Embrace Ch. 06

Some of the most promising architects and engineers in Vienna have made such a beautiful job of the concepts. She's surprised they did so well with only two weeks to work with. It's a shame none of these designs will ever get built, she muses.

Each bridge design has two or more strategically placed statues. Some are emperors of Rome, some are heroes of myth and legend. Amelia has added sketches to the faces of the statues so that each design has at least one likeness of Eleanor on it and one of Paracida.

The prince is so conceited he will allow any such tribute with a handwave without worrying about the masquerade, portraits of him are already scattered all over the palace.

If Amelia has judged this right, Eleanor is finally about to leave Paracida's service and join the push to retake France. The last thing the elder will want is a permanent reminder of her two centuries of subjugation carved in stone.

Amelia is just unrolling the last huge scroll onto the parlour floor when there's a little gasp from the doorway behind her.

By the time she turns around all she sees is Elizabeth's back as the wise kindred beats a hasty retreat. Eleanor comes storming out of her office as Elizabeth slams the front door hard enough to rattle the windows.

Amelia drops a deep curtsey and Eleanor's anger fades momentarily.

"Oh," she says, "Amelia. Well, I suppose I can spare a minute for you, although as ever, your timing is exceptional."

"It's a shame," Amelia says, swallowing her nerves, "you'll be even angrier with me now, and I won't even know why. Ah well." She gestures to the parlour with a little bow.

Eleanor graces her with a surprisingly sweet smile before entering the room ahead of her.

"Well?" Amelia says, beaming wide to mask her trepidation, "Which is the best?"

There is a long pause before Eleanor speaks. Perhaps she's piecing together a theory as to who gave Amelia the necessary information. Perhaps she's simply struggling with her own self control.

"Why?"

The pain in Eleanor's question resonates all the while Amelia is speaking.

"I know you will always pride yourself on the legacy you leave behind in Vienna, and I will always remember the lessons you taught me." Amelia babbles away the little script she had rehearsed over and over, but it carries none of the subtlety she had hoped for. "I can make sure that something of you will always lift up the ordinary citizens of this place the way that you..."

It's impossible to continue. The words catch in her throat. And then a moment later all the air leaves her lungs as Eleanor pounces on her, one hand around her throat, one fist in her solar plexus.

Amelia opens her mouth to scream as Eleanor's teeth tear into the side of her neck in the exact spot Wolf-Dietrich's once did, and it is truly terrifying, but there is not even enough air in Amelia's lungs to whimper.

When at last she can draw breath, Eleanor's kiss has already taken hold and Amelia's scream carries a heady mix of horror and ecstasy. In seconds, Eleanor draws once, twice, again, again, and Amelia can feel her vitae pouring out of her in torrents. She flails pathetically at the bands of steel that Eleanor's arms seem to have become and pleads mercy for her life. Her answer is a wrist forced firmly between her teeth, and she must drink if she's to live.

They sink together onto their knees as Eleanor allows the soothing kiss of her prey to calm her anger.

When the deeply embedded teeth finally tear out of her neck, Amelia whimpers between each heady mouthful of vitae, and the elder's other hand keeps firm hold of her hair. Eleanor allows her time to drink her fill, waiting for her to lick the wrist wound before pushing Amelia to the floor.

Amelia crawls back to the wall and clambers unsteadily to her feet. She gazes longingly at Eleanor's beautiful mouth, her lips still rimmed with vitae.

"Was it worth it?" Eleanor spits. "You sniveling little trollope, was it worth everything you could have been to bring me so low? I swear I have never been so disappointed in five miserable centuries, get out of my sight!"

"No." Amelia answers quietly and shakes her head. She dabs the vitae from her own mouth with the Librarian's handkerchief. "This is not what you promised me."

That takes the wind out of Eleanor's sails.

"How can this," Amelia gestures to the gaping wound on her own neck, "make you happy, my lady?"

"Don't..." Eleanor brings a hand guiltily to her own perfect alabaster throat.

"This was not our bargain. I can find ten different people who would happily assault me within a mile of this house. You promised me a day. You promised me a chance to show you..." She closes her eyes and pauses for a moment.

"No, that's not right. A chance to remind you how to be happy. Give it to me." A tear springs up out of nowhere and Amelia brushes it angrily away. "Give it back to me, just for one night, only one. And I have taken my time Eleanor."

Amelia takes a hesitant step away from the wall now that her head has stopped spinning. "I have prepared everything so carefully."

"For me?" Eleanor says bitterly.

"Everything you need so that we can keep our promise to each other."

The anger drains away before Amelia's eyes. Eleanor's voice has such an adorable softness to it as she speaks next.

"How do I know you will keep your side of the bargain?"

Amelia lifts her chin and pulls back her hair.

Eleanor picks herself up and comes closer. Gently now her arms encircle Amelia. Her tongue finds its way in and out of the deep ragged wound as Amelia hisses in pain. Eleanor winces in sympathy but doesn't stop until the wound is closed.

When their eyes meet again there is just a tiny little spark of something in Eleanor's. Amelia smiles encouragingly.

"You know," she says. "You can feel it."