The Nosferatu Adventures
page 152, chapter 152
A year and a half ago...
The air was a crisp knife, burning her throat as she breathed it in. The light turned red as she reached the corner, waiting for a chance to cross; just as the bus seemed to come out of nowhere, speeding past her. Nosferatu swore as she realized that she would have another half hour to wait for the next one. Sighing, she adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder, and turned into the parking lot of the donut shop.
There was a line up all the way to the door, barely giving her room to squeeze in. Digging through the bottom of her bag, she found just enough to get herself an extra large coffee. She did the math quickly, realizing that she'd never make it in time to the movie if she waited for the next bus. Sighing again, the redhead decided to forgo the coffee and walk to the cinema.
She was disappointed to see the line up for the movie was just as long as the line had been back at the coffee shop.
"You like sci-fi?" a male voice asked. Turning, Nosferatu found herself staring into the deepest darkest eyes she'd ever seen. Nodding, the female could do nothing but try to remember to breathe. There was something both unnerving and erotic about this man. His aura just seemed to glow this intense white, which only expanded when he smiled. "I prefer horror myself. Sorry, let me introduce myself, I'm Bach." he brought his hand up to take her's.
"Nosf..."she had to clear her throat, closing her eyes. "Nosferatu."
"That's a very unusual name." he smiled. The female was nearly certain she saw the gleam of fangs.
"Been told that more then once." she licked her lips suddenly feeling like her stomach had dropped out of her body. Bach nodded his approval then turned a half step.
"Well, it was lovely meeting you." he kissed her palm, causing her to jump back, pulling her hand from him. He smirked as he headed off in the direction of the men's room. Nosferatu shook her head, rubbing her hand over her forehead, suddenly feeling dizzy. Pulling her hand away she saw two small puncture marks near her thumb.
The male shimmered away as the bathroom door closed behind him. The god walked from behind the tree, and over to where Loki was sitting, rubbing his hands together kneeling beside him.
"I found her. After 700 years, I've finally found her." Bacchus said in an near hushed whisper. Loki opened his eyes, leaning closer to his relative.
"Where?" the dark haired god nearly crawled into the other man's lap.
"An alternate reality." he stood back up spinning around on his heels.
"And you're sure it's her?"
"I tasted her blood. It's our blood, your blood and mine. She's not much to look at, but there's no mistaking it. She's got an aura about her that only nephilim have." He waved his hand around, a small cloud appearing showing our heroine within it's depths.
"She's old."
"About 40. Drop in the bucket." Bacchus replied.
"For an immortal, but for a human that's old." Loki scratched at his jaw. "Anyway to know if she's ready for this?"
"No. We're going to have to prepare her. Start by making her immortal. Activate either her vampire or shapeshifter nature. Whichever is more dominant."
"And if she's just not ready?" Loki asked. "I don't know if we can wait around for another 700 years?" the god closed his eyes tilting his head towards the moon. Sniffing deeply, he ran his thumb and finger over the corners of his mouth sticking his tongue out like a kid.
"We're just going to have to speed things along, break a few of our own rules." Bacchus smiled wickedly. "She'll need to be connected to someone with power. Generations worth. Someone strong, fierce."
The dark haired god nodded taking in a deep slow breath. "I think I know just who to attach her to. He's a prince..."
"A prince no less? Go on." Bacchus said raising an eyebrow, humour creeping into his features.
"Shapeshifter, werewolf to be exact. Family goes back generations, if I'm not mistaken back to when this all started, about 600 or 700 years ago. You remember." he moved a few feet arms crossed over his chest, before jumping up to grab hold of a tree branch, swinging from it.
"Actually...no. Remind me."
"Oaken. They were first turned during the 1200's...or so. Anyways, strong bunch. There is one who's part of a pack and is not mated."
"And why do you think that he'd be perfect for her? Other then the prince factor?" Bacchus asked. "Is he an alpha?"
"He's a prince, what does he need to be the alpha for?" he jumped down from the tree branch slapping his buddy on the shoulder. "Prince trumps alpha."
"And does your Oaken prince have a first name? Or is she just going to call him 'hey you' ?"
"Rolf. He's name is Rolf. Satisfied?"
Bacchus sighed as he rolled his eyes. "Okay, let's do this then. Let's find a way to get Nosferatu in the same place as Rolf. See what happens?"
Two hours ago...
Rolf sat in the bar waiting. He'd long since given up checking the time, and after seven drinks, found himself needing the bathroom. Getting up from his chair, the werewolf's attention was caught by a strange looking painting. Stopping in front of it for a few long seconds, he flashed back to when he was a kid, seeing the same piece of art work in his father's personal library.
It was of a mermaid being captured by the god Hermes, a spear held high in one hand, while a wild hell hound was held by the scruff of the neck in his other hand. The mermaid half out of the water on the shore, the hell hound inches away from her tail. The whole scene was done in a dark shade of grey, as if happening at night, large oak trees surrounding the area behind them. Rolf shivered as he flashed on the painting, remembering how angry his father had been when him and one of his brothers had taken the painting down from it's spot on the wall to examine it closer. The male's heart raced just thinking about it, how not just himself and his one brother had been punished, but how all the kids had been because of it.
Mermaids were dangerous, and for some reason unknown to Rolf even all these years later, greatly despised by his father. A curse, he would say spitting, waggling his finger at them as he did.
Rolf entered the bathroom just as a wave of dizziness hit him. Closing his eyes tight, he fell back against the wall, his palm up to his forehead. Something was wrong. He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. He listened, expecting it to be Harker, for this to be the moment, but it wasn't. His relief was short lived as he realized then it was Nosferatu.
He got a glimpse of her standing in front of a large tree, her delicate pale fingers flicking at a old weathered dream catcher. One of Dagan's that he randomly abandoned. Our heroine had come across it. It meant they were that much closer to home.
Rolf hated this. Hated being connected so intimately to the female. Closer to her then even her own mate was. It bothered him, disgusted him, feeling her emotions like this, knowing that there was nothing he could do about it.
He also envied her. Envied her for being able to love.
Snarling, Rolf pushed the image away, bottled up the experience and managed to block her from him long enough to use the bathroom.
Tune in again for another installment of the Nosferatu Adventures starring your heroine...me (straight up story...a prince no less...)
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