They just blink at me.
“Err, your marking has gone,” Devon croaks.
“Oh, good. That thing was a pain in the arse. Makes sense though, I suppose, as Ahmed says that the Power of One no longer exists.” I flex my shoulders and feel a weird ripple go across my back. I roll my eyes, “Oh, what now?” I bark at them. “What the fuck is it?” I spin on my heel and stalk into the bathroom, pulling my top back off in the process. They follow, still silent, as I shall soon see for myself what they don’t want to tell me.
With my back facing the mirror, I turn my head to peer over my shoulder, so that I take in what they can see. My shoulders slump.
“Oh, great,” I mutter as my eyes take in the Dragon tattoo etched across the expanse of my back. “Holy crap!” I say suddenly as the thing actually moves, a slow sweep of its wings.
I turn back to the three with a horrified look on my face.
“Nice ink,” Devon says with a smirk.
“It…it moves? What if someone sees it? Am I going to have to wear clothes with backs on them forever now?” I say woefully.
They laugh at me and my sartorial concern.
“Clothes with backs on them, while not necessarily a bad suggestion, is hardly the most pressing concern,” Cole says. “How are we going to explain that your surprise Power of One tattoo is no longer there and has been replaced with… that?” He holds up his hands and motions in a circle.
“Indeed,” CK says. “I think you may have to cover up for a while.”
Huffing in annoyance, I pull my top back over my head and take another peek. Yep, I can see
wing tips.
“What about your markings?” I ask Cole and Devon.
They hold their wrists up to show me the markings have gone. Clearly their use to build my Power is over.
A commotion in the sitting room causes us all to head back that way, tattoo forgotten.
James launches himself at me and pins me to the wall by my throat. A punch to my face momentarily stuns me and it takes me a second for my brain to catch up. He must know about Eloise. I bring my hand up to his and use my superior strength to push his hand away. I turn him, bringing his arm up behind his back and forcing him to his knees. Not unlike his sire’s final pose, I think ironically.
“Hit me again and I will rip your head off,” I snarl as he struggles against my tightening grip.
“You bitch!” he snarls. “What have you done to her?”
That catches me by surprise as I assumed he must know of her demise. My grip loosens slightly, so he takes advantage of that, bringing his other arm up to elbow me in the stomach. I let go of him for a split second, winded, but it’s a split second too long. Almost evenly matched, Vampirically speaking, I still know I can take him with this new Power, as can CK. But Devon, and especially Cole, are hundreds of years younger and therefore sitting ducks.
With a flash of Vampire speed, he makes his move on Cole, fangs and claws at the ready. I move myself forward with my own Vampire speed, but to my astonishment, Constantine beats me to it, knocking him flying across the room with a hand to his chest before he can get his hands on my husband. I smile my thanks and he shrugs, but I’m grateful. Had James gotten a hold of Cole, that would most likely have been the end of him.
It takes several seconds for James to recover after an attack from an Initial Vampire. He stands slowly, hands up with a vicious sneer. “If I could just get you on your own, I could take you.”
“Not likely,” I scoff. “You have no idea who you are messing with now.”
That gives him pause. “Just tell me where she is, and I will leave.”
Glancing at CK, he says, “He is going to find out eventually. Might as well tell him.”
“Tell me what?” he asks warily.
“She’s dead, James. I killed her. And Gregor,” I add as an afterthought. For the second time in as many minutes, he has me at a disadvantage. I’m pinned beneath him, his hand at my throat, while he bangs my head painfully on the floor. Christ, will I never learn? I grip his shirt front and shove at him, while CK pulls him off me by the scruff of his neck. “I can fight my own battles,” I say to him huffily as I stand up, dusting my jeans off.
He raises an eyebrow at me. “I know. But I’m not taking any chances. Not with you,” he says.
To James, I say, “You can’t win this. Even if I was alone, you can’t win. She’s dead. Deal with it or I will finish you off as well.”
“Why?” he asks in defeat, “Why did you do it?”