Black Roses (23)

As usual De was left unsatisfied as his lessons wound to a close. Practice was never satisfying for a vampire; it was pure frustration, a prelude to the kill that should have been. It was like the hunt without prey, pain without the pleasure, sex without the orgasm--- and yet he understood that this, all of it was exasperatingly necessary if he were ever to move beyond his worldly confines. Learning was the only way of ensuring his survival in a world that had been hell bent on killing him since the day he was born.

Mish-shy was an irritating but effective teacher, powerful as well as skilled but something in the lesson spoke strongly to Damian's vampirc nature, to his need for the kill. Maybe it was the ancient power that flowed through Mish-shy's veins. If Damian killed the demon king, not only would he inherit a throne but a fraction of Mish-shy's mystical power as well.

Every immortal gave a bit of themselves in death, the only catch was you couldn't be sure of which bit. Some inherited strength, some knowledge, some ability, occasionally all of the above but sometimes---in odd cases--- it was just memory, or feelings, useless emotions that lent nothing to the grand design and that was something De could do without. He had a hard enough time keeping his own emotions in check, the last thing he needed was to have to wade through some egotistical demon's hand-me-downs!

"The things that consume your mind!" The demon's teasing tone was becoming familiar, although no less unnerving. "You vampires are always in such a hurry, can't wait like a reasonable demon would for the curtain to fall on it's own."

"That could take millennia, and besides if my pondering your death bothers you---stop eavesdropping!" This he delivered amicably due in part to exhaustion and in part to his growing familiarity with the demon.

It was strange how bleeding together in practice had formed more of a bond between them than Mish-shy having named him heir to the Shyle throne. He didn't like the demon a damn bit better, would probably seek his blood at the first available opportunity but at least now they could share a somewhat civil conversation. As long as the demon was willing to teach De his craft, and remained semi-respectful then De would treat him as he'd treated all his teachers---loathed or not!

De placed his weapon back in the case, took a moment to scan the rest of the contents---noting what he was familiar with and what he wasn't, then made a mental note to inquire about the use of a few of the more elaborate looking contraptions.

"They are makeshift forearm spikes, knee and elbow blades---made for those who are--- lacking." The long impish pause and mischievous twinkle in the old demon's eye made it quite clear what he meant. The only problem was that De was used to people implying he was less than a man so the insult didn't ruffle his feathers the way it was meant to. He simply glanced toward his new benefactor and said the first flippant thing that came to mind.

"You may!" Mish-shy shook his head slightly, amazed at the way some insults bounced off while others shot straight to the boy's core. "I'll have Thaddeus send your measurements to the armory. They can make you a better fitting set. These are for someone larger." De nodded, choosing to ignore the sweep of Mish-shy's dark eyes and the tiny curl of a smile playing at the corner of his lip.

The demon was still trying to get under his skin but De had managed to work out a good deal of his recent frustration in their mock battle. Enough that he was no longer interested in playing the alpha game.

He reached out and purposely triggered the elbow blade, watching with satisfaction as it flicked outward with enough force to piece bone. "I've faced an opponent in the eastern Arena who wore these once---they were quite effective."

"How flattering!" The sarcasm was evident but so was De's personal amusement. The boy was absolutely sure he hadn't been the reason for Mish-shy's visit to the arena on that day. "I'm sure you watch children play all the time."

"Only the future kings---" With that comment Mish-shy let his hand slide casually down De's arm and over one of the still bleeding wounds, as he pulled his hand back the bloody fingers went straight to his mouth sampling the blood. "It's wise to know the beginnings of skill in those who might one day face us on the field."

Mish-shy's casual tasting of his blood was a very vampire-like thing to do, and seeing as De hadn't initiated the contact also very rude. Damian caught the hint of playfulness behind the demon's actions. He was making fun of vampirc custom. Normally friendly competitors shared blood after sparring, with the Sho'lye (or weaker challenger) being the one to initiate first contact---if that contact was so desired.

For Mish-shy to take his blood uninvited he was either making fun of the whole concept or admitting to being the less powerful of the two---and the last was utterly ridiculous.

"Like hell it is!" Rhion's tone was level enough for the both of them and oddly enough De felt a surge of pride in the other boy. It was a foolish thing to do, granted---a human challenging a demon king. Rhion was foolish more than half the time, though! De stifled an urge to lecture; hopefully he could do that later if they got out of this in one piece!

"He may be your heir but his blood should be his own, otherwise he's no better than a slave in your house." Rhion's tone continued level, in fact almost icy for him. But he was panting slightly. When Mish-shy moved off to the side just a fraction De noticed Rhion's slightly disheveled appearance and the mild scent of exertion coming off his companion, it was the look of someone who'd been training.

And how did De feel about that if they had? Training was serious business, people got hurt in training! Yet if Rhion truly intended to remain by his side then he needed to improve his battle skills, just his association with Damian (now considered a deserter among his own people) could be enough to get him killed.

The older boy was good but he lacked aggressiveness and that, in and of itself, could be a fatal flaw on the immortal field of battle. To be truly great you had to be willing to kill without the entanglement of consideration for your enemy's life---for what you were taking from the world. You couldn't care what his cause was, or about the family he was leaving behind. You couldn't care about him period, because in the end it was about adding another name to your tally. And despite his flawless health and impressive physique, his quick reflexes and clever weapons skill---Rhion cared about all of this. And his concern, however momentary, had to slow him down, blunt his abilities. Not that they'd discussed if Rhion gave a damn or not, De just---knew it.

For the first time Damian wondered if Rhion had ever killed anybody. For some reason the mere thought seemed wrong, as if something inside of De refused to think of Rhion as a killer when it was perfectly logical that he needed to be.

"Rhion, perhaps you should consider your words as well as to whom you speak." Deathwalker's casual use of Rhion's name penetrated De's thoughts like a razor blade. He cut a quick glance toward the tall, arrogantly handsome demon, frowning ever so slightly when he detected Rhion's scent on the surface of the demon's skin.

That happened in practice, one couldn't expect NOT to smell like their sparring partner at the end of the day. It was just one of those things, though why De's nose had instantly registered the fact and passed along its displeasure to his brain was a mystery. Something so trivial shouldn't have bothered him--- but yet it did.

De hadn't noticed when the pair had departed from their place above them, probably because he'd been too busy trying to keep up with Mish-shy's ever increasing chatter and the quick strike of his blade. Mish-shy demanded one's full attention and he got it through necessity.

Deathwalker stepped forward casually, as if to draw Mish-shy's full attention away from Rhion. It was a selective move, an almost protective one----or at the very least considerate---and that meant something in the demon world.

De's eyes drifted to Deathwalker's arm, which was now a bare few inches from Rhion's and suddenly De wasn't sure if he liked the idea of his human and this particular demon spending time together---however practical it might be.

"I hear your father's wisdom in your words." The sharpness of Mish-shy's statement pulled De's attention back to the king. He wasn't sure where this was going but it didn't sound good.

Mish-shy was looking toward his weapon, seeming to ponder Rhion's statement for a moment or two, and then finally he looked toward the human and spoke critically. "Carlonday judgment isn't always charming---And as Walker says, you must remember to whom you speak, boy."

"Yes, but regardless of whom I'm addressing, king or peasant, it's still the truth." Rhion's jaw had a stubborn set to it now, as if he knew he should back down but was purposing ignoring common sense for a principle. Rhion did that a lot, despite knowing what common sense was.

"Truth, like a lie, is in the eye of the beholder." Mish-shy's voice was suave enough, but De didn't trust the amiable tone. What Rhion was doing was very akin to poking at a rattler with a stick---sooner or later the serpent would get irritated enough to strike.

Rhion, shut up! he wanted to shout. It's not that important, you stupid human! Only De's princely nature kept his tongue in check. All his life he'd been taught to hold himself a certain way and despite his very real fears that Rhion was treading dangerous ground he couldn't quite bring himself to react before the worrisome events unfolded. It was a kind of life-long conditioning that made him stand there and observe wordlessly, waiting for the proverbial axe to fall.

"Your blood betrays you, human." Walker's words were etched in demon helpfulness. "Careful where you tread, or you'll leave this boy alone among us." He wasn't offering to help he was simply offering information.

"Some things, especially this, are about honor!" Rhion's tone was controlled and clipped, but his eyes were on fire, hot gold and amber. "But it's also about using your brain! Either you extend him a certain amount of respect or you don't. It's your choice. But if you treat him like property now, he'll treat your people as such later---most slaves when given power become tyrants. If you want to play with a dangerous weapon instead of respecting its ability to wound you if it slips, that's your business. But don't treat him that way, or you'll be sorrier than you can believe."

De started to step forward, having heard about all the threat he needed to hear in Mish-shy's voice---he intended to place himself between the now too close pair, divert the king's attention bodily but he never got the chance.

Mish-shy drew his weapon from his side sheath, and used his elbow to slam De backwards into the ground. It was a quick and rather bland move, without any artistic flare, definitely more barbarian in nature than Mish-shy's usual approach.

For a split second De failed to comprehend the pain that followed, it was much too low and way too sharp to be a flesh blow, and then in a blink of an eye he understood.

He looked down at his leg where the blade had penetrated effectively pinning him to the bare earth beneath. If it hadn't been for the demon's large hand wrapped around the hilt pressing down, De would have simply dislodged the blade, but this---this was extremely effective, all the stopping power of a mortal wound without the complexity.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mish-shy glanced at Rhion, whom he now held by the upper arm, ignoring his physical strikes as though they weren't being delivered at all. The demon gave Rhion a super arrogant grin but ignored him as he turned his attention on De.

"No skill required, just the simple knowledge of anatomy and vampire nature. The blade is lodged between the two bones of the upper leg, it's harmless metal so your body hasn't kicked up any alarms and the vampire in you registers the pain as puppy play so your strength remains at it's minimum---meanwhile I haven't moved on Rhion other than to restrain him so your protective prowess sleeps. You, in point of fact, have no actual recourse here. So what do you do?"

The twist of the blade made De gasp, pain was something he was accustomed to but being helpless he was unprepared for. "Kill you before you have a chance to do it again."

"A skill you don't quite possess as of yet---but eventually." There was promise lingering in the old demon's words, and a sudden softness that De had trouble associating with Mish-shy's typically abrasive character.

Oddly enough De wasn't angry at having been shown up but impressed. He simply looked up at the demon towering over him, his expression blank as he waited for the lesson to conclude.

"Don't punish him for something I did, damn you." Rhion's voice was furious but beneath the outrage was the thin line of helplessness and the much finer edge of fear, but it wasn't fear for himself. "If I spoke out of turn---!" Mish-shy squeezed Rhion's arm hard enough to make him wince and effectively cut off his words for a split second---long enough for the demon king to speak.

"You did, but that's not what this is about." Suddenly the demon pulled the weapon free and turned Rhion loose. "I actually think you're right, very intelligent observation for a human."

"Then why this!" Rhion's tone was more righteous than an angelically born prince, and as outraged as any lover whose partner had been dishonored could be. Rather than stepping away from Mish-shy, as would have been the sensible thing to do the human remained a mere few inches from the demon wordlessly demanding an answer to his question.

"Yes---as will you!" Mish-shy's voice was annoyingly reasonable, and shockingly friendly as he eyed the human with renewed interest. What he was thinking was a mystery but for the first time since they arrived that crisp demon gaze had less to do with sex and more to do with respect. He gave Rhion a quick pat on the shoulder ignoring the rage that bubbled behind those golden eyes as though it meant nothing and then turned to leave. "Feel free to join us for dinner or lick each other's wounds in the privacy of your own apartments---you have my word that no one will bother you tonight. Walker."

The last was a request and the chocolate haired demon gave a regal nod---to Rhion only, which was beyond annoying!---and added, "Tomorrow afternoon, then. We will try you on those missile weapons you took such an interest in. You do have the eyes of a promising archer, but our weapons in that arena are somewhat more complex."

Rhion hadn't quite caught his balance after that last, unexpected occurrence. He simply nodded curtly, discarding politeness and a proper goodbye to bend down and examine De's leg.

"It's already healing," De pointed out, more interested in analyzing Mish-shy's line of thought (and why he'd made such a calculated move) than worried about his bleeding leg.

"Yeah, but in the meantime your STILL losing blood." Rhion sounded irritated for some reason---perhaps he didn't like being showed up, or more likely the human wasn't used to reprimands of Mish-shy's sort.

Lee had always said the Carlonday house was soft, and De had no reason to believe otherwise. Though the word "soft" was starting to acquaint itself more with different than weak. "He does that just to see how far he can push us."

"I think the same. He's a clever bastard." Rhion looked up, his golden eyes focusing intently on De's darker ones and as usual the young vampire prince had no idea what the older boy was thinking.

"Why did you let me win that first fight?" The casual, yet all too serious question actually jolted De, he looked first at Rhion's face and then at the hands that were clutching his bleeding leg stopping the blood flow. "I watched you with Mish-shy, I know what fighting the man is like---I know how strong he is from trying to protect Daniel. In less than three seconds my sword was on the floor and my hand had been damn near crushed, none of my blows affected him---and yet you faced him today, and were nearly as good as he is."

Rhion took a deep breath, and fastened his eyes on Damian with unaccustomed seriousness. "Why, De? You barely knew me that day. Hell, you barely know me now!---why would you let me---?" The words trailed off, though they both understood what they would have been.

De thought about Rhion's statement for a second, considered lying but in the end decided to be brutally honest, with not only Rhion but also himself. "For Shining Moon." The words were barely audible but De knew Rhion had heard them by the way one of his hands had softened on his leg. "And my strength---it dials down around you."

"Only where you're concerned." De paused, trying to figure out how to explain without having to admit he'd somehow (for unknown reasons) scented Rhion as a companion and now his own body had slapped on the safety restraints. He finally settled for a partial truth. "It's a vampire thing, my kind tends to ally themselves with humans, so we have the ability to mark certain people as---friends, after that our strength automatically dials down where they're concerned. It's an internal safety measure to prevent us harming a---friend---by accident."

De looked down again, considering the ramifications of what he was about to admit for a couple seconds before he spoke. "I don't know." He paused trying to string his next words together coherently. " I knew you from the start---or rather some part of me did. When I saw you at the base of the hill, moments before the cross, I remembered what it felt like to die." He knew that statement was twisted and that it didn't make any sense to Rhion but it was all the truth Damian had to offer. "For a split second I remembered another lifetime---you were supposed to be there and that made dying okay." It was confusing even for De to think about and it made his head hurt.

De found himself shaking his head slightly, squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to push away the memories. "I knew your scent and I remembered the taste of your lips and it was enough." There was something, just beneath the layers of muck, not from a lifetime ago but from a hand full of years past. It was something to do with Rhion, something profound but it was too painful to see and De couldn't help but push it away. "You were already there, inside me---friend." Companion, mate, lover and all before they'd ever tasted one another!

"No, it doesn't." When De looked at Rhion he was smiling, soft and gentle and De felt an intense feeling of déjà vu though he was sure that particular look had never been directed at him before.

"Now that's the pot calling the kettle black." Rhion's mood had shifted and De found it hard to get angry with him---in fact he was fighting off a smile, which was almost twice as annoying. How the human affected him in such a way was a mystery. "Come on, I think it's stopped bleeding. Let's get back to our room and get you cleaned upI think we should do dinner in tonight, I wanta try out something new on you."