TACTICSWhen I first saw you looking at me
The gleam in your eyes made my heart skip a beat
My body felt nervous
And my heart began to pound
As this test of love - it brought me to my knees
Feeling a pulse surf the space from you to me
The love that I felt made me shake, made me weak
I'm under your spell and there's nothing I can do
As the day turns into night I am for you
"Tactics" [English Version]
First Ending theme of Rurouni Kenshin
Nikolaos had given him two choices: answer the police's questions regarding the recent vampire murders, or be Narcissus' plaything for the night.
Jean-Claude had opted for the former. As much as he enjoyed being tied to bedposts, used, abused, and then taken in a fit of brutal passion, it didn't take a fool to see that fraternizing with the law was clearly the lesser of the two evils.
However, as he walked in the relative quietude of the secretive alleyways that comprised the Riverfront, doubt chose that moment to tickle the back of his mind with its mischievous fingertips. Police he was accustomed to dealing with; he found the trembling, jittery uniforms with their pseudo-stern expressions rather amusing to converse with. Their fear and loathing of him always stunk up the air like a foul musk. No matter what laws you flashed before their eyes or what philosophies you preached to them, in the end humans would never see vampires as anything more than abominations.
That made Jean-Claude smile. If humans feared that one day vampires would overtake and enslave them, they really should back up and contemplate their own decaying ethical situation. At the rate things were progressing, humanity would end up devouring itself long before vampires ever sought to reign the Earth.
And it was the police - the agents of justice and law - that housed the most deep-rooted prejudices within their leaden hearts. After all, it was they who had to gaze upon the grisly remains renegade monsters left behind. What horrific creatures, those vampires.
But this new organization...this Regional Preternatural Investigation Team...this was something new to Jean-Claude.
Human police officers that supposedly specialized in cases involving unnatural creatures?
Interesting. Very interesting. Much more intriguing than Narcissus and his twisted version of sensual pleasure, at least.
Jean-Claude crossed from alley to alley, swift and silent as the shadows and just as nondescript. Though he was fully aware that Nikolaos had chosen him as their "representative" because his heartbreakingly beautiful appearance and diplomatic method of speech tended to disarm most humans, Jean-Claude knew it would be better to observe this team of "specialists" from afar before diving boldly into their midst, fielding their questions with his perpetually evasive answers.
And so the shadows it was...for now.
For a whimsical moment, Jean-Claude pondered using the rooftops to cut distance between himself and the murder site, but he quickly nixed the idea. Using such an obviously inhuman method of travel usually resulted in numerous guns being aimed in his general direction. Jean-Claude had lost more clothes to unfortunate "misfires" over the years than he could count. Policemen's trigger fingers seemed itchier when they dealt with roof-hopping vampires than with vampires that approached from the ground like a normal human would.
A soft hush of voices nearby made Jean-Claude wonder if he had reached the murder scene already, but no, the only wraiths in the darkness were the typical drug dealers, every bit as tainted as the clients they served. The vampire passed right by two of these humans, close enough to touch them, run his hands over their warm, feverish skin or stare into their haunted, blood-shot eyes. But he had no time for such fun and games tonight. Smiling softly to himself, he clouded their minds as he walked by, and the dealers didn't even spare him a passing glance.
Midnight had embraced the sky above with her velvet arms, gaps in her dark touch leaving room for the millions of stars to shine through. A quasi-full moon hung fat and sated behind a veil of thick clouds, its luminescence the only source of light as he proceeded into the darker, seedier areas of the Riverfront. Here the vampire junkies lurked, prowling the streets like zombies as they wantonly flaunted their punctured necks, silently begging for some stray vampire to take them up on their wordless offer. Jean-Claude hadn't fed tonight, and though he was sorely tempted to go in search of one of these shameless addicts, he had other business to attend to.
The gentle buzz of the area's voices - both nearby and distant - escalated considerably as he neared the scene of the murder. The staccato clicking of camera shutters assaulted his sensitive ears; he had always found that sound rather bothersome, like the snapping of twigs in a roaring bonfire. Agents of the RPIT spoke in low tones, as if afraid raising their voices a single octave would suddenly bring all the vampires in the area flocking towards them.
Yet, it wasn't fear. Just caution.
That was good. That was professional.
Jean-Claude didn't think he was going to like the RPIT very well. Though fearful amateurs could sometimes be considerably more dangerous than cautious professionals, it was the latter that seemed to stick around for an annoyingly long time.
Pausing in the middle of the backstreet on which he walked, Jean-Claude stared at the wisps of harsh yellow light spilling onto the cracked concrete a few feet in front of him, originating from the mouth of a nearby alley. The RPIT had brought their synthetic lights.
//Might as well announce to the world that there's been a murder// he thought wryly as he quietly approached the mouth of the alley. Such glaringly beautiful lights were a true rarity in some areas of the Riverfront. Nightwalkers often shuffled toward any source of light in the same fatalistic fashion that moths flocked to an open flame.
Jean-Claude started to place a pale, delicate white hand on the wall beside him, but hurriedly retracted his limb when he saw the grime smeared on the bricks. He settled instead for just peering around the corner, the curious motion causing his thick dark curls to brush the sides of his face.
As a result of the bold lighting, the shadows in the alley were stretched thin, mourning and thirsting for their lost solidity. The stench of death hung heavily in the air - blood spiked with the lingering remnants of thick terror. Jean-Claude knew several vampires that would have delighted in such an arousing odor. He, on the other hand, found it vaguely displeasing.
Three figures gathered around the victim like reluctant mourners at the funeral of some distant relative. The two males stood slightly back from the corpse, one of them with his hands shoved in the pockets of his rumpled brown slacks. The taller of the two had a pen and notebook clutched in his large, strong hands.
The remaining member of the trio crouched on the ground next to the corpse, prodding at it with fingers sheathed in thin plastic gloves. Raven's wing black curls spilled onto the narrow shoulders of a deep red jacket. The swell of her breasts strained against the soft-looking fabric of her white dress shirt, the top button undone so that she unintentionally exposed the enticing crevasse between her breasts when she moved a certain way. The knee-length skirt was the obvious counterpart of the delightful jacket, and the skin of her pale legs shimmered underneath black hose. The shoes that covered her tiny feet were black, but they should have been red. Yes, red would have made the outfit perfect.
Of course, plenty of red stained her fingers, clinging to the plastic of the gloves in round globules. The dark-haired woman poked the victim's lifeless body again, and a squishy noise could be heard. She abruptly turned her face away to bury it in her own shoulder, breathing hard against the fabric. Jean-Claude felt the sudden urge to breathe with her, to feel her heart race alongside his own, to inhale the scent of her jacket, to wrap himself in that warm human body.
The two men joked lightly with the woman, making gentle fun of her squeamishness.
"Just don't barf on the stiff this time, okay?" one of them teased.
"Don't worry, Zerbrowski. If I puke, I'll be sure to send it your way," the woman retorted.
The one called Zerbrowski laughed, and Jean-Claude felt answering laughter welling deep in his chest. What an amusing young woman. He couldn't remember the last time someone had managed to incite honest laughter in him.
Deciding it was time to make his presence known, Jean-Claude stepped around the corner and into the alley, using what little shadows still remaining to mask his presence. No mind tricks. He tried not to use them against policemen for the simple purpose of testing his own cunning, and theirs. How long could he go before they noticed his presence? How close could he get before he startled a scream out of someone?
The second Jean-Claude got within ten feet of the trio, the woman stiffened and whirled her head in his direction, chocolate brown eyes deep and deadly serious as they locked with his for a single, breathless moment before she leapt to her feet, drawing a gun from somewhere inside her coat in the same breath.
"Stop right there," she said flatly, pointing the gun dead center at his chest.
Jean-Claude politely came to a halt, hands loose and empty at his sides. "Forgive my abrupt appearance. I didn't mean to alarm you."
"Who are you?" the larger of the two men demanded. He had forsaken his little notepad; in its place was a dark pistol that seemed too small for his large hands.
Bowing slightly at the waist while keeping his eyes trained on the trio of police officers, Jean-Claude graced them all with a smile. "My name is Jean-Claude. I am here on behalf of the vampire population of St. Louis."
The big man lowered his gun, but the suspicion did not abandon his pale eyes. "You're the one they said they'd send, then."
Jean-Claude straightened, still smiling. For a team that claimed to specialize in preternatural cases, the two men were unwisely attempting to hold his gaze. Either they were bold, foolish, or trusting. Or it could just be ignorance.
The woman didn't waver in her aim, nor did she meet his eyes, instead opting to stare at where the front of his lacy white shirt gaped open over his chest, exposing the cross-shaped burn scar that he had obtained from an overzealous (and very much dead) vampire slayer in the past.
"Don't look him in the eye," she warned her male companions. "He might try and seize control of your mind."
"Come now," Jean-Claude soothed, voice soft and breathy. "I am a good, law-abiding vampire."
The woman shivered before she could stop herself. "Watch out for his voice, too," she said sharply.
"Voice?" Zerbrowski asked in confusion.
"You didn't feel it?" the woman questioned.
"I'm afraid I only directed my power at you," Jean-Claude said apologetically. "Forgive me, ma petite. Sometimes I forget myself."
"Don't call me 'ma petite,'" she snapped. She seemed to have quite the temper. How…amusing.
Jean-Claude smiled. "What would you have me call you then?" he said charmingly.
"I don't want you to call me anything, fangface."
The nickname made the vampire's smile widen into a grin. "What a difficult woman you are. But wouldn't it be better if we exchanged names since we will be working together? I have already told you my name."
The woman opened her mouth to respond, but the big man suddenly cut in. "Enough games, Mr. Jean-Claude. This is only a brief 'partnership,' if you can even call it that. I just need you to come over here, take a look at the body, and give us any information you can about this murderer."
"Certainly," Jean-Claude said. "I will move as soon as the lady lowers her gun."
"Anita, lower the gun," the big man ordered.
Jean-Claude's eyes widened slightly. //Anita? Anita Blake? The infamous Executioner is this tiny slip of a woman? Then again, looks are deceiving…//
The Executioner begrudgingly lowered her gun, a frown marring her pretty face. As Jean-Claude approached the remains of the body, the three humans backed up. Yet, again there was no fear in the three of them. Just caution. Deep-rooted caution.
Jean-Claude placed his hands on his hips and stared intently down at the victim - the visage of concentration. Of course, the multiple bite marks on the man's limbs immediately declared him a vampire victim. Jean-Claude could tell that the bites belonged to the same vampire; he needed no measuring tape or any other silly human tool. The dead man's white, bloodless lips gaped open slightly, as if trying to taste the night air. The attacker had ripped his stomach open, exposing a glistening mass of pink insides.
Sighing, Jean-Claude looked back up at the three humans. "It is as I feared."
"Do you know who did this?" the big man demanded, stern gaze focused on the pale column of the vampire's throat.
Jean-Claude nodded. "Yes. This is the handiwork of a vampire amongst our ranks who has recently gone rogue. He likes to tear the insides out of his victims after he kills them."
"So we noticed," the woman said dryly, chocolate brown eyes now riveted on Jean-Claude's mouth instead of his bare chest. "Give me the name of the vampire and his daytime resting place."
"Why should I?"
"I'm going to execute his ass."
Jean-Claude stared at her, eyes suddenly empty. "This rogue has attacked other vampires, myself included. He will answer to OUR justice, not yours."
The woman grew angry, graceful black eyebrows lowering menacingly over her eyes. "Don't give me that crap. Three humans are dead, and I KNOW they didn't invite you down here just so you could say, 'Oh, a vampire did this' and walk off. We already know a vampire did this. Now all that's left is to obtain a court order of execution."
Anita Blake looked very beautiful when she was angry. Beautiful and dangerous. And so very human.
Abruptly, a smile came to Jean-Claude's pale face. "Elias is the vampire's name, and he always hunts in the Riverfront, trying to make the other vampires look bad."
"Why does he want to make you guys look bad?" Zerbrowski asked.
Jean-Claude shrugged. "Elias is insane. He hates all vampires, including himself."
"Pity in that," Anita said flatly. "I'll have an order of execution by tomorrow night, and then I'm going to kill this Elias. I'd advise you stay out of my way…Jean-Claude."
"Concerned for my safety?" the vampire teased with a grin.
"Hardly," she retorted. "I just don't want to have to waste bullets on you."
That made Jean-Claude laugh, and he was vaguely surprised to feel Anita's body tighten in response to the sound. Her lust perfumed the night air, sweet and musky.
"It was nice meeting you, Anita," he said caressingly as he turned to leave, gracing the dark-haired woman with another of his smiles.
"Sorry I can't say the same, fangface," she growled. Her body's reaction had embarrassed her. How wonderfully endearing. Modest women were such a delectable rarity in these modern days.
"I hope we will see each other again," Jean-Claude said sincerely as he began to walk down the alley.
Her annoyed voice drifted from behind him. "I hope NOT."
Jean-Claude smiled, putting an extra sway into his hips, knowing that despite her grumpiness, she would watch him as he strode eloquently away. In all his years, he had never met a woman quite like her. She reeked of untried power. Indeed, she was practically filled to the brim with cool energy that was not so very different from Jean-Claude's own.
Yet, there was such fire in her! Passion and kindness - they were there, too. Both warm enough to make a cold creature such as himself melt where he stood. He had to see her again, if just to watch her frown at him as he brushed by her in the streets.
Such a delightful temper she had, but unfortunately, she didn't like him very much. His personality, at least. It appeared she was rather fond of his body. But than again, who wasn't?
Jean-Claude could still feel Anita Blake's warm, human eyes watching him as he vanished into the shadows, the darkness reaching out and enveloping him like the arms of a jealous lover. He wished for nothing more than the time to follow her for the remainder of the night, to simply watch her work, feel her breathe, listen to the beating of her mortal heart.
Unfortunately, his time belonged to others of Nikolaos' choosing. People to do. Things to see. Blood to be spilt. Blood to be taken.
But, there would always be tomorrow night.
Soon I am hoping I will taste your luscious lips
Fine like the wine just beyond my fingertips
A man and woman will find true eternity
Underneath the magic of the full moon
Passionate lady, ah give me your love
Mysterious lady, I need your love
The spell you've got me under
Your eyes that make me wonder
Is this a fantasy or is this love for real?
Do you want me lady?
Ah give me your love
I feel you coming lady
I need your love
Cause all the things you to do me
They lock me and up and set me free
The fever of this crazy love
Dances with the passion in my heart"Tactics" [English Version]
First ending theme of Rurouni Kenshin