To Protect and Serve Ch. 09

"Please! You can fuck Shamira any time you make a reservation, and you're worried about not getting enough?"

"Okay, that's a valid point, but --"

Shamira glared at both of them. "Sitting right here!"

Clara leaned over and kissed her. "I know." They went on to discuss the finer points of being able to have their way with Shamira's body, and she really had nothing else to contribute. It wasn't as if she really minded. Apparently, Clara had gone off to meet with one of her donor's as well, meaning Sebastian was the only one of them that had gotten any that night.

"Shamira, I was thinking we need to take a road trip. I want to check out Lacroix's warehouse, as much of his residence as we can, and come up with a pattern of his movements. From the way things sounded when the meeting ended, he's probably pretty pissed right now, so he might make a mistake.

Shamira nodded. "When do we leave?"

"This afternoon, I think. Banshee and Henry are older vamps, so they can sleep on the way down. Probably take two nondescript cars, loaded for bear."

"Afternoon, huh?" Clara said. "I guess that means I'm going to have to trump ownership of you," she murmured, giving Shamira a steamy look. "You may be gone for a few days --"

"Hey!" Sebastian yelped. "I had dibs!"

"You had her last night. And besides, what part of 'trump' don't you understand? I saw her first. Literally."

Sebastian was grumbling. "I'm sure there's something in the rules about slave-robbing."

"There is. Seniority. And the only ones who have more seniority than me are smart enough not to try and take her away from me if I might not be seeing her for a while."

Shamira's heart gave one of those rare, involuntary thumps. That was the most romantic thing anyone had said about her. Which was kind of odd, the more she thought about it.

They got home, Shamira and Clara hoping to get a few minutes to themselves before Shamira had to get ready, but they had a message waiting for them. Shane and the Representative requested Shamira and Sebastian's presence They headed over to a small conference room off of Shane's office.

The Representative, Henry, Banshee, Reaper, and Valeska were already there, and Shane wanted to discuss the upcoming foray into Lacroix's territory. They were there for about an hour, hammering out times, places, and communications strategies. Then everyone was dismissed except for Shamira, and soon she was alone with Alessandra and Shane.

"Yes ma'am?" Shamira asked.

The Representative smiled. "I was hoping you might join us for a bit. I sense that there is still some tension between you and Shane, and would like to help resolve it." Alessandra waited for a moment, sensing reservation on the young vampire's face. "For the time being, you can say anything and fear no reprisal. This is at my behest." She smiled. "I'll even say 'please' if it makes you feel better."

"Representative, I know you mean well, but my issues with Shane are just that . . . with Shane."

"But your issues are unresolved, and I cannot have that. Not now, not with so much at stake." Alessandra stepped forward and met Shamira's gaze. "This is not about petty rule disputes anymore. This is about putting our foot firmly down of the snake in the garden of Eden. Not only is Lacroix a possible dealer in the most diabolic substance in our community, but he has been openly defiant of his regional lord and of the Tribunal. We need to do more than defeat him. We must make an example out of him."

"Yeah, I get it. Anyone who challenges the system gets squashed." Shamira could hardly believe it, but for a moment she empathized with her enemy. Then she felt disgusted with herself.

"It's not the same thing and you know it," Shane grumbled. "I am at least trying to reconcile."

Alessandra looked the younger woman over. "In life, was it your nature to hold a grudge like this? Are you so disgusted with Shane --"

"It's not disgust," Shamira interrupted. "It's disappointment. I thought he'd be different than other bosses, but he isn't. And by whatever laws you people live by, he doesn't have to be. I'm still here because the job is important and . . . and because there are people here that mean something to me. I know that you want me to get over it and to some degree I have. I'm not mad anymore, but it doesn't mean that I trust him like I used to. And I don't feel . . . that way . . .when I look at him."

"And you are afraid this might affect your working relationship?" the Representative asked.

"Around here, there's not much difference between the work relationship and the house relationships. He made that perfectly clear when I first came here. Am I just supposed to lie back, spread my legs and think of England?" She noticed Alessandra's cocked eyebrow. "It's a saying I heard somewhere."

"You really think that I would do that to you?" Shane looked and sounded shocked.

"If you needed to show off your control to your peers, are you saying that you wouldn't? Isn't the rule in this community that appearances are everything?"

Shane looked beyond offended, bordering on a dark and brooding anger. "Maybe you SHOULD leave then," he replied coldly. "Finish this job and then set you up as an independent enforcer downtown. Or perhaps Lord Pritchard would be willing to take you on --"

"Lord Stapleton, would you excuse us?" Alessandra asked.

"But --"

"Shane, please," she continued, her voice flowing like a sweet Italian wine. As each sound passed escaped those promising lips, Shane's stiff posture melted just a little bit . . . in all places except one. "Wait for me in your workroom. I shall be there shortly." Now her voice held more eagerness than promise. Shamira was reminded of something Shane had once told her . . . his creator was also his first real submissive. That look of fondness returned as he glanced at the Representative before exiting the room. "You hurt his feelings."

"Yeah, feeling really bad about that," Shamira replied flatly.

"It does not strike you as strange that you could insult his leadership, his person, his culture, or even his manhood without causing a serious trespass, yet to say that he might take sexual liberties with someone less than enthusiastic is what finally does the job?"

"He gets offended anytime I challenge him on anything."

"He gets annoyed, yes, but not hurt. He would never take someone unwilling. To do so would violate his sense of honor at its very core. From the moment I first laid eyes on him, he has been the sort to protect those that needed it, and would never use his power to attain sexual favors. And if you were not so invested in being angry at him, you would probably acknowledge that one of Shane's visual appearance and style does not need such lowly tricks to bed a woman. Or a man, as his mood strikes him."

Alessandra looked towards the door. "I do not understand your almost fanatical need to not like him. I cannot understand anyone feeling that way about him. When we are done speaking, I shall go to him and he shall do things to me that very few are allowed to, and none who do them as well. I cannot understand NOT wanting him."

"How . . . how do you manage?" Shamira asked. "You're the most powerful woman . . . hell, the most powerful person that I've ever met? So how --"

"Vampire culture is about age," Alessandra interrupted. "The older you are, the more powerful you become. The more powerful you become, the more responsibilities you take on. So simply surviving in our world means taking on responsibility that not all of us want. I want to continue my existence, but there are those who covet the power I possess, not understanding that I would freely give it to them if I could. I would rather stay here, in Shane's arms, bed, and chains for the remainder of my days."

Her voice was soft and sensuous, and Shamira could hear deep, genuine love in every tone. "But I cannot, at least not yet. The rules need to be changed, and that will take patience, perseverance, and most importantly, passion. So you see, my desire for you to stay and help Shane has a selfish component."

"Which is?"

"Shane's house being the vanguard of change means that it will need direct support and supervision from the Tribunal."

Shamira grinned in spite of herself. "So to help the transition go smoothly, the Tribunal sends a member such as yourself to have a more hands-on role in the process?"

Alessandra nodded. "Note that this part is simply me being opportunistic. It was not as if I swayed the entire Tribunal to expose the magical realm just so that I had an excuse to come back here."

"Hey, you saw an opening and you took it. So are you staying here for a while, then?"

"I must return to Italy at some point to make certain arrangements, but I am in no hurry. Shane and I have much catching up to do." The elder vampire flashed a wicked smile. "And I would not be at all adverse to sharing him or being shared BY him should you someday find yourself more agreeable to being with him again."

She stood up. "I am going to him now, and he will probably strap me to the barrels and do unspeakable dastardly things to me, and for a while I will not have to be one of the most powerful people you have ever met. Enjoying my body will distract Shane from his current petulance."

"You use a lot of big words, you know that?"

"I've been alive for almost a millennium. I have received many word-of-the-day calendars in that time." Alessandra pressed a hand to Shamira's cheek. "The more I know of you, the more I am convinced that there is no better place in the world for you than right here. Perhaps when you get back, you could sit with him and talk. No apologies, no accusations, but just getting to know one another." She smiled. "Now if you will excuse me, I am sure that we both have people waiting for us."

Shamira nodded and left, looking for Clara. The Native American was already naked and lying on top of the covers of the bed they shared. Shamira was spanked suitably for making Clara wait, and then both those cheeks were nibbled on until the muscular woman almost came from just the touch of her lover's teeth. There were many more games to play for them, but they kept it light for the evening. When both were sated several hours later, Clara reminded her of a promise.

"When you get back, we're having that first date, dammit."

Shamira had grinned. This relationship, the weirdest she had ever been in by far, just always managed to make her smile.

----------- ------------------

Three days later . . .

----------- ------------------

Shamira was beginning to wonder how undercover cops and agents dealt with the mind-numbing boredom of stakeouts. She'd thought that there would be cool gadgets, skulking, espionage . . . in fact, there was a lot of waiting in vehicles that slowly began to fill with junk food wrappers and Starbucks cups. The six of them had spent their first day in Savannah getting the lay of the land, and then had broken into teams to start investigating Lacroix's haunts and patterns. For some unknown reason, Henry had decided to pair Shamira with Banshee, and the two women were not exactly bosom buddies. Shamira had not spoken to the assassin since she and Renata had thrown Shamira into a cell at Shane's behest.

At the moment, they were parked near a warehouse owned by their adversary, waiting for the sun to fall so that they could make their way in. It was nearly impossible, they had discovered, to keep Shamira out of a place without serious spellwork. And if Shamira could not shadow jump past them, Banshee could use her Mind Fog to walk right past guards. It was a difficult one-two punch for Lacroix to defend against, particularly since he did not know it was going on.

Banshee was sipping at one of those frou-frou kinds of coffee that Shamira had no tolerance for. Coffee should have sugar in it or nothing at all in her opinion. The svelte Asian woman glanced through the binoculars at the lighted grounds, verifying how many people they were going to have to contend with. And the place was inundated with external security cameras and the like, which is why this particular place had drawn extra scrutiny in the first place.

"The thing about most vampires," Banshee muttered, "is that they are too race-centric. Lacroix seems to employ humans, but he doesn't utilize them. And the lack of weres or other major magical creatures is a weakness."

"So you've mentioned," Shamira replied flatly. "Doesn't explain how we're getting around these ones. These guys are all human, right? So we can't hurt them?"

Banshee shook her head. "No, we can hurt them. We just can't be noisy about this, and we should at least try and avoid casualties. Human guards are not great threats to Shane, but murder investigations could be." She put the binoculars down. "So, you and Clara are getting serious, correct?"

Shamira smiled a little as she looked out of the car. "I guess. We haven't really . . . Hey, since when did you care --"

"Clara has been a friend for a long time, and I would like for us to be. And I bring it up because it was pointed out that you are in a better mood when you think of her. I was hoping it might make you more receptive to talking with me." Banshee's mouth quirked. "Unfortunately, social subterfuge is not a specialty of mine."

Shamira scrunched up her face. "Is this really the time to talk about this?"

"We have thirty minutes until sunset, and this time is as good as any. You have shown no interest in talking at any other time."

"Listen, Shane's the one I want the apology from --"

"That is good, because I have no intention of apologizing."

Shamira was a little confused by this tact. "So then what did you want to talk to me about?"

"I just wanted to talk. Shamira, I did what my lord demanded and while I disagreed with the decision, it was not evil. I would not serve him if I felt him capable of asking for truly evil things. I owe Shane more than you can imagine, and it will take more than one bad call to make me defy him."

"So when push comes to shove, you'll back him? Even if he's wrong?"

Banshee fixed those dark, knowing eyes on Shamira. "You speak of 'wrong' as if it were a black or white concept, and we both know that is not true. Cheating on your taxes or running a red light is on a completely different scale from draining the blood of vampires, undead, and faeries for profit. Punishing a child who did not truly deserve it by sending them to their room hardly constitutes a mutiny-worthy offense." She looked away.

"I have served Shane for a hundred and sixty years. I served him unquestioningly because that was the only way I knew how to serve a lord. Those I served before would have seen me eventually drown in the blood of my victims, but it took a vampire to save what was left of my soul. Shane saw something in me worth saving, as he has with all his children."

"Not all of them," Shamira said. "I mean, it seems that everyone is sane enough."

Banshee's mouth quirked again, making Shamira wonder if she ever actually gave full-fledged smiles. "Henry was an alcoholic with a tendency for vigilantism, even when he was a sheriff. Bjorne suffered from serious depression and was suicidal when he was brought over."

"Reaper was on the verge of becoming the worst sort of mercenary . . . the kind that had seen too much in a short life and was slowly ceasing to care. Bunny was headed towards the vapid debutante until her disease returned, and Pierre was falling into a paranoid world of shadows and mistrust before Shane first approached him."

"What about Clara?"

"And we return to the object of your affections," Banshee replied. "Suffice to say that Clara had . . . anger management issues. I will leave it to her to explain the details should you choose to ask. Her transformation over the last sixty-plus years has been quite remarkable, though she still has a temper."

Shamira smiled, remembering when Clara told her about throwing a lamp at Shane's head.

"I envy you, you know that?" Banshee continued. "For that look on your face when you think of her, or the look on her face when she thinks of you. I do not have a relationship like that. In fact, I never had. But I am content with my afterlife, and I am happy to have found the home Shane brought me into. Last but not least, I am happy to have met you. You are an insanely stubborn, incredibly appealing woman. You fear the smallest of creatures, yet you would charge head-on into battle with Dark Pools to protect people you barely know. You crave submission, yet you defy authority with almost reckless abandon. Quite frankly, you seem to have 'stirred the pot' as they say. I am glad you are here, and am still willing to put my friendship and existence in your hands. I simply want to know whether or not you value them."

Shamira smiled wryly. "I don't want to see you get hurt if that's what you mean. Which is strange, because I also want to punch your lights out."

"How typically American," Banshee replied smugly.

"Says the former Yakuza bitch."

"Touche."

"Heads up," Shamira said, cutting their heart-to-heart short. An armored truck was approaching the front gate. "What the hell is that doing here? Not your usual delivery vehicle is it?"

"I should think not. Can you see inside?"

Shamira looked. The warehouse grounds were warded so she could not use her Shadow Sight to look in, but the armored car wasn't. Unfortunately, "No. There must be a light on inside the back. Damn it."

"Remain calm," Banshee said, as the driver of the vehicle spoke to a security guard, showing identification and so forth. Her binoculars drifted downward. "How about the shadows underneath the vehicle?"

Shamira looked again and sure enough, there was a dark patch under the car. "This may be our best opportunity to sneak in," she agreed. They both got out and Banshee opened the trunk for her compatriot to climb inside.

"Once you are in, find a place to hide. I'll keep watch from out here. Do not use the phone unless you have to, but do not be afraid to call for backup if necessary."

"I'll keep that in mind," Shamira replied as the trunk closed. Instantly she homed in on the shadow cast by the heavy carrier and jumped into it. She quickly oriented herself, spotting the guard's feet from her hiding place. She grabbed onto the frame of the vehicle from underneath, lifting herself up just as the vehicle began creeping forward again. Being a vampire had many advantages.

The car pulled into the warehouse, where there were plenty of shadows to jump to. Luckily the wards were all around the perimeter, separating the inside from the outside, but allowing Shamira to move freely within the confines. She popped over to behind a stack of crates and took a looked around. It was an odd warehouse, and by odd she meant freaky. There were crates and so forth to be sure, but they were all broken and empty and carelessly discarded.

In the center were dozens of large glass tubes hooked up with all sorts of random paraphernalia which Shamira couldn't recognize. Science had never been her strong suit, but science fiction was a little more up her alley. They looked like weird stasis pods or something similarly cheesy. They contained murky bluish fluid that resisted both her normal and Shadow Sight, the latter of which made her nervous.

She watched as several warehouse workers moved to the back of the armored car and hauled another crate out of the back. Then two people who looked like they had slightly better breeding took over once it was loaded on a truck. These two looked more like scientists than grunt labor, and they took the crate apart with delicate precision to reveal a smaller container that was similar in sophistication to the tubes scattered around the room.