The Best Medicine Ch. 06

This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere.

The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these character and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author.

In my magical, mixed-up world, characters don't worry about STDs or unwanted pregnancies except occasionally as a plot device. The author encourages the practice of safe (and hopefully satisfying) sex.

While this is a science-fiction story, it may at different points contain sexual behavior that might fall into other categories. You can rest assured however that there will be NO depictions of Non-Consent, Mind Control, or Incest for any purpose other than as plot devices, and certainly not for sexual arousal. Anything else is fair game.

The following story is based in the same world as "To Protect and Serve." While this series can stand alone, reading the afore mentioned series would be helpful.

Proofread by "Cristalball"

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Vanesse had always thought the phrase "and then all hell broke loose" was a tad melodramatic, but she was coming to the conclusion that it was insufficient to describe what was going on.

It had started with a confrontation between her and her uncle, King Tarrin Ralisen, about the circumstances surrounding Vanesse's abduction from her Alaska compound and her cross-country excursion that had ended in Savannah, Georgia. She had managed to successfully spin everything so that the werehyena pack, Joker's Wild, were made out as her saviors. She had actually backed the King into a corner, and then Trina had made her presence known.

Things had degenerated from there. Trina, Vanesse's best friend and battle-dancer, had died several days earlier. Instead of passing into the Great Hall of the battle-dancers where they would dance and make love and serve only themselves until the end of time, she was returned to Earth, her spirit taking up residence in Vanesse's body. Then, the Princess had forced the soul out of the very vampire who had killed Trina, and put her friend's soul in that form.

Explaining all this too to the elvish monarch had not been easy, and he had not taken the news with much grace. He had realized what Vanesse had been up to, what she had been doing to build up enough power to perform an unthinkable act, and then the proverbial shit had hit the fan. He had done everything except outright call her a whore, and she had come so close to losing her cool and slapping him that she was amazed she could not see her handprint on his cheek. The Royal Guards were keeping distance between the king, his niece, and the vampire Trina who was glaring holes in the King's skull.

That was when Vanesse had realized something, namely that Trina hated the King. She had known that her best friend did not respect the monarch, but those eyes . . . those eyes conveyed a level of disdain that went far beyond civil disagreement. He had always looked down on her, treated her like crap, and then he had made her promise to effectively lie to Vanesse until the battle-dancer had found a way around it.

Finding out that little tidbit had further incensed the King, though he could not do anything about it since Vanesse had captured on video when she released Trina from her Word she had given the crown. The King thought that meant that Vanesse had fired Trina, but then he discovered that her Word to Vanesse was much deeper and much more personal than the vow normally given.

"She is an abomination!" Baron Montain was shouting, pointing at Trina's new body with snarling contempt in his voice. "Lord Stapleton, I demand you remove her from here at once!"

Shane Stapleton, regional lord over all of Georgia and personal favorite of the Tribunal, shrugged. "Trina has not shown herself to be a threat to anyone, so unless Princess Vanesse requests that she be removed --"

"Which I absolutely do not!" Vanesse said, resisting the urge to stomp her foot like a child. "She is no abomination Baron. She is my friend, my battle-dancer, and I expect you to treat her with respect."

"She is no longer your battle-dancer," the King said haughtily. "Only elves may serve as guardians to royalty. That is the law."

"It's a stupid law, and Trina was born an elf. Her spirit is still that of an elf. Only the battle-dancers have magic in their Word, and her Word defied death itself."

"Not completely," the Baron shot back. "She is undead. Even now, she craves the blood of the living, something that no self-respecting elf would ever allow --"

A sound like thunder echoed throughout the chamber, and all conversation fell silent. Shamira, vampire and living embodiment of the last Moon Dragon to walk the earth, had just broken a heavy oak table in half.

With words as deep and cold as the bottom of the ocean, Shamira spoke directly to Baron Montain. "Don't . . . you . . . dare," she started, "try and claim that there are no elves who have a taste for blood."

Clara put one hand on her companion's shoulder. "Don't do this," she said, her voice hinting at an anguish that Vanesse did not comprehend. "You chose to forgive what happened before anyone else."

Shamira was trembling with emotions too complex to exist in the verbal world, but Clara's touch seemed to have a calming effect.

"I believe," Lord Stapleton said, his voice commanding, "that we need to take a short recess. Things are getting heated, and it makes for a poor environment to conduct politics."

"Who are you to suggest anything of the King?" Montain asked.

Just then, a new presence filled the room, and it was so palpable that even pure humans took notice.

"He is Lord of the land, and he carries the blessing of the Tribunal," a woman's voice said, projecting through the room like a great wave. "And if you do not listen to him, then perhaps you should listen to me."

"Representative," the King said, actually taking a step back and bowing his head. The vampire's delegate to the Tribunal had entered the verbal fray, and not even a King would disrespect her. She had walked the earth for a thousand years, making her one of the most powerful of her kind. "I did not realize you were here."

"I had been counseling Lady Trina on her transformation, and I was resting until this fracas broke out," the Representative said, her voice carrying an Italian tinge to it, though a myriad of other accents also filled her words. When someone lived as long as she had, they picked up a few languages. "I suggest that we all do as Lord Stapleton mentioned and take a moment to reflect on what we wish to say."

The King looked like he wanted to object, but very few people could stand the Representative's stare for long, and defying the Tribunal without a damn good reason was unwise. He looked towards the Princess, but Vanesse was moving towards Trina. Trina was still staring right at him, and when their eyes met, the King felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

'I should have gotten rid of her years ago,' he thought. And he was sure, with every fiber of his being, that she was thinking the same thing about him.

"Trina?" Vanesse asked, waving her hand in front of her friend's face to get her attention. "You in there?"

The newly created vampire blinked and then focused her eyes on the Princess. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"You really hate him, don't you?"

For a moment, Trina considered denying it, but she did not have the energy to lie. "I really do."

"Trina, I don't care what any of them say. You're still my battle-dancer."

A spot of red appeared in the corner of Trina's eyes. Blood. "No, I'm not. The law and tradition are on his side."

"Screw them," Vanesse hissed angrily. "I'm the future Queen, so what I say --"

"I want you to let them win."

Vanesse's jaw dropped. "What?"

Trina leaned back against the wall. "Vanesse, I've been talking to the Representative and . . . and there are problems. This vampire's body is incredibly sensitive to sunlight. I can't be outside in the daytime for more than ten or fifteen minutes at a time. How can I guard you if I can't even follow you outside for more than half the day?"

The Princess was shaking her head. "Don't give up on me. Please? I can travel at night, and I'm sure that there are spells --"

Faster than Vanesse could even blink, Trina was right in front of her. "I would never give up on you. But I'm scared. So damn scared."

"You? You've never been scared of anything in your life? You pick fights with entire werehyena packs."

"I'm scared of failing your parents," Trina said, wiping a bloody tear from her cheek. "I'm scared of failing you because I couldn't be there for you. And now, I'm scared every time I look in a mirror because, when I do, I hear her footsteps in the snow, and I feel my neck twist. Do you understand what that's like? To see your own death in your own reflection?"

Vanesse was using every bit of willpower she possessed in order to not to scream or cry. "So that's it? We survive all this so that you can leave me?"

Trina bowed her head. "Vanesse," she started, whispering so low that only her friend could hear, "I still love you. I just don't know how I feel about ME anymore. I don't want to leave you, but I don't think that I can protect you, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you because I was too selfish to share you."

Vanesse stepped forward and put a hand on her friend's face. "No," she said. "I want you to be selfish. If I need to get more guards, so be it, but I won't do it if it means you not being there with me. I fought too hard to give you your life back, and I want to be selfish too. I want you to share your life with me. You'll get better. You'll learn how to deal with this body, and you'll watch over me. Because if you don't, then you'll have hurt me a hell of a lot more than those goblin bullets would have."

Trina had blood dripping from both eyes. Farmer walked over at the same time as the Representative. There were a dozen or so vampire guards keeping their eye on the venerable woman, but Vanesse seriously doubted that a thousand year old undead woman was particularly afraid of a half-trained necromancer or her werehyena cohort.

"Princess Vanesse," the Representative said. "I am sorry I was unable to greet you earlier. When I heard of the circumstances surrounding Trina's physical transference, I felt that she might need my counsel. I have helped many a new vampire find her legs, though never under such unique circumstances."

Trina wiped her eyes. "Yeah, that's me. Unique."

"More so than you realize," the Representative said solemnly. "To defy death with nothing but the power of a promise?"

"I was rejected," Trina said bitterly. "The Dancer in White refused me entrance."

The beautiful Italian vampire cocked an eyebrow. "Then why aren't you in hell?"

Trina looked confused. "What?"

"If you believe in a heaven, you must believe in a hell, don't you? If you were rejected from your heaven, why were you sent back down here? Perhaps, you were not being punished, but rather rewarded."

"Rewarded?"

The Representative looked from Trina to Vanesse. "Heaven is more a state of mind than a place in the universe. Perhaps your return to earth was simply a push in the right direction."

Vanesse punched her friend in the arm. "Told you he didn't reject you."

"Do not try to second-guess life," the Representative said, her voice growing warm as the Tuscan summers of her youth. "Sometimes, just when you think that the universe has given you a burden too heavy for your shoulders," she continued, her eyes moving to where Lord Stapleton, Banshee, and Clara were attempting to calm Shamira down, "then something amazing happens. And sometimes, you begin to realize just what you're capable of."

Vanesse put her arm around Trina's shoulders, but decided to give her friend a moment to compose herself. "Representative, what was that about? Why was Shamira so angry?"

The old vampire's face grew oddly ugly for a moment, as if a memory were leaving a bad taste in her mouth. "It is . . . complicated. And it is in the past."

"With all due respect, it does not seem to be so far in the past, and it involves the elves. Doesn't it?"

Farmer was nodding. "I'm not scared of much, but I would NOT want to have been in the Baron's shoes right about then."

Aven and Neva, both of who were standing nearby, looking incredibly uncomfortable. Lillian looked ill, so Bunny took it upon herself to step in and speak.

"Representative, maybe you should tell her? She's gonna find out sooner or later, and she should probably hear about it from someone who was there."

The older vampire smiled and stroked Bunny's face, making the girl straighten with pride. "You are growing wiser, young one." Then the Representative looked back at Vanesse. "Before Shamira's transformation was complete, she was a relatively new enforcer for Lord Stapleton. But while she was not yet a dragon in body, she was in spirit. She got into a situation where she saved a family of werehorses from some enemies of Lord Stapleton, but she was betrayed by the first and only elf she had ever met."

"What happened?" Farmer asked.

The werehyena earned herself a brief, sorrowful gaze. "Have you ever heard of a form of torture known as an Unmaking?"

Farmer shook her head. Trina looked confused. Vanesse was horrified. "That's just a myth. How --"

"He spent a solid day torturing her. To some, that might not seem like much. But he broke everything inside her, including severing her spine with silver. And he did not even know the worst of what he did. Shamira is a Shadow Healer. When he left her in the dark to suffer . . . to wait for her to be so broken that her spirit itself surrendered, her body attempted to heal wounds that could not be healed. In all my years, I have never seen a body so completely obliterated, and all simply because he could."

"But . . . how did she survive?"

"She had other abilities that her captor did not understand. She freed herself, freed another prisoner, killed her captor, and then . . . Then she waited to die." The Representative shook the melancholy off. "But she did not drift into the Eternal Night. She was saved and, obviously, evolved fully into Shadow Wing. When word got out about what had happened to the chosen of the last Moon Dragon, there was a concern amongst the elves that the perpetrator's actions might be taken personally. Shamira swore that she bore no ill will, but --"

"But having the Baron try to claim that elf shit don't stink was a bit much," Farmer whistled.

"Not how I would have put it, but yes. She really has no ill will towards your people, Princess, but if the Baron does not show some tact, then the elvish nobility may lose one member."

"That'd be a shame," Trina muttered.

"Trina --"

"Hey, I'm apparently not enough of an elf to be a battle-dancer, so I'm not elf enough to deal with politics."

"You're more elf than anyone else here," the Princess said. "No offense," she added, looking at Aven and Neva.

"You're the Princess," one said with a smirk. "It is our job to be belittled by you. An honor even."

Neva, following in her brother's footsteps, said, "You could spit on me and then kick me in the shin. It would be something to tell the grandchildren about."

"Great. Just what I need. Two more of my subjects to mock me."

"Would not dream of it, oh truly magnificent one."

Vanesse looked at Trina. "Are you going to let them talk to me like this?"

"You ARE truly magnificent," Trina said, trying to smile with unfamiliar lips.

"Princess," a guard said, looking around nervously at the company Vanesse was keeping, "the King requires that you attend him."

"You can tell the King --" Vanesse started to reply, but then Trina gave her a look.

"He's your uncle, and he is the King. You're going to have to deal with him."

"But I want to stay with my best friend. You need me too."

"You have an entire kingdom to deal with," Trina whispered. "You're not going to be able to put me first."

The Representative put a hand on Trina's shoulder. "You've been crying, which means you've been losing blood. We'll get you a blood pack and I'll explain a few more things. Actually," she said, glancing at Shamira, "why don't you have HER show you? Shamira has only been a vampire for a year or so, so she probably better remembers what it is like to wake up in a new body than an old fossil such as myself."

"You are many things," Vanesse said, "but you are no fossil." She curtsied. "Trina, go . . . you know, get something to eat. I'll go talk with my uncle and --" She stopped, a wicked thought coming to her mind. "But I should not be unattended."

"Princess, we would be happy to stand with you," Aven and Neva said together.

"Okay, the synchronized talking thing is spooky. And while I appreciate the offer," the Princess said, sliding her arm around Farmer's waist, "I had someone else in mind." She looked into the werehyena's eyes. "Would you, and Joker's Wild, mind having my back for a bit?"

Farmer grinned. "You're starting trouble, aren't you? Sweet cheeks, you know you can count on us."

"Sweet cheeks?" the Representative asked. The two nearby elvish assassins tried not to snicker.

"She's earned the privilege," was all Vanesse said, then she and a number of werehyenas walked over to a furious looking elvish monarch.

"She's not quite the pushover I was led to believe she was," the Representative said, looking at Trina.

"No, she really isn't. She's strong enough to stand on her own," the battle-dancer vampire said, her voice growing a tad wistful. She looked at the older vampire, who had turned her attention momentarily to Shane Stapleton. And the look she gave him, a mere flash across her face that came and went faster than most beings could possible see, was one of such affection that it almost made Trina sigh.

"No matter how strong we become," the Representative was saying, "we will always need the support of those closest to us." She looked back at Trina. "Now go talk to Shamira. She has blood packs and a few donors down at the barn. It might do you some good to take in the night air and clear your head."

Shamira nodded, and made her way over to where Shamira was sitting, flanked now by Clara and an insanely sexy, blond man who Trina had not yet met.

"Uhm . . . hello," Trina said. "The Representative said that you might be able to help me . . . eat."

"Right! You're the Princess's bodyguard. How's being a vampire treating you?"

Trina gripped her hands, trying to think of something glib to say, but nothing came to mind.

"It's okay. It's hard waking up in a new body. I get that." Shamira glanced sideways. "Oh, you've already met Clara, but this hunka-hunka burning love is Sebastian."

"Do you always get such a nice introduction?"

"Only by the people that know me," the man said, giving her a grin that would melt a lesser woman's knees. He looked like he would be more at home on a surfboard with ocean water glistening on his broad chest than sitting around a feast hall in southern Georgia.

"You're not a vampire, are you?"

"No, I'm a --" Sebastian grinned and then looked at Shamira, then back to Trina. "You're not afraid of any particular animals, are you?"

Shamira grunted at him. "It's been a year. Can't you just let it drop?"

"I think it's perfectly reasonable to make sure that we don't have a repeat performance of that night. Ever again."

"I'm not all that fond of cockroaches, but that's about it. Could someone explain what's going on?"

Shamira stood up. "I kind of used to be afraid of spiders. A lot. Then Mister Werespider here," she said, waving a hand at her companion, "had to go and sneak up on me --"