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Title: The Master Willow
Series: The Return Of Wicked Red
Author: psimetis
E-mail: psimetis@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Feedback: if it pleases you, do :).
Summary: This Chapter: Dinner With Anya; The Unsmiley Slayer; Four Nekkid Man-Pires,
And, Tea With Dru
Warning!!: BDSM, M/M
Chapter Sixteen
‘It has been nine days since the destruction of the Master and his Order
of Aurelius. His rule over Sunnydale had been a long reign, and though his death
has freed the inhabitants and given them relative safety once again, there now
is the sense of a power vacuum within the demon underworld. Although I find
Angel’s suggestion a practical option, that of having someone who
is willing to work with the Slayer fill that vacuum, I cannot help my reservation,
at this point, in placing trust in the candidate: Willow.’
Giles paused in his writing to take a sip of lukewarm tea.
‘Vampires are by nature, devious, and their capacity for manipulation
cannot be underestimated. They are also, no matter how old or experienced, slaves
to their demonic nature--destructive, selfish, and murderous. Willow exhibits
remarkable control, and I can only believe that her solicitous behavior towards
Tara Maclay, the young woman she has carefully seduced into being her Pet, is
purely for rapacious reasons. For a vampire of Willow’s apparent sophistication
and self-development, the concern and care she exhibits towards her human could
very well be an indulgence--a game--and I do fear for Tara’s well being
should the vampire tire in this exploration of emotional fondness.’
Giles sighed. When he wrote in his Watcher’s journal, he did so with the
full awareness that whatever words he put down were for the aid of those watchers
who would come after him. The present circumstances of a souled vampire, two
Slayers, and now a unique vampire entity with human-like concerns were complex
developments to relate with any conciseness and clarity, at best.
He really should focus his entry on his Slayers, but Willow was a potential
enemy, or possible ally, who would no doubt become an important figure in the
Slayers’ lives, especially given the vampire’s human history with
Buffy. It would be best to give expression to his thoughts about the young vampire
as early as possible.
‘Angel is more receptive of the possibility that Willow is, to some
extent, genuinely fond of Tara, and perhaps capable of other positive, human-like
behaviors with regards to the young woman. However, Angel is not human himself,
despite the influences of his soul. As a fellow vampire and the grandsire of
Willow, perhaps he is being a bit forgiving. I will make a concession to one
surprising observation of his that has dangerous, yet possible validity. Tara
is an intuitive and intelligent young woman. Misfortune has made of her a survivor
of remarkable, quiet strength. If anyone could guilelessly turn around the manipulative
game a vampire might play and seduce the predator, it might possibly be she.’
* * *
Tara smiled at Dru as she drove Willow’s Impala down Sunnydale’s Main
Street. The moment dusk had arrived, she and Dru left the campus to complete
some of the young woman’s errands before going to the mansion. She had
taken the top down, and now Dru was slowly waving her arms and hands about in
the air, following the contours of breezes.
“The stars wait in line,” the elder vampire softly sang. “More
shall blow in the wind. Seven days of sad songs for baby things.”
“After,” Tara hesitantly ventured, as she stared at the road ahead.
“After the s-seven days...will the sad songs end?”
Dru looked at Cubby. “They will. Then the Wicked shall rest.”
Tara nodded, not really understanding. Where Dru’s words were concerned,
Tara did not try to decipher the literal meaning, as Willow liked to do. The
blonde witch just relied on how the words felt. The elder vampire’s strange
reassurance was enough for Tara not to feel worried.
She found a rare, empty curb spot, smoothly parallel parked the car, and then
disembarked with Dru. People were already freely walking along the street, ready
for a night out. With the bright street lights and relaxed pedestrians, Sunnydale’s
downtown looked very different from what it was a year ago. Tara very much liked
it. It was a beautiful sight.
“And they don’t thank Cubby,” she heard Dru scoff under her breath,
as the vampire made her slow, dreamy way down the sidewalk. Tara just raised
her eyebrows in curiosity. Even when Dru’s words were not cryptic, they
had their own secret context.
“Dru, I’m going to the Magic Box. Is there anywhere else you’d
like to go?”
Dru merely smiled at her and slipped her slim arm into Tara’s. The blonde
witch took that as some kind of affirmation, and led them both to the cheery
window front of the Magic Box.
“Hello, potential customer, how may I help you spend your money today?”
came the upbeat voice of Anya Emerson, youthful yet capable store manager of
the Magic Box. The dark blonde at the cash register brought her well practiced,
‘customer welcome!’ smile down a notch at the sight of Tara at the
door.
“Oh, it’s just you,” the former vengeance demon sighed. “This
has been a very slow Thursday.”
“Hello Anya,” Tara smiled, reaching for the ex-demon to give her a
hug. Tara had learned to not to take the other girl’s frank and abrupt
manner seriously. Anya had only been human for over a year, since losing her
demon powers, and had been a demon for 1100 years before that. She still had
lots to get used to--like the practice of hugging, which Anya awkwardly, but
enthusiastically returned.
When the women parted, Anya noticed the silver bracelet on Tara’s wrist.
“Oh! Congratulations!”
“Wha,” Tara said, not sure why Anya was now looking bright eyed and
intent at her.
“You must have a lenient master to be able to walk about freely. Do they
discipline you alot? I’m sorry to see you’ve been hurt. I really hope
they don’t hurt you alot.” Tara suddenly realized that Anya could
see the fading bruise on her cheek, despite the make up.
“N-n-n--” Tara shut her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.
Anya had completely startled her with her astute, yet, as usual, frank observations.
“N-no Anya, m-m-my--” Tara took another breath. She really couldn’t
quite say the word ‘master’, yet. “Willow doesn’t hit me.
I just ran into s-some trouble the other night.”
“Willow,” Anya exclaimed. “Vampire Willow.”
When the former demon didn’t speak further, but instead, stepped back and
folded her arms pensively, Tara got worried. Anya always expressed her thoughts
with her mouth. If Anya had to refrain from saying what was on her mind, it
had to be bad.
“Oh my,” the shop manager then said, obviously commenting to herself.
Tara looked nervously to where Dru was investigating the jarred contents of
Anya’s herbs and preserved whatsis stock. The elder vampire seemed oblivious
to their conversation.
“Um, ‘oh my’ as in, ‘oh boy!’, or, ‘oh my’
as in... ‘oh dear’,” Tara asked weakly.
“’Oh my’ as in ‘oh my’,” Anya clarified decisively,
then frowned. “I must have learned it from a movie, because what does it
mean?”
“Well,” Tara began, and then stopped herself. “Can we go back
to why you said--”
“Well,” Anya interrupted, remembering her line of thought. “Vampires.”
“Yes?” Tara encouraged, mentally putting on her patience hat.
Anya smiled at Tara briefly. The blonde witch was so nice to her, unlike the
White Hats, who never seemed to listen to her when she was trying to tell them
about demons any other important tidbits she had picked up in her 1100 years.
The Slayer’s gang especially had no patience for her awkward mannerisms,
lack of tact, and the biggie, lack of pop culture knowledge. For one thing,
what was the significance of a ‘white hat’? At least the Slayer’s
people bought supplies regularly from the Magic Box, but she suspected Amy had
shoplifted once. When a look of worry appeared on Tara’s face, Anya realized
she was internally rambling again.
“Vampires tend to be pretty cruel to their Pets,” Anya supplied. “It’s
in their nature. Evil, you know. On average, their human pets really only last
a month, at most. If the Pet is highly valued, he or she’s more like a
Concubine. Those kinds don’t get openly mistreated. I’ve seen one
valued Concubine last almost three years, and then her Master Turned her. I’ve
also heard of vampires who’ve kept their human favorites for longer, but
I’ve never met them. Those vampires usually kept such relationships outside
vampire society. I don’t think vampires as a whole tolerate mixed breed
relationships.”
“W-why would a vampire keep a human for that long?” Tara asked, biting
her lip.
Anya shrugged. “They must make them happy.”
“I guess I was expecting you’d been made the Pet of a Krikort demon,
or even a Belii,” Anya continued, not noticing that Tara had begun looking
distracted and was probably not listening. “Belii are very kind to their
human Pets and will even set them free. Minus their liver. I should have realized
you had been claimed by a vampire, especially in this town.”
Tara said nothing, she was...overwhelmed. Anya was not, or had ever been a vampire
of course, but she knew what she was talking about. Tara found herself looking
about the store anxiously, seeking out Dru.
The elder vampire had found one of the Box’s stuffed chairs next to the
book shelves and was lazily seated. She was watching Tara with interested, dark
eyes. Dru held a hand out, and though the part of Tara that was slightly sickened
by Anya’s explanations didn’t want to take the offered hand, the part
of her that needed comfort, did. Tara moved dazedly towards Dru and accepted.
To Tara’s surprise, Dru took that opportunity to gently pull the witch
into her lap. Anya didn’t blink at the situation, and Tara decided not
to be embarrassed. She attempted to relax, feeling Dru caress her hair. Well,
she was a Pet after all, wasn’t she? A vampire’s Pet.
“You make a beautiful Pet, Tara,” she heard Anya say with characteristic,
blunt sincerity. “You’re obviously highly valued. And Willow is quite
a powerful witch as well.”
Anya nodded sagely to herself. Even though she was human now, she had sensed,
when meeting vampire Willow recently, that the Slayer’s onetime friend
was now impressive on the magic scale. “That means she can keep you safe,
and I’m glad because you are my best friend and I would like you to be
safe.”
Tara could only smile tremulously at that.
Anya turned the conversation to eager gossip about Willow--wanting to know what
the vampire was like and what she was up to, although Tara had no answers for
the latter. Tara found it strange that Anya and Dru seemed to mutually ignore
each other, which the blonde witch decided must be some sort of demon...etiquette
thing. Tara thought it impolite to talk about Willow while sitting on her sire’s
lap, but Dru didn’t seem to pay any heed to the conversation. Instead,
she contented herself with braiding tiny long braids in Tara’s hair.
As she accommodated Anya’s curiosity about Willow, Tara’s mind drifted.
She didn’t know why she still felt personally upset. She very well knew
she was chattel. She knew vampires were cruel, she had expected it for the first
three nights she had spent as a captive. She guessed that one reason she felt
upset was possibly not because of her situation, but because Willow had not
exactly been the kind of creature Anya had generally described...at least Willow
had not been so to Tara herself.
If there was a handbook on the nature of vampires, it was obvious that Willow--her
Willow--forgot to read it. Or perhaps scoffed and threw out the window, because
Tara could not imagine Willow neglecting to read anything in the form of a book.
However, if there was something Willow did resemble of the nature of vampires
it was probably....
‘Why would they keep a human for that long?’, came her question,
naggedly, to Tara’s mind once again.
Not once during their conversation did either Tara or Anya mention love, although
Tara had been tempted. She was human, after all.
God, Mama, why am I even thinking of love? Tara thought piteously to the spirit
of her mother.
The young witch was certain her mama’s response was just a simple shrug.
Yep, had to be a difficult Maclay woman.
“Tara,” Anya said, waving her hand in front of her friend’s face.
“Oh, Anya, I’m sorry,” the blonde witch exclaimed, realizing
she had become too caught up in her own thoughts.
“It’s all right. You’re probably hungry. Can we have dinner together?
I can close the shop early.”
Tara smiled. “That sounds good.” Willow had wanted her back at the
mansion, but not first thing that evening. The red haired vampire was going
to be busy most of the night, she had said.
Reminded of Willow, Tara faded back into her current thoughts once again as
Anya went to the counter to retrieve her purse. The blonde witch felt Dru’s
lazy hands caress her arms, comforting.
“We love,” she heard the elder vampire say. Surprised, Tara gazed
down into Dru’s dark, dreaming eyes.
“You do?” Tara whispered, looking for something in the deep depths
to hold on to.
“We love,” Dru said, embracing Tara to her. “Though perhaps not
well.”
And Tara took comfort in that. For the time being.
* * *
Dinner was at a popular, small bristo, and though it was crowded, Anya knew
the shift manager and could get the threesome a nice outdoor table. Tara was
concerned that Dru would have nothing to do while the two young ladies ate,
but the elder vampire solved that social dilemma.
“Choc’late cake,” Dru merely stated, and ordered a sinfully large
slice. Once she finished the dessert, however, she rose from the table and wandered
across the street to a loud, energetic bar. Obviously Dru needed to get something
to ‘drink’ after her indulgence. Tara returned her attention to her
pasta. Belatedly, she noticed that Anya had ordered a white wine.
“Happy Birthday,” she teased. Anya was technically only seventeen,
and becoming human again at sixteen had greatly inconvenienced the centuries
experienced ex-demon, to put it mildly. No money, no home, and then having to
finish high school just to get her diploma, of all things. Anya’s former
demon boss, D’Hoffryn, helped his one-time favorite employee with setting
up her new life and identity. Anya then took it from there, studying for high
school equivalents and working full time. Tara had to admire how nice Anya always
managed to look despite living in the back of the Magic Box, which hadn’t
the best facilities for a pretty girl to get prepared in.
“Yes, I finally got a fake i.d. that works,” Anya enthused, showing
Tara the finely crafted forgery. “Now I can try dating college age men.
High school aged men are not husband worthy.”
Tara just smiled. Whatever type person Anya was when she was Anyanka, the human
who existed one thousand years ago before becoming a demon, it still reflected
in the girl now, in her almost archaic sensibilities.
“I wish I were a lesbian. Then I could date you. I trust you and I think
you’re very reliable, capable, and strong too. Thanks again for fixing
my door.”
“Sure,” Tara said, wideeyed, feeling like the prized cow at the fair.
Or maybe more like the horse.
“And I’m sure you can easily give me orgasms. To be able to please
a vampire takes lots of prowess. You must be a really talented lover,”
Anya continued with some envy.
Oh god, was all Tara could think as she drained her water glass.
“But if we were girlfriends I would experience all the bad emotions when
Willow takes you away,” Anya continued, her imagination taking over. “Like,
sadness, and anger, and fear--lots of fear. Because I wouldn’t have enough
money to buy you back, and there wouldn’t be enough time for me to find
another lesbian witch to trade for you, and Willow would probably just laugh
at me and curse me with the nightmare of a thousand bunnies, or even turn me
into a bunny as well!”
Thoroughly upset now, Anya’s hands fluttered helplessly on the table and
Tara took hold of both of them, hoping to placate the now overwrought girl.
When Anya chose to bring up her bunny phobia, she was definitely upset.
“And with Buffy all broken in the hospital, there would be no one to help
me stake her!” Anya nearly wailed.
“But I’m here now,” Tara tried to soothe. “And if we had
been together,” she added gently. “I would want, beyond anything,
to come back to you. I would never let her take me.”
“How can you say that, she would kill you,” Anya whispered.
Tara winked reassuringly. “You mean she would try.”
* * *
The meal went more or less smoothly after Anya had calmed down. Anya had a way
of overreacting to situations, but Tara felt it was because the former demon
didn’t know yet how to handle her emotions. Her working through the scenario
of possibly being girlfriends, for instance. Tara felt it had some basis in
a real, unspoken fear Anya had for her. The former demon was so genuine. She
saw things without the cloud of social propriety, and this made Tara value the
other girl’s opinions, blunt or unpleasant as they may be.
Butch much, Tara? she sighed to herself wryly, thinking about Anya’s last
statement. Despite giving Anya her playful reassurance, she really had no doubt
that Willow could easily kill her if Tara so much as said, ‘Um’. Anya
knew what Tara was currently not allowing herself to acknowledge; that she was
in a rather no-win situation. But then, she did have Willow didn’t she--like
she, against all common sense, wanted to have. Tara had the vampire as much
as the vampire had her.
More or less.
“I guess this cuts into my Tara-time, doesn’t it,” Anya sighed,
as she let her friend into the back room of the Magic Box, her current living
quarters. Tara worked at the store on weekends and free evenings, but with her
new vocation as Vampire Pet, they had to work out switching the blonde witch
to weekend daytime hours. Anya privately wondered how long that would last with
Willow. She plopped down on her futon and sighed again.
“I’m going to miss going to movies with you. And video nights were
fun. I liked it when you helped make dinner at the Summers house that one time.
It makes me want to learn how to cook too.”
“We can still do those things, Anya,” Tara said softly.
“Well, if you brought Willow, that would be interesting. I’d rather
you didn’t, because I’m human now and made of soft squishy parts that
pummel easily. And I doubt Joyce-mom would invite Willow into her house, even
though Willow was her daughter’s best friend when she was alive.”
Anya nodded knowingly. “Joyce-mom doesn’t even like Angel, and he
has a soul.”
Tara frowned slightly, wondering if her growing friendship with Buffy and her
mother would be objectionable to Willow. It hadn’t been, so far.
“Anya, we’re still going to have fun together,” Tara said firmly.
“And if Willow wants to come along, she can stay out on the porch.”
“Tara,” Anya smiled broadly. “Willow’s not your Pet.”
Tara just gave her friend her patented half grin, quirking it mischievously,
and Anya had to laugh.
When Tara finally bade Anya good night and left through the Box’s front
door, locking it, she was surprised to turn around and see Kendra.
“Oh! Hey,” Tara exclaimed. The Slayer, who had apparently been walking
by, stiffened like a deer in headlights. No no, Tara corrected. Make that more
like a panther in headlights.
“Hey,” the young woman said warily, raising her chin in greeting.
As the Slayer continued walking, Tara realized they were heading in the same
direction. God, how awkward.
“Um, s-so how’s the slaying?” Tara ventured. Kendra had a generally
dangerous, ‘keep your distance’ vibe about her. Tara wouldn’t
describe the new Slayer’s demeanor as ‘stoic’, just kind of unsmiley.
“Slow,” Kendra replied. “De vampires, they’re laying low.”
“M-maybe they heard you were in town,” Tara suggested.
Kendra narrowed her dark eyes without looking at the witch. “Maybe,”
she allowed. Then she stopped, stake suddenly in hand.
“Uh, spidey sense?” Tara asked. That was what Buffy called her Slayer
vamp radar when it went off. Then she thought of Dru, who might still be in
the area. Tara stiffened.
As both women tensed, a man in full demonic face emerged from an alley way,
sniffing the air. Apparently his vampiric sense of the Slayer made him curious
rather than cautious. One look at the armed, poised woman and the vampire snarled,
ready to attack. Then he saw Tara, with her arm raised, and backed up suddenly.
“Oh shit!” he lisped through his fangs, and turned around to run.
Kendra leapt forward and with one broad thrust, staked him in the back.
Even as she spun about in the vampire’s dust, Kendra was already glaring
accusingly at Tara.
“What did you do?!” she demanded.
“I, nothing,” Tara said defensively. Kendra seemed mad, and she wasn’t
sure why. And she certainly didn’t know what made the vampire want to run.
Perplexed, she lowered the hand that had on the bracelet.
Kendra sighed in exasperation, for whatever mysterious reason. “You obviously
can take care of yourself,” she stated, shaking her head, which perplexed
Tara even more. Then the Slayer turned and walked away into the alley.
“Um...okay,” Tara acknowledged, realizing that the Slayer was leaving
her alone. “Good night.” She tried not to feel hurt. Buffy would have
at least offered to walk her to her car. She walked the next two blocks without
incident and found Dru already in the front seat of the Impala, head back and
staring up into the stars.
“Noice noight,” Dru murmured dreamily, her English accent rolling
as thickly as Kendra’s Jamaican one.
“Yes it is,” Tara smiled, and pulled the car out into the street.
The mansion was silent, but with a pregnant sort of air. As she ascended the
steps to the second floor--Dru already sailing ahead of her--Tara began to understand
why. She heard the sudden, muffled scream of a male voice somewhere beneath
the house. It froze her, riveting her to the steps. A second one rose up, not
sounding at all like the first one. Another man. Tara looked wide eyed up at
Dru, who was watching her from the top of the steps.
“Precious,” was all the elder vampire said, her eyes glittering.
Tara nodded. O-okay then. By the time she had reached her room and set down
her overnight bag and books, there were two more screams. The sounds really
were faint--she had to work to hear them. But now that Tara knew they existed,
she couldn’t help but anticipate them.
The one place Willow hadn’t shown Tara of the house was the cellar. She
had told the witch never to go down there.
“It’s fixed up rather kinky, Kitten,” Willow had said.
“Not a place for soft things like you.”
No doubt. If Willow were not Willow, perhaps it would be Tara down there. She
hugged herself, trembling slightly. God not funny.
She felt a cool hand touch her arm. She turned, thinking it was Willow. It was
Dru.
“Fancy having tea?” Dru asked, beckoning with a dark charm. “I
must introduce you to my Miss Edith.”
“I’d like that,” Tara answered softly. She took a deep breath,
then followed the elder vampire to her room.
* * *
Harm watched Willow work. She didn’t have to help with the restraints or
the torture, Will took care of it with magic. So Harm watched. And when she
felt it necessary, she looked away to industriously stoke the fire, heating
Will’s branding irons.
* * *
The bloodcurdling scream that rose made Tara jump and nearly drop her saucer
and tea cup. Trembling, she set her cup down, as another agonized scream rose,
then another. At the fourth one, she had to cover her mouth, hot tears springing
to her eyes.
“Oh god,” she whispered.
Dru merely sipped blood from her cup, silently. She picked up the tea pot.
“More tea?” she offered quietly.
“Please,” Tara said, unable to keep the quaver out of her voice. She
wiped at her eyes. There had been no sounds since sitting down to tea with Dru,
her dolls, and one rabbit, so Tara had begun to relax. Those last screams had
been horrifying, however. She was upset to hear such suffering, even though
Dru had informed her: just minions.
“Not something I should get used to,” she said shakily.
“Best not,” Dru said solemnly, eyes widely watching the unseen. “Else
your honey be made bitter, no more our golden cub.” Dru offered Tara the
honey pot.
* * *
Harm really, really, had to admire Willow’s technique. Nothing was so frightening,
yet so fucking hot, as the way she spoke so softly, the way she alternated gentleness
with searing pain, the way she looked with ice green eyes like she could kill
you in the cruelest way possible and yet still give your unlife nirvana. Willow
was one scary M.F., but she knew how to make a vamp want to die, wanting her.
Harm watched Willow slowly circle, and really felt proud of her kids. It had
been hours down here in the cellar, but her boys were still rock hard and hadn’t
passed out yet. Harm had to admit, she’d been soft on them, having never
given them the full Aurelius treatment. Now Will was teaching them, but good.
She watched Willow gesture with a hand, releasing Shawn from his manacles and
forcing him to bend over, knees and hands to the floor. Then Willow placed Ken
over Shawn, Barry over Ken, and finally Troy over Barry. Wow, Harm thought critically,
cocking her head. Will was actually making it all work, even with the chains.
When Will made a small gesture to Harm, indicating Troy, she straightened, retrieving
the strap on. Sure thing, Boss.
* * *
Something changed. Tara didn’t know for sure, but she instinctively felt
that she would no longer feel pain in the air. Her relief was palpable. Dru
stood up and began to dance, Mr. Peter in her arms. She then picked up a small
book and gave it to Tara. The young witch read the cover and had to stifle a
laugh with her hand. When she opened to the first page and saw the morbidly
pressed fairy, she burst out laughing.
“Oh Dru!” she cried.
“Oi’ve been naughty,” Dru said in a wickedly coquettish manner,
and peered over Mr. Peter’s white ears.
* * *
Harm came hard against her jeans. All four of them ramming Shawn into the floor
kinda did that to a vamp. Will met her eyes over their pale backs, smirking
slightly. It looked like Will was going to let Harm watch what will happen next.
Cool. She wiggled out of the harness, leaving the toy inside Troy and giving
his ass a smack for good measure. She went to stand where she could watch Will.
All her boys were spent now, except for Shawn.
Shawn was her little warrior. Amateur wrestler, heavy weight state champion.
He never tired, he never quit. He was a perfect Atlas. Or was that Adonis. Whatever.
Willow noticed his potential early; she had to work him harder to make him scream.
That’s how Masters show favoritism.
Now he was in that submission position he knew really well. He was shaking with
the weight of all the others on top of him.
Willow gently removed the ball gag from Shawn’s mouth. She pulled his head
back by the hair. Shawn knew better than to let his head drop. He kept it there,
his demon visage grimacing. Willow removed one of her black gloves and stared
serenely into Shawn’s yellow eyes. Then she placed her bare fingers on
his lips.
Shawn parted his fangs. Willow flicked a finger on one of them, then raised
the cut digit above Shawn’s reaching tongue. If Harm had any breath she
would not be breathing it. Shit, what a gift--
Once the crimson drop touched Shawn’s tongue, the very taste sent him right
over. He roared, making the air tremble. He shot cum hard all over Willow’s
boots.
Fuck.
Willow merely stood, calm and still. Shawn was a quivering mess of muscle, but
hey, Harm’s little warrior. Without any prompting, Shawn began licking
Willow’s shoes clean.
* * *
The house was so much calmer now. A peace had settled. It didn’t feel like
death, although Tara’s unique senses had never been affected by a vampire’s
passing. She guessed that was because they were already dead, therefore, she
wouldn’t know if anyone--thing--had survived, down there. In the cellar.
Tara pushed the thought out of her mind. She went back to doing the little sketches
inspired by Dru’s hilariously macabre stories when she narrated her pressed
faerie book to Tara. She smiled faintly to herself.
Billie Holiday’s lazy, raspy tones wafted from Dru’s room. The elder
vampire had settled into a dreamy, trancelike state after one of her stories,
obviously becoming lost to the inner voices of her mind. Tara had quietly cleaned
up the tea service and left the vampire to her private, silent conversations
when Dru eventually went to lie on her bed and stare up into her ceiling. The
young witch was just grateful that the elder vampire had managed to stay focused
while spending the long evening with her. She hoped she hadn’t taxed Dru
too much.
Smiling softly, Tara drew a Mr. Peter and Miss Edith. So absorbed was she in
her work, she didn’t hear the open and close of a heavy door far below.
* * *