Nightshade Ch. 03

"All talk no show." Bella taunted with a sneer, noting the growing thickness of shadows around her. She kept the stranger in her peripheral vision, unknowing her thoughts were transmitting themselves clear as if she had been speaking.

~Don't know. Don't trust. One of Aramenel's? Or my attacker from the house? But the voice . . . the voice . . i know that voice from somewhere. Damn, Aramenel is a strong demon but he brought the pack with him this time. Hope this guy can take care of himself, cause i wont have time to.~ Bella glanced at the man, the cold disdain in her eyes opposite to her thoughts. ~ Pity too. Hottie with an accent. Waste of good eye candy.~

"How long has it been, Aramenel?" She asked, moving into position.

"It doesn't matter how long it was. Because I am here to extract my revenge." Aramenel stated as he straightened his pose and cracked his neck.

"Bring it on demon-dog." Bella taunted, one side of her lips quirking into a dark smile. Rushing head long into the fray, she whipped her staff about and twirled, dodged, and fought her way through the Seere Demons, her blade whistling through the air with deadly accuracy. Her movements were fluid as water, her body leaping to a nearby fence and balancing on the top rung of the fence with a balance a ballerina would envy. She grinned, sweeping her arm, the blade of her staff slicing off claws and hands, ears and arms, feet and legs. using her staff to pole vault over the small group, Bella landed on her feet and surveyed the chaos around her.

"Daragon! Rip her chest out and bring me her heart!" Aramenel ordered the demon to his left.

"Very well master." The 5 foot demon answered in a low raspy voice as it tossed of a cloak to reveal a scythe with a 3 ft. long blade. "Its my turn now." The creature continued is his deep raspy voice, The creature took a flying leap at the fence taking one quick smooth slice at the bottom cutting it off at the ground and reversing his attack just as quickly towards Bella.

Bringing up her staff, she blocked the blow and swung, pinwheeling the staff and launching Daragon beyond her a few feet. She slammed her bootheel into his back and knocked a few nearby Seeres to their backs with a swipe of her staff.

"That all you got?" She faked a yawn. "And here i thought Maddox trained his lapdogs better." She said with a smile, leaning comfortably on her staff.

Daragon lept high and flipped in mid-air, his feet pushing against the the head of one of the demons and launching himself back at Bella. He flew back and flung miniature scythes, very similar to ninja stars, at her and flipped over her head, landing just behind her. His strong demon arms lifted and swung his scythe in front of her, attempting to trip her with the blunt end of the blade.

Ducking and rolling, Bella dodged the small scythes and as she stood, slammed down her staff, pinning the Seere weapon to the asphalt before glancing up. When their eyes met, she grinned, gave a little air kiss, then head butted him hard. As he stumbled black, her fist shot out and jammed his nose into his brain and killed him instantly. She backed away from the body, watching the other waiting Seeres circle her with talons outstretched. Again that dark little smile crossed her face, knowing the fun was just about to begin.

"You've gotten better since or last encounter." Aramenel stated sarcastically. "And I see you have brought a friend with you this time. Have you told him about how most people seem to wind up dead when they hang with you?" Amanenel taunted as he gave an evil laugh and glanced at a handful of the nearby demons who dissolved into the shadows on the ground and reappeared behind Ciro.

"I love it when history repeats itself." Aramenel spoke as he continued with his evil laugh.

Ciro watched her, enthralled by Bella's deadly grace and beauty. Her curt words and disdainful glare felt like knives as they cut through the air. Perhaps he had made a mistake coming here, perhaps his shadow meant to warn him of her, not attract him to her. Ciro did not intend to have his words give the Demon an opening to strike at the girl. However, now was not the time to feel regret, now was the time to act. Visions that he did not yet understand flashed through his mind's eye. Visions of war, visions of slaughter. Instantly he knew the name of his foes, Seeres...

"History cannot repeat what it has never seen before... You laugh as though you have won. Tell me, how do you plan to win when you are outnumbered?" Ciro asked as his grip tightened around the parcel he carried.

Ciro had little experience encountering Demons, but hoped that the gifts he had received earlier in the night would be enough. Shadows whispered warnings to him as the demons appeared behind him. His body moves with darkling grace as the parcel he carried shredded its paper husk. Twin sheaths and a parrying dagger fell to the ground as the paper flitted to the ground around them. The moonlight glistened off of twin-borne rapiers of black iron, one in each hand.

"Let us dance, a whirlwind's stride." Ciro smiled coldly as he listened to the voices of twilight within him. He spoke not to the demons, but to the shadows, inviting them to lift free. He knew the cost he would have to pay for interfering and was willing to pay it.

~Bella... ma bella... watch me... know me... I am shadow... I am death...~ The shadows whispered softly to her as they lifted free from the ground to entwine the young man and his blades.

Seeres rushed at him from the darkness behind him. Cold iron blades bit and hewn as his steps turned him into a whirlwind of shadow and steel. Several of the Seeres stumbled back, able to avoid the first of the whirlwind blades. Bodies fell like cut grass before the black iron blades. Hacked limbs and mangled corpses spewed blood across the park lawn. Though his swords were meant to pierce, honed shadow taught them how to slice as he wielded them against the demons.

Ciro kept a cold, collected silence about him as he fought. Of those that realized what they faced, something rare happened, a glimmer of fear sparked amongst them. But that fear was weighed against the fear they had of Aramenel and they rushed in to fight, dashing towards openings and lunging at Ciro.

Twin-borne blades of unforged iron swirled with dangerous passion. Pivoting in place, the dark blades that sung around Ciro sliced through limb and core. His weight easily shifted from ball to heel as he spun and lunged, thrusting his blade through the neck of a Seere, silencing the gurgled screams of pain. His grace did not match Bella's though. There was something dangerously inhuman about it. Something forged and honed in dreams and nightmares.

Unlike Bella's staff, the blades he used bore no runes. His strength and grace was different from hers. Nothing but the white shirt and dress pants he wore was there to protect him. His strength seemed to come from his own arms. But, no.... Something was there, guiding his steps. Something dangerous and unseen that strengthened him and protected him. Simple iron could never be that sharp or fast. There was a hidden magic to his dance. Whatever it was, it began to greatly disturb the demons. It was a magic they had never encountered the likes of before.

Death screams echoed, and blood splattered as the swords sought out the inhuman impurity around him. As the dance slowed to a turning finish, only corpses lay in the wake of the black iron maelstrom. Sweat beaded and dripped from Ciro's brow as he turned back to the fight between Bella and Aramenel.

Aramenel gasped as the two cut his legion down to a mere three remaining, yet wounded, soldiers. "THIS ISN'T OVER BITCH!" He screamed, black smoke rising to encase the group before it dispersed.

"You always were a chicken, Aramenel!" She called out into the night, knowing the demon would hear her final words, the dissipating smoke leaving the lane empty save for Bella and the stranger.

Her skin glistened seemed to glow under the streetlights, the fine sheen of sweat on her skin a testament to her training and stamina, despite the fact her shoulder throbbed like a bitch and a half. Her chest heaved, but not labored, with deep breaths, the adrenaline of the fight still in her. She stood with demon blood on her boots, her weapon and clothes, her hair having long since fallen from her braid to lay in a waist length mussed mass of dark red curls. Her halter top clung to her skin and molded every curve from the tie at her neck, to the low riding waistband of her leather pants. She lifted her freehand to push her sweat slicked hair out of her eyes, her shirt riding up to reveal small intricate tattoos encircling her belly button. She glanced over her shoulder at the stranger, then turned completely when noting the bodies at his feet. His eyes met hers briefly, and nodded her approval with a little flirty quirk of her lips - still unaware that her thoughts were projecting themselves telepathically.

~Damn. Hottie with an accent who can fight too? Yep. There goes my libido.~ She chuckled. ~Down girl. You don't even know who he is.~

Out loud she said: "I am in your debt sir." She spoke formally, her hand fisting itself over her left shoulder as she bowed from the waist slightly. "I am Bella Reece, Black Guardian and one of the protectors of the Highborn of the De Los Muertos. Might I have your name sir, so I may know whom to send my thanks for aid in this tussle."

Her eyes met his but took in everything, the shape of his body, his foreign looks, his accent when he spoke to defend her. Everything about him screamed lethal and dangerous, to both her enemies and her libido. Never one to make a first move, always cautious, Bella straightened herself and tilted her head questioningly, a cute curiosity of a look that softened her features and made her seem more approachable. She wondered to herself if he were like the vain courtiers she had had as lovers over the years, who prided themselves on their virility, but were loathsome to publicly acknowledge knowing her beyond friendship. Realizing her thoughts had gone to the passionless people she now borderline despised, Bella shook herself slightly and brought herself back to the present.

"And who on earth do you have waiting in the shadows? I heard his voice in my head before. I thought i was merely dreaming."

Reaching down to clean the blood from her staff on one of the cloaks of the Seere corpses, she awaited his answers.

"You do not dream..." Ciro spoke softly. The Spanish accent seemed to barb his words as he turned his moon-silver gaze towards her. As their eyes met, she could feel the silvery light of his pouring into her, through her. It sought something, and sought it with rage and passion. He did not want to believe what he had heard... Reece.... He was torn, unsure of what to say or do. She was a Reece, terrible through and through. So why was she fighting demons? Why did his shadow not tell him?

"I am Ciro, Ciro Tarrago. You should mind your thoughts, Ms. Reece, they betray you. I can hear them as clearly as I hear you." Ciro spoke softly as he turned to retrieve his jacket and the remains of the parcel. As he moved, again his muscles pulled like woven steel beneath his white dress shirt as it clung lightly to his damp body. His soft aged golden hair rustled slightly in the breeze, not a strand had fallen from place despite the sweat that beaded on his brow. His cuffed sleeves held tight to his biceps just above the elbow, showing his sun-kissed skin.

He felt completely betrayed by his own shadow. Why was he lead to one of those who would have him dead in a heartbeat? Why was he so compelled to interfere on her behalf just now? Ciro longed to look back at her. She was beautiful. He could not deny that he longed to feel the gentle brush of her hair or the gentle touch of her hand. All of her beauty was natural, he could see the magic that laced around her. One of the 'gifts' his cursed eyes gave him. Ciro couldn't believe the thoughts that ran through his mind. Not once had he felt this attraction before. It caught him off guard.

He didn't understand. He usually didn't when the shadows spoke. Kneeling on the bloodied grass, Ciro lifted his jacket and the remains of the parcel. He slowly stood, his back turned to Bella. As he did, his shadow peeled away from him. It took on a life of its own as it stood next to him. He turned to face her again, both of them did.

"As for my shadows, no one waits for me within them. My shadows are as real as I am. When they speak, they speak with a voice we want to hear. It is nothing to take interest in, Ms. Reece. Just a trick the Sidhe wouldn't even take a second glance at... " Ciro replied, softly. His silver eyes seemed to soften as he spoke. The sharp chill of battle had left them, leaving them warm and oddly inviting.

Ciro could suddenly feel the aches of his muscles again as the spells around him dissipated. Stammering softly, he stumbled and fell to a knee. The parcel he held along with his jacket spilled to the ground again as he caught himself. The two black-iron rapiers lay amongst the scabbards that were made for them. Alongside them lay a strange dagger. Ciro held himself painfully as his muscles reminded him that he had not had decent sleep in days, nor any food for nearly a day as well.

Bella felt a chill crawl up her spine as his gaze bored into hers, followed on it's heels by an intense whiplash of lust that took all her training to bank down. Twisting her hand, her staff returned to it's smaller size, and although she sensed no threat from the man, he was still a stranger and so she kept her weapon in hand. It was his words that froze her in her tracks.

"My thoughts?" She blinked, shock registering on her face. "But . . . I'm not telepathic with anyone I am not blood related to."

Her hands tightened on her weapon momentarily when his shadow seemed to peel itself form his body. He was what the Black Guardians had loosely termed a Shadow Warrior. How could this be? They were rumored to be lead by the Righteous Sword, the very people she was sworn to protect De Los Muertos from. Her gaze studied his unfamiliar looks, again feeling that blast of hunger in her belly. The urge to run her fingers over his brow and ease the weariness that seemed so put up on him shocked her.

Her gasp was audible when he stumbled and she leapt forward, managing to slide her shoulder under his arm and take a good portion of his weight. Her long red tresses brushed over his arm as she felt it slide around her shoulders. Her emerald colored eyes met his, her throat tightening and causing her to clear her throat before speaking.

"You fought valiantly Tarrago." She muttered softly, her gaze darting over his face questioningly before darting down to stare at his lips once, then returning north again. "I have friends here that can give you a room for the night if you desire it. You defended me and for that I owe you a debt of both honor and gratitude."

Her lush curves pressed against his side as her left arm wrapped around his back, her cold body seemed to relish the warmth of his and somehow feel alive for the first time since she was a child. She hid her shock, wondering what that meant. She was human, a live, not vampire, but yet her body never seemed warm to her. To others she was normal and vitally alive, but inside, where it counted, she was frozen in a world of the dead and dying.

"What say you Tarrago? Maybe by allowing you shelter for the night i can begin to repay the debt i owe you." Her skin was flushed from the fight, her lips the lightest of pinks until she licked them habitually, the luscious curve and dip of her lips turning a normal shade of red. She stared into his eyes, and for one panicked moment, drowned in his silver gaze.

**

When Dante woke, he was sure of two things: a great deal of time had passed, and Sage was nowhere to be found. He pushed away the black sheet covering him and, naked, strode through the house looking for her. Thanks to his vampire senses, he knew both she and the others were not in the house. Nor had Bella returned. He was just turning to return to his room to dress when the front doorknob twisted. Thankful for the ability to see in the dark as if it were clear as daylight, Dante darted beside the solid English oak door and waited, moments later he heard the lock snick and the door opened, a tall form in a cloak entering the house and shutting the door behind them. Seeing as how he was in the corner between the door and the wall, the stranger didn't see him as he jumped into attack, rolling and struggling to stay on top. His breath whooshed out of him as a knee landed in his gut, the jab enough to ease up on his strength and allow the bugler time to grab a knife and point it dangerously close to his favorite protruding part. Dante's breath heaved in his chest as he froze, then let a stream of curses roll from his tongue in Cajun French that did nothing but earn him a poke with the knife.

"Damnit Sage," he spat out, easing back. "You could have castrated me with that thing." Sitting on the floor, he rubbed his hands over his face and glared at the woman he had just spent the better part of the last few hours fucking into exhaustion. Which, apparently said he was getting old considering she had enough strength to leave the house.

"Which reminds me," He snapped as she stood, pushing back her cloak and picking a bag up off the floor. "Where the hell were you. I woke and you were gone."

Sage's eyes snapped with temper. "Don't take that tone with me Dante. I'm not some wayward child you can order about. For your information I went to get some clothes, some groceries, and to do what my sister asked me to. " She turned and glared over her shoulder. "Which i would have done if someone hadn't fallen asleep on me around round six of the fuck-fest." She snapped, deliberately trying to hurt him. She wasn't used to the urge to ride herself into a pleasured oblivion, add that to the pent up need for him that she'd harbored for years and it made her bitchy. She gasped when he jerked her around and pushed her against the living room wall.

Dante's temper snapped. Five hundred plus years of training went out the door whenever she was around. He pushed her against the wall and crushed his mouth to hers, allowing her to see the full reign of his passion and his temper that she had only barely tasted throughout the night. The need to rend and tear and just take, take, take had burst through him as if a dam had been broken. He was always one of honor, one of protocol, one of caring and concern. Not tonight, he thought absently as his hands tossed her cloak on the ground, as they practically tore the thin strapped top from her body, barring her breasts for his hungry mouth. Her hands fisted in his hair as he sucked her nipple into his mouth, relishing the near scream she gave when his free hand ripped aside her thong and leather miniskirt and he thrust himself deep in her wet folds. Again and again he pounded into her, his hungry angry mouth trailing up to her throat and snipping angrily there.

"Next time leave a note where you're going or take me with you." He snapped, his teeth sending shoots of fire along her skin that seemed to pool in her body and around the shaft pounding relentlessly in and out of her.

"I belong to no man, nor follow any he dictates." She snapped even as she bit down hard on his shoulder as an orgasm unexpectedly rocked through her.

"You will not find me as easy to set aside, ma Cherie . . " He growled out, seconds before his incisors sank into the jugular at her neck.

Dying. She had to be dying from an overload of passion. She could hardly believe the loud whimpering moan erupting from her throat actually belonged to her, the sound repeated again and again as he grabbed her leg and thrust himself into her over and over again. She rocked her hips against his, sliding down over him for every return upward thrust, her hands buried in his long midnight hair as she gasped out his name. Colors burst behind her closed eyelids when his teeth sank into her neck, the shock of intense pain turning into immediate pleasure so intense she thought she would never survive the aftermath.