Midian Evolution

He took me to another seedy area in London. Pulling me down to a bench, he kicked aside a small pile of trash and stretched his long legs. “Sit here a moment,” he urged, looking comfortable. He wore more goth gear, but kept his age. He’d traded the T-shirt for a sort of pirate-y, blousy thing that laced up the front.

I had a hard time believing goth men wore floor length skirts now, but he assured me a few did. I supposed it didn’t matter, not with that long, black leather coat he wore. He just flowed black all over, actually, starting with his long hair and going down.

His lip and eyebrow piercings looked good. To be an ass and to flaunt his invulnerability before God, he’d used silver studs. What nerve the creature had.

He grinned at me, exposing fangs. “Even in trash tattoo parlors these days, one must prove they aren’t drunk before the artist puts a needle to flesh. Feel like getting ink, Police Girl?”

“I will if you will,” I snapped, feeling edgy. His beauty, his presence, my bloodlust and nerves all served to make me jump at the slightest thing.

“But, I don’t have to keep a tattoo,” he pointed out. “I can change at will. You’ll be stuck with whatever you choose, until you learn my tricks.”

“The offer stands,” I said, watching a group of young toughs exit the parlor. They spoke to one another in raucous tones before beginning to part company. “You pick it out. I could never choose.” One man grabbed his girl roughly by the elbow and twisted, making her cry out.

My anger flashed. I zeroed in on him, probing, seeking…

Bitch. You wait until I get you home, the man thought. Cheap cunt isn’t worth the trouble.

He tugged on her, and she overbalanced on her spiky high heels. I watched, sickened, as she pitched face-first onto the hard cement. Her lip burst and she gave a high-pitched noise of pain.

I stood, watching him practically drag her toward an alley. They moved toward shadows. In seconds no one would be able to see them…

Or me.

I followed them in a second. The woman, sobbing, needed controlled and quieted. I knew I could fog her mind, just somehow knew it. I reached out and put the veil on her.

She stopped dead, unresponsive to her boyfriend’s tugging and cursing.

“Bitch, get moving!” he shouted, slapping her face. She couldn’t feel the blow, I made certain of it.

Almost unhinged with pleasure at my ability, with the prospect of feeding, I stepped out of the dark. “What’s the matter, little man?” I taunted. “Maybe your girl’s decided she doesn’t want a pig between her legs anymore.”

He turned on me, snarling. I hardly felt impressed. I’d seen my master snarl, which truly frightened.

“You stay out of it, bitch,” he swore.

“You don’t have many words in your vocabulary,” I observed, suddenly understanding why Alucard played with his food.

This was fun.

This ant, this walking blood-bag, thought himself dangerous. I’d killed things four times as deadly. He posed no threat to me if I just opened my arms wide and let him do his worst. I had the power, not him.

“She’s a real girlfriend?” I asked, ignoring his fury. “You didn’t just pick her up inside the tattoo place?”

“None of your damn business!” He took a swing at me, which I dodged effortlessly.

“Such a temper.” I grabbed a handful of his hair as he withdrew, tearing out a huge section. His howl of pain and rage made my blood sing.

“You fucking whore!” He attempted to tackle me. I jumped, let him hit the asphalt, then landed on his back as hard as I could. The wet, crunching sound of his spine giving way hit me in my groin, sent a thrill through me unmatched by anything I’d ever felt.

The brute screamed bloody murder, but I’d paralyzed him.

“Shut up,” I commanded, and he had no choice but to obey. His eyes bulged out as I kicked him onto his back. Mocking him, drawing out his fear, I straddled his chest and patted his cheek. “Poor little bully,” I crooned, enjoying the swell of cruelty that warmed my body. I then exposed my teeth in a smile.

His screams reverberated only in my head. I bent and opened his veins. The visceral pleasure of tearing flesh came like an orgasm, a dark delight that carried nectar into my mouth. I lost myself in feeding…

An abrupt, sharp shove knocked me down. Growling, I rolled back to my feet in an instant, squaring off against the form of my master. Confused, I dropped my defense, casting a glance at my prey. He still lived. I wasted blood.

“Don’t forget your surroundings when you eat, police girl,” Alucard said smoothly. “But, go ahead and finish your breakfast.”

I fell to my meal again. Minutes later, when I’d drained him completely, I got up.

“Letting this one go free?” Alucard asked, his eyes upon the battered woman who stood awaiting my command.

For a moment I hesitated. She might or might not be missed. She presented another meal…

“I’m letting her go,” I said, shaking bloodlust from my brain. The temptation of her faded quickly, to my relief.

He dumped you at the tattoo place, I said to her. You went home without seeing him again. You’ll go to sleep and be yourself when you awaken.

She lurched into the night.

“If you were truly concerned, you’d follow her,” Alucard commented.

My temper rose up again, unbidden, shocking in intensity. “I gave her one more shot at smartening up,” I said, wiping blood from my lips and glaring at him defiantly. “I’m not a shepherd of lost sheep.”

My master closed his eyes and shivered. Displaying his infernal grin, he leaned on the brick wall and folded his arms. “No, you’re a wolf in the fold, Seras.”

Just like that, my temper evaporated. I blinked at him.

Still grinning, he jerked his head toward the puddle of light in the street. “You can pick out prey, but you can’t pick out a tattoo?”

Feeling faintly embarrassed for being such a contradicting monster, I blushed. He laughed.

“Come on. I have the perfect design in mind for you.”

A bit outside myself, I followed my creator into the ink shop.

*****************************************************************************

We got stares immediately. We didn’t look like anyone else, for one thing. Everyone milling about and looking for the perfect design wore rough, lower class togs.

“You hear screamin’?” A big, burly man with a dozen facial piercings asked us.

“I do in bed,” Alucard replied, making a few people chuckle. “My girl wants a tattoo.”

Like he’d flipped a switch, Alucard made the man forget all about his question. He’d diverted him with raunchy humor.

“I have a specific design in mind,” Alucard went on. “Shall I draw it?”

“Fine.” The big man shrugged. “We do good freehand work, here. If you like I can make a stencil of your design and just transfer it.”

“That is good, because if you put any ink wrong on my female, I’ll be upset.” Alucard took paper and pen from the man’s hand and began to draw upon it, unconcerned by the glare he received.

He drew swiftly and beautifully. I watched him form a side-view of a dragon, wings outstretched, inside a circle of words. Above the dragon, but inside the circle, he put a cross. The words said, Nu Viata Regina.

“Can you do this?” he asked.

“Simple,” the man grunted. “All in black?”

“Yes.”

“Same size?”

“Yes.”

The man looked at me. “Where do you want it, girl?”

I thought about it a moment. “The small of my back,” I said. I couldn’t see it there, but no one else could, either. Only someone who would know me intimately would see it. “Put it on him, too, please.”

Alucard grinned at me. He drew another tattoo that looked identical to the first, but when I looked closer I saw the word Regina replaced with Rege.

The man sighed. “You know, short of laser surgery, you won’t get these off? It seems like a really cute thing to do, get matching tattoos, but-.”

“Spare me.” Alucard held up his hand. “She and I are eternal.”

“That’s what they all say.”

******************************************************************************

“What does it mean?” I asked. We sat on the parapet again, awaiting the time we would have to sleep. “You came up with the design pretty quick.”

“You don’t like dragons?” He leaned at an impossible angle, seeming relaxed and quite content. He’d not said a thing about my kill tonight, yet.

“I like them,” I said. “But, that one looks official, like a flag symbol.”

“Look it up.” He grinned and said nothing else.

“At least tell me the words and what they mean,” I persisted.

“What are you bargaining with, then?” he asked. “I didn’t say I’d explain the tattoo, only that I’d get one as well.”

God. As if I had insight to what he wanted. As if I could pick his brain and come up with a good trade.

“Tell me something embarrassing about yourself and I’ll consider it,” he offered.

I rolled my eyes. “When I get really amused, my laugh is horrible. I sound like a dying goose.”

Alucard chuckled. “The words mean, ‘No-Life Queen,’” he told me.

“But, I haven’t drunk from you,” I protested.

“You will.” He turned his head and met my gaze. “You will.”