--Present--
Anita chuckled, and slowly pushed the gun to the side, watching Edward closer. If he was going to shoot her, she wanted to know first. After a few seconds of staring, he slowly put up the gun and twisted back to look at the pink, purple, blue, and terribly inappropriate urn. When he looked back, he couldn't help but smile.
"But… You died?" Anita shrugged, and stepped closer, hooking her arm into his and leading him toward the rented black jeep. Edward had nice taste in cars.
"Yes, I did. But, I didn't stay that way." Edward's hand grazed her skin, and then dropped solidly down, giving her hand a slight squeeze. She felt real.
"Are you a zombie?"
"Nope. I'm a Human Servant." Edward stopped dead, staring at her, really noticing her. Her confession had made him snap completely into reality. Her hair was a lot longer than he'd last seen her, past her shoulders and ending in a soft point down her back. Her eyes looked darker than normal, and her skin looked luminescent. It reminded him of when she'd been fed by the Master of Albuquerque: Obsidian Butterfly. When he tried to pull away, she tightened her grip, and he found he couldn't move. It didn't hurt, but it was enough to let him know she wanted him to stay right where he was. Luckily, he'd trained himself long ago to shoot with either hand. As he drew the gun with his left hand, Anita was gone. He blinked, twisting and trying to see where she'd gone.
Impossibly quick, she was there, and his gun was not. He didn't bother drawing another one. Seemed his old advice to her was still valid; hesitation will get you killed. She stood, holding the gun by the barrel, out toward him. He didn't take it yet.
"I'm not here to kill you Edward. I'm here to let you know I'm still alive. Take the gun. I don't need it. Come on, I will explain everything." He frowned at her, still unsure of what to think of everything. She linked her arm with his again, and glanced behind them, pulling some large sunglasses out of her coat pocket, and slipping them on. A glance back told Edward that the priest had come back.
"Nice to know you remembered I wanted to be cremated."Edward sat at the little table in Anita's kitchen, watching her make coffee. Something about her movements was more precise, more acute. To the untrained eye, she looked like herself. But to Edward, who had studied basically every aspect of her for quite awhile, Anita was different. Not just the hair, she skin, or even the fact that she was wearing sandals. Anita herself was different. And even though they'd been together for over twenty minutes, now he still didn't know what it was.
Finally she came over, setting a cup of coffee in front of him, and sat across from him, holding the warm cup in her hands. Edward watched her, suspiciously. She wasn't drinking. Why? She wasn't a zombie. Perhaps she was a lycanthrope? That was almost out of the question, since lycanthropes couldn't come back to life, and her body had been found after two days, completely dead. He watched her, and she watched him, eyes trained on his, unblinking.
"Aren't you going to take a drink?" He asked. She smiled a secretive smile, and shook her head.
"Perhaps." She set the cup down. The only thing that came to mind was that Anita had turned into a vampire. Of course, that made no sense, what with the funeral having been held outside in the middle of the afternoon. So, he pushed the thought to the back of his mind, and took a sip of the coffee, black. The sour taste of it hit his tongue and he smiled slightly.
"At least death didn't take away your coffee skills." Anita chuckled.
"All right. This is how it happened."--One Week Ago--
Anita swore, quietly and with feeling, rolling over. She'd landed on the arm that had just been split open by a pretty powerful Mental attack. Fuck. Things were not going according to plan. Yes, seven of Malcolm's minions had been killed, by some of Edward's spiffy new silver-tipped ammo, but there was still Malcolm himself to deal with. At present he was silent, and Anita was running out of ammo. She swore in her head, straining to hear anything past the blood rushing in her ears, or her frantic heartbeat. Malcolm undoubtedly knew where she was, and that was never a good thing when trying to get the drop on someone.
"Anita. I know you're there. Come, stand up. I don't really want to hurt you. But, firing your little weapon at me doesn't inspire much confidence." From the voice, Anita could judge the average area of where Malcolm was.
"Fuck that!"
Twisting and popping up over the Forklift that she'd dove behind, she fired once, twice, three times, all at slightly different places. Malcolm hissed, and Anita saw blood spurt from his shoulder, arm, and neck, before his attack sliced her eyebrow open, and blood pooled over her eye. She dropped down again, cursing. She ejected the clip, popped her last one in, and then ripped a bit of her sleeve off, trying to stop the bleeding. Little good that did. Anita twisted the fabric and tied it over her head, and over the wound. Malcolm spoke again, this time sounding a little hurt and a lot angrier.
"Anita. I just want to propose something. Let me mark you, and you shall become my servant. Think of what we could be. You and I, Necromancer, and Master Vampire."
"No thanks, I've heard that one before. Besides, Jean-Claude's already got three marks on me. You can't mark me."
"Oh, come now, you don't think I forgot about Alejandro do you?"
Anita froze. She'd almost forgotten that. Alejandro had been a jackass of a vampire who had forced all four marks on her. Luckily she'd killed him before the marks got too much of a hold. All four of Alejandro's marks had wiped out all of Jean-Claude's.
"I hadn't forgot. In fact, I think on how I killed him frequently." The laugh that floated toward her originated closer than before. Anita steeled herself against another mental attack, but none came. So, she shifted her weight, feeling like Rambo, with the blood and the tie, and the sheer danger of the entire situation.
"Anita. You and I could be more powerful than any Master Servant duo in history. We could rule everything and anything we wanted." Malcolm strolled into view, hands behind his back, small smile on his face. Anita raised the gun and fired, continuously, without even thinking. But, it did no good.
Before she knew it, he was there, mouth open and clamping down on her neck. The gun was pressed between then, and Anita did her best to shoot, to hit, to do anything except what was happening. She swore, and dropped the gun, going for her last resource. The cross spilled out of her shirt, and Malcolm hissed, but didn't pull away. He clamped harder onto her neck, and Anita felt the word going gray, felt the blood streaming from the uneven wounds in her neck. Then, the cross was flaming, burning into Anita's chest, over her shirt. Malcolm screamed, rearing back, his face hideous. Anita twisted, to try for the gun.
Malcolm knocked it away, and then grabbed for the cross, pulling it and a large hunk of burning flesh out of Anita's chest. It was then, that she noticed the Kevlar jacket under his now burning suit. She opened her mouth to make a comment and blood came pouring out. Malcolm swore, and then plunged a fist between her breasts and through her ribcage, parting them. Anita barely got a scream off, before everything died, including her.It took three students yelling for the principal for Richard to finally get up and force himself to act as natural as possible. Something was happening with Anita. He stumbled out of the room, telling a passing teacher that he had to leave, and then went out to his car. He sat down, barely getting the door shut, before he passed out.
Jean-Claude had sucked the young girl dry before he realized what he'd done. He swore and looked to Jason, who was looking extremely concerned. The other girl was passed out on the floor, and obviously hadn't seen anything. It took three tries for Jean-Claude to get to his feet and even then, Jason had to help.
"Ma Petite… Is she-" Richard's essence hit him then, knocking him off tilt. Jason caught him, and he drew energy from the wolf, as Richard was also doing. It took awhile, but they each got stable enough to talk, mentally about what had happened. Jean-Claude felt Richard's pain, and had to close the marks off partially to talk past it.
By then end, they both were forced to admit what had happened.
Anita was dead.--Two Days Later--
Sergeant Rudolph Storr stood over the body of his friend, jaw tight, face stoic. It had taken awhile but they'd found her body, and the bodies of seven very dead vampires. None of them were Malcolm, though. They'd only found the warehouse that he'd been staying at because of an anonymous tip, that Rudolph- Dolph to his friends- suspected to be Malcolm himself.
It seemed playing with the Monsters had finally gotten the worst of Anita. Oddly enough, she wasn't decayed at all. If rigor had set in, it was long gone. Except for the blood being completely dry, she looked like she'd just died. He bent down, looking close into her face. It looked like she was sleeping, perhaps having a nightmare. He noted the various cuts on her body, all very clean, as if they'd been sliced by a knife. Except, Anita's knives had been found scattered around the warehouse, some bloody, some just broken. One had been found still stuck in the decapitated head of one of the minions.
"Dolph… The coroner's here." Zerbrowski had been uncharacteristically quiet and stoic since Anita had gone missing. Dolph turned, nodding at Zerbrowski. He put one hand on she smaller man's shoulder and they gave each other identical gazes. They were both sad she was dead, but happy to know what had happened to her.Edward sat, staring at Anita. She'd said she was dead, but she hadn't explained why she was here. And though, he'd finished his, Anita hadn't even touched her coffee. Something was up. She smiled, and then stood, taking the cup to the kitchen and pouring it out.
"I hate to waste good coffee, but, well…" She turned to smile at Edward and then took her seat again.
"Anyway, Dolph still thinks I'm dead, as does most everyone in St. Louis. I saw that article that Irving put in the paper. It was nice. I was very impressed." Edward gave her his coldest face. Yes, it was great that she wasn't dead, but her dancing around the story was pissing him off. But, Anita was never one to be forced into anything, and he doubted Death changed any of that. Anita suddenly grinned, and stood, coming around the table to him, unbuttoning the top few buttons of her Polo shirt. She pulled her shirt down just slightly.
"The scar on my forehead went away, but this one is just another to add to my collection." Edward ventured a glance down her shirt, something he rarely ever did, and noted the ragged, pale pink scar that ran just to the right of her sternum. It wasn't nearly as bad as it should've been. He looked back up at her face, and she smiled.
"Sorry. I'll back up. Wouldn't wanna make Donna jealous would we?" She chuckled and sat down. He narrowed his eyes.
"Anita…"
"Right, the story."--Three days ago-
Jean-Claude and Richard stood over Anita's body, one on either side. She'd been dead for almost a week, but something was still there. Richard said it was her soul. Jean-Claude didn't care what it was, as long as they got her back. The Pard, small as it was, was there, mingled with most of the Pack. Richard had called anyone who was available and told them to meet at the Lupanar. Jean-Claude had brought Damian and Asher, who were standing at the head and foot of the stone slab that Anita lay on. Willie was back, with the Pard and the Pack. Some of the wolves were in full wolf form. They hadn't been able to handle Anita's death well. She had been so closely tied to everyone. Her death had rippled through the pack and through most of the preternatural community, causing great reactions, both good and bad.
Earlier that day, Lillian had worked on Anita's body, making sure organs were correctly placed and that her chest was closed enough that, should it do so, it could heal easily. No one objected to trying to bring her back. No one had even asked how Jean-Claude wanted to do it. Richard was watching him eagerly, but Jean-Claude wasn't seeing anyone but Anita. He held out his hand, taking Richard's warm hand in his, and they both closed their eyes.
The power built slowly, as Jean-Claude called power from his vampires, and Richard from the pack. The Pard was there too, trying to lend their power. After there was a suitably choking amount of energy, Jean-Claude opened his eyes and leaned down, staring into the cavity of her chest. The blood that hadn't dried was moving slightly under the surface. He swallowed, and then leaned into the chest cavity, lapping up what little blood he could. As he did, the world sparked and there was a collective gasp. Damian let out a long cry, before dropping to his knees. He mumbled something in a language that Jean-Claude didn't know, and when Jean-Claude opened his eyes, Anita's heart twitched.
Before he could second guess, or hesitate, Jean-Claude grabbed the knife from the stone slab, and sliced a line down the center of his chest. Blood flowed slowly, and he leaned over, the awkward angle making it hard to drop the blood onto Anita's mouth. Gently, he chanted the words that would hopefully bind Anita to him with the fourth mark.
"Le sang de mon sang, chair de ma chair, les deux sera en tant qu'une. Une chair, un sang, une âme," Jean-Claude mumbled in French. Anita's body jerked as his blood touched her lips. Damian screamed suddenly, and Richard's hold on Jean-Claude tightened. He looked to Richard and they both began the chant together, in English this time.
"Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh, the two shall be as one. One flesh, one blood, one soul." Anita drew in a ragged breath, and reached up, pulling Jean-Claude down to her, pressing her mouth to his chest, drinking in his blood like it was life itself. Jean-Claude gasped at her strength, and then, he felt the pack start to close in. Maybe it was Anita, maybe it was the blood. Either way, they were closing in fast. Jean-Claude felt fur against the back of his thighs. Anita's body suddenly shuddered and she shoved him away, taking a deep breath and screaming. Damian echoed her, face buried in his knees on the ground.
Richard backed up, watching Anita writhe and scream. But she was healing. Her chest was knitting back together, rather quickly. Her heart was pumping furiously, and new blood was pouring from the wound. Anita thrashed, throwing herself off the slab, ending up on hands and knees, blood pouring from her chest in a river. Jean-Claude could only watch. The hot energy radiating from her was keeping even the starving wolves at bay. She pushed herself to her knees pupils wide and body shaking ever so slightly. She turned to face Jean-Claude and then dove on him, kissing him, pressing him backwards into the ground, grinding herself into him. Stunned, he only kissed her back. Then, she was shifting, rising up and pressing his face to her chest, which was mostly healed.
"Drink." Her voice was low, breathless, a tone he hadn't heard in way too long. He fell upon her chest, lapping up the blood, nipping at her breasts, arms locked around her. She let out a moan, and then twisted giving Richard an inviting look. He scrabbled over the stone, leaning over her to kiss her. Anita devoured his mouth, and she was hot to the touch. Soon, his knees gave out and he was at her back, lapping up the blood from her shoulders, neck and anywhere on her body that he could reach. And the blood just kept flowing.
Unfortunately, Anita pushed herself away from the boys, stumbling to her feet. She stood, chest exposed and healed, except for a nasty scar, staring out over the pack and the Pard. She smiled, holding out her hands, the blood dripping from them.
"Come my Pard, feed of my blood. Feed of the power and strength of the newly arisen Namir-Ra." Cherry fell upon Anita's right hand licking her tongue over it like there was no end in sight. Zane got her left hand, and Nathaniel busied himself with slowly cleaning the blood from every inch of her legs. While the Pard was busy, Anita turned out toward the pack, watching them slobbering over themselves to get to her. She closed her eyes and forced Raina to come, forced Raina to use her powers for good. Fur flowed and soon, every were except Richard was in full were form, all confused, but feeling infinitely good. Anita smiled and turned, holding out a hand to Damian.
"Come." Damian was on his feet and in Anita's arms before anyone saw him move. Anita was whispering soothing words in a long dead language to him, and he was feeding from her chest, like her other boys had done. Jean-Claude sat there, languid. Her blood was intoxicating, like a drug. He felt as if he was drunk, a feeling he hadn't truly felt since his days as a human. He didn't even mind it, when Asher approached Anita from behind and began kissing, licking, and massaging her shoulders. Anita leaned into him, and that seemed to let Willie know it was okay for him too. Willie and Nathaniel licked Anita's legs clean, and yet, still, blood flowed.