The Games Children Play
The Games Children Play (A Darkworld Tale)
Rating (this chapter): NC-17 for sex and violence
One of my high school teachers once told me that everyone is good at something. Everyone has some kind of thing that she does very well. The trick is finding out what that something is and making the most of it.
Me, the thing I’m really good at is killing.
I was fifteen when I first killed someone. Everyone makes such a big deal out of killing another human being. How much it will torment you after you do it, how much you will suffer for it. I certainly never gave a second thought to it. That first guy I killed tried to pull me into an alley to ‘have fun’. Draw your own picture. I took his own knife and slit his throat while he was busy groping me.
By the time I was seventeen I was in a mental institution. I got a look at my file a while later. Made for fun reading material.Nero, Vanessa - born January 26, 1977
The subject suffers from a severe case of emotional detachment. She does not register other human beings as alive or relevant, views them as nothing but cardboard cutouts in a world that exists only for her sake. She knows exactly what she has done, but feels no remorse about any of her deeds and lacks even the most basic understanding of right and wrong. It is very doubtful she will ever be able to function in normal society. Lifetime detainment is recommended.
That was the condensed version, by the way. They used a lot more fancy words and phrases. Bottom line, I’m a sociopath and should be locked away until I croak, all for the betterment of the world, mankind, and dolphins everywhere.
Idiots! They never got me. I don’t view other people as cardboards or things or whatever. They scream too much to be anything but alive. I simply don’t care about them. Most people are so boring, killing them is doing them a favor. The world would certainly be better off with a few billion humans less.
I got out of the institution six years later. There I was, aged 23, out on the street in a world that was going straight to Hell. Monsters and demons came pouring out of a small suburban town about two hours away from LA and before you knew it the largest part of the country was ruled by a giant snake with a real phobia about germs, while my home town was taken over by a bloodsucking corpse in the shape of a really, really hot guy.
The latter, of course, is Angelus. Now my dad. I never had much use for my real dad. He hightailed it out of here when I was twelve. My mom always assured me that he loved me. As if I cared. I have a new dad now. One who gave me immortality and more power than my poor loser of a father ever dreamed of. I’m not Vanessa anymore. Vanessa is dead. I’m Nero, right hand of Angelus, one of the two most powerful and feared men in the world.
Not bad for a sociopath who is not fit for human society, right? Of course I’m not exactly human anymore. Bloodsucking corpse, that’s me. And I love it, baby! There’s nothing better than being a vampire.
Still, there is always room for improvement. Don’t get me wrong, I love my life (or is that unlife now?) the way it is. But there is one other thing I’m really good at besides killing things. It’s not really a skill. More like a trait of character I’ve never been able to get rid of.
Curiosity. If there is something secret, I just gotta know.
The best-kept secret in Los Angelus, the city of the undead, is the source of Angelus’ power. Cruentos Dei. The Blood of God. It is daddy’s means of ruling all the vampires around here, even those who are older and more powerful than he is. Though that last one might not be true any longer, seeing how he tore apart that idiot Azrael at the arena games last week.
Anyway, all vampires know that there is nothing better than Cruentos Dei. Take the rush of warm human blood, taken directly from the vein of a beautiful young boy, spiced with his fear, his mortal terror, and then multiply it by a hundred. Then you have the barest inkling of what it is like to taste the Blood of God. It’s an incredible rush. For a few hours you are ten times as strong as you normally are, you can move so fast that a normal vampire will never even notice you before you tear out its throat. And damn, does it feel good.
The rush never lasts, though, and soon you want another one. We are addicted, all of us, even the members of his family. Most of us know it, many have accepted it. Angelus controls the supply, so he controls us. Most vamps will do anything for the next rush. And all of them would give everything if it meant finding out where it comes from.
Including Yours Truly.
Angelus is tightlipped about it, of course. Even to me, his own creation. Okay, I’ve been a member of his family for just over three years now, but I’ve proven myself to him many times over. I’ve killed vampires a hundred times my age for him. As I said, I’m good at killing things. Still he does not trust me enough. That stinks!
So I guess I have to find out on my own.
“Yes,” the man above me moans. “Harder!”
As I said, I would do everything to find out where God’s Blood comes from. Some of the things are even kind of fun. Some others, though, are not. Penn, Angelus’ oldest childe, groans as he comes, shooting his dead sperm into my mouth as his fingers pull my head closer. Vampire cum has no taste. Just a cold, tasteless nothing that fills your mouth. I swallow it down and look up at him, a look of bliss on his face.
Penn is over two centuries old. First-made of Angelus. If anyone knows, he will.
“Who’d have guessed that mouth of yours could be put to such a good use,” he sighs, looking down at me.
I rise up from my knees, giving him an eyeful of my stark-naked body along the way. Penn is tough and strong, but not the smartest cookie around. Rumor has it that he spent most of his two centuries killing people that reminded him of his family. Especially his father, whom he really hated. Talk about wasting a perfectly good eternal life.
I move forward to straddle his lap, his hands moving along my thighs and up to my breasts. He is a skilled lover, no complaints there. Two centuries of experience can turn even the most ill-equipped of men into a Don Juan (and Penn is anything but ill-equipped). Still, I wouldn’t have shared his bed (or chair, in this case) if he didn’t have something I wanted.
“You promised me a treat,” I whisper into his ear, trailing kisses down his neck.
“So I did.” He kisses the hollow of my throat, his hands busily working my breasts as I feel him harden beneath me once more. Another round until he is ready to talk?
“You’re a feisty one, Nero,” he says, sucking my breasts. “You really want to know where God’s Blood comes from?”
I never said it in so many words. Wouldn’t do for Penn to get ideas about ratting out on me to score points with Angelus.
“Don’t I deserve a treat?” I reach down to knead his hardening member, moving it close to my core once more.
“You certainly do, darling.” With a violent thrust he impales me. Penn is big, very big. Wouldn’t know it by looking at him, but he is hung like a horse. Would hurt many a mortal woman with that thing. Not me, though. Vampires are hard to hurt and vampire sex isn’t fun if there isn’t some pain involved.
“God’s Blood then,” he spits out between thrusts, driving both of us closer to the edge. Okay, I stand corrected. This is fun.
“I have no idea where it comes from.”
It takes me a moment to realize what he just said. Damn, he is good, almost managed to make me forget why I’m fucking him. But then his words penetrate. Just a second too late for me to leave him unsatisfied. He comes and one of his hands flicks my clit, throwing me over the edge as well.
I’m barely down from my climax when I jump away from him on wobbly knees, glaring.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“It’s not a difficult sentence, dear.” He smiles in post-coital bliss. “It means I don’t know. Not a thing. Nada.”
“But... but you’re his oldest childe. You have to...”
“No one knows,” Penn interrupts me, rising from the chair we just fucked on. “Except maybe Dru. Who knows what she sees in those visions of hers? I wouldn’t try pumping her for information, though. That whole mad child-bride thing she’s got going, well, I wouldn’t go so far as to call it an act, but she is nowhere near as naive as she appears. You don’t want to mess with her.”
I don’t believe this! He doesn’t know. I don’t think he’s lying to me, either. Penn isn’t that good a liar, I’ve seen him do it and he stinks at it. Damn, if the fuck hadn’t been so good I would be really pissed right now.
Shit! I AM PISSED!
With a growl I lounge at Penn, aiming to tackle him to the ground and drain his blood until he is weak as a kitten. Then do some really nasty things to him. Unfortunately Penn is no pushover. He twists us over in midair and lands on top of me, growling right back.
“What do you think you’re doing, darling?” he hisses. “Think you’re tough enough to play with the monsters? I killed a hundred little girls like you, Nero. You’re nothing special!”
I try to struggle free, but he’s got too good a hold on me. After a moment, though, he lets go on his own, rising with a smile on his once-again human face.
“I won’t tell on you, Nero. It will be much more fun to see you fall flat on your face without outside assistance. Believe me, Angelus has patience in but one area. Killing people. He doesn’t suffer fools for long.”
“I’m not a fool!” I jump back to my feet, baring my fangs at him.
”Oh, but you are. I think you will find that out soon enough. The only question is whether Angelus will be satisfied showing you the error of your ways, or whether he’ll just do away with you. I’ll be there watching.”
With that he turns his back on me, heading over to the far side of the room where his latest obsession has been tied to a table all this time. A vampire from the late Azrael’s entourage, a beautiful dark-haired woman. Her nude body is already covered with dozens of cross-shaped scars.
“You remind me of a sister I once had,” Penn whispers to her as he carves another cross into the side of her neck. The vampire whimpers.
Dressed, pissed off beyond measure, I try to come up with a new idea. Penn doesn’t know. Drusilla might, but Penn needn’t have warned me away from her. Dru certainly isn’t your average vampire. From what I’ve learned about the family history she was driven mad before Angelus turned her, and gifted with Second Sight to boot. She killed a Slayer in under a minute, or so I’m told. Just made the girl look into her eyes and then slit her throat.
No, Drusilla is not someone I will try and pump for info. But who does that leave? The only other person that is close to Angelus is his pet Slayer, Buffy. To tell you the truth, I never thought much about her. She was his sex toy, nothing more. Until last week when I saw her fight in the arena.
Talk about violence in motion. Watching her take down what should have been my kill didn’t piss me off, though I expected it to. No, it made me hot. I’m not one for the girls, but this chick... a woman could be tempted here, I tell you. She bleeds off violence and passion even when she’s just standing still.
The story goes that she was once the best and brightest champion of the goody two-shoes. Even threw down with Angelus and sent him packing. But then daddy came back and captured her. No one saw her for over four years and when she finally came back she was his willing and eager lover, killer, whatever. No one knows what he did to her during those four years to make her like this. I’m honestly not sure I want to know. Angelus isn’t called the Sadist for nothing.
Buffy could know, yes. But with the amount of brainwashing Angelus must have subjected her to I doubt she would tell me a word if she did. Would probably ram a stake into my heart the moment the question cleared my mouth.
Smartest move would be to quit this idea before it really gets me into trouble. But when have I ever been smart?
The Hollywood mansion Angelus uses as his home leaves quite a few options for sneaking around. Maybe ways for the husband to sneak into the maid’s quarters, who knows? I don’t care as long as it provides me with the perfect opportunity to sneak into daddy’s private chambers.
Fully half of the house is barred to anyone but Angelus and his little Buffy. He probably isn’t stupid enough to store God’s Blood here, but I might find a clue. So I sneak. The things one does out of curiosity.
The wing is silent except for some faint noises from the master bedroom. Is Angelus banging his favorite sex toy right now? Would be perfect. I don’t think even he is so paranoid as to fuck with one eye open. No, he’s got better things to do right now. Much more enjoyable things that he never did with me, only with her. Only with Buffy.
Oh damn! Here is the curiosity again. Angelus never fucks anyone but Buffy. I mean, she looks hot and all, a lot stronger than she looks, but she is still a mortal. How good can she be? Why hasn’t he ever ordered me to his bed? I certainly wouldn’t have minded. He is built like a Greek god.
I just have to see them fuck.
Sneaking closer to the master bedroom I dare a peek through the half-open door. The room is big, all black marble with white veins. No windows, just a big fireplace and a huge four-poster bed. The latter currently occupied by two nude bodies entwined to the point where it’s hard to tell one from the other. Except that one is a lot paler than the other.
Angelus pounds into his Buffy with enough force to shatter a normal human woman, but the Slayer gives back in kind. Watching them like this is enough to make me wet. They look beautiful together, I have to admit that. Like a painting of violent passion come to life. Without conscious effort my hands slides into my pants, finding my dripping center.
With a growl Angelus vamps out and sinks his fangs into Buffy’s neck.
All thoughts of getting myself off vanish in a heartbeat. Angelus’ body is shaking with rapture, his skin positively glowing, power bleeding off him in waves. This isn’t just an orgasm, not just the rush of drinking blood.
It’s the same rush I see in everyone who drinks God’s Blood.
I run away from the bedroom as fast as I can, hoping that both of them were too busy with each other to notice someone standing outside their door. Damn, why didn’t I see this before? I mean, everyone always speculated that it would have to be the blood of some kind of mythological creature. Some said an angel, others said some kind of half-god or deity.
Close, but no cigar. It’s the Slayer. It’s her blood.
No, this can’t be right. Many vampires have killed Slayers before. They have certainly tasted their blood, too. Shouldn’t this have turned them into super-vamps then? Angelus’ errand childe Spike has two Slayers to his name and he certainly isn’t more powerful than a locomotive.
I’m still missing something here. It can’t just be Buffy’s blood alone. There has to be some other ingredient, maybe something that Angelus introduced into her blood to make it more powerful. His own blood maybe? Could it be that easy? Angelus is descendant from the most powerful of all vampire bloodlines, the Order of Aurelius. Maybe he gave Buffy a sip of his blood, mixing a strong demonic power with something that was touched by some kind of higher force. Or maybe it’s something he picked up during his long stint in hell, or maybe...
I’ll have to look into that further. Without anyone noticing. I haven’t lived nearly long enough to get myself killed over this. But it is certainly worth the risk.
Buffy is the source of Cruentos Dei.
Well, Slayer, like it or not, you’re gonna get a new best pal. I just know we’re gonna get along great, girlfriend.