JК
Incubus Dreams :: Гамильтон Лорел
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“No one will risk it,” Truth said in that horribly strained voice.
Jean-Claude breathed through my mind, shivered over my skin. I moved my hand back from the wounded vampire, so the effect didn’t spread. I opened the marks between us wide, and he filled me. He spilled through my body, over my skin. His power hit mine, and it was like flame laid into some huge waiting bonfire. It spilled my head back, bowed my spine, and spilled out from my skin. It went out and out and out, and I could feel every vampire in the hallway. Feel them like individual lights in the dark, as if with closed eyes I would know them all.
“Back, my children,” Malcolm’s voice came distant, as if he were talking through the roaring in my head, “we must leave this place to her black magic.”
I opened my eyes and knew instantly that my eyes had bled to brown fire edged with black.
“What’s about to happen?” Smith asked.
I looked up at him, and he let out a surprised yelp. He licked his lips and stared at me, pale and frightened.
“If you don’t want to watch, then go back to Zerbrowski.”
Smith shook his head. “I’ll stay.”
“You won’t like it,” I said.
He was fighting not to hug himself, and I remembered that he could sense the energy of shapeshifters. Nothing like being a little psychic in the middle of a metaphysical event. “I don’t like it now, but I’ve got your back, at least against anything that a gun will stop.” That last made me think he might be more sensitive than I’d thought. He knew there were dangerous things in the hallway now, but nothing that guns could help with. That was almost too smart. I’d have to be careful around Smith with the metaphysics; he might figure out more than I wanted him to know.
I turned back to the two vampires. “I am Jean-Claude’s human servant. We truly are blood of my blood to each other.”
“What do you propose?” Wicked asked.
“The knife comes out, then I let Truth feed, and we blood-oath him to Jean-Claude.”
“He would truly take us?”
“He said yes.”
Wicked looked down at his brother. “Do you agree to this? To being bound to another master?”
“Felt her power, her call,” he had another of those gasping fits, “if this is servant, then the master must be more.”
“Is that a yes?” I asked.
Wicked nodded. “But if you take my brother, you have to take me, too.”
I simply knew that Jean-Claude was okay with that. There was no need to ask. “Agreed, though whether I can feed you both tonight is a different question.
“No one will risk it,” Truth said in that horribly strained voice.
Jean-Claude breathed through my mind, shivered over my skin. I moved my hand back from the wounded vampire, so the effect didn’t spread. I opened the marks between us wide, and he filled me. He spilled through my body, over my skin. His power hit mine, and it was like flame laid into some huge waiting bonfire. It spilled my head back, bowed my spine, and spilled out from my skin. It went out and out and out, and I could feel every vampire in the hallway. Feel them like individual lights in the dark, as if with closed eyes I would know them all.
“Back, my children,” Malcolm’s voice came distant, as if he were talking through the roaring in my head, “we must leave this place to her black magic.”
I opened my eyes and knew instantly that my eyes had bled to brown fire edged with black.
“What’s about to happen?” Smith asked.
I looked up at him, and he let out a surprised yelp. He licked his lips and stared at me, pale and frightened.
“If you don’t want to watch, then go back to Zerbrowski.”
Smith shook his head. “I’ll stay.”
“You won’t like it,” I said.
He was fighting not to hug himself, and I remembered that he could sense the energy of shapeshifters. Nothing like being a little psychic in the middle of a metaphysical event. “I don’t like it now, but I’ve got your back, at least against anything that a gun will stop.” That last made me think he might be more sensitive than I’d thought. He knew there were dangerous things in the hallway now, but nothing that guns could help with. That was almost too smart. I’d have to be careful around Smith with the metaphysics; he might figure out more than I wanted him to know.
I turned back to the two vampires. “I am Jean-Claude’s human servant. We truly are blood of my blood to each other.”
“What do you propose?” Wicked asked.
“The knife comes out, then I let Truth feed, and we blood-oath him to Jean-Claude.”
“He would truly take us?”
“He said yes.”
Wicked looked down at his brother. “Do you agree to this? To being bound to another master?”
“Felt her power, her call,” he had another of those gasping fits, “if this is servant, then the master must be more.”
“Is that a yes?” I asked.
Wicked nodded. “But if you take my brother, you have to take me, too.”
I simply knew that Jean-Claude was okay with that. There was no need to ask. “Agreed, though whether I can feed you both tonight is a different question.