hismasterpiece | 2. LAMBING.

Tonight, just after sundown, there is a ruckus on one of the farms northeast of the village. When the bleating dies down, several dead lambs might be found in one of the enclosures. The ewes paw and nose at the bodies, dumb terror still fresh in their eyes.

Forest animals just have not been cutting it for Drusilla. But the vampire has been too wary to approach the village and feed there -- not without her Family, those who strengthen her. She stalks the journals during the day when she's not sleeping. Two slayers? A vampire hunter? All sorts of overpowered freaks and heroes and demons? She might be mad, but Dru is not stupid enough to attempt any kills in the village. Yet.

As she tears through the last lamb, the vampire laments to herself how much more fun this would be with Spike. And then she convinces herself in a long, drawn-out argument with a curiously red evening star -- which she quickly names Ethelind -- to spy on the sleeping village. Find out where the sweetest victims lay their heads. Her tattered white new-feather sundress, covered only by a black lace shawl, is stained red with lambs' blood. The dress of her porcelain doll, which she is carrying with her, is also stained. Perhaps she can stop at the shop for a new frock, and one for dolly, too.

When she glides through the village, Drusilla will dare to peek into some windows. She cannot enter any homes without an invitation.

[Dru will not be lingering around anyone she has identified as a threat. She is a powerful vampire but far more bold when working with lackeys or her "family" -- Angel, Spike, Darla. IF YOU WANT YOUR CHARACTER TO DIE OR BE INJURED AT THIS TIME JUST TELL ME IN A SUBJECT LINE, otherwise she won't be killing or hurting anyone in this post.]

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I resisted the impulse to bristle, for a number of reasons. First of all, crazy lady. Can't expect tact from a crazy lady. Second of all, it was sparse. I had done nothing with it, except the locked center bedroom which I'd put my lab equipment into.

"Guess I'm just a plain white biscuit sort of guy." I waved off to the room I had sort-of claimed.

"Bed's there, if you want to get some sleep. Think I'll do the same, actually."

The sofa was inoffensive and sparse, like the rest of the unit. I really missed my own hideously ugly and ridiculously comfortable sofa back home. I reached beneath the frame, found a spare blanket I'd grabbed just in case, and tossed it onto the seat, kicking off my shoes and sitting down.

"Night."

"Night." He eyes flashed. "We don't sleep at night, darling. And you look cherry-filled to me." Drusilla made no move to enter the bedroom. Instead, she reached one slender white arm high over her head and stretched before letting her nails drift down the nearby wall.

The paint flecked off beneath her nails.

We don't sleep at night.

We don't sleep at- oh, Hell's Bells. This was bad. This was bad.

I stood up off the couch, holding the pentacle amulet out in front of me.

It hadn't worked before, but I didn't have much. Oh, hell. Oh, hell.

"... Oh, trust me, there's nothing cherry flavored here."

How the hell did she not pull away from the pentacle? How the hell-

Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Different universe, different magic, different rules, Harry, you idiot, you said that. You said it to yourself and you said it to Molly.

And now you've invited her into the damn house, you idiot.

I kept the pentacle out in front of me, desperately channeling my faith into it once again.

Not that I really thought it would accomplish much, but I was a little strapped for options.

Once again, the pentacle did not quite repel the vampire, but it did seem to deaden her appetite and her lust to kill. She peered at it, curious -- seemingly comfortable in his home, in spite of his discomfort.

"Wizard?"

"Well, it's good to know I wasn't the only one missing something."

She was talking now, and it... seemed to placate her. I had taken it for fascination earlier, but now the shift from predatory to relaxed was much more obvious. Good, this was good. Just keep her at bay, get your wits around you.

"Now, then. You were going to kill me. That's a little problematic for me. And now that I've invited you into my house, you can kill me anyway."

Hmm. I could try fire, but I hadn't tossed any around in a serious fight since I got here. I could barely hurt her, or I could blast out a supporting wall and bring the whole building down.

I'd had enough of that back home. Not the preferred option.

Force magic didn't work well on vampires back home, since they had a high threshold to both pain and physical injury, I didn't have any stakes or holy items. Somehow I didn't see the rice working.

All I had was a pentacle that made her vaguely less inclined to kill me. Temporarily.

"So. To answer your question? Yes. I'm a wizard. Big, bad spooky wizard. And I'm a nice guy, so I'm gonna go ahead and give you one chance- and one only- to tell me why I shouldn't smite you where you stand so you don't come back and kill me in my sleep."

I'd gotten damn good at bluffing in my time, but who the hell knew if it was good enough?

She smiled at him, slow and sultry. Drusilla liked wizards. She liked power. Not directed at HER, of course, but there was something tingly about it, like walking through tall grass or feeling hailstones prick your skin.

"I'd never kill you in your sleep, love. I'd like it better if you were wakeful for it."

Still, though, she did not advance.

I felt the strain as my knuckles tightened on the pentacle's chain. My hand grasped for a blasting rod that wasn't here.

"Strangely? That isn't making me feel much better. Oh, and if you'd be so good as to take off my coat? I'd rather not mess it up."

Hmm. Yeah, regardless of what happened, I'd be a lot happier if I wasn't fighting my own protective enchantments.

"Take it off?" She petted the sleeve with long, graceful strokes. "But it's so very cozy! And it smells of almonds."

"I like that jacket. Take it off and get out of my apartment."

The amount of focus I was pouring into the pentacle was exhausting, and I really wasn't at a hundred percent anyway, what with the weird power-dampening thing and the low levels of latent energy in the village to draw from. This wouldn't last much longer. I didn't want to get violent, but at this rate I was afraid I might have to.

"Take it off and get out or what, exactly?"

Violent it was, then.

I couldn't just scare her off, or she'd leave with my jacket. I didn't want to kill her, not when she hadn't even attacked me yet. But I did have a trick that might work for this.

I hadn't used it in a while. It was never meant to see combat, it had always been intended to scare Molly straight- and it had done that job admirably- but I was pretty sure I could pull it off.

I cupped my free hand and whispered, "Fuego." Gathering my anger, my frustration, and- let's not kid ourselves- my utter terror at being alone in a house with a barely-restrained vampire after my blood, I worked it all into a tiny, focused ball of flame.

It wasn't large- maybe half an inch across- but it was intense, light and heat radiating from it enough to leave my palm uncomfortably warm as it floated between my fingers.

But this time, I didn't want a slow, steady progression. That wasn't the point I was trying to make, here. Instead, I dropped my hand with a gesture, and it flew toward the vampire, pausing inches from her face.

"Now, apparently you're not the kind of vamp I'm familiar with, so I just have to ask. How do you guys respond to fire?"

This bluff was becoming exhausting. I was wearing myself out quickly, between my desperate focus on the pentacle in my hand and the intensity with which I was holding together my fire spell.

Yeah, the whole 'magic dampening' effect in this village could bite me.

2. LAMBING.

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