how to live with myself. Don't make it harder." Shamira felt soft hands wielding incredibly power kneading her shoulders. Alessandra was smiling. "I thought I would never feel so much pride in one of my offspring as when Shane took control of Atlanta. Until now. You are what the future of our race needs to be." She lifted Shamira's chin. "Unfailing compassion and a sense of justice." "Shane told us that you were going to see if another vampire would take us," Arthur said. "As donors. We don't want anyone else . . . no offense," he added quickly looking at all the other tantalizing options in the room. "You looked at us like we meant something to you, and that means you mean something to us." "I've got nothing left to offer," Shamira muttered. 'What do they expect from me?' she wondered. "I completely disagree," Kira replied. "You've got . . . well, you. And that's a hell of a lot as far as we're concerned. Since we first met you, we've felt more alive than . . . well, forever. And it wasn't just the sex. You treated us like friends and you even let us taste your blood, really treating us like one of you." "Uhm, what was that?" Shane asked. "That last part?" "She treats us like one of you?" Arthur asked. He was obviously confused. "Before that. Shamira shared blood with you?" Shamira felt a little defensive. "Clara said it couldn't hurt and --" "It shouldn't," he interrupted, cautiously moving back into range where she could hit him. He knew that she might still be holding a grudge for his interference in her life. "But you say you've both felt more energized since?" "An interesting coincidence, don't you think?" the Representative murmured. "Come here," she requested of the two humans. Kira and Arthur obeyed instantly. That was the kind of stroke that the ancient vampire commanded. She looked into each of their eyes, stroking them sensuously along the cheek. Their bodies reacted out of instinct, though Kira glanced back at Shamira as if she felt guilty about being aroused by another vamp. For a moment, it made Shamira grin. Monogamy was not exactly a problem around here in any respect. "They are Renfields," the Representative whispered, her eyes glowing with curiosity. "But that should not be possible." "Renfields?" Arthur asked. "You mean like the book?" Shane sat down rapidly, his mind racing. "But how . . . Never mind. This is Shamira, and she seems to obey no rules of logic that I can fathom." "Hey!" Shamira said, forgetting for a moment that she was supposed to be feeling sorry for herself. "What did I do? And would someone fill me in on what the hell you're talking about?" The Representative pulled up a chair next to Shamira and sat down. "Renfields have been around since vampires came into existence, but adopted that particular moniker after Bram Stoker wrote his famous book. Before that, they were simply called shades. It appears that name may be more apt for servants of the queen of shadows. A Renfield is a human that has shared the blood of a vampire and through such transfer has gained some power, though this power tends to come with an above-average loyalty to the vampire." "Wait! So I brain-washed them?" "No. Such a gift is usually only given to those the vampire trusts and is fond of and those feelings are reciprocated. They just tend to be stronger than normal. The problem is, you are supposed to be a full vampire before you can even attempt such a thing, much like gaining the ability to bring a human over into our world. Banshee should be able to do it in a few years, but not every vampire has the ability. YOU should not even be able to attempt it for two centuries." Shamira was feeling dizzy. "So what does that mean? Are they going to be okay?" "It means that, if true, they will gain some abilities related to the power of their vampire lord," Shane replied. Clara stepped forward. "Does that mean . . . do you think that Shamira could create new vampires?" Shane and Alessandra looked at each other. "It is a possibility," the elder vampire replied. "What kind of powers?" Arthur asked. "We haven't learned to fly or anything. Or whatever vampires do." He blushed a bit with embarrassment. "We didn't take much blood." "Shamira has great power, so not much was needed, or so it would appear." Shane looked deep in thought for a moment. "You may have developed some of her healing abilities. She is . . . an exceptional healer from most things." He looked pained now, as his eyes and thoughts were drawn back to Shamira's conditions. "They do sleep in a really dark room," Shamira said. "Maybe . . . wait, this isn't right. How can I . . . damn it, it's because of HIM, isn't it?" She felt her anger rising. "Calm down, love," Clara whispered, kissing her on the cheek. "HIM who?" Kira asked. Shane sighed, then looked at Shamira. She nodded reluctantly, so he continued. "Shamira seems destined to become the living incarnation of an ancient and very powerful dragon who grants his power to vampires every now and again when the world is in a time of great peril. That person inevitably faces severe trials before they come into their full potential, but even a little of the Shadow Wing's power is beyond most peoples' comprehension." Arthur's jaw was moving but no sound was coming out, so his wife was the one who asked, "So Shamira is a . . . a dragon?" "Not yet, but she might be." Shamira was getting angry. "We don't know --" "Love, you have four of the five Aspects. You even just blamed Shadow Wing for all of this." Clara held Shamira close. "It's only a matter of time." Shamira let out a barking, humorless laugh. "Well, time I've got plenty of." Shane shook his head and decided to change subjects. This one was going nowhere. He looked at Arthur and Kira and asked, "Would you consent to having our house doctor have a look at both of you? It might help us find out what enhancements you have acquired." Arthur nodded around the same time as his wife. "Sure." He looked at Shamira, then, "Whatever happens, we don't want another vampire to be donors for. You picked us, so you're stuck with us." He kissed one cheek, Kira kissed the other, then they vlet Renata lead them to Tabitha's office. Shane stared after them. "Representative, what if Shamira has come into full vampire powers already? Does she gain the right to make her own children?" The Representative looked at Shamira, her eyes filled with questions. "I do not know. This has never happened to my knowledge, so there is no precedent. The few incarnations of Shadow Wing that I have researched were all well over two centuries old when they came into their power. With you, it is as if --" "What?" Shamira felt her skin crawling. "As if what?" "As if the last Moon Dragon was waiting for you. Because he certainly is not wasting any time." "And what good am I to him now? He wants to possess a cripple? Do they make those little pet wheelchairs for dragons?" "He does not possess," the Representative replied, ignoring Shamira's self-pity. "He grants power. You will always be you." Shamira's face fell. She pushed the wheels of her chair and she lurched into motion. "What if I don't want to be me anymore?" she said as she rolled away. Then Clara got in her way. "Then you don't want to be the person I'm in love with. So where does that leave me?" Shamira could not meet her gaze. "That's not fair." "Nothing about this is fair," Clara said, her voice choking, "but that doesn't change how I feel. I want you to live and I want you to be happy and I want you to get better, and I'm willing to fight for all of that. But I can't do it if you won't try." Shane nodded. "We're all willing to do whatever we can. The rest is up to you." "I . . . thanks," Shamira replied, feeling a bit embarrassed by all this now. "I'm going to go check on Kira and Arthur." When Clara got behind the wheelchair and started to push, Shamira tried to object. "Shut up and let me help you," the shaman sniffed, then proceeded to maneuver the chair down the hall. She smiled a little when she heard her lover call her a "pushy bitch" under her breath, since they both knew Clara could hear it. When they got to the medical station, Tabitha was yucking it up with her patients. The laughter paused when Shamira appeared and the participants looked guilty. "I didn't mean to interrupt. Please," Shamira said, giving strength to her voice that she did not feel. "I just found it amusing," Tabitha started, glancing at Arthur, "that someone who is so interested in being a blood donor to a vampire can also be afraid of needles." Shamira's mouth curved up involuntarily. "Seriously?" Arthur blushed beat red. "I don't know. They're just so . . . icky." "Yes, I order the especially icky brands as well," Tabitha grinned. "He almost passed out when I was taking samples." "I know that you're a doctor in the normal world, but --" Shamira paused. "How do you know what you're testing for?" "Shane actually has lent me a number of scrolls and tomes that belong to some of the greatest apothecaries in magical history. And Mysti-pedia has its own version of WebMd, which I've become very --" The medic stopped and looked at Shamira, trying not to grimace. "-- very familiar with in the last week." "That's me. Always the problem child," Shamira said, trying to find some humor however grim in her situation. "How long until the tests are done?" "I should be able to have a complete bloodwork done in the next day or so. Apparently there is a lab in Atlanta that caters to magical creatures, so I'll send samples there in a bit." "Why not just take them yourself?" Shamira asked. "I have to avoid being seen in Atlanta for a while. I haven't even been dead as long as you, and I was somewhat well known. The police are still looking for my killer, by the way." This Tabitha said with a smirk which Shamira was able to return. "Someone killed you?" Kira asked. "That's horrible. Did you get a good look at him?" For the first time in a while, Shamira was actually able to laugh. Shamira felt obliged to play hostess for a while, allowing Clara to push her around the house and give her human guests the grand tour. It took a while. "This place is huge!" Arthur said. "Yet it's getting crowded. We have twenty-one of Shane's house . . . well, twenty-two if you count Jeremiah." "Jeremiah?" Kira asked. "He's a poltergeist, so he doesn't really take up space. Neither does Coramen for that matter. Most of the time anyway," Clara rectified. "Okay, I haven't been around much since she was brought in," Shamira said. "She's only four inches tall. How --" Clara grinned. "She can grow. Only for an hour at a time, but she can become human sized. And is she ever stacked. She'd got these Dolly Parton boobs, and they're natural!" "Sounds great," Shamira replied. "I'm glad she found a place here. Top or bottom?" "Oh, she's a total bottom. But she can't be bound with metal, so we have to use organics with her. Non-synthetic ropes or --" "Uhm, you mean she's a submissive?" Arthur asked. "Oh yeah," Clara replied. "I guess you're becoming a little more inner-circle, so it's okay to tell them." Shamira looked sheepish. "Everyone in this house has certain . . . sexual needs. Everyone here is a dominant or submissive." "So --" Kira paused, blushing a bit herself. "Ask anything," Shamira replied. "Who was your submissive?" Shamira looked at Clara, who snickered as she looked back. "Uhm, well everyone kind of shares," she said slowly. "But actually, I'm a sub. More often than not, I'm hers." Kira looked confused. "But you're just so . . . butch." "I am not!" Shamira replied indignantly. "No, I don't mean not feminine. Not at all or . . . I just mean that . . . well, you're so strong." "It's okay," Shamira said. "It took them a while for them to convince me it was okay." "So, did you want us to --" "Our submissives aren't allowed to play bottom to donors," Clara interjected. "It's just a blanket rule to prevent overzealous donors from doing something rash. Dominants can't play with human submissives without a lot of training. Humans are . . . fragile. At least comparatively." "I guess this makes me a little less . . . you know, 'wow,'" Shamira said. Kira looked upset. "Listen, if you really want to get rid of us, then just say so. Because we already said we don't want another vampire." She looked at Clara. "No offense. Again." "Why don't you donate now?" Clara asked. She glanced at Shamira who would have gone pale if that were still possible. "YOU need to eat more anyway. I really think you'll feel better afterward." "But I can't --" "Sharing blood with a willing donor is a gift. Doing it your way, it's even more of a gift. It doesn't HAVE to be associated with sex, that's just the way we've always done it around here." She pushed at the wheelchair again. "C'mon, let's show 'em the bedroom." Shamira was trying to slow the chair and turn her head so she could "discuss" this plan with her friend, but Clara was having none of it. When they finally reached the bedroom door, Shamira was just grumbling and fuming and considering making a break for it . . . as much as she could . . . while Clara let their guests inside. "My Goddess," Kira muttered. "It's bigger than our whole apartment! And that bed!" She ran her hands over the smooth, cool bedspread. Then she burst into the bathroom for a gander. "Great. If the bathroom is as nice as I think it is, we'll never see her again," Arthur chuckled. "If we actually had any money and could buy our own place, half the place would probably be a bathroom." "A walk-in shower!" Kira shouted. "She's a goner," her husband replied wistfully, going to extract his wife from her explorations. "What are you doing?!" Shamira whispered angrily. "You know I'm not ready for this." "I know that you're afraid of this," Clara said, kneeling and planting a kiss on Shamira's forehead. "They are your responsibility, now more than ever. If I left it up to you, you'd never be ready again as long as you are in that chair. And as much as neither of us want to think about it, we have no idea how long you will be there. And don't you dare say 'forever' because I don't believe that." "So here's what you've reduced me to. Guilt. They're here, trying to support you like you supported them when most people they knew had written them off. If you had just broken your relationship off with them like you had planned, they would have seen it as yet another social rejection. This intimacy, through their blood, is the only thing they have left to offer you and they want to give it." Shamira actually sunk into her chair and pouted. "You suck." That earned her a kiss on the lips. "I know," Clara whispered across that now-slim divide. That kiss didn't make Shamira's legs work again, but everything from the waist up was on notice. She wondered if she could be satisfied in a relationship if all she could experience was those kisses, because Clara was making a strong case. When Clara kissed her again, Shamira barely noticed she was being moved to the bed. The Native American lay on top of her, stroking her cheeks while their tongues danced again. All the parts of Shamira that could tingle did. So the crippled vampire just lay back in the mind-bogglingly comfortable bed while her lover eased down next to her. To Protect and Serve Ch. 10 "Let them play," Clara told her, letting her breath slip down Shamira's neck. "Feel it through them. Don't worry about what-ifs. You can do this." "Are we interrupting something?" Kira asked, poking her head around the corner. Shamira felt like she'd just been caught by her parents, or at least what she felt it would have been like. She'd never brought anyone home to meet them. "No, it's okay. Why don't you make yourselves comfortable?" She glanced over and saw love and approval from the woman holding her. "I'll just watch for a bit." "Uhm . . . watch?" Arthur asked, emerging from the bathroom. Clara pulled Shamira up close so that they were both lounging against the pillows, the injured vampire cradled in her lover's embrace. "Yeah, watch," Clara said, wiggling her eyebrows. Then she nibbled on Shamira's ear, and got another pleasant moan and small whimper. The whimper bothered her, because it was not about pleasure. It was a frustrated noise, because the nibbling did not do everything it used to. Kira looked at Clara. "Were you --" "Nope, this is for you guys and Shamira here. I'm just here for the view." She ran her hands down to Shamira's brand new, fully repaired breasts, caressing them through the soft blouse she had gotten Shamira to wear. She had to push her lover's hand away as Shamira instinctively tried to cover herself and the scars and disfigurements that were no longer there. "You're beautiful," she said under her breath so that only Shamira's advanced hearing should hear it. But Kira looked up -- "See, when WE tell her that, she denies it," Arthur said absently. "You heard that?" Clara asked admiringly. "Nice hearing. Wonder where they got THAT from?" she murmured, licking Shamira's neck. Shamira just eased into her friend, enjoying what sensations she could. Arthur looked to be the more nervous of the two participants, glancing over at the two vampires even as he attempted to suavely undo the buttons of his shirt. But he got his mind back on the game when his attractive wife started kissing his chest. He even let out a little moan when she nipped his nipples with her teeth. Shamira felt conflicting pangs in her own skin . . . jealousy and fear. Jealousy and the sexual sensations that these two were feeling, and fear . . . fear of the pain she had felt when the whip had bit her, ripping her apart. Then she knew that she needed this, to be reminded what it is like to be touched but not hurt. Or at least not hurt in any way that one did not ask for. She felt Clara's arms hold tighter. Arthur got into the game, holding his wife's head against his bare flesh, letting her kiss his chest while he used his other hand to fumble with the zipper on her dress. 'He's looking good,' Shamira thought. 'Lost weight?' Kira was kissing her way down Arthur's more-toned-than-they-used-to-be abs. She unbuttoned his slacks with her teeth, but needed her fingers to work the slider. His manhood was straining against the soft fabric, popping anxiously into the air and Kira's hand when his zipper slid down. She stroked him lovingly . . . familiarly. She had been doing this since they first met, and since the world of blood and vampires was just pretend. She touched the tip of his cock with her tongue, stroking his shaft and teasing him with heated breath. Velvety skin slid between greedy lips, and she hummed a little tune that had Arthur in a pleasant enough mood. Her mouth stretched to accept the intruder, taking it until she gagged. 'Not a problem I've had for a while,' Shamira thought. She had no gag reflex anymore. Not for . . . three months? Was that all it had been since her life had been turned on its side? She felt Clara's lips brush against her neck, her tongue making a tiny wet spot right where the neck curved into the shoulder. It helped Shamira to remember that not everything that had happened had been bad. Clara had been good. Hell, so had Sebastian and Henry and the rest and . . . Shane. He had gone through so much for Shamira, and she really had not treated him well. Maybe she could have -- "Eyes on the show," Clara whispered warmly, her hands lightly running over Shamira's breasts. The younger vampire's nipples tingled and tightened. Some of her was still very much capable of enjoying being touched. Spit was leaking out of the corners of Kira's mouth as Arthur plunged his cock into her mouth. She was reaching around and grabbing his ass, pushing him further into her. He pulled out, allowing his wife to move his balls closer to her mouth so she could take them inside, rolling each against her tongue. Then she returned to the fleshy head, sucking on it hard until Arthur had to withdraw again before he climaxed in her mouth. He grinned at his wife for her overzealous attempt, then lay back on the bed. Without even asking what he wanted, Kira slid out of her dress and the lay on top of him, face to groin, taking him into her mouth as his tongue dived into her cleft. Clara felt her lover swallow out of reflex. She knew what Shamira was thinking . . . she could not feel what this couple was feeling. 'You will,' Clara promised, more to herself than to anyone else. 'You'll get better and this . . . this will be us again.' She squeezed Shamira's nipples through the top and was pleased to hear a soft groan. Kira and Arthur was blissfully ignorant of their surroundings, consumed with lustful thoughts and sensations as they continued their sixty-nine. Shamira wondered if this was their normal modus operandi or if they were performing. Either way, they looked good together. Kira matched every flick of Arthur's tongue against her pussy with a soft hum into the flesh of his cock. Their hands roamed over each others' bodies, digging fingers and nails into flesh and leaving little traces of their tactile explorations. They knew which spots to touch that turned their partners on. 'Like that spot on Clara just below the ear,' she thought. She turned her head and placed a soft kiss on that spot, making her friend get a goofy grin. 'Maybe someday I'll be able to find the rest of those special places.' Arthur was the first to break from the oral trade going on, though with some obvious reluctance. But when he spun his wife over onto her stomach and then pulled up on her hips. She smiled and put her elbows underneath her, letting her husband reach around and grab her small breasts as pushed into her from behind. They both started to grunt and groan almost instantly, giving their spectators the distinct notion that this was one of their preferred activities. He grabbed her hips harder and started to slam his way in; flesh resounding against flesh and titillating the vampires' sense of hearing. "Take me harder!" Kira hissed. Arthur slapped her playfully on the ass in response and plunged all the way in, driving a gasp from her lips. He upped his pace, and Kira pressed hard back against him, letting out pleasurable little grunts each time. Clara's hands found their way under Shamira's blouse, massaging those full breasts and tracing the nipples. "Is this okay?" she asked softly. The last thing she wanted was to make her lover uncomfortable. Could she handle the foreplay without freaking out that the main event was (temporarily) unavailable to her? Shamira was thinking the same thing, but her mind could not deny that her body was enjoying the attention. She just lay her head against Clara's neck and nodded, her eyes glued to Arthur pounding his wife. "I'm okay," she replied. 'Maybe I should go down on her later,' she pondered. She knew that Clara had not been with anyone since before Shamira was hurt, and the Native American was certainly not used to going without. Whatever their relationship was, monogamy was not a real option regardless, but Clara would probably abstain out of guilt. Shamira could not allow that, so showing the veteran vampire that Shamira would play as much as she could . . . well, it might help move other things along. "Clara, did you want me to --" she began. "Shh," Clara interrupted. "Didn't your mama tell you not to talk during the movie?" She grinned. "We'll have time for us later." With that, she tweaked Shamira's nipples hard, demonstrating for both of them that at least some of the pleasure receptors in Shamira's brain were working just fine. Shamira's mind was back in the game. "Kira . . . come here. Please?" Kira looked confused, but crawled away from Arthur towards her vampire mistress. Shamira pulled her close and cradled her like she was being cradled by Clara. Kira was held from behind with Shamira looking over her shoulder. "Arthur, why don't you join us?" she asked. Clara was so proud of her friend. She was showing signs of life again. They both watched as Arthur crawled forward, easing his member back into his wife's sex after sharing a loving kiss. He could basically make contact with any of three attractive women, but his eyes always were drawn back to Kira. It was Kira who realized just how close her neck was to Shamira's mouth, and she understood what the vampire had in mind. She wrapped her legs around him while simultaneously flipping her head to one side and exposing the length of her neck. Arthur pressed his body against Kira and thrust with his hips. When he had penetrated as far as he could, Shamira sank her fangs into the woman's neck. Every thrust by Arthur sent a pulse through Kira's body, and it made her blood sing in her veins. This was what Shamira experienced she drank the human woman's life essence. She was fucking this woman's neck with her fangs, taking her juices, and they were both enjoying it. The pulsing of liquid life through her fangs had a rhythm that nothing else in the world could match and only vampires could hear. Kira climaxed quickly, loudly, and repeatedly, and the reverberations could be felt in Shamira's psyche. The human woman was breathing heavily and some breaths escaped as whining gasps. Watching her skin pimple up was an added treat. Shamira felt the echo of the orgasms. It was not the same as feeling it truly rushing through her own body, but it was something. For a broken vampire, "something" was a hell of a lot more than "nothing." Out of habit, Kira shifted her body so that, with some effort, Shamira could shift in the other direction and reach Arthur's neck. The second her fangs penetrated him, he erupted inside his wife's sex with so much force it almost hurt. He was leaving deposits of his life essence inside two beautiful women . . . and to think his high school guidance counselor said he would never amount to anything. They lay in a big, sexually satisfied heap for a moment. Clara had a satisfied grin on her face, and all she had done was watch. Shamira knew she was supposed to feed them now, just a little bit. It took a moment to exert her will onto her body, as her body felt it had taken enough punishment for one lifetime. 'This isn't going to hurt,' she told herself, 'and they ask for so little.' She grabbed a small knife from the nightstand and made small cuts in both her wrists, offering them to each human quickly before the wounds healed. Kira and Arthur's mouth sought out that blood so eagerly that Shamira again questioned whether or not that these feedings were changing them in a bad way. True, the apparent health benefits of being a Renfield had manifested itself, but are they truly who they were when they first met? For now, she'd trust her comrades and assume that they were. Kira and Arthur left shortly thereafter, as Kira still had work to do and Arthur needed to do inventory. They were actually going to be having a big signing in a few weeks of some major comic artists, so he wanted everything in top shape. They thanked Shamira profusely (again) and made her promise to call if there was anything at all that they could help with. "I really like them," Clara said when they were alone. "They're good people. I just hope I didn't get them too wrapped up in something dangerous." "I think they would say that they're having the time of their lives. Lives they thought were over." "Yeah. I guess." Shamira paused, deciding it was time to talk about Clara's life. "Listen, maybe you should go find Raul or Monique or someone and play with them tonight. I need to go talk to Shane anyway." Clara looked vexed. "Listen, Kira and Arthur aren't giving up on you, and neither am I. Why are you so anxious to drive people away? Didn't you just have a good time? I mean --" "Clara, this isn't about me feeling sorry for myself. Not entirely. This is ground truth. You have needs that we both know that I can't meet, and may never be able to meet again." Shamira hated how uncomfortable Clara was beginning to look. "You get off on being dominant and the pain and everything. I know you have to be missing it, 'cause it's a huge part of who you are. If you're going to make me get back in the game, then you have to too." Her companion looked less than thrilled. "I'm just so pissed off," she admitted. "I'm angry because you're hurt, I'm angry because there doesn't seem to be anything else I can do to make you better, and a domme who is mad . . . well, I'm not sure I could play my role safely, even if I was interested in anyone else right now." "Are you going to be mad for as long as I'm crippled? Clara, you opened my eyes to stuff I'd never imagined. Yeah, Shane may have got the ball rolling, but you made it both special and normal at the same time. I'm having trouble dealing with a lot of things, and I can't handle it if I'm responsible for screwing up something this important to you." "You aren't," Clara said, her words trying to catch in her throat. "Hey, it's not like we don't share ourselves with other partners anyway, right? I just can't do it as long as I'm a danger to my sub." Clara was lying. She simply had no interest in bondage games at the moment, not with Shamira in the shape she was in. The very thought of enjoying carnal pleasures with others with Shamira nearby repelled her, and she knew she was not the only one. A lot of people in the house were less amorous than usual. She truly believed that things would improve with time, but it was as if everyone was waiting for someone else to break that "taboo" of pleasure in the face of tragedy. Shamira rolled over and got into her chair. "Just . . . try," she said. "And thanks for helping with Kira and Arthur." "Where are you going?" "I just need to talk to Shane." "Shamira, I need to speak with you, " came Shane's voice over the intercom. "Could you please come to my office immediately?" Shamira's eyes met Clara's. "Okay, that's just creepy," Clara muttered. Of course she insisted on pushing Shamira to her spontaneous appointment. "I'll be here if you need me," she said, having a seat in the waiting room. Despite her desire for Clara to get on living her life, Shamira was touched by the woman's actions. She was, however, somewhat concerned about Shane. He looked . . . nervous. "I just want you to know that this is NOT my fault," he started, glancing towards the door. Shamira was already a little on edge, and this was not helping. "What's wrong? Am I in trouble?" "No," Shane said with a grimace, "but I probably am." "Shamira?!" came an all-to-familiar voice from somewhere else in the house. "Where the hell is Shamira?" "Samantha?" Shamira felt suddenly drained. Her sister should not be there. "What the fuck --" she started, looking back to Shane. "Blame Lord Pritchard," Shane said, preparing to block any thrown objects that might be headed his way. "She can't see me like this," Shamira said, looking around. If she could reach a light switch, she could jump away -- There was a sound of scuffling outside the door and a recognizable string of phrases that Shamira's sister only used in the rare situation when her kids were not around and she was really, really pissed off or scared. "Don't hurt her!" Shamira said, forgetting her "flee" plan and getting ready to fight if necessary. She need not have bothered. She flung the door open and saw her sister Samantha with two handfuls of Renata's hair, while Clara, Bunny, Pierre, and Lord Clyde Pritchard from Huntsville were trying to pry her away. They were obviously taking great pains not to hurt the woman, but Samantha was under no such restrictions. Samantha's eyes went from wild to tearful when she looked towards the door. She let go of Renata, who started soothing her head and injured roots while Samantha disentangled herself from the others. "I can explain --" Clyde said, but was forced to dodge as Shamira hurled a potted plant at his head. "You brought her here?!" she yelled even as her sister knelt beside her and looked her over. "Why didn't you tell me? I had asked Clyde if he had heard from you lately because you haven't answered your phone in a week and he got really evasive. I knew something had to be wrong. I kept pressing him and he wouldn't answer me --" "I lost my phone," was the only thing Shamira could think of to say. "How did you get hurt?!" her sister shouted, standing up. "Why wouldn't any of these people let me see you?" "They're just making sure you don't barge in on Shane," Shamira said, trying to calm her frantic sister. "Shane is my boss, and --" "You!" Samantha pointed a finger in Shane's face. "You're responsible for her then! You're the guy that made her, right? So--" "Samantha, Shane isn't to blame for this. I'm in this chair because I screwed up. I didn't follow protocol and I got myself into a bad situation. Luckily, Renata . . . the girl whose hair you were pulling . . . showed up to pull my ass out of the fire --" "Fire? What fire? Tell me what happened and don't you dare lie to me because I can tell when you're lying and I always have and don't try to distract me with anything like 'Where are the kids' because they're at the parents' after I told them --" "Samantha, I don't need to breathe. You do," Shamira interrupted. She stiffened her shoulders. "Let's go outside. Can you guys give us a minute?" The two sisters made their way out to one of the immaculately manicured lawns, and Shamira spilled the story again. She hated telling it, though it was getting a little easier. Yes, she got into a fight and was shot. Yes, she was captured and hurt very badly. She refused to explain what happened in the garage basement for that twenty-four hour period. Samantha could see in her sister's eyes that there were things she just did not want to revisit. Shamira emphasized that she was no longer planning on killing herself, and she inquired more about how her sister had come to be here. Much as Samantha had said earlier, she told how she had gotten a bad vibe after not hearing from Shamira in a while and how evasive Clyde (her sister just called him "Clyde") had been when she inquired. It had gotten to the point where Samantha had threatened to go public with their existence unless the werewolf came up with some answers and, since he did not want to have to kill the human woman for outing his people, he had confessed that Shamira had been "badly injured" in a fight. An enormously powerful werewolf had caved before the might of Samantha, a soon-to-be-divorced veterinarian with two kids. Shamira was not too surprised though. Samantha was a ferocious as a mother bear when someone she cared about was threatened. "Tell me straight," Samantha asked towards the end, "do they know how long it will be until you walk again? I mean, you're a super healer and everything, right?" Shamira lowered her head. "Sam, most everything I can heal should have healed already. We just have to accept that there's a really . . . really good chance that I'll never walk again." "That's not . . . what are you going to do?" Samantha asked, looking as helpless as Shamira thought. To Protect and Serve Ch. 11 Proofread by FernieLyn This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these character and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author. This story is based in an alternative universe, where history took a different course than the one we are used to. In this world, the creatures which we now believe to be legends have walked alongside man for the duration of our existence. Vampires, werewolves, wizards, witches, sorcerers, and a host of other beings share our world. The following story contains, in one chapter or another, lesbian, homosexual, heterosexual, anal, group, sci-fi/fantasy, non-human, and BDSM sexual activity. There may be some erotic horror in there somewhere as well, but I haven't made up my mind. ---------------------- ------------------------ "Are you sure?" Shane asked. Shamira shrugged and then shook her head. "Burnt stone and a building that got hit by something big. I mean, we have no idea about the missing vamps from the boat. The building could have been hit by an explosion of some kind, but it doesn't explain what tripped the alert wards in both cases." She gripped her hands tightly together. "But we know they've had the eggs for a while, and it isn't completely unreasonable to think that they had a plan for hatching them. And Jonas DID mention an insurance policy." "But a dragon?" Alessandra stood next to Shane, but her face gave nothing away, so Shamira was not sure if she believed this theory or not. "Shane, remember when you asked why it was so easy for me to understand that I was a vampire?" He nodded. "If it walks like a vampire and talks like a vampire . . . Ockham's Razor. If you have competing theories then, all other things being equal, choose the simplest. But is the insurrection of a species that's been dead since before Stonehenge was ever built by a unstable drug addict really the simplest solution?" He shook his head. "Yet I find myself in agreement with you, or at least am willing to entertain the notion." "I will contact the Tribunal," Alessandra added. "We must proceed with great urgency if there is any chance that this is true." "Has anyone tried to do what he's being trying?" Shamira asked. "I mean surely he's not the first to try." "Not to my knowledge. To bring dragons back as a race into this world would have been disastrous for the magical races. The Great Dragons, as opposed to the smaller kind that we have today, would be impossible to hide away, and no one wanted to risk them taking up their old arguments." "I want you to head back down to Savannah," Shane continued. "Take Clara and Lillian with you. Trying to bring back the Great Dragons may require some science, but it will also require great magic. They should be able to help determine what magic is being used and hopefully counter it." Shamira started to open her mouth and object to sending Clara into a field situation, but she quickly snapped it shut again. Shane smirked, because he knew what she had been thinking. If Shamira had tried to protect Clara like that, the Native American shaman would probably kick what was left of her ass. Everyone who played this game was at risk. "We'll leave about four o'clock this afternoon," she muttered. She loved being around Clara, but that instinct she'd always had for protecting those she cared about was sounding alarms all over the inside of her brain. Did Clara even have battle armor? She remembered seeing Lillian in it once. "I'm going to go visit Banshee," she finished, then whirled her wheelchair around and made her way to the assassin's room. She and a werewolf on loan from Lord Pritchard had gotten buried in the collapsed building and while both survived and would be just fine, both had suffered broken bones and would be out of action for a few days while their magical bodies healed themselves. Banshee had been on a one-woman crusade to avenge Shamira being tortured and paralyzed by a man working with Lacroix's chief of security, a man named Jonas. The slight Asian woman was obviously not happy about being told to stay in bed. When Shamira rolled in, Banshee was angrily throwing whatever book she'd been reading at the dresser, where a pile of books was accumulating. "You read all those already? You've only been here for a few hours!" "They're all boring," Banshee replied grumpily. "I have read them all once already, so I get a few pages in and then want something else." "Would you like me to get you some new books? Or you can read books on your laptop now." Banshee forced herself to sigh. "I should not be complaining. My injuries are a mild inconvenience compared to yours." Shamira met the assassin's gaze. "What happened to me wasn't your fault. You know that, right?" Banshee was quiet for a moment, then, "I was the senior partner and I was not there to back you up." "WE made the decision for me to go after those fake cops, and there was no way you could stop me from doing what I did. You wouldn't have been able to get there in time no matter what." "The call to let you go was mine to make. I made it and --" "-- and it was the right call," Shamira interrupted. "Clara was right about that. What happened to me is something I'll have to live with, but it's what we're here for. We knew that those guys were up to no good and would have hurt other people. And yeah, now that I'm done feeling sorry for myself, I know I would do it again. Would YOU want those five people dead and bled out if it got me out of this wheelchair? When it happened, that's what I told myself . . . that I wished it was them instead of me." "You did?" Banshee asked. Shamira nodded. She had not made this common knowledge, with only Clara and Shane and the Representative knowing. "I have to live with that, even though some people have been trying hard to remind me that people have wished for worse after suffering less. But that's what we're here for. We put ourselves in harm's way to get other people out of it. And you did have my back. You punished the wicked." "I have not been able to get to Jonas," Banshee muttered. She was embarrassed, and it was not a pretty side of her. "You will. Or someone will. Maybe I will. I can't walk, but I can still Shadow Jump and I still have Shadow Claws. All he needs to do is slip up," she said coldly, "and I won't let anyone else get my revenge for me." Banshee's mouth quirked up. "Even if Shane tells you to let someone else handle it?" Shamira outright grinned. "Hey, until he gets a wheelchair accessible cell, what's he going to do if I ignore him?" "You are an intensely single-minded woman. Now help me out of bed so I can go check on my spiders." ------- ------------------- The next night . . . ------- ------------------- "Holy shit!" Henry exclaimed after the van had disembarked all passengers. "Shane said it was happening but I didn't believe him. Clara in the field? What's next? A rain of toads?" Clara made a petulant face. "I can arrange that." She looked across the lot at the front grounds of Lacroix's plush estate. "One of those times I wished I was a sorcerer. Maybe just fireball the place." "Wouldn't work," Sebastian said. "I don't know who he got to set up his defensive spells, but he's got some of the best stuff I've seen. More than a normal Lord would or should need." Shamira fixed her handgun into a carrier attached to the side of her chair and checked out her sniper rifle. She had been practicing everyday with it, but it certainly was not her preferred form of combat. She did not like the idea of staying still that long. "Any other weird incidents?" she asked. "Let's just say I'm glad that our magical wonder-twins are now here, because the barrier wards have been getting some really weird power fluctuations." Instantly, Clara and Lillian were in their elements, setting up circles of bone and earth to cast their respective magics, analyzing the wards and the defenses and just about anything else within line of sight. "How's Banshee?" Reaper asked, kneeling next to Shamira's chair as they both stared at the estate. "She's bored, pissed, and will probably have talked Shane into letting her come back down sometime tomorrow." "She is like you that way," the big man replied. "She needs something to do. Did you bring a silencer?" "Yeah. Why?" "If it might make you feel better, take a couple of shots at the building. There are some windows on that side of the house we haven't destroyed yet." "Won't that let them know where we are?" Reaper shrugged. "They already know that. This just reminds them." Shamira and Reaper wound up playing tic-tac-toe on the side of Lacroix's garage with sniper rifles because it turned out that the remaining windows could not withstand the bullets that well. Who knew? Things went on like that for the rest of the night and into early morning. About two hours before dawn, all hell broke loose. Sebastian was actually the first one to notice the eerie silence that prefaced the attack. He had been looking over some maps, when his head shot up and he started looking around. "Shamira," he said quietly," look into the night sky and tell me what you see." She understood his tone for what it was and immediately looked up as everyone else started to scramble. "Something's broken the inner wards," Lillian shouted as she hid in the armored car that had been acting as their command post. She was not a fighter. "Outer wards breached," Clara shouted, standing behind Shamira for a moment. "Get in the car," Shamira whispered, staring up into the dark. Clouds had rolled in, and it was black as pitch in that little corner of Georgia. Something flickered by, blasts of light occasionally marring it's perfect silhouette. "Good God!" She had seen pictures in books, many owned by her and her brother back in their role-playing days, and she had seen images on movie screens and paintings, but nothing compared . . . nothing could have prepared her for this. Wings of leather carrying aloft of muscular reptilian body . . . legs tucked underneath the body with a long, barbed tail coming out the back and a serpentine neck coming out the front. And those eyes . . . even in Shamira's Shadow Sight, they glowed an angry red. "Dragon," she said in an awed voice barely louder than a whisper, but it carried throughout the group like wildfire. Voices were raised, cover was sought out, communications relayed through the radios to the other groups. No living or undead being currently walking the planet had ever seen one, and even the legends were mired in obscurity. This was real; it was big, and it was headed straight for them. Shamira couldn't move. Some girls had been fascinated by dolls and unicorns as a kid. She had been fascinated by death on wings, fire in the sky, and it was in front of her now, coming fast. Shamira let her eyes follow its body, even when she knew that she should be wheeling for her life. 'So beautiful,' she thought. 'Beautiful and . . . sparkly?' Clara was the first to notice that Shamira was still outside next to the transport van she had come down in. "Shamira!" she shouted, bursting out of the armored car and bolting towards her girlfriend. That was when she saw what Shamira had been looking at and her mind warred with her body as to what action it should take. Fight or flee. The rational part of her brain was choosing the latter, but the part responsible for love was egging her on to defend Shamira. The dragon landed, whipping its tail around its body and wielding it like a scorpion might wield a stinger. It roared so loudly that despite the isolation caused by the blockade, someone somewhere had to have heard it. Its ember-like eyes twirled around, filled with a rage so primal that every sentient creature nearby could feel them. They locked on Shamira. She did not hear Clara yelling at her, and certainly did not realize that her friends and colleagues were about to do something very foolhardy like charge to her rescue. She did not notice much, because once she had locked gazes with this ancient creature, her eyes rolled back in her head and fell unconscious, directly in front of an angry, fire-breathing dragon. ------- ----------------- Shamira had never been nowhere before. It was disconcerting to say the least. This was not "middle of nowhere" nowhere . . . that phrase was referring to places that actually existed on the edge of civilization. There was no civilization here. No earth, no sky, and not even air to breathe. Just a darkness so deep and vast and . . . comforting. How could nothing and nowhere be so familiar? She had no body to feel with or eyes to see, but she could apparently still hear. "Welcome," came a deep voice from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. "I have very much wanted to meet you." Shamira was not stupid. "Shadow Wing." "Yessssssssss," the voice came. The serpentine quality did not seem menacing, but rather natural. Suddenly, Shamira was very angry. "You did this to me! Why? Why me?" "I am sorry, but 'why me' what?" Shamira would have clenched her fists if she actually had any in this weird "nowhere" world. "You know damn well! I never asked to be your damn . . . avatar or whatever the hell it's called. I never wanted your damn power or your damn trials." She felt . . . sad amusement. Wasn't that a contradiction in terms. "Those I choose to inherit my powers never ask for it. They are the kinds of people who never would ask for that much power. And there are no trials." "Bullshit!" Shamira shouted at the emptiness. "They told me about the trials. Some of your 'chosen' don't survive. You get your kicks out of seeing if they're tough enough? Get your jollies out seeing them tortured?" "There are . . . NO . . . trials," the voice whispered again. "You think me so powerful that time and creation bends to my will?" "You have to! I was cut in half --" "And that was your own doing," Shadow Wing responded. Shamira was actually speechless. "My own . . . you son of a bitch. How dare you --" "You blame me for your first death as well? Do you blame me for the death of your childhood friend? Do you blame me for all the evils that have ever befallen you? Listen to me, for I speak the truth. These things did not happen to you because of me. They happened because of you." "Me? You're blaming me for getting tortured?" "Yesssssss." Shadow Wing replied. "Before you ever could have even imagined a world like this, you would have sacrificed yourself for Jimmy Fisk. Every day, you stood between against evil forces. You took bullets for a vampire because it is in your nature to suffer so that others do not. All of those I have chosen were similar, though few matched your dedication. You yourself have said that for evil to triumph, all it requires is for good people to stand by and do nothing. You never stand by. You never do nothing. You always fight. Sometimes you lose, and sometimes you suffer. But you ALWAYS fight." Shamira wanted to cry or scream or both. It was easier when she could have at least partly blamed Shadow Wing or fate or both. But she knew in her heart that he was not lying. "Those I choose sometimes die not because they are not worthy, but because they were like you in intention but not as strong. There is a difference between real strength and power. I can give you power. The rest was yours to begin with." "How strong am I?" she replied angrily, though the negative emotion was broader now and not directed at her host. "I'm broken." "You were wounded," Shadow Wing contradicted her, "never broken. And even wounded," he said, sounding proud, "you still fight. You fight for justice and now for love. And I ask you to fight for one more thing." "What?" "Dragons." ------- ----------------- Shamira's eyes opened just as Clara's hands grasped frantically at her chair to pull it back. Just as the dragon opened its mouth to coat them both in flames. Her eyes met those of the beast. Her back screamed in agony. Shamira stood up. "Shamira?" Clara murmured, her mind filled with fear and hope and disbelief, all at the same time. "Stand back," the risen vampire replied. She thought back to something she had seen when the dragon had been flying. Her ears picked up noises that did not belong . . . buzzing, humming, and a crackling "pop." She stepped toward the dragon. The creature pulled its head back, looking almost like a cat with its back arched. It growled, looking around, then trying to twist its head around as if looking for something just out of reach. Shamira knew what it was looking for without even seeing it. Then the creature turned its head back and bared its teeth, creeping its head forward until it was mere inches from Shamira's face. It sniffed her and then . . . it whined. It swung its head to look at Clara, but Shamira moved her body between them. "What the hell is going on?" Clara asked. Shamira did not answer, but rather held out her hand and ran it over the dragon's head. "What are you --" Clara started to say, then watched in amazement as Shamira's Shadow Claws enveloped her hand and tore something from the dragon's neck. It was a leather strap with a number of glowing stones and wires and mechanical devices attached to it. The dragon's reaction was the most surprising thing of all. It instantly stopped growling and glanced around, trying to see the spot where the collar had been. It settled down against the ground and sniffed Shamira again. She held the device behind her. "Take this," she said, waiting for Clara to gingerly take it from her hand while keeping her attention of the serpentine form in front of her. "Sebastian?" "Yeah?" came a confused voice from off from her right. Like Clara, he had been coming to rescue her from the ravaging beast before the oddness began. "I have to go inside." "Inside where?" "Lacroix's house." Shamira caressed the dragon's head with both hands, feeling the cool, hard scales. "You're so beautiful," she told the creature. 'Not a creature,' she thought suddenly. 'No more a "creature" than a vampire or a werewolf. Are you a boy or a girl? Do you have a name?' The dragon cocked its head, then nuzzled her face with its nose. It was confused. It saw a little pinkish bipedal creature, but it smelled . . . something else. "Shamira, you're sounding crazy now," Henry said from another direction, causing the dragon's head to swing that way and growl ever so lightly. Shamira felt something inside her, and she knew what was coming. Knew it was time. Her hands started to calmly unbutton her vest. "Uhm baby, is this really a good time?" Clara asked. "It has to be now," she muttered back. She tossed one bit of clothing after another onto the ground until she stood naked in the center of the lot. "Are you . . . going to have sex with it?" Clara asked absently. Despite the dire situation, her eyes were drawn to Shamira's shapely ass and those powerful legs that seemed to be working just fine now. 'What the hell's happening?' she wondered. Shamira actually turned her head and glowered at her girlfriend. "Of course not," she said. "Really, is that all you think I think about?" "That and football," Clara replied with a wry grin. But her mouth popped open in disbelief as she watched darkness start to ooze out of her lover's pores, flowing from inside her like lava from a volcano. The smoke-like blackness surrounded her body and then started to grow . . . and grow . . . and grow. The darkness began to coalesce into a new form. To Protect and Serve Ch. 11 "Oh . . ." Clara whispered. ". . . my . . . " Henry continued. " . . . God!" Sebastian finished. In the middle of the paved lot, there were now two dragons. One was about twenty feet from nose to tail. The other was . . . bigger. Where Shamira had stood was a new dragon that was easily three times the size of its companion. But more impressive was the length of the beast was the sheer mass. Its legs and long neck were bigger than tree trunks, its claws dug trenches in the asphalt, and teeth poking out from the upper jaw were like swords. Its tail was long and powerful, but lacked the barbed spikes that the smaller dragon possessed. Smoke seemed to constantly seep from beneath its scales, and its eyes glowed white. The smaller dragon raised its head, sniffing at the underside of the much larger dragon's chin. Shadow Wing's chin. Shamira's chin. The two touched noses, then the smaller dragon lowered its head in a submissive gesture. Shamira was a much bigger, much more powerful dragon. "Baby --" Clara started, then stopped as Shamira's new, massive head swung her way while the smaller dragon hid under that long neck. * Clara, I need you to look after the young one. * "Augh!" Clara replied, somewhat ungraciously as the voice entered her head. "Telepathy?! What's next, space travel?" Shamira cocked her head and then looked up. * I think that may be pushing it. * "Wait, you want me to look after a frigging dragon?!" Shamira stared at the "little" dragon, who looked at Shamira, then at Clara, then back at Shamira. Finally, some kind of intent was communicated. Then the young beast slunk over to Clara who could not help but be a little nervous and . . . curled up at her feet. It kept a wary eye on the vampire, but it no longer seemed hostile. i* "Who could I trust more than you? * From the scales on Shamira's back, the smoke began to expand and flow until it formed two massive wings. Shamira secretly hoped that her first flight was not straight into the ground. While this form felt surprisingly natural thus far, flying was flying. There were reasons why it was easier to get a driver's license than a pilot's license. But the moment her feet left the ground -- 'Oh, I could get used to this!' she thought as the ground became a memory and the sky welcomed her home. What had she been so afraid of? She managed to do a barrel role as she hurtled toward Lacroix's house, forgetting for a moment the dire urgency of her quest. She felt a great burning beginning deep in her breast, creeping forward slowly at first and then charged for her teeth. Flames burst from her mouth and raked their way across the remains of Lacroix's expansive yard. She felt the burning grass and trees heat her belly as she flew over them. She felt the wards parting before her like a wall made of aluminum foil . . . more decorative than functional. Shamira barreled into the front door, causing the entire entryway of the house to creak and give way. Several guards at the front were buried, but others were simply frozen in their tracks. This was not something they had expected in their wildest nightmares. She sniffed the air, sifting through the blood and the smoke and the dust to identify what she had come in here for. A guard finally tried raising a nasty-looking rifle at her, causing her to twist her head and bite the man in half. 'I can't believe I just did that,' she thought. 'Hmm . . . down that corridor --' Shamira started tearing and burning her way through the house, looking for her target. There was a metal set of doors where the scent was strong. She was getting ready to start ripping her way through when she felt a bolt of energy strike her from behind. There was not really room for her to turn around, but she did it anyway, thereby creating a brand new room out of several old hallways. Lacroix was standing there, his hands and eyes glowing. True, he was also standing behind a dozen or so minor vamps. "You will obey me!" the far-too-pretty man screamed. Shamira could feel him attempting to exert his masterly influence on her. It kind of tickled. He blasted her again with energy, which simply cascaded off her scales. "You are impossible! I control the only dragon! No matter, for once I have brought you to heel --" he added, motioning for one of his guards who was holding something similar to the collar she had removed from the smaller dragon. "Do it!" Lacroix screamed. At the end of the hall, Shamira noticed Jonas. Lacroix's "security" chief was hiding in the back. Shamira's reptilian mouth curled in what was apparently a fairly menacing glare, as the guard who had been approaching with the collar dropped it and started to run away. Lacroix shot another magic bolt at the man and grinned evilly as his one-time lackey burst into flame. "See, you cannot possibly stand against my power!" Shamira could barely believe this. She took a sniff, and could tell instantly that the man did not smell right. He was high on morning star. She had not even smelled the stuff before, but that had to be it. He actually thought that he had a shot. Shamira was not normally prone to arrogance, but dammit, she was a fucking dragon! To emphasize her point, she shot a swath of fire at her would-be captors. Lacroix threw up shields to protect himself and one of the guards dove for cover. The rest were nothing more than ash littering the floor of a collapsing palace. "Jonas?!" Lacroix said, his arrogant voice cracking a bit. The vampire's eyes were wide and bloodshot, and he looked over to call up his last line of defense. Jonas was having none of it. He glanced at a stone circle that was set up in the nearby dining room which, thanks to Shamira's wanderings, was much bigger than it used to be. "Sorry sir," he snarled, "but it's every vamp for himself." "Jonas, you can't --" Lacroix started to scream, but his second-in-command muttered a trigger word and the standing stone circle began to glow. Lacroix snarled as well, then starting running towards what Shamira assumed was an emergency portal. Shamira lumbered after him, destroying everything in her path. She wanted Jonas. Mission or not, she wanted her teeth to end his life. But even as she summoned up another blast of fire, Jonas was making it to the portal. * Do you recognize me yet?! * Shamira thought outwardly with as much hatred as she could muster. Then she breathed. She had just enough time to see the fear and confusion in Jonas's eyes before he dove through the portal, the energy shining brightly for a moment before vanishing. Lacroix had been partially caught in the blast, and he was frantically trying to extinguish himself. Shamira placed one giant foot on his chest, pinning him in place. "Let . . . let me go," the smoldering vampire muttered. * Lacroix, you have committed crimes against your people and sins against this world. That which you have done and allowed to BE done under your roof are unforgivable. * She sniffed him, smelling fear now. * Your life is forfeit. By the name and honor of Lord Shane Stapleton and the Tribunal, I pass judgment on you. The sentence is death. * "You . . . work for Stapleton? Who the hell are you?!" She knew that she was not supposed to discuss her identity with anyone, but she figured that this would not matter for long. * My friends call me Shamira. Shane calls me his child. You can call me Shadow Wing. * She waited for the notion to set in, but strangely rather than looking more afraid, he almost looked . . . relieved? "Thank the Gods," Lacroix said, letting his body relax. His eyes, just recently displaying madness, now just seemed tired. "He . . . he said it would help me gain power. He said it would fix everything. But it broke everything," Lacroix whispered, staring at the portal where Jonas had fled. "It broke me." * You made your bed. It is time to lie in it. * She felt no more resistance. Lacroix had burned through the drug in his system. Despite everything that had happened because of this man's weakness, Shamira took pity on him. She made his death quick, crushing him in an instant. Then she looked towards the inactive portal. 'I will not be quite so kind with you,' she thought. ----------- ------ Outside . . . ----------- ------ Clara had been involved in a staring contest with a young dragon for about thirty minutes when Shamira returned, swooping down into the cleared area and landing far more gracefully than Clara might have imagined. The smaller dragon instantly perked up, moving to Shamira and placing itself in a subservient position at the big dragon's feet. Shamira moved her enormous head over to Clara, who just grinned and stroked her scales. "You're still pretty damn gorgeous," she said softly. Shamira opened her mouth to reveal a number of dragon eggs, nestled in between her sharp teeth and tongue. * We need to take these somewhere safe, and we need to do it soon, * Shamira sent. Clara waisted no time and started grabbing the eggs out of Shamira's mouth. "You are the strangest girlfriend that I've ever had," she said. "Hey, Lacroix --" * -- is no longer among the living, * Shamira said. *Jonas got away through some magical portal. * "I'm sorry," Clara said, pausing to pat Shamira's nose. "We'll get him. There are no safe ports for him anymore. He dealt in morning star, betrayed his lord, and defied the Tribunal. And quite frankly, no one is going to want to cross you now. You won't be able to hide what you've become." Clara's eyes were still a bit wide. "You're going to have to tell me what it's like." * As soon as the eggs are safe, * Shamira replied. Clara grinned. "I also couldn't help but notice that you can walk again . . . feel your legs again." * I . . . I haven't really had time to process that part yet. But yeah, I guess I can. * "You know what that means, don't you?" Clara wiggled her eyebrows. The dragon Shamira rolled her eyes. * And you accuse ME of having a one-track mind. * Clara kissed Shamira's nose. "Tell me that you aren't looking forward to getting back in the game," she whispered naughtily. "Tell me you aren't thinking about it right now." Shamira could not because as soon as Clara had planted that kiss, then playing the game was exactly what Shamira had begun thinking about. ----------- -------------------- Shortly before dawn . . . ----------- -------------------- Shamira sometimes wondered exactly how much money Shane either had personally or had access to, because overnight he had managed to acquire a one-hundred acre farm up near Ellijay, GA with the possibility of buying more of the surrounding area. There was an old hay barn on the property which was spacious enough to accommodate two dragons, a dozen intact eggs, and tons of guards. Apparently the Tribunal had already heard of the young dragon and the return of Shadow Wing, and their safety was top priority. Shane was waiting at the farm when Shamira and the young dragon arrived. The smaller newcomer followed its larger counterpart's lead in just about every way to the point that it was creeping her out. She was glad that she temporarily had four feet, because the little one was constantly on the verge of tripping her up. "He seems quite attached to you," Shane chuckled from a safe distance. He and the other guards and members of his house that had come with their boss had been told not to rile the young dragon, who was staring at them all with great suspicion while simultaneously hiding under Shamira's massive bulk. "The Tribunal is sending the world's foremost expert on the history of the Greater Dragons here. He should be able to help us figure out what to do with your charge here." * Thank goodness, * Shamira thought. * I have absolutely no idea what to do with him. * "Can you tell us anything about him?" the Representative asked, her eyes wide with wonder. It was hard to surprise someone going on a thousand years old, but this was new to her. "Maybe you should start at the beginning," Shane said. Shamira nodded, then had to turn around to see why the smaller dragon was pawing at her hindquarters. She connected directly with its mind as Shadow Wing had told her to do. Dragons had little need for a "language" of their own, as they were able to project thought, intention, and feeling directly to one another. She had been communicating with the younger dragon on the flight up and had gotten some ideas about what had happened, but the thoughts were jumbled and disoriented. * The young one is hungry, * she thought. * We need to come up with a name for it at some point, but I don't know if it's a boy or a girl, and it has little understanding of those concepts.* "There are cattle on the ranch. Do you think that would work?" Shamira sent the image of a cow to the young dragon and while there was little recognition, there was a great deal of interest. So she nodded, then started looking around. Shadow Wing had imparted some instincts to her, but she was having trouble making sense of them. There was still some hay at one end of the barn, and she started pushing it into a circle . . . into a nest. By the time she had finished the structure (which aesthetically made her cringe) they had gotten a cow isolated in a nearby field. So Shamira and her companion went hunting. Admittedly, "hunting" a cow was a bit of a misnomer. Shamira swooped in and broke its neck in one bite. The thought made her cringe briefly, remembering when her own spine was shattered. But dragons had to eat, and wanted to teach her young ally to hunt efficiently and, if possible, humanely. The dragon observed her shrewdly, then just stared at her. Shamira was confused. "You need to watch more Animal Planet," Renata shouted. Her predator instincts were trying to deal with having a much bigger, much badder predator in such close proximity. "Lesser animals are supposed to wait until the alpha has had her fill." * Wait, I have to eat raw cow? * Shamira's stomach growled, and the idea suddenly did not seem quite so unappealing. It smelled VERY good. She sniffed it again and started to nibble. Before she knew it, she'd eaten half a flank. 'Wait,' she thought to herself, 'Need to let him . . . her . . . it . . . eat.' She looked at the youngster, then nudged the carcass towards it while projected an image of the small dragon eating. It looked at the carcass hungrily, then at Shamira. Then the carcass. Then Shamira. Then it slowly extended its neck, keeping an eye on the big dragon. It took a bite, then another and another. Finally, any nervousness about pecking order was overcome by just being damn hungry. After it had eaten its fill, Shamira walked it back to the barn and into the nest. It was exhausted but seemed to be too nervous to sleep. Shamira projected the notion of safety and that she would stay nearby. It then put the image of her human body merging into a dragon and then back again into its head. The young dragon seemed confused, but its ordeal combined with a long flight and a great deal of stress allowed it to slowly nod off. With the young dragon asleep, Shamira willed her body back into its bipedal state. Shane admired the currently-naked view, then handed her a robe. How he had thought to bring one with him was beyond Shamira. "Might I say," he started, his voice full of warmth as he stared at her repaired body, "that it is good to see you up and about." He pulled her into a firm embrace and, just like that, the dam broke. Silently, everyone from the house who was present and everyone that knew here moved forward in a large, amorphous, evolving embrace. A few drops of blood leaked from her eyes as an intense, relieving, overwhelming joy flowing into her. These were her friends and, when Clara pushed her way through and pressed her lips to Shamira's, the sometimes-dragon remembered how much more they could be. Finally the little love fest broke up enough that Shamira could sit down. "Yeah," Shamira started, almost relieved to be using her normal voice. Telepathy was really for for her. "This is all kind of a bit much, isn't it?" She stood back up and started walking around. She never thought she would be able to do this again, so she was going to enjoying it for a while. No one seemed to mind, and most of them were actually smiling when they saw her upright. "Start at the beginning," the Representative said firmly, though her mouth was quirked in a smile. And her eyes kept darting over to the slumbering dragon at the other end of the room. "Okay, I'm assuming that everyone knows what happened up until the point that our guest arrived?" Shamira said, thumbing in the general direction of the dragon. "Well that was when Shadow Wing decided it was time to have a little chat." "What I would have given to be a fly on the wall for THAT discussion," Shane said. "It started off unpleasant," Shamira agreed. "I had a lot of issues but --" She paused, unsure of how much she wanted to share. "I'm okay. I don't think I'll hold a grudge against Shadow Wing for this." Shane's mouth and eyes opened wide in mock shock. "Who are you and what have you done with Shamira?" "Very funny." "I'm just saying that if it were ME, you'd hold a grudge until --" "Can I please get on with the debriefing?" Shamira smiled. She and Shane were going to be okay. "When I first heard about Shadow Wing and all that, I thought that maybe this conflict with Lacroix was the 'big thing' that was pulling the powers out of hiding. Then I thought it might be the magical races outing themselves to the public, but I think THIS is it," she continued, waving her hand at the sleeping dragon. "He sensed that whatever Lacroix and his house were doing was going to work. The Greater Dragons were coming back and . . . and I guess that he regretted that they had left. Yeah, he was saving the human race by fighting in the Dragon Wars, but his kind was gone from the Earth. They're getting a second chance, I guess." The Representative's eyes went to the eggs that were currently resting in another nest built by volunteers. "So those --" "Are viable now," Shamira said. "Those ones may wind up hatching. I have no idea how Lacroix and Jonas did it, but he brought life back to them. I mean, there's only a dozen or so eggs remaining --" "-- but it's a start," Shane finished. "And you shall lead them." "Huh? I thought I just had to rescue them!" Shamira shivered. "I thought the Tribunal --" "Who better to lead the Greater Dragons back to promise than the chosen one of the most powerful Greater Dragon to ever live? The last Moon Dragon chose you," Alessandra said. "We know he did not choose you lightly." "But . . . but . . . I don't want to be a mom! I didn't really want to do that when I was alive!" "Then don't be," Clara said, walking close to her agitated girlfriend and taking her hand. "Be a friend and a mentor and a source of inspiration. Those things you can do. Just ask anyone." "But . . . I wanted to come home!" "And you will," Shane said. "But this is more important right now. The fate of one of the great races is in your hands now." 'Yeah, great,' Shamira thought, looking at the enormous reptile snoring at the back of the room. 'No pressure.' -------------- -------------- The next evening . . . -------------- -------------- Shamira was glad that dragons apparently slept most of the day away, because the young one was far too exuberant when it was awake. It did not seem to have any problem obeying Shamira's commands while she was in human form, but she still morphed back into a dragon most of the time because telepathy was more efficient with the youngster. One thing she discovered . . . convincing her companion to bathe would not be a problem. They went out exploring the property under cover of darkness and found a large tank stocked with fish. The little dragon dove right in and seemed to be having the time of its life. Shamira joined in and admittedly had a lot of fun splashing around. To Protect and Serve Ch. 11 They hunted another cow, did some flying around the countryside, and Shamira spent a lot of time projecting behaviors into the young one's head, trying to impart some sense of what was acceptable and what was not. The other dragon showed itself to be a good learner, albeit easily distracted by sudden movements and shiny things. When they returned to the barn after several hours of frolicking, they found a group waiting for them. Shane had sent most of the house back into the field, either to secure Lacroix's lands, police his own, or to hunt down Jonas. He, Clara, Tabitha, and Renata were here, as well as the Representative and her entire contingent of bodyguards. Several of the surrounding lords sent personnel to help guard this new treasure. Clyde Pritchard of Huntsville had shown up personally. There were also a number of strange vampires who seemed to be guarding a new arrival. He was a tall, thin man with a hawk-like nose and eyes that were equally as sharp, despite the librarian-style spectacles he wore. Shamira sniffed as she came in the door, and noticed the man did not smell like a vampire, a were, or . . . or like anything she had ever sensed before. She looked around and saw that the hay nest was now littered with what appeared to be gold and assorted jewels. The young dragon seemed to find it all very fascinating, though he gazed at the little pink bipeds suspiciously. The newcomer stared back, mesmerized like a kid in a toy store. Shamira got the younger beast to realize that it needed to sleep and that she would continue to protect it, so it climbed back into the nest. It spent some time pushing the precious metals into a pile and then curled around it before going back to sleep. Shamira shifted back. "Huh," she muttered. "I guess that part is true. Weird." She slipped on a robe than Shane handed her. "Dragons really dig treasure?" "All the tales that I have studied indicated it to be such, so I arranged for this small donation to be brought here," the new man said. "Small donation? You could pay off the national debt with what's in that nest." "But that would hardly be as interesting," the man replied. "So you are the infamous Shamira Stapleton of the house of Stapleton, current incarnation of Shadow Wing." The man bowed gracefully. "It is indeed an honor." When his head came back up, his gaze was instantly drawn back to the slumbering dragon. "How long does it sleep? Is it true that it was born telepathic? How --" "Woah! Hold on there a second. I just met it for the first time yesterday. I'm having a bit of trouble adjust to BEING a dragon some of the time. I don't know much more about the little critter than you do." "Of course. My apologies," the man said. "It is just that I have spent my whole life researching the ancient world, and to actually see a dragon . . . it is like a real-life version of Jurassic Park." He kissed her hand. "My name is Archimedes, and I am the historian, archivist, and librarian for the Tribunal." "Uhm, aren't you supposed to not tell me your name? Admittedly it would be weird to call you guys Representative One and Representative Two --" "I hold no official power on the Tribunal and simply act as its collective memory. I have no ability to make decisions or influence law, so it does no good to try and influence me." "Wait, you said your name is Archimedes? As in --" "Yes," he said, holding his finger to his lips. "Not at all like the carvings, am I?" "Nope," she said. She opened her mouth to ask what he was, but realized that might be impolite. He smiled at her. "I see that the wisdom attributed you by my colleague has been well-placed," he said. "If there is anyone who can help us understand the Greater Dragons, it is Archimedes," the Representative said demurely. "He has been on the Tribunal longer than any other." "You are too kind." He turned back to Shamira. "Please indulge me and tell me everything you have learned." Shamira sat down and started to explain the bits and pieces she had picked up, though she did not know much past what had already been explained. "I don't think he's that old. I kind of got the impression he's only been there for a few months. Are they supposed to grow that fast?" "Dragons were supposed to reach maturity very quickly, which was good because they bred very slowly. Because so much information can be passed via telepathy, they absorb knowledge at an exponential rate. I believe that this also means that the thought style of the parent unit . . . in this case, you . . . makes a greater impact in these types of situations, or at least it has in other telepathic species such as the aquatic races." "I once wrote a thesis about how the entire final dragon war came about because of two schools of thought that were literally just that . . . schools of thought. Two mindsets brought about because of the telepathic communications of the alpha dragons that slowly diverged, much like your American political parties but without all the backstabbing." "I guess that makes sense, though it kind of scares the crap out of me. Anyway, he doesn't have many memories. He broke out of his shell, but could not sense a mother or father. Just some weird biped that stuck him in a cell. I think Lacroix lost track that this is an intelligent creature, because he and Jonas treated it like a dog. They punished it whenever it did something they didn't like, which it did a lot because it wanted to escape. Finally they stuck that damn collar on, so it couldn't escape when they wanted to punish it." She growled, "I killed Lacroix way too quickly." "You did the right thing," the Representative chided her. "I will be staying here and observing," Archimedes interjected. Please feel free to ask any question that comes to mind regardless of how insignificant you think it might be. This is a brave new world, Lady Shamira." "Could I get a copy of that thesis you were talking about? Unless you'd rather just give me the dummy version. And there are still Lesser Dragons, right? In South America and Africa? Can we get some of them to help?" "The Lesser Dragons' behaviors are well documented, and would probably be disinclined to help. They were effectively the lackeys for the Greater Dragons back in the day. Still, if we could convince some that this is an opportunity to bring back their larger ancestors without such negative behaviors, they might actually jump at the chance. It is worth a shot." "I shall ask the Tribunal to contact one of the flocks in South America," the Representative said. "Excellent," interjected Tabitha. "Now ladies and gentlemen, I need to give Shamira a physical. Amongst the other miracles she has shown us, she is walking again after having her spine sawed in half, so I'm a little concerned about her physical state." Everyone gave them space, with Archimedes, Shane, and the Representative moving to examine the sleeping dragon (at a safe distance) while Tabitha and some of the members of the house moved into a trailer set up just inside the barn. It was full of all manner of gadgets and so forth. "Some of it's mine, some is Archimedes," Tabitha explained. It's to help monitor your health and the dragons' health. Now strip and get up on the table." Shamira grinned. "Just like old times," she said, then quickly complied. She got her back x-rayed, then she was gently poked and prodded. Then she was not-so-gently poked and prodded. There were still a few spots along her lower spine that were tender when pushed on directly, but Tabitha was not too concerned. Actually she was positively giddy. "Hey, do you really need to still be feeling up my girl?" Clara asked as Tabitha traced the muscles of Shamira's back. "Hey, this is a lot more fun to do when she can actually feel it," the redhead replied. "And yes, I'm seeing if the muscles have healed properly. I couldn't do that very well when she couldn't feel things down here," she added, massaging the area just above the buttocks with her thumbs. "Hey, leave her alone," Shamira said happily. "She's a doctor." Clara put her hands on Shamira's shoulders and massaged them. "You're just being a shameless hussie." "Mmmh hmm," Shamira agreed. "Horrible me." She looked up at Clara. "Hey, how's Banshee anyway?" Tabitha fielded that one. "Shane sent her down to Savannah to arrange cleanup and to get the house to be rebuilt for whoever the next lord is going to be. She wanted to go hunting for Jonas, but Shane seems to have other plans for that. Most of the house should be back in the next few days, 'cause Shane's using the remote staff for most of the clean up. Oh, Bunny has taken over the prisoner transfer duties in your absence." "Good for her. Hey Clara, Bunny said something to me that would be kind of fun to arrange if the doms are up to it." "And that would be?" "A rabbit hunt. Seems she's got this idea about being chased through the woods, caught, and . . . well, you guess the rest." "Her twentieth birthday is coming up. I'll bring it up with Shane, but I'm sure that talking him into it won't be too difficult." Clara smiled. "What about you? I mean," she purred, "you ARE intact and capable of feeling . . . everything." "Of course, Mistress --" Shamira started to say, then the door came open and Archimedes poked his head inside. "Miss Shamira, the dragon is waking up. It seems distressed." "Time to feed the baby," she said irritably. She looked at Clara who had gotten that naughty-hungry look in her eyes, then forced a sigh from her lungs. Being a "mom" was going to suck. --------- ------------------ A week later . . . --------- ------------------ Turning into a dragon . . . cool, but complicated. Being the only one who can get a real dragon to eat, sleep, and not set the surrounding countryside on fire was complicated and annoying. Trying to corral one Greater Dragon who wanted to go play with a flock of Lesser Dragons? REALLY annoying. *Everybody stop! * she projected in her most authoritarian voice. Apparently having the power of a full grown Moon Dragon had some advantages, because the dozen or so Lesser Dragons, each the size of large dog but smart as a human, all came to a complete stop and then tried to look inconspicuous. They had been playing what was quite possibly the noisiest, most destructive game of "tag" that she had ever seen played. There were paths through the woods around the farm where trees had literally been trampled by several tons of ancient reptile in pursuit of much nimbler prey. There were a few saving graces that (mostly) overshadowed the proverbial headaches that the Lesser Dragons seemed to have a lot to contribute. First, they were able to discern that the young dragon was a boy, and he was slightly older physically than he seemed to be mentally due to his incarceration at the Lacroix estate, but was encouraged by his progress under Shamira's care. It turned out that the Lesser Dragons had decided that after seven thousand years, it was okay to let bygones be bygones. They liked the idea of bringing back their larger cousins as long as it did not mean being a servant race. And the leader of the flock, a dragon named Katar, thought it best -- * They are a part of our history, and part of us has always been missing without them. * And as it turned out, even the Lesser Dragons had a bit of hero worship for the chosen of Shadow Wing. They kept bringing her rabbits or small deer as offerings, extremely glad that Shamira could not gain weight in either form. She passed most of these morsels onto her young charge, who was still in need of a name. * A name will come to him, * Katar thought, * or at least that is the way it is for us. * He looked admiringly at the baby of a dragon that was already more than three times his own size. * It is strange for us. For a human, it would be like getting a chance to meet Cleopatra or Genghis Khan. For better or worse, they shaped human history. * * You're well read, * Shamira replied. * We stole some books from a group of missionaries who had overstayed their welcome. We did not have many, so we had to study each of them at length. * "Oh my God, THAT'S Shamira?!" intruded a familiar voice. Shamira swung her giant head back around and saw her donors Kira and Arthur standing next to Shane in the door of the barn. They were staring at her like she was the winning lottery ticket. Clara grinned. "I explained everything to them on the way over." "We have the coolest vampire EVER!" Arthur shouted. "Is it okay if we come closer? I mean, if your . . . uhm . . . friends don't mind?" The Lesser Dragons glanced up at Shamira. She was the boss dragon. * You never need to be afraid of me, * she thought. "You do realize you're the size of a Greyhound bus now, don't you?" Arthur asked, his eyes still wide. Kira looked behind Shamira. "And you're not the one I'm nervous about." The young dragon had come over and was poking its head around Shamira's body and looking suspiciously at the newcomers. He had seen vampires, weres, faeries, and . . . well, whatever Archimedes was, but these were his first humans. Shamira sent him a definite "don't hurt them" vibe, which the youngster seemed to take to heart. Shamira lay down and put her head next to her donors. * This is hard, * she complained. "You've been killed, turned into a vamp, survived fight after fight, been tortured, turned into a dragon, and THIS is the hard part? Looking after a baby?" Kira asked. "In her defense," Archimedes said, looking up from a conversation she had been having with one of the smaller dragons, "this 'baby' can eat a Volkswagen. And I'm serious about that. Shamira had to make him put it down before his jaws dislocated in an attempt to swallow it whole." The young dragon's head inched closer and took a deep sniff. Then strangely, he simply cocked his head and sniffed again. He sniffed both very nervous humans and then . . . nuzzled Kira? "Hey there, big guy!" Kira said, going instantly into a what-an-adorable-baby/pet mode that people often exhibited. She reached out and stroked his nose, encouraging her husband to do the same. * That's . . . unexpected, * Shamira thought. * That's the best reaction he's ever given a new person. * Renata had been discussing some things with Shane, but she looked up and said, "Well, they do kind of smell like you." Archimedes immediately perked up, looking excited enough that he might pop a blood vessel. "Of course! They are your Renfields, correct?" Shamira looked over at Tabitha who provided an affirmative nod. Shamira shrugged, or as close to a shrug as a dragon could do. "The baby smells your blood in them. It may see them as . . . well, family." "Yes, call me Aunt Kira!" the woman said, rubbing the creature's nose and cleaning some dirt out from its scales. The young dragon looked delighted at the attention. 'Great,' Shamira thought. 'Now I have to deal with baby-talk too?' "Poor Shamira being neglected?" Clara cooed, rubbing the scales behind Shamira's eyes. It felt annoyingly good. It was annoying also that this was the most action she was able to get for the foreseeable future. It seemed that the young dragon knew when she was not around, causing it to wake up if asleep and immediately come looking for her. * This was not how I was expecting to spend my time after Lacroix was taken care of. * She saw the younger dragon bow its head, obviously sensing her irritation. She mentally sighed and sent it reassuring vibes, then encouraged it to go out the tank with the Lesser Dragons for a quick dip. It was obviously excited about the prospect and made it all the way to the door before looking back, waiting for the alpha dragon to lead the way. Shamira contained her frustration and sauntered toward her young charge. "Hold on a moment," Archimedes said, then turned to Kira and Arthur. "Would you mind accompanying the dragon to the swimming hole?" The two humans looked at him questioningly. "Is that safe?" "I just want to see if he'll follow you since you're effectively 'children' of the vampire dragon. Don't worry, he won't hurt you. He just may not follow you." Kira and Arthur shrugged and headed outside while Shamira mentally nudged the baby. She superimposed notions of her and her authority on them. It looked nervous, but she reminded it of where the tank was and where she was. It was not far. Finally, youthful exuberance overcame shyness and off it went. Shamira shifted back into her bipedal form. "Yay!" she said collapsing into a chair, "Babysitters!" "I think that most of the time, he will still be your responsibility. Like most children, he will wander from his mother's legs sometimes, but will quickly come running back if spooked." "I'm not his mother," Shamira whined pitifully. "I can barely handle being an aunt most of the time." "You best be used to it," Archimedes reminded her. "No one else, not even the Lesser Dragons, is capable of controlling the child for any length of time. Your Renfields are simply temporary fixes, albeit fascinating ones." "Speaking of that," Shane said as he wandered over to sit next to her, "I have a proposition for you." "Proposition?" "About Arthur and Kira. The Tribunal has informed me that my house will be taking over full control of Lacroix's territories rather than finding an outsider to come in. This means another expansion. Your donors have shown themselves to be resourceful and invaluable, and I would like to offer to bring them over." Shamira was stunned. "What? I mean . . . wow! I don't think I'm the one you should be asking though. I'm not going to coerce --" "Of course not, but they are your donors and your Renfields. I was rather hoping you would do the actual honors." "What?! I can't! I'm not old enough and . . . and I'd have to kill them and if we're wrong about my power then --" "We're not wrong," the Representative said. "We had your blood examined by a blood witch just in case, and they confirm that you have the power. In all ways except actual age, you are a full vampire." Shamira closed her eyes. "I . . . I don't think I can risk it. I'm an unknown, and I won't gamble their lives on that." Shane leaned back in his seat. He wished his enforcer shared his confidence, but did not fault her at all for this stance. "I understand." "May I make a suggestion?" the Representative asked. "There are many on the waiting list to be brought over who will die of illness before they even receive consideration for being turned." "Wait, there are people who are just waiting --" Shamira objected, but she was cut off when Shane raised his hand. "If we were to bring over everyone who knew of us and wanted to join our ranks, the earth would groan with their weight. We have always had to keep our numbers under control." Shane knew Shamira well enough to head off her reaction. "We are not attempting to blackmail you," he told her. "This is not 'Save someone or we'll let them die.' They will die anyway. I am being allowed to bring another dozen or so members into my extended house. You could extend that number by two." "Lord Stapleton," Clara said, almost admonishingly, "this is Shamira's first break in dragon-guarding duties in over a week, not to mention everything else over the last month." "Indeed," the Representative added. "It is unfair to burden her with more worries when she has dealt with so much." Shane closed his eyes. "Four months," he said quietly, the opened his eyes again and looked at Shamira. "You have only been amongst us for four months." He rose and kissed her hand. "They're right. If you didn't handle everything life threw at you, I might remember that. You should relax. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?" To Protect and Serve Ch. 11 Shamira's mouth hung open temporarily. What DID she want? There were so many things from the carnal to the mundane that it was hard to decide. Then she looked at Clara, and that was all it took. She grinned. An hour later, she and Clara were sitting on a sofa in one of the trailers watching the enormous HD television that Shane had acquired quickly and at great expense. There was a bowl of popcorn on the floor, a couple of beers, and the two women were watching a pay-per-view romance movie. "A first date," Clara chuckled, reiterating what Shamira had asked for. "Well, it's a little overdue, don't you think?" the other woman said, feeling a little dorky. She was laying down on the sofa with her head in Clara's lap, glad to have a quiet moment with a woman who meant so much to her. The baby dragon was asleep, while Kira and Arthur were having the time of their lives keeping an eye on the massive reptile as well as talking with the Lesser Dragons. Shane was doing business, the Representative was talking with the Tribunal members who were en route, Archimedes was making notes . . . everyone had found something to do that did not involve disturbing the two lovers in any way. "Far too long," Clara agreed. She stroked her girlfriend's hair. "I did want to talk to you about this," she continued. "I've never actually dated someone in the house before. Hell, I haven't really dated anyone in fifty years." "Constant access to good 'friends with benefits' might have something to do with that," Shamira replied happily. "True, but this is different. It's . . . well, more. I just want you to know that I'm likely to do some stuff wrong or say the wrong things, because it's new to me. If things ever start to get uncomfortable for some reason, you can tell me, even if it means breaking character." "We do have kind of an unconventional relationship, don't we? It's okay," Shamira replied. "It's not like I have a great dating resume either. Hell, you're the first person I've ever been with that I believe actually likes me." Clara could not imagine the foolishness of the men who had shared this woman's bed in the past. They had treated her like an oddity, good for a quick fuck but not the sort of woman they introduce to their friends. Most of Clara's friends wanted to fuck Shamira's brains out. Hell, most of them already had and undoubtedly would again. Speaking of which . . . "You know, Shane's putting you back on the market tomorrow." Shamira sat up quickly, her eyes wide. "Really?" "Yep. Figures that you're healthy, you're intact, your mind is in a pretty good place right now, and . . . well, now we've found some dragon-sitters. He is personally planning on having his way with you as soon as the sun sets." Shamira felt a warm tingling in a very special and recently neglected part of her body. "Oh . . . my." Clara grinned. She could smell Shamira's excitement. "Most everyone in the house is lining up for a crack at you." "What about --" Shamira started to say, then felt horribly vain. She wanted to know if Clara was going to dominate her again. "Hmm, I have basically laid a special claim. I get every other turn with you. Since I would be remiss in making the other doms wait, that means that you'll probably be getting fucked silly twice a day. Hope you're ready for it." Shamira was very, very, very ready for it. Well, mostly. She still had one fear, and it showed on her face. Clara looked concerned. "What's the matter? I thought you'd be happy." "I am," Shamira blurted, "but --" She felt a sympathetic twinge in her lower back. "I don't think I can handle --" Her companion's eyes had shot open, and Clara interjected, "I'll make sure people take it easy on your back. How about chains? Do you want to make sure those don't get used?" Shamira thought about it, her libido at odds with her fear. "No hanging me from the ceiling," she compromised. "Just let me ease back into that sort of stuff. The rest is good." "I'll make sure everyone knows," Clara replied. "And even though we've told you this before, it is especially true now . . . say 'no' at any time. No one would blame you for a second if you just thought something was too much." Clara forced her face to go from worried to wicked. "With a body like yours, it shouldn't be too difficult to find something else to keep them entertained." Shamira really, really did not care about the movie anymore. "This body?" she asked, putting one of Clara's hands on Shamira's rock-hard abs. Clara was feeling very, very hungry for something hard and lean. "You know, it's not Sunday." Shamira nodded. Sunday was her safe day. That meant -- "So you really shouldn't be speaking to me like an equal." Clara rolled her lover off the couch and onto the floor. She swung her legs around and planted her feet on the floor. Her skirt rode up to the middle of her thighs, and she could both feel and smell her excitement brewing. When Shamira got back up to her hands and knees, she grabbed the woman by the hair. "You will always satisfy my needs first," she growled, shoving Shamira's head between Clara's legs. "Don't even pretend that you don't know what you're supposed to do." Shamira caught herself just before her tongue touched the silk panties that just barely covered Clara's sex. "I do whatever my mistress tells me to do." Clara grinned. She had almost fooled Shamira into starting without explicit instructions of what to do, which would have meant "punishment." But since the reward was the same as the punishment, she was a winner either way. "Good girl," she replied. "Before you eat my cunt, lie across my lap. Shamira did as asked, and Clara quickly pushed those unflattering sweatpants down past her ass. She reached one hand under Shamira's body and under the sports bra to grab a hard little nipple and gave it a squeeze while her other hand landed solidly on Shamira's ass. "You were paying attention," Clara crooned. "I knew you took to training well. Well your mistress knows what her bitch likes." Another slap and another nipple twist. She suddenly wished that she'd brought some toys with her, but she was nothing if not resourceful. Clara kept looking around while she spanked her lover, taking a quick inventory of everything she could use. Shamira wanted this to go on forever. Every sensation was something that she never thought she'd feel again. Those slaps on her ass were amazing, sending bolts of electricity down her fully functioning legs. She was already so wet and her clit was so damn hard that she thought she might cum at any moment. And apparently Clara could sense it too. "Oh no, little bitch, you don't get off before I do. Stand up and take your clothes off, and remind me why I should bother with you." Shamira stood up and knew to keep eye contact as she stripped off her clothing, which was halfway gone already. Her dead heart had been coaxed to beat again, bringing a warmth and radiance to her skin. She stood as proud as she could, displaying her hard body for someone who actually appreciated it. Clara wanted to ravish that body for days, but she knew she did not have time. She stood up, yanked Shamira's head back, and pushed her hand between those muscular thighs. She held her pet fast, fingering her vigorously and making her obscenely wet. She stuck two fingers into that sweet slot, spreading them like a "V" as they stroked back and forth, up and down. "Put your hands behind you," she barked. "And close your eyes." She waited until she had been obeyed. Then she raised her hand to Shamira's mouth and forced the slick fingers past the woman's lips. "One might think that you're a horny little slut," Clara purred, sucking on her girlfriend's neck. "You're already soaked, and I've barely even touched you. I was hoping for more of a challenge, but I guess I'll have to settle for easy." She slapped Shamira's rump hard, then left her standing there. Shamira listed as Clara improvised bondage gear. She heard a lot of clattering, some ripping, and a little bit of mumbled cursing. 'All in a day's work in the life of a domme,' she thought. Her hands were tied behind her back with what felt like an electrical cord. Then she was made to lie on her back with her hands trapped behind her, and then her feet were tied to the legs of the couch, leaving her helpless and spread-eagled. "Open your eyes," Clara told her. Clara was standing over her, gloriously naked. "That's how I remember you," she cooed. "Only there's something missing. Oh yes," she added, the lowered herself to Shamira's face, crouching over her slave's face. She helped keep her balance by grabbing Shamira's nipples and holding on tight. "Lick my cunt," she said sternly. "Make me wetter than I made you." Shamira knew the only way THAT was going to happen was to make her mistress cum, and she was more than happy to oblige. She extended her tongue and tasted the woman, seeking the honey that was pooled in her core. She licked vigorously, whining when Clara moved her pussy out of reach. For her vocalization, she received a slap on the breast, then her nipple was re-gripped. "You will be allowed to pleasure me when I let you," Clara told her. What she did not say was that would be soon. Making Shamira wait could be fun, but they did not have much time, and Clara was insanely horny. She lowered herself back down, thanking the Goddess that she had good leg strength. Otherwise, this would really start to burn. For the moment, all she was getting was a tingling sensation, and that had nothing to do with her legs. 'Damn, I taught her almost too well,' she thought as Shamira's tongue lashed at her clit. She rubbed her crotch against her lover's mouth, trying to throw her off of her game, but Shamira just went with it. The girl even remembered to tease Clara's asshole the way that she liked, earning her rewarding nipple squeezes. Then she released the nubs and raked her fingernails over the taught flesh of those magnificent breasts. Tabitha had done a damn good job repairing them. But those abs, which she ran her fingers over next, had been sculpted by Shamira herself. Clara lowered herself all the way down, pinning Shamira's head in place with her tongue and mouth on Clara's sex. Shamira did her best to please her mistress, but those finger and nails caressing every part of her upper body were making it damn hard to concentrate. But Clara had taught Shamira how to please a woman, specifically how to please Clara, and Shamira was bound and determined to do just that. If she had seen Clara's face, she would know just how pleased the woman was. Clara was so close to cumming that it was almost painful, and her clit felt like a little barb of iron every time it got teased. She had her favorite slave back . . . her girlfriend . . . right where they both wanted her to be, intact and amazing. Her climax and a sense of profound relief hit her at the same time, sliding through her body and making Shamira's face wet with suppressed excitement. But Clara did not move until Shamira did it a second time, riding her face like an American-style saddle. "It's nice to know that my dog has not forgotten her tricks," Clara said. "As soon as I get you back to the house, I'll teach you new ones," she promised. "Thank you, Mistress Clara." The domme grinned. "But I CAN teach you something new right now." She moved her head close to Shamira's crotch, which confused the submissive. Clara never went down on her when she was being dominant. But Clara's mouth was not moving towards her pussy, but rather slightly further down the leg. "You know what the femoral artery is, don't you?" She saw Shamira nod. "I want to show you that the neck isn't the only place that you can feed from," she growled hungrily, "and I want you to feel what it is like." Clara sank her fangs into the inside of the thigh. She increased blood flow in the area, making Shamira's already swollen pussy even more sensitive. That, combined with Shamira's long streak of abstinence, brought her to the edge without even being touched. "Mistress Clara --" "Shut up and listen," the other woman said after retracting her fangs for a moment, "I am going to make you cum so much and so hard that I will ruin you for everyone else. Any time you want release, I want it to be me that you beg. And I do mean beg!" "Please Mistress Clara!" Shamira said, her whole body craving the sensation that it had been denied for too long. "Please let me cum." Clara again dined on Shamira's inner thigh, then slapped that swollen mound until it was ready to burst. Then she dragged her nails ever so lightly over the perspiring outer skin. She could feel the orgasm building in Shamira's body, and she knew she would not be able to delay it for too long. She did not want to. She slapped Shamira's pussy again, this time harder. The woman's body jolted. After one more slap, Shamira's body simply exploded. She actually ripped the electrical cord binding her hands and grabbed two fistfuls of her own hair as she screamed in ecstasy. The cloth tied her legs to the couch tore even more easily, allowing her to push up against that hand that was bring her such exquisite joy, even though it was now just resting on the entrance to her sex. She came so hard that she blacked out for a moment, coming around a few seconds later. All she could do was lie contented on the floor. "That seemed to do the trick," Clara said with a grin, having withdrawn her fangs to avoid tearing holes in Shamira's thigh. "But now to test my 'ruin you for everyone else theory.' Don't move." She stood up and went to the door. "Lord Stapleton, could you join us for a moment?" Shamira barely heard what was going on. She was still seeing stars from the grand-daddy of all orgasms, and the rest of the world had receded into a pleasant fog. "Yes?" Shane said from the doorway. He looked inside and saw Shamira rolling over on the carpet like a drunken college sorority girl. One with a rocking body and amazing ass. "I'm conducting an experiment whereby she should only be satisfied by my touch. I need a second opinion, and since you are quite skilled --" "I'd be happy to help," he interjected. He saw the bite-mark on the inside of Shamira's thigh and repressed a smile. They both knew that Shamira's body would still be primed. He walked over and pulled Shamira to her knees, holding her by the hair while he undid the zipper of his very expensive slacks. "Get me hard and make it snappy," he ordered. Shamira's lips moved more from muscle memory than anything else, because her mind was still in happy-land. Going from paralyzed to being capable of a mind-numbing orgasm was a funny thing. Soon her brain kicked in and she started sucking in earnest, re-familiarizing herself with her boss's manhood. It was so big and hard and firm . . . she had missed it during their incessant squabbling. His meat quickly achieved full erection as it plunged down her throat, violating and stretching her lips. With his hand in her hair, he used her entire head as a sexual tool, thrusting it onto his cock. Her tongue teased his skin when he was all the way inside her throat, and her lips gripped greedily at the head when he withdrew. "We're ready to proceed with the experiment," he told Clara. He hauled Shamira up to her feet, spun her around, then bent her over at the waist. "Time me," he told Clara analytically. Then he shoved his member straight into Shamira's body, driving himself into her core. 'Oh God,' Shamira thought as her boss's balls slammed against her swollen clitoris while he started to fuck her senseless. She had just realized what the other two vampires already knew. She was still incredibly sensitive down there. Shane's amazing cock filled her slick, tight sex and pounded her without quarter. "Mistress . . . Lord . . . I need to . . . may I please --" Shamira gasped. "Cum," Clara said. "Whenever your body requires it. If you hold back, it will mess with our data." She was enjoying this way too much. Shamira climaxed again and while it was not as thunderous as her earlier one had been, it certainly made it difficult to remain standing. The only thing that helped was that Shane was still holding onto her hips, and he was still fucking her. Even when her pussy clenched at him in a desperate attempt to stop his repeated invasion of her body, Shane kept going. "I'm afraid she's a bit willful," he told Clara. "I believe that further training will be required." He looked back at Shamira. "I do wonder how far the sensitivity extends." He pulled out of her pussy and began pushing his way into her asshole, working his way slowly past that tight outer ring. Shamira could feel it. Oh yes, she could feel it. As her asshole stretched, it applied pressure on other things. Her master filled her ass with his cock, then slapped her ass hard. Her pussy was sensitive enough that just the proximity of the pressure was causing her great delight. Shane plunged into her over and over, not as quickly as before but still with great force. And he kept spanking her as well, which she greatly enjoyed. He was exceedingly careful not to let his hand drift and hit her lower back. Clara had basically leveled a serious threat against anyone who did that and while he had not been personally named, he knew that threat included him. Shane climaxed inside Shamira's ass, letting his seed spill into her as he held her in place. "Thank you," Shamira muttered. "For fucking me," she explained. "I was helping Clara," he told her haughtily. "You were just a tool." He did not mean that, and he was sure she knew it. He loved his job! Clara looked at her pityingly. She again forced Shamira to her knees, the put her foot between Shamira's thighs. "I suppose I can't leave you like this," she said, forcing a melodramatic sigh. "Otherwise you'll be whining the rest of the night. Finish yourself off on my leg like a common mongrel." Shamira wrapped her arms around that long leg and raised herself up, pressing her tender pussy against Clara's shin. She humped her mistress's leg as ordered, finding comfort in being once again at Clara's feet. It didn't take long for her to cum again, making a wet spot on Clara's leg. "Now that won't do," Clara said, shaking her head. She raised her shin to Shamira's mouth and made the woman lick it clean. "Much better." Suddenly, the trailer began to rock like an earthquake had hit it. "What the --" Shane started to say. Ten minutes later, Shamira was outside in dragon form, calming the baby dragon down. It had woken up, not seeing its alpha dragon, but had heard sounds and smelled things that it did not understand. It had thought Shamira might have been harmed and had attempted to find its way into the now ruined trailer. Shamira had assured it that she was in no harm and that it should NOT intervene if it smelled such things again. That was all she tried to convey, since it was too young for a "birds and the bees" talk. And how does one explain "bondage" to a pre-pubescent dragon? Clara was rolling on the floor of the barn, laughing her ass off as Shamira worked with the younger dragon. Shane walked over, looked perplexed but amused. "What is your problem?" he asked. "Now I know how my parents must have felt when I walked in on them doing it when I was five!" "You are in serious need of therapy." * Thank goodness, * the Shadow Wing version of Shamira broadcasted. * He's going back to sleep. I don't see how my mother could deal with three children. I can't even handle this one. * "Miss Shamira," Archimedes said nervously as he walked up. 'Now what?' she thought. * Yes? * "One of the eggs is hatching." Shamira's dragon eyes opened wide, then shut again. She shook her massive head, then caused Clara to burst into laughter again as the last Moon Dragon proceeded to beat her head against the ground. To Protect and Serve Ch. 11 ------- -------------------- To be continued . . . To Protect and Serve Ch. 12 "Is gonna need a lot more space than we can provide up here," she said begrudgingly. "Sir --" Clara started to say, actually looking a bit flustered. "And I was going to send Clara with you as well, to bolster you magical defenses and . . . well, splitting her and Shamira up at this point might prove hazardous to my health." Clara grinned at him and took Shamira's hand. "You are wise beyond your years." "Once Banshee is better established, I will call my household home so she can develop her own, though she is now and always will be my first child. Leaving home for the first time can be hard, but it can also be rewarding." Shamira glanced at the Representative, who was looking like a proud grandmother. A really, really hot, proud grandmother. Everyone in the house stepped forward to hug Banshee and congratulate her on her impromptu promotion. When Shamira hugged her, they held on for a little bit longer. "So you aren't going to be our . . . you know, vampire? Anymore?" Arthur asked when Shamira broke free of the mob. "Crap! I didn't even think --" Banshee walked over. "Would you consider coming under my employ?" she asked. "You have already shown yourselves to be worthy and invaluable. If Shamira is still concerned with bringing you over herself, I would be most willing to induct you both." "Really?!" Kira asked excitedly, then looked confused. "Wait, what did you mean about Shamira still being concerned?" Shane chose this most annoying opportunity to bring up a subject Shamira had been trying to avoid. "We believe that Shamira has skipped two stages at least in her evolution as a vampire. Blood witches have confirmed that her blood is that of a full vampire, capable of creating vampires of her own." "Really?" "Wait a minute," Shamira objected, "let's not forget that this is all hypothetical. You yourself admitted that I'm kind of an odd case here." "But why not try?" Arthur asked. "Because one of the steps to becoming a vampire is dying. If I try and fail, and --" "I get it," Kira muttered. "There's no mulligan in that case is there?" "No," Shamira said, seeing how appealing the idea of being a vamp was on her friend's face. "And I'm not willing to take that risk." "But --" "I'm sorry, I just can't. Hey, you guys seem to be doing better right? You'll still be around in ten years, and that'll give you time to figure out what you want to look like for eternity." Arthur and Kira looked dissatisfied, but they accepted Shamira's logic. "I wish you hadn't gotten them worked up like that," Shamira said disapprovingly to her boss. "You know how I feel." "And you know how I feel as well. You're right in saying that Kira and Arthur both have time now, thanks to your blood, but there are many who will wait and die in vain to be brought over simply because of those ancient laws that you've already demonstrated disdain for." He relaxed his tense frame, then, "Shamira, the Tribunal is willing to suspend those laws for you when they would not for me. I will bring over a dozen more. You could save two more, of your choice." Shamira wrung her hands. "Shane, if I do this and they die, I'll do more than blame myself. You KNOW I'll be mad at you and the Tribunal for putting me through this." "And I am so confident in you and your power that I would risk the wrath of a dragon." Shamira walked over to where the Thorn-Tail was sitting, anxiously awaiting his alpha to comfort him some more. The two other pale things may smell like her and the little dragons could give comfort, but Shamira was the authority. Even when she was not communicating with its young mind, her presence was obviously calming and comforting. A weight seemed to be returning to Shamira's shoulders. "This is just so hard," she said in a whisper, trying not to let the young one sense her distress. "Shane, I can barely take care of myself. Now I've got two babies that I barely understand that I'm responsible for, and you want me to try and make vampires? I know it's a broken record, but I kind of suck at being a vampire." "I think you don't give yourself enough credit," he replied soothingly, placing his hands on those rippling shoulders and slowly massing some of her stress away. "At least consider it. I'll work with Archimedes, and see if we can find ways to make things a little less hectic for you. Between your Renfields and the . . . Smaller Dragons," he added, kissing Shamira's neck lovingly, "we should be able to give you more time to catch up on other things. It will be a while before Banshee is ready to establish a permanent estate down in Savannah." She stroked her young charge's scaled head, then looked for Archimedes. "Where do you think this guy came from?" she asked. "What part of the world?" "Skeletal remains were found of similar species throughout what we now call Europe. The first were found near Scotland." "So maybe a Scottish name? What's that old language of theirs?" "Gaelic." "Yeah. Something Gaelic. And the Sea Serpent is from all over I'm taking it, so . . . hey, maybe name him after the Midgard Serpent? How did you pronounce that?" "Jörmungandr." Archimedes smiled. "A fine name indeed." "Hey what's the Gaelic word for fire?" she asked, watching a wisp of smoke unfurl from the young one's snout. "Aodh." "Is there anything you don't know?" "Maybe. Shamira grinned. "Aodh and Jörmungandr ," she said again. At least she'd finally gotten around to naming them. ------- -------------------- That weekend . . . ------- -------------------- "So that's pretty much been my life," Shamira finished. She had just recounted her recent life-changes to an already shell-shocked sister, who every now and then just asked Shamira to stand back up just so she could assure herself that the paralysis was gone. Samantha's eyes drifted over to the the dragon Aodh, who seemed to just as curious about her as she was about him. He managed to be around constantly, so much "underfoot" that he was almost cat-like. He was obviously beginning to understand spoken words. "Don't put your nose there," was a phrase he had learned quickly, because Shamira thwacked him hard when he went sniffing people in inappropriate places. Katar had curtailed such admonishments a bit by reminding her that this was how dragons investigated things. "He's just so . . . big!" Samantha said happily, then walked over and let the dragon sniff. Aodh made a rumbling noise to indicate his happiness, which a mother like Samantha could detect instantly and was pleased by. "I guess you smell enough like me that he knows we're family," Shamira said with a smile. Her sister was in her element in times like this. Okay, maybe the kid was a little bigger that Shamira's nephews, but it was an intelligent life form and a child. Therefore, Samantha would dote on it. "He's just a big sweetie, yes him is!" the sister replied, rubbing her hands over his muzzle. "My God! Do dragons need vets?" Shamira shook her head. "They're smart or smarter than people and can live hundreds of years. I think they'll need their own doctors, not veterinarians." Samantha did not appear to be listening, as she had already begun a cursory investigation, checking the eyes and the teeth. Aodh thought it was all great fun, as if he were being preened. "I think Jörmungandr wants a turn," she said, seeing that the Sea Serpent had poked his head over the edge of the pool and was making a clicking noise from his throat. Samantha moved over and reached her hand out to pet the watery serpent, and Jörmungandr accepted the attention for a moment before retreating to the safety of the water. "Can I go in there with him?" "I don't know. I guess it would be safe, though Aodh will probably want to go swimming as well." "Swimming sounds nice," Clara said as she walked over to where the sisters were sitting. She had wanted to give the two a chance to catch up, but it seemed that things had settled down a bit. "Why not go out to the pond? It's big enough for everyone." "Can he go out there?" Samantha asked, looking at the pool. "He can breathe air just fine, and he'll just slither on out there," Shamira replied. "He's done it before. He seems to like fresh water from time to time. We've added a ton of salt to the pool." "I'm for it. Anyone got suits?" Samantha asked. Clara grinned. "Is clothing really necessary?" "You're not seriously suggesting we go skinny dipping?" Samantha laughed. "That's so . . . high school!" Shamira raised both eyebrows. "You're not just trying to see my sister naked, are you?" Clara grinned bigger and shrugged. "I promise to keep my hands off of her." She kissed Shamira not-so-innocently on the lips. "For now." Samantha gave Shamira a questioning look. "She's not serious, is she?" "I don't think she'd actually make a pass at you," Shamira said. "At least not while she's dating me." She left out the fact that Samantha was not a submissive member of Shane's house and that if she were, Shamira's girlfriend might very well bang the crap out of her. Shamira just shook her head and headed outside. Several hours later, they were all quite thoroughly soaked, exhausted and entertained. And for Shamira, this time it had not involved sex. She strode out of the pond, water glistening on her tight skin and flowing down her carved body. "Great," Samantha muttered, turning the other way to see a smiling Clara. "Now she's just showing off." "Mama likes," the vampire crooned. "You know she used to be ashamed of that body?" "We kind of beat that out of her," Clara finished. If the sister only knew she was not kidding. Suddenly, the Thorn-Tail scurried to the top of the bank and started looking (not "looked") around. "What is it, Aodh?" Shamira said, almost afraid to approach considering the agitated manner in which the youngster was swinging his tail. "Clara --" "Everyone out of the water," Clara interrupted, heading towards the bank. "Katar, get Jörmungandr out of the --" At that moment, a wall of flame erupted around the pond with such heat and force that Shamira was forced to dive towards the ground. Aodh's tail was singed and he cried out, hurrying away and preparing to take flight. Another wall of fire shot up, crossing the entire clearing and cutting them off from the house at large. "Who the hell --" she started to say, wondering who could have the audacity to attack such a highly guarded compound, but she did not have time to dwell on it. Her sister, her lover, one of her young charges, and Katar and several of his dragons were trapped inside, while Shamira and Aodh were caught between a flame and a hot place. "YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!" a voice boomed, containing a vile rage that Shamira had never heard before. It reeked of rot and waste, so much so that Shamira almost did not recognize it. Almost. "Jonas," she growled, mostly to herself. Burning shapes began to appear around her, humanoid but far from human. She could not see Jonas yet, but she could feel him, his very presence a malice carried by a brisk autumn wind. "Everything I worked for, everything I set up, every moment I waited, for NOTHING!" A ball of crackling white flame shot over her head, making her duck, but it was obviously not meant to hurt her. Jonas wanted to play with her first. "You're a fucking idiot!" she shouted, preparing to transform. "You came here?! You know you won't make it out alive!" The flaming forms were getting closer. "I'll turn you to ash before you can finish transforming," came Jonas's voice. "Yes, I know who you are now, and I remember you. You . . . we had you hanging like a side of beef and we let you go?!" "Actually, I ripped your buddy apart before my friends came for me. Not that you'd know, since the only ones coming for you are the Wild Hunt." All the flames were rendering her Shadow Sight useless, and she had to find him. She started the transformation, letting the smoke pour out of her pores. Then a blast of energy flew past her and nailed Aodh in the side. The young dragon screamed and looked like it was going to take to the sky. Another bolt of energy clipped its wing. Shamira jumped between the source of the bolt and her wounded charge. "You son of a bitch! He's just a baby!" "He should be mine!" Jonas said, stepping seemingly out of the flames. His eyes let off little blazes of their own, and oh did they show how much he hated Shamira. "Lacroix was so short sighted. He would have been just sat around that little piss-poor excuse of a land for all eternity and whine about how Stapleton had stolen the big prize away from him. I hadn't been studying sorcery my whole life to be security chief to a weakling like that." "So you hatch a plan to take over by getting him into so much trouble that we have to kill him?" Shamira was angry. She might be able to shift, but Jonas might seriously hurt Aodh. And she had no idea how her sister and Clara and the dragons were doing inside that ring of fire. "Samantha?!" she shouted. She heard some coughing and shouting, but she couldn't make out anything specific. "Let them out or so help me --" "You'll what?" Jonas gave an evil grin. "The only way I stay alive in the long run is I make it so that people, even the Tribunal, are afraid of me." He pulled a collar out from behind his back, and Shamira recognized it as similar to the one she had pulled of Aodh. "Having the 'Great Moon Dragon' at my beck and call should help with that." "There's no fucking way --" "Put on this collar and swear yourself to me or I'll boil everyone in that pond alive, I promise you." A chilling sensation crept up Shamira's spine. This son of a bitch had not only condoned but had seen her tortured, had betrayed his own lord, had been responsible for who knows how many magical creatures being bled out, and now he wanted Shamira to just hand herself over to him? The left side of her body started to warm up, and she dodged just as one of the flaming forms lunged for her. Whatever the hell these things were, they served Jonas. She lashed out instinctively, feeling a solid core to the thing before the burning sensation became too much. She held her arm with its blackened skin close to her body, grimacing in pain as she moved away from the lumbering entity, but keeping herself between it and a terrified and angry Aodh. "Put on the damn collar and I'll let the others live," Jonas reiterated. "I'd really rather not be here when the Wild Hunt realizes that I'm not where they think I am, and I know your friends in the barn --" He stopped when he heard thunder and saw a bolt of lightning in the sky. That same sky had been clear earlier that night. 'Where did all the clouds come from?' Shamira wondered. Someone, one of her friends, must be up to something. She had to give them more time. "How do I know you'll let them go?" she shouted. She grabbed a rock from the ground and hurled it with bullet-like speed towards the nearest of Jonas's fiery servants, making it take a step back but only for a moment. "You do what I say and pray that I'm a man of my word," Jonas snarled. He glanced around, looking for something . . . Shamira could not tell what. His eyes finally rested on the flaming ring surrounding the pond, and his mouth formed an unflattering sneer. Someone in there was doing something Jonas did not like. Shamira almost smiled, knowing it had to be Clara. The shaman had power over nature and the ability to maintain the balance. Jonas had brought fire, so Shamira's girlfriend was going to bring rain. "Fucking red-skinned bitch!" Jonas growled. "Big mistake," Shamira said, lunging forward. Jonas turned in time to avoid part of her charge, but not enough so that she did not clip him a little. He staggered off to the side and lost his grip on the collar. He looked like he wanted to pick it up, but realized it would not be a good idea to take his eyes off of his opponent again. "She hears that kind of racial slur, and you'll be lucky if I kill you first." "You might want to listen to reason," he said, his eyes glowing and the flames around the pond grew higher. Shamira heard screaming from inside the fiery circle, and she heard Aodh cry out in pain as the flaming forms moved closer to him. She stared at him with more hatred than she had ever felt before. Then, the rain came. And boy, did it ever come with a vengeance. The flames around them were magical in nature, but so was the water that poured down from the sky, drenching only a few hundred acres of North Georgia forest and nothing else. Gaps were appearing in the wall of fire that had separated the barn from the field of battle, and Shamira's allies started popping through. Reaper opened up on one of the flaming enemies with a high pressure water hose. Shamira liked the ingenuity. Sebastian leaped through another gap and started firing his handgun, slowing another enemy down but not killing it. A pickup truck came hurtling through an opening and ran over a third fire creature, then Bunny got out of the cab and ran like hell before the whole thing exploded. "You . . . lose," Shamira said. Her eyes tried to move to Jonas' right in response to something teasing her peripheral vision, but they shot back of their own accord. There was nothing out there. 'But I could have sworn --' Jonas' eyes were wild now. He grabbed the collar from the ground and lunged forward with uncanny speed, intending to put the collar on Shamira by force if necessary. He extended his hands with the device. Shamira did not see the blow come. All she knew was that Jonas' hands just fell off, the collar still clutched in their grip. Jonas screamed and sunk to his knees. Suddenly, Banshee was standing beside him, looking down on him with complete disgust. She held a sword in one hand, and the parts not coated in Jonas's blood gleamed. Shamira had forgotten about the assassin's Mind Fog aspect that made those around her simply not pay attention to her. "You cannot have her," Banshee said with ice in her voice. The flames all began to die down, and the fiery enemies seemed confused. Shamira finally allowed herself to shift, her body stretching and smoking and growing until the last Moon Dragon stood in the clearing. "He is yours," Banshee said, looking at the vanquished foe kneeling on the ground. Shamira's dragon jaws lunged forward and caught Jonas around the midsection, then she swung his flailing legs around to face Aodh. The small dragon recognized the smell of the man and remembered what had been done to it. Aodh grabbed those legs with its mouth, and the two dragons ripped the would-be conqueror in half. "That," started a voice from the pond, "was intense!" Samantha stood naked in the water, watching her sister eat a vampire. She looked a little . . . shocked. Shamira looked at her sister who had just been put in mortal danger because of her proximity to the dragon-vamp, then at Aodh, which she had failed to protect. Even now, the young dragon was winding its way around Shamira's feet, trying to take comfort from her. * Samantha, are you okay? * Samantha blanched. "My sister just . . . ate that . . . oh dear," she said, then did what most sensible human women would do in her situation. She passed out. 'I suck at being a dragon!' Shamira thought again angrily. And then she saw Clara floating face up in the water, and her giant heart almost broke. She reached out with a giant claw to lift her lover from the water, but she started to move towards the show, propelled by an unseen force. Smaller dragons started poking their heads up above the water to look about, but it was Jörmungandr who was pushing Clara. A quick scan of the beast's mind showed that it did not understand exactly why Clara was important, only that she was important to the great beast. To Protect and Serve Ch. 12 Shamira turned human again and went to Clara, who Katar and his people had dragged over next to Samantha. How did one check to see if an undead were still "alive"? She slapped Clara's face a little, then checked on Samantha. Suddenly Shane and Tabitha and a hoard of bodyguards arrived, the rest of Jonas' fiery minions having vanished or been vanquished. Shamira met her lord's gaze. "Is she okay? Please let her --" Lillian moved forward and stared at Clara. The necromancer looked beyond the vampire's skin and into something much deeper and less tangible. "She's still with us," she said in a relieved voice. "She's just passed out from heat and exertion. She must have been casting some serious mojo in there." * She kept up a wall of water and cold air for as long as she could, * Katar projected. * Lady Shamira, I think we should get Jörmungandr to the pool -- * "Yes, please," Shamira said, ashamed she had not thought of it herself. "He must be scared out of his mind." The Sea Serpent crawled out of the pond as if to follow Katar to the barn, but first he turned and put his nose close to Shamira's face. She ran a hand over his snout and apologized to the universe and the fates that she had almost let this magnificent creature die. It nuzzled her softly, then nuzzled its brother Aodh before making for the safety of its pool. Aodh stayed near to Shamira, allowing the faerie princess Coramen and Lillian to look over its burned wing. They were both convinced it would heal. Tabitha managed to wake up Samantha, who just looked around dazedly for a moment before her eyes came to rest on Shamira, then they opened wide. 'She's afraid of me,' Shamira thought. 'Now she truly understands what I am." But Samantha just grinned. "Okay, I always thought that you being a cop was the closest thing I'd get to excitement, but this . . . this is your life?" Shamira just hugged her sister. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." "Shamira, I realize we're in the South and everything, but being hugged by my naked sister is just creepy to me." When she was released, "Why are you sorry? This wasn't your fault --" "I should never have brought you into this world. Being near me almost got you killed and almost got Clara killed and --" "I almost get killed every day," Clara said, her eyes opening as she sat up. She looked a little pale, even for a vamp, but her eyes were alert. "If you go ape-shit with guilt again, I will slap you silly. And not in the way you like." Samantha glanced confusedly over at Clara, who cracked a wry grin before falling back to the ground while someone got her a blood pack to drink. "I'll explain later," Shamira muttered. "Much later. Okay, maybe never." Samantha did the eyebrow-cocking thing. "Don't tell me you're into the whole spanking thing too?" Shamira found something else to look at. "You are?!" Samantha leaned back. "Anything ELSE I need to know about you?" "I'm going to kill my girlfriend," she said, glowering at Clara. Clara's eyes were closed, but she was smiling and sucking blood out of a plastic bag. Shamira stood up, clutching her arm. "Shamira, what's wrong with your arm?" Shane asked, stepping closer. "Nothing I don't deserve," she muttered, forgetting for a moment that Shane would still be able to hear her. He lifted her chin to face him. "Okay, I realize that my relationship with you is not the same as Clara's, but this is for your own good." Before her face could even form a puzzled expression, he kissed her full on the lips, letting one hand grab firmly at her ass while doing so. She almost forgot the pain in her arm and the doubt weighing on her mind, her body grinding (with no permission from her brain) against Shane's body. He was a pretty damn good kisser, though this kind of intimacy was unusual for him. "Okay, why are you making out in front of your boss in front of your girlfriend?" Samantha asked. "Oh, she's done a lot more than make out with him. Okay, because it probably would be uncomfortable to talk about it and to head off further surprises and because I don't have anything else to do until I can open my eyes again without the world spinning, "Shamira is more than an exhibitionist. She's a sexual submissive in a communal setting where any dominant can perform any naughty thing their mind can come up with to her, and we're an imaginative lot. And I promise you, Shamira enjoys it far more than even our other submissives. She has fantasies that none of the rest of us have tried before, and Shane is four-and-a-half centuries old. Did I miss anything?" Shane shrugged. "That covers about everything, except," he said, looking at Samantha, "that we all love her very much, and not just in a carnal way. This is our way of life, and Shamira fits in it. We enjoy more than just her participation in the game. We make sure to the best of our abilities that all her needs are met. Right now, she just needs to be reminded that some things happen that she cannot control, and that sometimes when she's trying to save the world, it's okay to let the rest of us chip in." Samantha snorted. "Good luck with that." Shane smiled at her. "Is it the nature of your family to take these little surprises with such calm?" "Buddy, I ran out of disbelief when my sister turned out not to be dead despite getting shot a dozen times." "Buddy?" Shane attempted to feign being offended. "Yeah, 'buddy.' Let her freak out if she wants to. She'll put herself back together during crunch time. Always has, always will." The lord of Atlanta smiled broadly. "That is some of the best advice concerning Shamira that I have ever heard." "Hey, I'm still here," Shamira grumbled. She hated it when people talked about her as if she was not even present. "Hey," the sister said, looked at Shamira, "I thought you were dating her? Isn't that cheating?" "Monogamy isn't exactly the thing around here," Shamira replied shyly, digging the toes on one foot into the ground. "You must be totally freaked out --" "Damn right, but you're still my sister and I still love you. Just . . . just lay off the surprises for a bit. I mean, you aren't secretly like . . . like a psychic too, are you? A mermaid? A Republican?" "Hey, no need to get --" "Okay girls, I think we should all retire to the barn for a bit," Shane interjected. "Let the guards finish clean up." "Just let me check on --" Shamira started. "No," Shane said. He held up his hand. "Katar can keep an eye on the Sea Serpent, and Aodh will be put to bed so his wing can heal. You," he said firmly, "need rest as well." "But --" "Tabitha, please take these young ladies to your temporary lab and make sure they let themselves get checked out. Even if you have to tie them to the table." Samantha looked annoyed. Clara looked amused. Shamira, in spite of herself, looked a little excited. ----------- --------------- A week later . . . ----------- --------------- "Are you sure you're going to be okay? You have the number of where we'll be and --" Arthur and Kira were both grinning from ear to ear as Shamira acted like a nervous parent. The two Renfields had once again agreed to babysit the young dragons, along with Katar and his flock, while Lord Stapleton's house had a special dinner to celebrate their recent success in finally quelling the rebellion from Southern Georgia. The Tribunal, as told by the three present members, had expressed the whole body's approval to Shane and his people. The dinner would be held nearby in case Shamira needed to get back quickly, but Archimedes thought things would be able to be kept in control. The spell-casters had come up with talismans that would temporarily allow the dragons' caretakers to communicate telepathically with the young reptiles, and there was a huge number of guards to make sure they stayed safe. "Yes, you put it on the refrigerator next to the pizza money," Kira said with a straight face. Their vampire mistress looked confused, the scrunched up her face in faux annoyance, then she smiled. "I'm being overbearing, am I?" Despite not wanting to be a mother, she still felt responsible for the two young dragons. She had spent most of the night playing with them, hunting with them, and generally getting them tired out so that they would sleep well. She had managed just enough free time to get a quickie in with both of her human donors and letting them have a taste of the blood that has so greatly improved their lives and fought back the disease they carried. "It's all right," Arthur replied. "Honestly, I don't think you know what to do with yourself now that no one is trying to kill you." "That we know of," Shamira muttered, adjusting the bra-line on her evening dress again. Somehow, Clara had managed to find one for her that could only barely be considered street legal due to the cleavage shown. It was one of those dresses that showed off a woman's shoulders to perfection, which is just what her girlfriend had been going for. There was no bra, and her underwear certainly fell under the decorative-rather-than-functional category. At least she had been spared high heels by managing to convince Clara that they were simply a chauvinistic tool of torture designed by men for women. Of course the same could be said for lingerie, in her opinion, but most lingerie did not threaten to make her trip, thereby making a fool of herself in public. There were some forms of punishment that really did not turn her on that much, hence, the stylish black flats. "Hmm, lookin' good, sexy lady," Renata purred, dressed in her own come-hither evening wear. "You too. I've never seen a girl who could make a brown dress look that good," Shamira said. Of course, the fact that it was hugging Renata's rocking body like a second skin made the color pretty much obsolete. "Where's Clara?" Sebastian walked over, looking dynamite in a tuxedo. "We decided the two of you needed to go in separate limos, otherwise neither of you would show up without smearing your lipstick." Shamira rolled her eyes. "We CAN control ourselves," she said. "Yeah, but you don't. Don't get me wrong, I think it's charming. And kind of hot to watch." "You got that right," Renata said. "It's gonna suck when you two are halfway across the state," she pouted, giving Shamira a hug. "You guys goin' with her?" she asked of Kira and Arthur. "Hell yeah," Arthur responded. "A friend of mine is going to run the store up here and Shane's promised to help me set up another one in Savannah. And Kira's job can be done from anywhere." He looked at Shamira. "We don't want to give up the best thing that's ever happened to us." Shamira felt an internal flush of pride. "I would have missed you guys too. By the way, I think I'm going to pick up more donors when I get there. This whole being-a-dragon thing tends to require more energy than just being a vampire." "We figured. When we put ourselves on the list to be donors, we always knew that it wasn't supposed to be an exclusive relationship," Kira said. "Yeah, but I want to put you two in charge of finding them. I've got a lot on my plate, and I trust your judgment." Kira flushed with pride of her own. "You got it. We won't disappoint you." "I doubt you could if you tried." Shamira turned back to Renata. "I guess we'd better get going. Thanks a lot." "Okay. Have a great time at the party." The members of the House of Stapleton made their way out to one of the limos. Shamira saw Clara standing up in another vehicle, half of her appearing out of the moon roof. They smiled at each other until Shamira was shooed into the waiting transport. Shane had rented a lodge for a couple of nights, and the only non-House members that would be in attendance were the members of the Tribunal. Even their guards would remain outside. They pulled up next to a number of other limos and fancy cars. Shane was sparing no expense on the evening's festivities. Shamira was flanked as she walked inside, where a large well-lit room was waiting for her. It was like she had walked into a medieval hall, complete with heavy wooden tables and benches, and a large free-standing fire-pit in the center of the room. A raised area at the other end of the room sat five chairs. Shane was in one with Banshee at his side. Next to them were the Representative, the Alpha, and the Shepherd. Archimedes had decided to stay and look after the dragons. "Welcome one and all," Shane said when the doors closed behind the last entrant. "It seems so rare, after recent events, that we are able to come together and be a family. So since our family will be expanding and rearranging, I thought we might meet here tonight to not only celebrate recent victories but also to enjoy each others' company as we have not been able to do for some time." Shamira's eyes met Clara's at that point, and there was a wicked twinkle to be seen there. 'What's she thinking now?' she thought. Shane indicated that he wanted Banshee to rise. "As you are all aware, Banshee will be taking over control of the Savannah territory with the assistance of some members of this house. This move has been blessed by the Tribunal and while it brings me great pride, it also saddens me. I will miss the constant presence, edge, and wisdom of my eldest child. Note that I intend to keep in regular contact with her, and I would encourage the rest of my house to do the same." He smiled proudly at the assassin, who looked stern but competent. "Now before I say more, the Representative will speak on Tribunal matters." The Representative stood, ever the model of elegance. Of all those in the room, only Shane and Shamira had seen the side of her that was less poised . . . more depraved and common. "Thank you Lord Stapleton. It is the decision of the Tribunal, now that the threat of Lacroix and Jonas has been eliminated, that we shall move ahead with the process of outing ourselves to the world at large." "Your own housemate, Pierre, has told us of, and investigated, a small group inside the FBI and is associated with the Behavioral Sciences unit that is composed of agents that might be more willing to believe the fantastical world that they will be exposed to. A plan is already being put together to initiate first contact, and it is all because of the work that you have done and the example that you have set." "We thank Lord Stapleton for assembling such a talented group to pull this off, and we thank all of you for all that you have done." She looked at Shamira. "And we would most like to thank Lady Shamira, for her courage, her wisdom, and her selflessness. She had helped bring peace to the region and wonder back to our lives, even those of us who thought we were beyond being surprised." She gave a slight smile. Shamira really wondered what was going on. Was there something on the agenda she did not know about? Shane was about to make that perfectly clear. "And that brings us back to Shamira. Less than four months ago, she was a human police officer who had no idea that we creatures of magic and darkness even existed. The first time I met her, she put her life on the line for me, and I knew that the world would miss such a magnificent individual should her first death be her only death." "Since then, she has become the most powerful fledgling vampire in our history, saved many number of lives, survived unspeakable cruelty with tremendous courage, turned into a dragon," he continued, letting a full warm smile break out, "and has been quite possibly the biggest pain in the ass of any employee that I have ever had." The crowd snickered and Shamira covered her face. She hadn't been THAT bad. "In a world of tradition, she arrived like a hurricane. In a culture of secrecy, she tread loudly." His words seemed critical, but his voice was still fond. "And in the middle of it all, she taught us all a little something about bravery and honor. She also taught us, a household based on pleasures of the flesh, a few things on satisfying those carnal urges." Shamira's eyes were growing wider. The look on Shane's face was positively hungry now. She knew what he was going to do, namely mark fantasy number one off the list. "It is my belief that her recent rise to power may have gone to her head. Tonight, we shall remind her of who she really is and where she belongs. Bring the serving tray." Some of the other subs wheeled out a rolling platform, complete with a four-foot-by-four-foot hardwood deck and a set of five-foot metal bars sticking up from mid-way along the sides. The two vertical bars were connected at the top by another bar, effecting forming an upside-down "U". Shane came down of the dais with Banshee and Renata at his sides. "Tonight, you will do what you should have been doing all along . . . serving." He nodded to his compatriots, who stepped forward and grabbed Shamira, hauling her "struggling" body to the platform and then shoving her down to her knees. There were holes in the platform at set intervals, and rope was run through these wholes and around Shamira's legs, tying her securely around the knees and again at the ankles. Her wrists were raised above her head and tied to the metal bars on either side of her, and a chain was run from her caller to the bar over her head. "You will serve anyone and everyone who wants you," Shane continued smoothly, "and in whatever way they desire. Tonight, even your fellow submissives are above you." Shamira strained against the chains, careful not to break them but enough to show off the muscles in her arms and shoulders. She knew Shane liked watching her like this, the struggling captive. He was giving her to everyone in the household, numbering more than twenty. What about guests? Would the Alpha, the Shepherd, and the Representative be allowed to have a turn at her? That deep, dark, decadent part of her hoped so. "Place her at the foot of the dais," Shane instructed, "facing away from us." The platform was moved, and Shamira found herself looking out upon the room, filled with hungry gazes and dishonorable intentions. This was not punishment for her, nor true humiliation. It was her fantasy, to be taken in a restaurant in such finery by anyone with an interest to do so, and Shane was making it a reality for her. This was not A reward, but rather THE reward. "I have not seen a table-setting quite so fetching before," the Shepherd said, his voice betraying a bit of his interest. "She smells like she is in heat," the Alpha added. "She always does," Shane agreed. The feast began, and Shamira was left waiting. She saw people looking at her, all of them awaiting some sign from the lord for the games to begin. Then, Shane himself finished his meal. "I find myself now in need of relief," he said, striding down the stairs and approaching Shamira from the front. He unzipped himself. He was semi-rigid, having been in anticipation of this all evening. "Now let this little slut earn her keep." He grabbed Shamira's head and shoved it towards his cock, enjoying the sensation of her warm mouth as it entrapped his member. She went after it hungrily, almost desperately. She had him at full staff already, so he pulled out and slapped her in the face with his cock. "Don't get greedy, slut." He stepped back and slapped her breasts through the thin fabric of her dress several times, then shoved his dick back into her mouth. In the brief moment of his absence, Shamira could see that her friends and housemates were staring at her, some with glee while others looked on with jealousy. The other submissives were wishing it was them in Shamira's place, and she hoped they took it out on her. She was glad that she and Shane had arrived at a truce, because he really was a spectacular male specimen, and he had a knack for just taking charge of her mouth and using it like a sex toy. He had glimpsed into her mind and saw her desires, and he had spared no expense in making them come true. His heat filled her throat and his balls were slapping against her chin as he shoved his way past what had once been a gag reflex, hammering her throat with abandon. To Protect and Serve Ch. 12 "She seems quite . . . enthusiastic," the Shepherd said from behind her. "But can she multi-task?" "She can do many things at once," Shane assured his guest. Shamira just knew that she that her dress was being lifted up, exposing her minuscule panties. Those were ripped off with ease, and then her sex was penetrated from behind. The Shepherd had to be kneeling as he took her, but he did not seem to mind. She had cock in her mouth and pussy, and that made her happy. The Shepherd felt long but slim, making it easy for him to slide in and out of her with rapidity. "Prepare to accept a symbol of my power over you," Shane said, withdrawing his member from Shamira's mouth. He pointed the head at her face and ejaculated, coating her face with streams of his seed. It dripped from her nose and mouth and cheek, which he seemed to please him. He zipped up and stepped away, allowing everyone in the room to see her face. Shane leaned over and whispered into her ear. "Whore." "Yessssss," Shamira hissed as the Shepherd continued to enjoy his vaginal plundering. She watched Shane step away, then came face to crotch with the Alpha. His manhood strained against his tights, and . . . 'Wow!' she thought. 'That thing is huge!' And when he whipped it out. It had to be ten inches long at least, as well as being thick with a beautiful head. "You are Alpha," she muttered, then lowered her eyes. She was not supposed to address her dominant. Of course, the Alpha was not a dominant in the sense she was used to. "Damn straight," he said, pushing his way into her mouth. "I enjoy your style of hospitality, Lord Stapleton. Most lords just offer me something to drink." "Most lords do not have as fine of fare as I do," Shane replied with a smile. He was very proud of his group of sexual deviants. "I'll say. If you hadn't made this one a vampire, I'd certainly like to see her as a werewolf." "She does seem content on all fours." "My kinda girl," the Alpha replied. Shamira's mouth was being stretched to the limit, and she felt a small flush of pride as the Alpha expressed his interest in her. 'What can I say?' she thought. 'A girl wants to be wanted.' The idea of getting access to this kind of manhood on a regular basis had a certain amount of appeal. She wondered if Clara might consider getting a strap-on of similar size. The Shepherd had been enjoying himself for several minutes more before cumming inside of her. He gripped her ass cheeks hard as he unloaded a surprisingly large amount of seed. He rested inside of her for a minute longer before withdrawing, leaving a void that Shamira hoped would soon be filled. "Excellent," the Alpha said, pulling out of her greedy mouth and taking position behind her. "This is how animals are supposed to do it," he added, plunging his sword all the way into her sheath in one movement, driving everything from her body except the gratitude of being completely filled by him. "My god," Sebastian spoke from the audience, his voice carrying feigned shock, "she really has no dignity at all, does she?" "I don't pay her for her 'dignity,' now do I?" Shane replied. Shamira could barely keep track of any conversation, her body given to the powerful man who was drilling her from behind. He was relentless, bordering on brutal, stretching her opening to its limit. She wanted to cum, but she held back, wanting him to satisfy himself first. "Representative, you gonna have a go with her?" the Alpha asked as he hammered Shamira. "Undress in front of the masses?" she asked pointedly. "I'm not a savage," she added, her voice lightly mocking. "Turn her around, however. There is something she could do for me while serving your purpose." As Shamira's platform was quickly spun around while the Representative slipped her dainty foot out of her shoe, presenting it for Shamira to worship. As the Alpha started using her sex for his pleasure again, Shamira started to lick and kiss those feet and sucking on those toes. Shamira had never really saw feet or toes as sexy before, but damn if they weren't turning her on at the moment. And the Representative was not exactly complaining. 'Thousand year-old vampire has a foot fetish,' she thought. 'Who would've thunk?' "Might wanna take them lovelies out of her mouth for a sec," the Alpha said. The old vampire shot him a glare, letting Shamira finish cleaning her right big toe before pulling her foot away. Then Shamira realized that the Alpha was just preventing those toes from being bitten off when he pulled out of Shamira's pussy and drove that telephone-pole of a cock slowly into Shamira's ass. "Sweet Mother of the Moon," the Alpha growled. "This thing is so tight, I'm surprise you get any work done, Stapleton." "Oh, she's plenty of work by herself, I assure you," he said a bit dryly. Shamira would have rolled her eyes at him if they were not about to pop out of her head. The Alpha was taking his sweet time as he navigated her asshole like a semi-trailer winding its way down a farm road. It could be done, but it was going to take a while. And she was enjoying the ride more than she would have thought possible. The first time she had been taken anally, it had just hurt, but now she understood the pain . . . even relished it. She looked forward to the moment when her sphincter ring relaxed a bit and the sharp pain turned into an ache that she could really get into. She wanted more, generally preferring anal penetration when she was being violated in her other orifices as well. When it was safe, at least she got to suck on the Representative's toes again. 'I can't believe I'm thankful to have toes to suck on,' Shamira thought, until the pressure in her asshole made further thought impossible. "What do you say to these nice people?" Shane asked her. "Thank you," she said after the Representative pulled her toes out of Shamira's mouth, her voice gaspy. "Louder," Shane told her, "and be more specific." "Thank you," she said so that everyone could hear her, "for fucking my ass and making me a whore." "Oh, I think you were a whore before I ever showed up," the Alpha said. Shamira took it as a compliment. His cock plunged deep into her and then he stopped, and she could feel him explode, his seed streaming into her ass and making her feel warm. But then he withdrew, leaving her with a hollowness that she wanted filled. Hot semen leaked out of her and into the crack of her ass, and all she could think was that she wanted more. Once the Alpha was drawn, the true games began. One table at a time got up and brought her over, each person taking whatever pleasure they wanted with her. Her dress had been torn to shreds as each abused her in some way. She noticed that the doms all were taking their turns first, and they were rougher with Shamira than their guests had been. Renata helped Reaper out by grabbing Shamira's head and shoving it onto his cock until he came all over her face, then Renata forced the captive to lick the werejaguar's pussy. Bangaly got similar help from his lionesses. Sebastian and Henry tag-teamed her with some double penetration, then Yosyp stepped in to make it an all-holes-filled trifecta. While those three fucked her every which way but loose, Bjorne and Monique were actually biting her on the shoulders, arms, and breasts. Hard enough to hurt . . . hard enough to please. All three men deposited their loads onto Shamira's face, giving her a glazed look. That was when Clara came in for a bit. "You are looking a bit worse for wear," she said disapprovingly. She held up a garden hose complete with a variable-setting spray head. She started washing the cum from Shamira's body, then turned the hose onto "stream" and sending a concentrated stream of water directly onto her crotch. Shamira gasped out of instinct. It was like using the shower sprayer back home, but a hell of a lot more intense. She tried to ask permission to cum, but she got sprayed in the face whenever she opened her mouth. She experienced an insane climax and was unable to anything but gurgle. "She came without permission, didn't she?" Shane asked. He watched his shaman nod, then made a "tsking" sound. "She is my responsibility for the time being," Banshee said. "If it pleases you, I shall punish her." When Shane nodded, she pulled several coils of colored rope from underneath her chair. Shamira's soul was smiling. This was SO staged, but she did not care. Banshee was a master (or mistress, if you will) of Kinbaku, a very beautiful, artistic form of Japanese bondage. Dessert was brought out as Banshee painstakingly removed Shamira's current bonds only to replace them with a web of brightly colored rope. By the time the Japanese woman was done, it looked as if Shamira, on her knees, had tried to push her way through a spider's web. Both her breasts were lightly bound as well, though a good portion of skin was still available, as was every point of entry. And the ropes were applying pressure on some very sensitive parts of her body, specifically the outer rim of her mound. When Banshee pushed her fingers between Shamira's folds, that mound was pressed tighter against the ropes. This was the first time that Shamira had been able to enjoy Banshee's particular brand of domination, as the former Yakuza member tended to be more elaborate and time-consuming in her preparations than other dominants. She kind of liked it. Her bindings seemed both more strict than metal cuffs and chains, but was also more comforting and comfortable. "She's ready," Banshee said proudly. She gripped Shamira's nipples and pinched them hard while Shamira bit her bottom lip. Banshee stepped backward but did not release her hold, stretching those nubs out until they were finally released to an audible sigh. Then the woman began to disrobe, leaving her herself in a leather corset, matching thigh-high boots and . . . well, that was pretty much it. With great dexterity and agility, Banshee threaded one foot through the rope web and over one of Shamira's powerful shoulders, then using the metal bar over her captive's head for balance, threaded the other foot through as well. The result was that she was straddling Shamira's shoulders, using the metal bar to keep her balance, and offering her sex to her captive's hungry, willing mouth. "Oh Clara, I believe you have taught this one some useful skills," Banshee murmured as Shamira's tongue parted her captor's labia and teased its way to the core. "Birds fly, fish swim, and sluts do oral," Clara said. "She was a quick study." She sat on the platform in front of Shamira, getting a world class view of Banshee's ass as she rode their captive's face. "You know, you have a really nice butt," she told Banshee. Meanwhile, her fingers were caressing Shamira's slot, teasing her to excitement again. "Thank you," Banshee said, pushing her mound against Shamira's face. She was happy that this particular sub would be joining her in Savannah for a time. They had a great deal of pleasure to catch up on, assuming she could pry the woman away from Clara for any amount of time. Clara grinned as she pushed four fingers up into her girlfriend's box, making a small twisting motion. "So whore," she whispered, "if you can hear me when you have Banshee's thighs acting as earmuffs, then you might want to listen. I'm going to split you in two, the way only I can. Do you understand me?" Shamira could barely hear anything, but she knew exactly what Clara was planning on doing to her. The idea excited her more than it should, so she intensified her efforts. Banshee's clit was actually kind of cute, peeking out shyly from its hood whenever her tongue swept over it. All the while, the pathway to her sex was being penetrated and pushed farther and farther open. The thing about a vampire's body was that it always returned to the state it was in when he or she died. When Shamira died, she had been in fantastic shape. And she had been very, very tight. Shamira felt an almost compulsive need to make Banshee climax before Clara accomplished what she had set out to do, mostly because Shamira knew that any basic motor skill would be lost to her. She went after Banshee's clit relentlessly until -- "Here it comes," Shane said, putting his fingers in his ears. "What?" the Alpha asked as he leaned over. He was wondering if Shane might "lend" him Shamira at some point. Just to study her shifting ability of course. "You ever wonder why I gave the name Banshee to someone who is usually really quiet?" The Alpha looked confused, then noticed that the Representative had actually covered her ears. The old vampire tended to know what she was doing, so he protected his own eardrums just in time. There were two things that got Banshee's blood going . . . the hunt and the climax. The former she did in profound silence, the latter she did with a scream that did her namesake proud. Her wail of release deafened those nearby and filled the hall with its might. "Good . . . grief!" someone muttered, breaking the stillness that had followed Banshee's expression of pleasure. "I always said you were too noisy," Clara added with a smirk. She had not been able to cover both ears like her compatriots due to one hand mauling Shamira's sex, but she figured her hearing would recover. She rarely had an opportunity to tease Banshee about anything. "You . . . uhm . . . you did a good job with her. Did I say that already?" Banshee replied, her voice tinged with the happy glow of satisfaction. She slowly extricated herself from around Shamira's face. "I believe you did." Clara took advantage of the distraction by pushing her hand all the way up into Shamira's sex. "Good thing too, because she's going to be pretty useless for the time being." Shamira's brain had fire alarms and bells and whistles and all other manner of noises going off in it. That incredible yet brief pain, followed by a tremendous sense of fulfillment, was something she had only ever experienced once before, and only Clara had done it to her. It was as if the Native American had claimed Shamira that night in a manner that would make all other sensations pale next to it. And, despite having had sex with a giant metaphysical anime octopus and having been gangbanged by strangers or any number of other things, Clara had done just what she had intended. Shamira's collar belonged to Shane, her body might be passed around like a cold, but the deepest and most intimate parts of her belonged to Clara. Clara's fest began its prodding explorations, touching what it could, caressing all it could come in contact with. Her wrist was trapped by both Shamira's powerful vaginal muscles as well as the odd angle she was holding it, but she would be able to do just enough. Shamira's mouth gaped and her eyes rolled back in her head as the first of many climaxes tore through her body. With the fingers moving inside of her, Clara was going to play Shamira like a piano, creating a symphony of pleasure leading to a crescendo of -- "Oh!" Shamira gulped. "Mistress Clara, permission to --" "Oh just shut up and cum already,' Clara growled playfully as Shamira's body shook like a possessed soul being exorcised. Clara would know too. She had seen it happen. Shamira had no control over her body for several minutes. Pulse after pulse of erotic bliss raged through her blood and muscles and brain. She heard the metal bar which she was tied to start to creak and bend, and several of the ropes holding her snapped. Later she would find out that several members of the audience had reached new levels of arousal just by watching her muscular body strain against her bindings. It would be a pleasant thought. Clara was pretty sure that her lover had inadvertently broken Clara's wrist. At the very least, it hurt like hell. But the look of exquisite joy on her girlfriend's face made it all worth it. She wanted badly to drop her dominant act and just kiss this girl, but she would play by their rules for now. 'I'll get her alone later,' Clara promised herself as she extricated her hand. As before, Shamira felt an emptiness that was more than physical after Clara pulled her hand away, but she was content. Her life before all of this had been simple, but it has also been empty. Here, she was the decadent, sexual, uninhibited person she had always wished she could be, surrounded by people who would go to war with her and for her, and loved . . . so genuinely loved in so many ways. Even as Shane unleashed the other submissives on her, ordered to enjoy her flesh, she saw beyond the "show" and the pageantry of it all. Her eyes met Clara's as the other woman moved away while still staying close, watching hungrily as more bodies moved in close. She loved the beautiful shaman and felt loved in return. More importantly, she truly believed in that affection, something she had never done before. The other subs surrounded her like a wave of flesh, poking her and penetrating her in every way. They did not take turns, but rather acted as a single entity. It reminded her somewhat of her encounter with the Conduit in the faerie ritual, being a creature of undulating appendages seemingly designed to pleasure her in every way. Sexual parts presented themselves to her face while fingers or cocks penetrated her lower openings. Teeth nipped at her abused flesh and fingernails dug into the flesh of her buttocks and breasts. All were careful to avoid damaging her back, knowing she was still sensitive in the area near the base of her spine. Each of them used her in some way until they had achieved release, but did not stop until she had climaxed many more times as well. "Let this be an example to those who might follow in Shamira's lead," Shane said, trying to sound menacing while practically beaming with pride. "Do as she did, and the same treatment will await you," he added, looking at all the submissives still gathered around Shamira's mostly-bound and wholly-satisfied form. For them, that was a serious promise that they hoped that they could one day "deserve." "Clara, please take that creature somewhere and get her cleaned up." Clara grinned, then started pushing Shamira's cart back to the double doors leading to the kitchen. When they were finally alone, Clara looked into her girlfriend's glazed, happy eyes, and then she finally got the kiss she had been waiting for. ------------- --------------------- Eight months later . . . ------------- --------------------- "Aodh, could you please help Kira and Arthur get the kids settled down? Company will be here soon," Shamira half-shouted, half-sighed. Being a mother to a nest of little dragons was exhausting. Since defeating Jonas, four more eggs had hatched, giving her another Sea Serpent (this one a female), a female Horned Dragon from the Far East, a male Stone Dragon from the Rocky Mountains of the United States, and a male Quetzalcoatl from Central America. Luckily for Shamira, baby dragons mature quickly given the right guidance. Aodh was already able to understand human language and was the emotional and intellectual equivalent of a teenage human. That was not always a good thing, but most of the time it was a blessing. Aodh, being the "big brother" of the group, helped direct his younger siblings as much as he could. He understood what had happened to his race, but seemed more inclined to be like his adopted mother (who he worshipped) than to start dragging up old feuds. So he, Kira, Arthur, and Archimedes were wrangling up the youngsters who were rambling all over their large enclosure. Banshee's new estate on the shore of the Atlantic just north of Savannah had been built for its remoteness, access to the ocean (for the Sea Serpents), and for the security it offered its reptilian inhabitants. They were more worried about detection than any magical threat. To Protect and Serve Ch. 12 Banshee had already put the fear of God into the troublemakers of the area. She was a very hands-on sheriff who had already developed a reputation as a bad-ass before taking charge of the political reins as well. The lawlessness suffered under Lacroix's rule would no longer be tolerated. Banshee had found several magical beings to act as her enforcers, adding to the group that Shane had lent her. Staying true to Shane's guidance, she was going to build a diverse group rather than favoring her own race, and it was proving to be a wise track. Not only did she have vampires and weres, but she had, with Shamira acting as her representative, convinced the entire local faerie colony to take up residence on her estate. In exchange for physical muscle if needed to protect the colony, the faeries provided a powerful magical security to the land itself. Banshee had also enlisted a brother/sister pair of elvish assassins. The elves were still wanting to get back into Shamira's good graces, despite her assurances that she did not blame the entire race for the actions of one rogue member. But apparently, everyone wanted to make damn sure that the last Moon Dragon was not pissed off at them. For her part, Shamira was looking forward to the day that she could be a full time enforcer again and stop playing Tyrannosaurus Nanny, though the role did have some rewards. The first time Aodh had shown understanding of what had happened to his race and vowed not to let it happen again . . . that had filled her with hope and pride. And the first time that Jörmungandr swam in the ocean, his mind transmitting unparalleled glee, had also made her heart sing. Luckily, the merfolk of the Atlantic were more than happy to assist in acclimating the great beast, already thirty feet long) into how to navigate and survive in the great expanse of the oceans. As a result, Shane and Banshee had both forged an alliance with the merfolk, a previously unprecedented event. Katar and the other Lesser Dragons were also living on the estate, though Katar would soon be leaving. The Tribunal had been impressed that a once subservient race would aid in the resurrection of those who had once treated them so badly. But Katar and his folk saw the Greater Dragons as a part of themselves that had been missing for too long. In exchange for their help, the Lesser Dragons had been granted a membership in the Tribunal, and Katar would be its first ambassador. Shamira shook her head as she watched Aodh telepathically attempt to reason with the Quetzalcoatl and coax it out from under the pile of hay bails that it had used to create a cave. The feathered serpent had been harassed by a Sea Serpent, who had already been sent to the swimming pool for a "time out," but the Quetzalcoatl refused to budge from his hiding place. "Now I know how my sister must have felt," Shamira muttered. "Speaking of which, she called a few minutes ago," Clara said. She was sitting on the edge of the pool, letting the Sea Serpents swim by and tickle her toes. "She told me to tell you hi, and not to freak out but that she was going out with Clyde tonight and was . . . and these her words, not mine . . . hoping to get lucky." Shamira clamped one hand over her grimacing face. Samantha had started dating the werewolf lord of Huntsville, AL, shortly after her divorce was finalized from that cheating asshole Patrick. Shamira's sister had taken a great interest in the magical community after finding out that Shamira was a vampire dragon thingie, but her interest in Clyde was still a little disturbing. Okay, maybe he was handsome and charming and much more loyal than Patrick, but . . . but Shamira just could not fathom that her sister was dating a werewolf. "She's a grown woman," Clara said, reading her lover's thoughts, "and she's probably safer now than she's ever been. No one, human or magical, is going to hurt her without going through a very powerful local lord and his entire pack." Clara pulled her feet out of the water and strode over to her girlfriend. The two of them were still sharing a room and, more importantly, a bed, and both of them were quite happy with each other. Shamira finally smiled. "I know. It's just that so much has changed. It's barely been a little more than a year, but I still remember being alive. I remember being a cop and complaining to her on the phone about how dull my life was. Now she's humping a lycanthrope, I'm an undead part-time dragon who sleeps with a beautiful undead woman who also ties her up sometimes --" "And these are all good things," Clara interrupted, wrapping her arms around Shamira's neck and holding her close. "Especially that last part." About that time, a limousine flanked by black SUVs pulled into the shelter, and Shamira said, "And now it's show time." Shane got out of the limo, leading several blindfolded and shackled humans from the depths of the vehicle. "You are in more trouble than you can guess," one of the captives said. "Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you're in? Kidnapping federal agents --" "And as I tried to tell you," Shane interrupted, "that these are merely temporary inconveniences. In a few moments, all will be explained to you. I promise you that no harm will come to you, and that you will all be released if you wish to go." "Why the hell wouldn't we --" a woman started to say, then she gasped as her blindfold was removed. All the humans were relieved of their blindfolds and bonds, though they were surrounded by Shane's and Banshee's guards. The Tribunal members had chosen not to attend this meeting, mostly as a precaution in case things did not go well. "You're Shane Stapleton," one of the men said, looking amazed. "You're one of the richest men in the country, so why would --" "Why would I be kidnapping FBI agents and bringing them to a secret location and then promising to free them?" Shane looked at each one of them. "You were chosen to be here because you, more than anyone else in the United States government, are inclined to believe the impossible. You were chosen because you have always been assigned the jobs that no one else could understand or would even WANT to understand. You are the kind of people who look into the dark places and wonder not only who might be hiding there, but also what might be hiding there." "Are you going tell us that you're aliens?" one of them scoffed. "That's a little too X-files for my taste." "Aliens? Don't be absurd," Shane replied with a smile. "Of course I'm not an alien. I'm a vampire." The humans looked shocked, amused, or befuddled. Sometimes all three. The woman spoke. "A . . . vampire. Seriously, is this some kind of --" The woman stopped and shrieked as Shane opened his mouth and caused his fangs to grow right before her eyes. "Nice trick," the first man said again. "But I'm sure --" "Before you say '-- that there's a logical explanation,' let me assure you that there are vampires in this world, and all other sorts of beings that you could scarcely imagine. Before you leave here, you will understand what truly lives on the other side of the shadows that most humans have feared, sometimes rightly so. We believe that it is time to come forward and be part of the great community of this planet, and you will be our liaisons back to your world. And before you attempt any further objects, I believe that I can show you all the proof you could ever need." He pointed at something behind the humans' backs. The FBI members turned around to find that the guards had parted to reveal -- "Oh my God," one whispered, his eyes coming to rest on Aodh, who was curled in a semi-sphere around Clara and Shamira. "What is that?" "That's my adopted son," Shamira replied, remembering the role that Shane had wanted her to play. She felt Clara pulling her robe away, leaving Shamira nude. "And that's not the coolest part." "It . . . isn't?" the woman muttered, still staring at the Thorn Back dragon. Shamira began to smoke and then shift, growing to massive size and taking a new form. It a few moments, she was no longer a muscular young vampire, but was instead Shadow Wing. Her wings of smoke and ash extended to block out the view of the ceiling, and her neck strained forward to the first man to have spoken. Her nose stopped just a few feet from his amazed face. Shamira was pleased to see more awe and wonder in his eyes than fear. He was a believer whose cynicism had just been short-circuited. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he said at last. From behind the dragon, Clara laughed. "I keep telling her that, but she doesn't believe me." Shamira, her thoughts smooth and warm, reached out to the man and his companions. * Once, I was like you. I found myself trying to understand the notion of a world that had been just beyond my own. But eventually, my eyes were opened to the reality of it. We are real. We are here. The only question now is, do you believe? * The man reached his hand forward slowly, touched the smooth, cool scales of her snout. For a moment, everyone watched in silence. Finally, the man began to smile. "I believe," he whispered. "I believe." ------- -------------------- The end . . .