Chapter 8



She fell to her knees, weeping, and started thumping her fists against the unlucky headstone until her knuckles were bloody and the name of the deceased wiped off.

That’s when she heard a scream in the distance.


Springing to her feet, she ran towards the sound, blood smudging her cheeks as she tried to wipe the tears away.



~~~~~*~~~~~



Sofia hated vinyl clothes. Fiercely.


She was surprised all the cricking noise her ridiculously short, neon blue skirt made hadn’t attracted every demon in the city, as she paced aimlessly up and down the street near the cemetery closest to the Manor. She felt like an idiot, and she felt like crying, but most of all she felt her ass sweat under the cheap material she never would have worn of her own accord.


Not that Adalberto was partial to low quality articles of clothing, or to trashy outfits like the one he’d left on her bed and instructed her to wear on her… mission. Quite the contrary, he wouldn’t be caught dead in synthetic, and had made sure Sofia felt the same way since she was six. He still told stories at dinner parties about the little girl who scrunched her nose adorably when her mother bought her a synthetic school bag and not a leather one. What he failed to mention was that he hadn’t heard that story from Sofia’s mother, but had witnessed the girl’s reaction himself. Of course that would raise eyebrows, and Adalberto wouldn’t have that.


Looking around, she decided nobody but she could hear the skirt, so she started clacking her heels louder and talking to herself.


“Hijo de puta woke me up so early.” Despite her bravado, she looked over her shoulder to ensure the Immortal wasn’t anywhere nearby. If he heard her he would be very displeased. She attributed the chill that ran down her spine to the cold permeating her barely-there top, and rationalized that she was cursing as part of her role. She had to look like a whore, so she was badmouthing her pimp. She flicked her hair in annoyance and scratched at her earlobe. Stupid fake earrings gave her an allergic reaction, but the man was set on authenticity when he told her to go where she now was and be attacked.


“Be attacked,” she groused, throwing her arms in the air. She had managed to lose her Spanish intonation of English in the years after her mother’s death, but both that and her temperament came back with a vengeance at times like this. “Be. Attacked.” She let out a surprised cry as her right heel snapped and she stumbled. If Adalberto could be killed without her losing her mother’s soul, she would end the cabron’s unnatural life right that minute.


She spat at the thought of him and then laughed bitterly at herself. For someone who despised him she sure had no problem cumming for him. Usually, when that thought crossed her mind she would tell herself that she had no choice if she wanted to live, but she knew that wasn’t true. The Immortal had a way of growing on people, showing them his best side, his wit, his generosity, his effortless charm, and when they were well and truly hooked he would let the evil seep in, in small doses so they didn’t realize that the things they forgave him kept becoming greater by the transgression.


She had figured him out by now, knew he wasn’t what he seemed to be, but it was still like he held her under some kind of spell. Her attraction to him couldn’t be denied; she found him irresistible at the same time that she wished he’d never touch her again, and that was the thing she hated the most about him. The fact that she couldn’t hate him utterly tore her up on a daily basis. She was nothing but a toy to him, she knew. She even knew her expiry date and what came after that… what the price would be if she tried to escape her fate. She couldn’t run. There was nowhere he couldn’t find her, no place safe. All she could do was stick it out and hope for a miracle.


Somebody grabbed her from behind, throwing her to the ground and she screamed at the top of her lungs, as talons dug into her shoulders and she felt something she really didn’t want to identify rub against her inner thigh.



~~~~~*~~~~~



Kennedy couldn’t pinpoint the exact source of the voice, only its general direction, and was half tempted to call out, “Keep screaming,” when the woman – it was definitely a woman – suddenly fell silent. Kennedy prayed the woman hadn’t been killed because she was too late finding her; because she was too caught up in her own little drama. She reached at her side only to mentally curse herself for having forgotten her sword at the graveyard, and hoped whatever situation she was running into could be resolved without it.


Another scream pierced the sky the moment the brunette broke through the line of hedges acting as the graveyard’s fence on that side. She looked to her right and managed to make out a weird shape in the distance. Clouds had gathered overhead, hiding the sparse light that signified the break of day. She sprinted that way and saw it was two shapes when she was just a few feet away. She didn’t even have to think about how to handle the situation. She kicked the vampire off the woman, yelling, “You’re so screwed, it’s not even funny.”


Sofia turned on her back and crawled backwards to the sidewalk as soon as the demon’s weight was lifted. She tried to assess the damage to her body while keeping an eye on the fight between her assailant and the girl who was obviously a slayer.


She wasn’t hurt, just scraped knees and hands from when he tackled her to the concrete, and scratches from his talons. He hadn’t had the time to bite her, not with all the grinding against her bare skin and telling her what he meant to do to her. He wasn’t going to kill her at once, he said. Just take enough of her blood to weaken her, but not enough so she wouldn’t feel him as he fucked every single hole her body possessed. Then he would make her bleed some more.


The young slayer feigned a punch to the vampire’s face, and when he snapped his upper body back to avoid it she swept his feet out from under him.


Sofia hadn’t really been afraid he’d get a chance to act on any of his threats, even as his foul breath caressed her cheek and grimy hands pawed her, tearing up her flimsy excuse of a top. The Immortal wouldn’t have any major damage done to his property, no matter the plan. She wished she knew his plan, but he wasn’t a man one could ask questions of easily. Plus, she knew that had she asked, he would have told her that he was going for realism, so she shouldn’t know anything more that what was absolutely necessary. She brushed some gravel off her knee caps and peeled dirt off her palms, thankful she’d had time to break her fall with her hands, saving her face any damage.


The slayer landed on her opponent’s stomach, and started reining fists on his face with hands that seemed too small to be turning it into red pulp like they did. “You’re disgusting,” she said while destroying his facial features. “You’re nothing. You’re dust. Nobody cares about you. That’s how it should be.”


Sofia saw the vampire’s body tense a minute before he bucked, but didn’t have time to warn the girl. The demon didn’t throw her off him, but managed to flip the two of them over, trapping her smaller body under his bulk. “I’m gonna drink you up,” he whispered hoarsely. “Then use the strength your blood will give me to make that one,” he indicated Sofia with a tilt of his head, “-experience more pain than she could ever imagine.” His hand was in the brunette’s hair, quick as lightening, pulling on it roughly to snap her head to the side and expose her neck to him. Sofia noticed the girl was smiling, and only had a second to wonder if the demon’s fangs had survived the pummelling before he was nothing more than dust, sprinkled all over the slayer’s body.


Kennedy tried to blink away the dust particles that had made it into her eyes and sputtered some ex-vampire off her mouth. “I hate it when I have to dust them from below,” she told nobody in particular before rolling to her side and slowly standing.


“That was—that was…” Sofia knew perfectly well what that was, but if she had to play the victim she would give an Oscar worthy performance; fear, shock, and Spanish accent.


“A vampire,” the Slayer offered and walked her way to help her get up. “Are you ok? Did he hurt you?”


Sofia winced when the other grasped her hand, scraping against the scratches on her palm. “I’m ok. I think.” The moment she was on her feet she started pulling on the hem of her skirt, trying to hide as much as she could. “If you hadn’t come when you did-” She trailed off, her face thoughtful. Truth be told, if she hadn’t shown up when she did, the vampire would have been dusted the moment the clouds lifted. It had obviously been a fledgling, and not a very bright one at that. “How did you happen to come by at this hour? And with… that,” she pointed at the stake Kennedy still held in her other hand, “-at the ready?”


“It’s a long story.”


“I have time.” Yes, she did. She’d gotten herself attacked, like the Immortal had told her to, and she had been saved by a Slayer who wasn’t Buffy - not that she’d ever seen that one up close. She had no clue what she was supposed to do next, however, and stalling until either an idea or Adalberto showed up seemed the best course of action. “Who are you, and how come you know about vampiros?”


“I’m Kennedy. And we should take you home.” She ignored the second part of the girl’s question and looked her over carefully. “You’ll be alright,” she declared finally. “Even if he bit you, you don’t turn into one of them like in the Hollywood movies.” She took hold of Sofia’s upper arm and tried to steer her towards the main street, in hopes of catching a cab. If she didn’t find one she’d have to call someone from the manor, and she really didn’t like that idea, but letting the pretty young woman walk to the hospital on her own seemed even less appealing.


Sofia was faking a limp and getting ready to test how she could physically resist a Slayer who wanted to drag her to safety, when a limo rounded the corner. The car slowed down as it passed by them, to come to a halt a few feet from where they were.


Swiftly replacing the stake in her hand with a dagger she had sheathed at the waistband of her jeans, Kennedy turned to look as the driver came out to open the passengers’ door.


At first glance, it seemed she wouldn’t need a weapon. The man that came out of the car was in his mid-thirties, extremely attractive, if one was interested in men, perfectly dressed and coiffed, and obviously worried. “Mi scuzi… stai bene?” he asked in a velvety voice.


“Fatti i fatti tuoi!” Sofia snapped at the man. Her arm wrapped around Kennedy’s waist and she leaned more of her weight against the brunette.


“I’m sorry,” the latter cut in. “Do you speak English?” Her dagger was hidden up her sleeve now, and she’d curled her own arm protectively around Sofia’s shoulders, which seemed kind of awkward, as the woman was taller than her.


“Ah, not Italian, eh? I should have known by your friend’s accent.” He approached them slowly, holding his hands up. “I mean no harm. Saw the two of you here; you seemed to need help, si?” His English was melodious and only slightly accented.


“She is not my friend. I just happened to walk by here while she was getting… mugged.” Kennedy clarified, hoping Sofia wouldn’t correct her. “Scared her assailant off.”


Sofia didn’t even notice the lie. “My Italian is just fine, thank you very much,” she hissed, and the man chuckled deeply.


“I meant no offence, signiorina, I assure you.”


“Could you help me get her home, please?” Kennedy couldn’t see why Sofia was being so bitchy. The man only wanted to help.


“Home? Her knees are bleeding. Perhaps a hospital would be better?”


“I’m fine,” Sofia groused.


“I would not be a gentleman if I did not make sure of that,” he said sombrely. He seemed to think about something then clapped his hands once, obviously pleased with himself. “I know,” he told Sofia. “I can take you to mi casa and have my personal physician look at you. If he says you’re fine, I will have Cesare drive you home.” He tilted his head towards his driver who stood ramrod outside the limousine.


“I don’t know…” Kennedy wasn’t sure she should leave Sofia with the stranger, even though his most dangerous trait seemed to be his charm. When she felt the other woman tighten her grip around her, her voice became firmer. “I don’t think so, Mr…”


“Call me Berto. I perfectly understand your reluctance to leave her to me. I am a stranger, and a man, and after her… traumatic experience… Why don’t you join us and make sure she is safe? I can have both of you driven home as soon as we know she is perfectly all right.” He winked. “I’ll even throw in breakfast.”


He was a charmer all right. Kennedy pondered her options. She’d either join Sofia to Berto’s place and then go home, or go back to the Manor now and face the shambles of her relationship.


She shrugged. “Breakfast better be good.”


The man smiled and led the way to his car. The driver held the door open as his boss and Kennedy helped Sofia inside.


The car door shut with hardly any sound at all.


The way destiny is usually sealed.





Tbc.