Gundam Wing Fan Fiction / Fan Fiction ❯ Preventers: When Vampires Attack ❯ Chapter 5

Amy opened her eyes, listlessly scanning her new surroundings. Despite the detached feeling that numbed her limbs, she discovered that she was, in fact, earthbound. She was lying on a giant bed, which she might have deemed comfy if she was fully conscious. Moaning softly, she turned her head in an attempt to reorient herself. The head, foot, and right side of the bed were encircled by filmy maroon drapes. The left side was pressed against a wall; a large window loomed about half a meter away from her face, the curtains drawn back to reveal the world beyond. The outside world was illuminated by the light of countless stars and a full, white moon. Trees stood, stark and menacing in harsh moonlight that was too high in the sky. That meant she had been unconscious the rest of the previous night and all day. It was now around midnight. Greeeeeeaaaaaat. But due to her expert sleuthing, she knew a hell of a lot. . . . She was in a bed in some room in some building in some forest at night. Yep. Things were definitely looking up for her.

Wait . . . in a bed? Damn! Mikael! She looked around again. Something felt weird, out of place. It took her a few moments before she realized what it was. She was somewhat clean - a few flecks of dried blood still clung to her skin - and dressed in a fiery red gossamer shift. What . . . the . . . hell. . . . She was most decidedly not amused. But the worst part was: the jade pendant was gone.

Amy sat up quickly and frantically looked around, searching for the master vampire. Biiiiiiiiig mistake. At the sudden movement, her head exploded. Well, maybe not exploded, but it sure felt a lot like it. Pain lanced through her head and blackness swam into her vision, threatening to render her unconscious again. That can't happen, she thought. If I black out again. . . . Whoa, whoa, whoa. Gotta calm down; stay in control. Then I can start thinking of some funky plan. She leaned forward, bracing herself against her knees, and focused on taking deep, even breaths for a few moments.

As the pain in her throbbing head subsided, she became aware of a different pain, dull and aching, at the side of her throat. Gingerly, she reached up to touch her neck and realized that her movements were unrestricted. At least she wasn't tied up anymore. But before she could rejoice-throw a party, dammit-her fingers found two swollen welts, probably red and definitely inflamed. Of course, it wasn't very hard to guess what they were.

"That bastard," she muttered, gritting her teeth angrily. What had he done? If she was lucky, he had only taken a half-pint of blood or so. A half pint. . . . She suffered a brief mental image of Mikael sipping blood from a cafeteria milk carton labeled "Amy." Suddenly, a half-pint seemed like a lot of liquid. Bemoaning her ill luck, she cupped a hand around the marks and slowly rotated her head, feeling the swollen skin stretch out. "Fecking bastard!"

Suddenly, Mikael appeared before her, his face mere centimeters from her own. She hadn't seen him get through the curtains at all. "Would you care to repeat yourself, fledgling?" he murmured, a dangerous grin tugging at perfectly healed lips.

"AAAAAAA!!!" She leaped back, banging her head into the elaborate headboard behind her.

"Now, now," he berated in feigned annoyance. "That's not what you said at all. And now you've hurt yourself. I hope you're not bleeding again. It's not good to lose so much blood, you know. And you'll simply ruin that lovely camisole."

Amy let herself lean back against the headboard as the dizziness swept in, grinding her molars in enraged silence. She had been away from vampires for too long. These mind tricks had never gotten to her before, or at least not to this extent. Every time he "disappeared" and "reappeared" she knew he was just freezing her brain for the few seconds that he needed to move from one place to another. She'd been somewhat immune to crap like that before. Now she was ashamed to admit it, but it scared the hell out of her.

"Come now. You must have said something important. You're not the type to idly waste words."

Rubbing her head sullenly, she pressed forward until her nose was centimeters from his smooth face. Slitted brown eyes glared into blue. "You're a bastard," she growled. And she hoped she had skanky morning breath, too. Served him right.

Mikael simply laughed and stretched out onto the bed, making himself comfortable. He smoothed his barely opaque silken robe over his body until it draped in ways that left no doubt in Amy's mind that there was nothing underneath but gleaming white skin. "See? We have no secrets from one another." He smiled at her for a few moments, his bright blue eyes traveling along her body until she shivered. "The camisole does look lovely on you. Of course, I picked it out." He paused, as though waiting for her to thank him.

"Oh, shut up." Her vision was clearing up again, but she was beginning to feel queasy. "Why am I in this thing? Or, better yet, who put me in it? And who washed the blood off of me?" She was almost afraid of the answer.

"Why, Desiree, of course. You didn't think that I would. . . ." He sounded scandalized.

"Oh, of course not! You're a perfect gentleman, Mikael. How could I ever think such terrible thoughts about you?" Well, at least he hadn't licked the rest of the blood from her body or something. Right now, small blessings were to be cherished.

"You haven't changed much these past . . . five years, is it? That's refreshing." She couldn't tell what sort of cute game he thought he was playing now. With Mikael, almost everything was a game. The question was: what rules was he playing by?

"Okay, Mikael. Now that we're on even ground, what do you want?" Given her current state of pain and disorientation, she wasn't in the mood for games.

He directed an amused glance her way. "Even ground? Maybe you've become slightly delusional, my dear. The closest you will ever get to being on equal footing with me is becoming my human servant."

"What? You're still hung up on that?" Amy could scarcely believe her ears. Someone had a problem. Well, someone besides her, for once.

"Humans." He shook his head in disgust. His hair lapped at his cheeks like sandy silk. "You don't understand time at all. You see it in small pieces, fragments-no, mere particles-of the whole. A mere 85 years constitutes your entire life, so that seems like an eternity to you. Why don't you look past yourselves, your lives, and take a nice, long look at the vastness of time. To your `God'-" He sneered at the word. It sounded foreign on his tongue. "-five years is nothing; nothing at all. To me, it's almost as insignificant."

"That little speech would have been inspiring, Mikael . . . if it hadn't come from you." She glowered at him for a while, massaging her scalp thoughtfully. Perhaps if she just bought some time, she could rush him…. "Just how old are you?"

Mischievous glee sparkled in his eyes. He waggled one slender finger at her. "Uh uh uh… That's an incredibly rude question. As a woman, you ought to understand that. Will you be asking for my weight next?"

She afforded him a halfhearted smirk.

Mikael shifted his weight slightly and slipped a lock of hair behind his ear. "For you, old friend, I will answer. Or at least give a sporting hint. Maybe you would better recognize me under a different name . . . my given name. Paris; the shepherd prince, apple of Love's eye, he who walked among the immortal." Amy waited for more, watching his face with the slight hope that it would provide a better tip. Not surprisingly, his countenance remained impassive. "Come now," he urged, leaning in closer. "I thought you were well-versed in such things."

She shook her aching head. "My head's about to implode and you want me to think. . . ? You're evil."

"Hmmm." He lay there and watched her, completely immobile. As a silence rode the air between them, his eyes followed the motion of her hand as it rubbed her scalp. Her warning was nothing more than a predatory gleam before his hand shot out to grab her right forearm. Before she even had time to react, he had pulled her arm out straight, twisting it painfully. She knew he was looking for-

"The first mark." Mikael nodded smugly. He ran his thumb over the small, star-shaped scar that pocked her upper arm. She tried to hide her wince behind a scowl. He'd given her the first mark - the first step to becoming tied to him for eternity - over six years ago.

"I was wondering if you'd be stupid enough to have it surgically removed. But somehow, you didn't seem to be the type to worry about scars." He shifted to stroke the long scar on her neck with one long finger. "Anyway, surgery may be capable of removing the visible mark, but it can do nothing about the brand which I have placed in your mind. You are my property, Amy."

That was the first time she had heard him use her name since he had had her kidnapped. He sounded a bit miffed, at that. Scowling darkly, she tried-without much success-to yank her arm from his vise-like grip. Damned vampire strength. She grabbed her arm with her other hand and tugged harder. "I'm not anyone's property, fang-face. My heart belongs to Wufei, but the rest of my body and my power isn't up for dibs. I don't know why you're so obsessed with my Elemental abilities. You have a zillion go-fers to meet your every whim. And they serve you willingly." She tugged at her arm some more. "I would never do that."

He watched her struggle for a few moments. Then, gauging his timing, he released her. Caught off balance, she flew backward unceremoniously, almost whacking her head against the headboard again.

"Wufei, eh? I'll have to remember that. Is that who Karl said was all over you in the alley? Strange, you didn't seem to like it so much when I licked the blood from your face."

Amy snarled and sat up, fighting back the brief moment of disorientation. "What?! Why? You leave him alone or you'll be one dead bastard."

"You're forgetting. . . . I'm undead." Mikael smirked and ran two fingers along his fangs. He made a show of licking the teeth until they glistened in the harsh moonlight. "Would you like the second mark, my pet?"

"Suuure - after you get by me, eh?" She kneaded her fists threateningly. "The first time you took me, I was exhausted. And then you knocked me unconscious-"

He shrugged. "I fought fairly. Mano a mano, right? It's not my fault you didn't take full advantage of your Fire-power."

"This time I will!" She pushed the drapes aside and jumped up, ready to embrace the Elemental torrent. Except things didn't quite go according to plan. She felt her stomach churn evilly, then her head threatened to roll off her shoulders. Mikael chuckled as she wrapped her arms around her abdomen and fell to her knees, dry-heaving. He materialized next to her, a concerned facade pasted onto his face. "Poor Phoenix," he moaned. Had it come from any other mouth, the tone would have been kind and soothing. "I don't think anyone told you that blood loss does strange things to your body. Of course, the drug you were injected with doesn't help you much either. Here, let me assist you."

He lifted her into his arms and carried her back to the bed. She writhed and tore at his chest angrily, but he treated her like a weak child - as she was in his powerful arms. She just wished she had something in her stomach to throw up on him. Soon, he pressed her back onto the bed. "You see, I have nothing to fear from you.... Not that I ever did," he added a mite too hastily.

Amy scowled, trying to overcome the nauseated feeling in her stomach. He was right; he had little to fear at the moment. Even if she did embrace Fire, in her present state the torrent could rip her into a thousand pieces. Not a good thing. But neither was lying on that bed listening to him chuckle. He watched the internal battle that was portrayed on her face, reveled in her weakness, knowing that she must be feeling helpless. Perfect, he chuckled. He wouldn't try to completely break her, but he sure as hell would enjoy playing with her mind and emotions. Watch her squirm.

Now, he ran a gentle hand across her stomach. "What's wrong, little Phoenix? Nervous? Or afraid. If you wish it, it can soon be done with. Or . . . if you wish otherwise. . . ." He let the sentence hang in the air, uncompleted.

She pursed her lips and pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth, gathering up a nice wad of spit from the back of her throat. He would probably kill her for this, but she would have a brief moment of satisfaction.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he purred throatily. Before she could gather enough energy to propel the big ol' spitwad into his eye, he stroked the length of her throat. She remembered that this was what her grandfather had done to persuade motherless calves to accept their bottles. As she knew it would, the steady, pulling pressure against her throat caused her to swallow. Somehow, she began to feel even more helpless than before-most likely thanks to the bad analogy of a calf. Sigh. Nothing like upping one's morale....

Suddenly, he caught her wrists with one hand and pushed them above her head. Stunned, she stared at him while he grinned toothily. "You'll be my servant sooner or later. I have an eternity. You cannot wait so long-at least, not in your present state." With his free hand, he caressed the first mark; a master admiring his creation. The sensitive skin around the star tingled at the stimulus.

"You humans," he continued, seemingly unaware of the shiver which wracked her torso. "Your lives are so fleeting, so meaningless. Relatively few people even leave their mark in this world. I am giving you an opportunity many would leap at. And yet you would refuse my proposition. In return for your services, I give you longevity and, if you are a good servant, you will be . . . rewarded."

Apparently, he felt that he needed to illustrate his claims because he lowered his head to nuzzle her neck. She gasped as his mouth moved to cover the inflamed wound he had created earlier. His tongue flickered across it, soothing despite the searing sensation it produced. Then, he began suckling the wound, his shocking blue eyes open and watching for her reactions. She arched her back slightly, fighting the pleasurable sensations which coursed through her body. Mikael grinned predatorily and released her wrists before moving lower, leaving a hot trail of saliva down the side of her neck. His chin brushed the low neckline of the camisole. Annoyed by the hindrance, he reached down with his free hand and pulled it down, exposing the upper curve of her breasts.

Amy's empty stomach jumped up into her throat. "Whoa! Stop. Now." She crossed her arms in front of his face. "Let's not get frisky. We can . . . eh . . . talk this out. After all, that`s been working so well so far!"

Mikael silently shifted his weight forward, forcibly wedging his knee between her legs. She slid away, pressing her back against the headboard. "Can't we all-" She gasped again as he crept up her body, his movements sinuous and seductive. "-just get along?"

His grin, predatory and triumphant, was just big enough to flash a glimpse of fang. "Don't be scared, fledgling. I'll be nice." He closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against her chest, over her heart. Amy held her breath and squeezed one eye shut, afraid to move, afraid to remain motionless.

"Your heart's blood sings sweetly in my ear," he murmured, his throat vibrating against her breast. "I hear your life; your existence beats against my flesh." Mikael inhaled sharply. Piercing blue eyes shot open, looking up into her dark chocolate eyes. "I can smell your lust, your fear. Your body betrays your desires to me. You cannot deny it for long."

"Oooookay, Mikael." Amy struggled to make her voice firm and convincing. "This is just too creepy. Um. You don't like me and I sure as hell don't like you. Sooooo. . . ."

Mikael pouted, nuzzling her chest gently. "Oh, but, Phoenix, we can learn to be good friends. I know we will." A brilliant smile broke through the sorrowful mask; he rose to his knees, his emotions changing at the drop of a hat. "Look, if you're nervous, I can start out slow. But it's useless to resist me."

"You're just too charming, eh?" Amy drawled wryly.

"Yeah." Mikael looked fairly pleased with himself. Suddenly, he reached down and pushed the camisole up until it bunched at her hips. She saw this in a blur of motion so fast that she could barely follow it with her eyes. Judging from the dirty look he shot her way, she guessed she wasn't supposed to have seen it at all. Maybe her vampire immunities were coming back already. Yee-haw.

She tried to squirm away, but he firmly pinned her back. "This is slow?!"

The vampire ran his hand up her left thigh. Intense blue eyes stared at a point just below her hip. "No. I lied."

"Get off me, perv!" Amy drew her right leg to her chest and kicked out, aiming for his groin. Without looking up, he caught her foot with his free hand and squeezed effortlessly, almost casually. A searing lance of pain shot up her leg as the bones in her foot ground against one another. A strangled sound seized up in her throat. She arched her back against the headboard, bracing herself with her arms. In a little while, the pressure eased and she opened her eyes. Mikael was staring at her again, his expression dangerously calm. He released her foot and instead pressed her right shoulder to the headboard. He bent over her thigh again, gently stroking the soft skin. As Amy watched, struggling against his thoughtless strength, he reached for the small of his back to produce a dagger from a sheath she had not seen. The curved blade glinted wickedly in the moonlight, catching her eye, holding her in a shallow trance. Weeeaaapon of maaass destruuuctiiiooon. . . . She almost didn't realize when he rested the edge against her thigh.

"Noooo!!" she yelled, suddenly realizing what he was doing. She jerked her leg up, rolling away from the knife. Too late. Mikael's blade had already pierced her skin; the movement only pushed it deeper, drawing it across her left thigh in long gash. A sharp, fiery pain slashed through her leg.

Before she could react accordingly (i.e.: scream, hiss, spit, bite, scratch, poke), Mikael transferred the blade to his left hand and slit his right wrist. Its usefulness at an end, he let the dagger fall from his hand. It landed on the bed and bounced slightly, sliding into the crack between the mattress and the wall.

With disappointing ease, he played his weight against her body, pinning her to the bed. All his charm was gone, disappeared as though it had never been. His eyes bore into hers, sharp, focused, intense. She froze.

"The cut didn't have to be that deep. It can still be painless if you don't struggle." Uh-oh; uncharacteristic severity. She was neck-deep in some serious shit. "We'll get on to more pleasant things soon."

Ignoring her attempts at escape, Mikael ran a lazy finger through the blood oozing from her wound, catching the liquid before it could stain the silken bedsheets. Heaven forbid. Slowly, carefully, with the grace due to an ancient, he lowered his bleeding wrist to her thigh, placing his wound over her own. Their blood - chalk full of supernatural power - mingled, numbing Amy's leg. She could almost feel his blood tingle as it began to ride her own bloodstream. Suddenly, the air was filled with a crisp, tangible energy. Mikael closed his eyes and let his head fall backward, reveling in the unseen electricity that buffeted his skin. Amy cringed away from the strange, ethereal energy which crackled around her. It was creepier that she couldn't see the force. She hugged her arms tight against her body and squinted, trying to descry the invisible bolts. Without warning, two piercing blue eyes floated up before her face. Mikael's eyes. But they weren't attached to anything. Just two eyes, drawing nearer and nearer to her face. Just like the dream. When she thought that they couldn't get much closer, they shot forward, entering her own eyes.

For a few seconds, she was blind and deaf to the world. She felt the otherworldly eyes travel to the back of her head before searing into a section at the back of her mind. And it was over. She blinked. The world was blue. Mikael was speaking; his mouth moved, but she heard nothing. The experience was similar to being underwater. She allowed her eyes to slide shut and fell back into the calming waves.

Hands grasped her shoulders, roughly shaking her until she thought her neck might snap. Her eyes shot open to see Mikael's face centimeters from her own. No more blue. Except for his eyes. The pupils had contracted into nonexistence. All she could see was the deep blue irises. And she knew enough of vampires to recognize the signs of bloodlust.

"The blood," he hissed. His voice was husky, bestial. All of his dashing charm had disappeared, replaced by a feral creature with an animalistic hunger. "It is done. You are bound closer to me with a covenant of blood." Before she could think to struggle, strong hands pulled the gossamer camisole up her torso. In a relatively useless attempt of resistance, she grabbed his shoulders and pushed him away will all of her might. She soon discovered that she was fighting a losing battle.

Indeed, Mikael easily brushed her weak attempts away and pulled the shift over her head, twisting it to ensnare her arms. He grinned as the sheer fabric fell away to reveal her smooth bare breasts, ignored her squirming protests as he bent over to brush his lips against a nipple, reveled in the frantic irregularity of her pulse.

"M-Mikael. No. . . . P-please don't d-do this. . . ." Her voice sounded weak, pleading, even to her own ears.

The vampire slightly raised her head to smirk at her. "Don't bother trying to talk me out of this, fledgling. I can smell your lust, see it in your eyes, feel it race in your pulse. You want this; you want me. And you will soon see why no woman who has experienced me would dare deny me anything. But I do love it when you beg. . . ."

"Master Mikael?" The voice from the other side of the drapes sounded familiar, although muffled. Karl, from the alley. And he sounded a bit freaked. Poor baby. For some strange reason, Amy didn't really pity him. It wouldn't have anything to do with her current state of undress and vulnerability . . . naw. . . .

The Master Vampire froze, slowly turning his head toward the apologetic voice. "What?! I told you I was not to be interrupted. Leave us. You will be punished when I am finished here."

"A-apologies, Master." The voice was now tremulous, its owner fearful. "There are winged beings who . . . d-demand to see you. One says she will. . . ." He took a deep breath, as though it might be his last. "She'll-and this is a direct quote-`shoveyourfuckingballsdownyourthroatandthenchopyouupintoazilli onpiecesandfeedthemtomydog.'"

Mikael turned back to Amy, his eyes blind to her as he narrowed them thoughtfully. She allowed herself to cringe beneath him, wishing she could sink into the bed. He blinked and his eyes were normal again; the bloodlust had gone. "Only one woman would `demand' anything of me." His voice rose, his words meant for Karl. "Tell her I will be out when I feel like it. Make her think she'll have a nice, long wait." He lowered his head to play the tip of his tongue across Amy's jaw line. "When I return, you will attempt to pleasure me. That will be your first - and very least - of your payments for the gift I have given to you."

He rolled off the bed and swept the curtains aside, thoughtlessly adjusting his black robe until it appeared fresh, unwrinkled. As Amy yanked the shift back down over her torso, she caught a brief glimpse of Karl. He scurried out the door ahead of his master, rightfully afraid. Mikael grinned at her, bearing a plethora of unspoken promises of darker deeds to be performed later. Her stomach clenched in fear as he licked the last of her blood off a fang and turned to stride across the room. As his hand fell on the door, she realized that she could see every move he made. Either he wasn't hiding his movement behind a mind-web, or she was becoming more immune to the vampiric powers once again. She preferred to think it might be for the latter of the two possibilities. Or, she thought with a shudder, maybe the mark has something to do with it.

The mark. . . . Her attention turned once more to the gently throbbing wound on her right thigh. Somehow, it already seemed to be smaller than it had been at first. Imagination? Or was it the healing effects of the vampire blood which now tainted her veins? The thought elicited a small tremor which ran down her spine, chilling even her extremities with its icy fingers. Her head did seem to be feeling much better. She nibbled at her lower lip and tugged the skirt of the camisole down until it covered the wound. Out of sight, out of mind? Hardly.

Well, I have a few minutes or so until he comes back, she thought grimly. I have that long to recover and escape. I think I can, I think I can. . . . She laughed softly, then turned her attention to the window. It was large enough that she could easily kneel on the sill without ducking. Perfect . . . just enough room for some comfortable maneuverability. Encouraged, she crawled across the silk enshrouded mattress, crossing over to the window. Her heart fell at the sight-a three-story drop into a thick forest.

There was only one way she could make that drop - and survive. Gingerly, she extended her senses, probing at the Air Element. As soon as she touched it, her stomach clenched tightly, gagging her. Quickly, she withdrew and leaned against the wall, gasping much like a fish out of water. Well, that was one option down. Damn; she'd have to brave the door.

But, first things first. . . . She readily pulled one of the silk sheets from the bed and wrapped it around her, toga-style. She just hoped that this offhand covering would prove to be fairly effective. She had no intentions of allowing the whole world see her in this corny get-up, but neither did she plan on letting her modesty slow down her rather rapid departure from this makeshift hell.

As she turned away from the bed, a harsh, metallic glint caught her eye. Something was lodged between the bed and the wall. Amy leaned in closer. Mikael's dagger. Her lips parted in a small smile. He had forgotten to retrieve it. Now she had a weapon. Big mistake, she chuckled. Sucks to be him.

Dagger grasped firmly in hand, Amy slid off the bed and headed for the door. Miraculously, her headache didn't return and her stomach was reasonably well-behaved. Good; things were definitely looking up! Now if only the door was unlocked. . . . The knob turned easily in her free hand and the door edged open. Success! She quickly hid the dagger behind her back and peered out into a dark, candle-lit hallway.

"What thinkest thou'rt doing?" The silver-haired vampire (Nicholas, was it?) loomed up before the doorway, barring her exit. Harsh moonlight spilled through the drapes, illuminating his hair until he seemed to be surrounded by a silver halo.

"I'm thinkesting of leaving, dork," she growled, taking in this new dilemma with an appraising eye. Maybe if she lunged forward and stabbed him right through the heart. . . ?

"I do think t'would not be wise." Nicholas grinned, exposing his fangs. "Nay, our master has gone to so much trouble to prepare thy room. Thou wouldst wound him by showing such ingratitude." Before she could react, he slammed the door in her face. The lock clicked with a resounding finality. Cursing loudly, she battered the doorknob a bit but, unsurprisingly, it had no effect.

"'Our master`? Hey, you Shakespearean reject, leave me outta this. He may be your master, but-" Aw, what was the use? He probably wasn't listening anyway. After giving the door one last kick, Amy plunked down on the edge of the bed. She turned the dagger in her hands, staring at it disconsolately. What to do now?

"I guess I get to face Mikael, woman to man. Jooooooyyyyyy," she sighed. Setting her jaw grimly, she scooted back into the corner and reverently cradled the dagger across her lap. Here she would wait until Mikael was through with his audience. Then… Well then it would either be her or him. She crouched there, muscles taught, prepared to pounce.

Well, almost anything. The window flew open, banging noisily against the wall. Amy leapt up, dagger in hand once again, and whirled to face this unexpected attack. A dark shape, silhouetted against the full moon, slipped through the window. A funky battle-cry rose to her throat as she rounded on the figure, the dagger a blurred silver arc in the air. Of course, just then her toga decided to make a nuisance of itself and slide off to wind itself around her legs. The figure, hunched in the window frame, barely moved a muscle. One hand rose, catching her right wrist with stunning ease. Before she could even blink, he had vacated the window and spun around to stand behind her, twisting her wrist behind her back until she dropped the dagger. His free hand clapped over her mouth, effectively silencing her. Dismayed, she struggled in his firm, supernaturally strong grasp. Was this another vampire? Had Mikael sent him? If so, why?

The vampire's chin thrust against her shoulder; his lips pursed, brushed her ear. "You are Mikael's bitch? This is all he has to offer?" A low, disgusted sound growled in his throat. "I will release you now if you swear not to scream. Any sound that brings Mikael running, and your lifeblood will carpet this room. I hear your master likes exotic things; that might get his attention."

Master?? That's the second time in one night- Suddenly, Amy's eyes widened-not at the threat, but at the voice itself. Her muscles turned to Jell-O and she slid out of his arms, neatly depositing herself in a heap on the bed. The vampire, intrigued by her reaction, leaned back against the wall to eye her warily. In a split-second, he too reacted in stunned silence.

"Conan?" Amy stared at him some more, not quite able to grasp the situation. Five years ago, she had bid this man a stoic farewell, never expecting to see him again. Yet here he was, right before her eyes. Harsh white moonlight fell across lightly tanned skin and a stark black ensemble. Golden brown eyes, several shades darker than his skin, narrowed suspiciously then shot from one corner to another as though expecting a trap.

"Amy?! No, it can't be…. What is Mikael up to now? A robotic look-alike, perhaps?" He scowled and squatted beside Amy, reaching out to touch her bare shoulder. "Hmmm. Its surface seems warm and flesh-like." She barely stifled a yowl as he pinched her. "Programmed for response to certain stimuli, I suspect. Amazing technology. Too bad I'll have to scrap it in the end." He didn't waste too much time on his regrets. His amazing vampire reflexes allowed him to seize both her shoulders with a crushing force before she could detect the faintest muscle-twitch. "Okay, you. How'd he do it? What the hell is he planning?"

She blinked.

"Don't act surprised. Robots feel no emotion. Answer my questions or I'll reprogram you to operate as Mikael's personal toaster."

"Toaster?!" Okay, she'd had enough! Amy tore out of his grasp as it loosened. "You idiot - I'm Amy! Y'know . . . BN, Phoenix, Fire Elemental?" she snapped angrily. She found the dagger resting beside her and covertly slid her fingers along its hilt.

"And what's that - a programmed response? Did he anticipate my counterstroke?" he asked himself rhetorically. Conan tapped a finger to his lips, appraising the situation. He regarded her with the cold expression that he reserved for computer malfunctions; one that she had never thought would be directed at her.

Feeling pretty pissed, Amy yanked the camisole skirt aside just enough to expose the recent, throbbing cut. "Look, I bleed; I'm Amy; I want out. You wanna work with me here? Your manners are bad enough already. It's been five years and you haven't even said `hi.' And now you want to kill me."

Conan's eyes widened at the sight of the wound. He reached out, fingers hovering above the laceration. "May I?"

"Sure. Great. Just don't get all bloodthirsty on me." She didn't even flinch when his fingers gently trailed through her blood, smearing it across her thigh. Oh, yeah, she was tough as nails. She did blanch when he lifted the crimson-stained finger to his lips. Ah, well, can't win `em all.

"Doesn't that just warm your tummy now?" Amy grumbled irascibly.

"It's you." Conan shook his head in disbelief, absently licking the remnants of her blood from his lips. He stared at her for a few seconds, then emitted a small, wondering laugh. "This is amaz--" He broke off again, his face darkening. These vampire mood swings were beginning to get on Amy's nerves. Too creepy. "Wait. Why are you working with Mikael? I know you've probably changed since we parted, but I never would have believed you to agree to be his `secret weapon.' What did he offer you? Power? Sex? Immortality?" A sharp crease appeared between tensed brows. "I can't believe you would fall for any of that."

"Agree?!" Amy squeaked, forgetting to keep the volume down. She grimaced and shot a cautious look at the door, fervently praying that Nicholas had meandered off to haunt another doorway. When no one barged into the bedroom, she turned back to Conan. "Your old age is catching up with you, bat-boy. Yeah, he offered me all of the above. But, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm not too thrilled about it." The silver dagger became embedded in the downy mattress. "He brought me here against my will-"

"Oh, you're not, huh?" He cast an appraising glance at her sheer shift.

Blinking, she looked down at herself . . . and noticed, for the first time, just how sheer the shift really was. Greeeeaaaat. Quick as a bunny, she clutched the fallen sheet to her chest and opened her mouth, ready to get really really pissed. Before she could bitch him out, an amused glint danced in his eyes. He believed her; he was just out to give her a hard time. Double great. . . . Oh yes, how she had missed him. Blah. She chose a more diplomatic approach. "What did you mean when you said `secret weapon'?"

Her words chased the good-natured glimmer from his face, replacing it with dead gravity. "All I've heard of - for several days now - is this `secret weapon.' Mikael claims to have attained an unstoppable ally; one which will make him invincible." Conan paused and regarded her with a cold, calculating look. Those intense golden eyes held no warmth; Amy could almost feel the tip of her nose freezing under that icy gaze. "I have to destroy this weapon if I'm to keep Mikael's power in check. And I hope to God it's not you because my job just might become very difficult," he added softly.

Gulp. "Hey, you wouldn't rather just help the local damsel in distress, would you? Can a girl help it if she's got some funky Fire-power that's drawn the attention of a super-psycho with fangs?" In one blinding rush, the events of the past few days raced in, battering her mental walls and howling through her marrow. Suddenly she felt exhausted to the point of collapse. She compromised, rubbing her eyes wearily. "Look, I'm no freakin' secret weapon. I'm a victim of circumstance, ne? And I just want outta here."

"So-- You haven't thrown all of your chips in with Mikael?" Conan eyed her judiciously, as though he could search her heart with one weighing glance. "I trust you haven't changed in that respect. You are still bound by your spoken word?" A thin golden eyebrow arched questioningly.

Amy hit him with a dead-level gaze. "I swear I want nothing to do with the bastard." She almost added `Never did, never will,' but knew that in the darkest depths of her heart, she had. When temptation was thrust into her face - nay, when Temptation pushed the right buttons - it was hard as hell to refuse. Mikael could have taken her that very night and she would have enjoyed it. Enjoyed it, dammit! "Like I said: I was brought here against my will by these two dorks. Nicholas and Karl."

Conan's other eyebrow shot up. "Nicholas? Tall, handsome, silver hair?"

Amy sniffed. "Handsome? I hadn't noticed."

"Sure. Bet you were waiting for me to come, eh?"

Startled, Amy turned her head to study him from the corner of her eye. Conan, as though sensing he was being watched, drew away from the veil of shadows which covered the wall. He winked. She almost fell off the bed. Now this was the good ol' Conan she knew and loved! Well . . . had loved. At this thought, she sighed and smiled faintly.

"Well, are you waiting for Mikael to come and announce that you can leave?" The soft, teasing tone of his voice belied his sharp words. "Let's go before Nicholas senses my presence."

Amy smiled in spite of herself. "Escape? From this height? What, shall I start tying bedsheets together?"

Golden brown eyes sparkled with humor. "No; silk's too slippery." He scuffed a shoe against the maroon silken sheets, moving closer to her.

Most people would look pretty dumbass stupid walking across a bed, Amy chuckled. I don't know how he does it- She actually surprised herself, remembering that he was a vampire. Even after their long separation, he seemed more . . . human than vampire.

Conan squatted beside her, settling on his heels until he could project a level gaze into her eyes. "Besides, I can make the jump, remember?" His serious bronze eyes captured her thoughts, read her mind with alarming proficiency. The scariest part was: he wasn't actually reading her mind. The eyes said it all. Chagrined, Amy turned her head, averting her eyes although it meant she was the first to look away.

He laughed softly, but his tone wasn't unkind. "C'mon. I'll carry you down." Without waiting for a verbal answer, he slipped his arms beneath her-one behind her knees and the other across the middle of her back- and effortlessly scooped her up. Amy pulled the bedsheets tighter around her and wrapped her arms around his neck. He held her tight against his chest and rose, heading for the window. For a few seconds, he paused, masterfully balanced on the windowsill, gauging the drop. Amy ventured to glance over her shoulder at the ground below and immediately wished she hadn't. Normally, she had a good head for heights, but never before had she been this high up with the knowledge that she was about to take the drop.

Suddenly, he ducked back; the muscles in his legs tightened into thick cords of transcendental power. In one smooth motion, his knees unhinged, his body rocked forward, and they were propelled into space. Amy bit back a scream, instead burrowing her face into her arm. On second thought, she squeezed her eyes shut until fireworks flashed against the velvety darkness of her eyelids. It wasn't that she didn't trust Conan . . . but the ground seemed awfully far away.

Conan's legs buckled slightly upon impact. His supple joints absorbed the shock of contact, catching them before they sprawled out all over the ground. In a flash, he straightened and let her legs slide onto the ground. In a few moments, she actually managed to stand on her own - she was sooo proud.

Conan moved ahead, searching a nearby tree for something. In a moment, he pulled a black leather jacket from the shadows. Grinning silently, he rejoined her at the edge of the forest and slipped the jacket around her shoulders. Amy could have worshipped him. Instead, she settled for ditching the bedsheet and buttoning the jacket. "Hey, look. I'm a funky biker chick!" She smoothed the soft leather down her hips, satisfied when it fell to mid-thigh.

"Can you keep up if I set the pace?" He was suddenly all business again, peering into the deeper shadows, searching for hidden watchers.

Amy stretched her legs slowly, easing out a fight and a day's worth of cramped muscles. "Yeah. Hell, I'll run if you want."

He smiled gently and looped his arm around her back, supporting her. "I wouldn't ask you for that. C'mon, if I help you, we can reach the motorcycle in just a few minutes."

"You have a motorcycle?" Her night just got a few watts brighter. "Lead on, Sir Gallahad. This damsel in distress wants to meet your fair steed. And maybe drive?" She ignored his amused snort and forged ahead, dragging the vampire behind her. Conan laughed, but pulled her back before she managed to wear herself out. As they left the towering walls of Mikael's lair behind, Amy turned and smiled at the open window, flashing the one-finger salute. Sure, it was awfully brave of her to retaliate against someone who couldn`t even see her, but, hey, someone had to do it.

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