Tourmaline's Green Depths

Chapter One

"Come, Maline.  It is fresh." Agata held the china mug out to her mistress trying to draw her attention away from the northward view of the garden. The woman with her bold profile and wavy auburn hair pinned up with haphazard grace kept her languid pose.  Her brilliant ivory skin draped in cream silk jacquard glowed against the dark tapestry of the chaise lounge. "Come now, it's been days."

Tourmaline turned to sniff at the offered mug, its delicate pattern of lilacs and gold filigree, belied the viscous red contents that clung to its interior.  She reached forward a slender hand to receive the warm mug, knowing her loyal housekeeper of many a moon would stand in her current pose until Maline bent to her will.  Lips of the palest rose, curved into a slight smile, and her deeply hooded eyes opened to turn her inhumanly green eyes onto the middle-aged woman before her.  "Thank you, Agata.  You are correct as always."  She raised the cup to her lips, the feel of bone china sensuous on she lips, as she forced herself to take a prim sip.  Her stomach muscles convulsed with revulsion.  Yes.  It has been too long.  She had to except her body's will and go out tonight.  "Please get Wojtec to bring around the car at sundown.  I will go out tonight."  The green-eyed woman handed back the offending mug.

The older woman nodded.  Maline caught the satisfied smile on her housekeeper's face as she turned toward the door.  She knew if it were not for Agata and her husband, Wojtec, she would not still be walking this plane.  Age and boredom had taken its toll these last few years, leaving her no inclination to venture beyond this burgundy dressing room.

She looked out past the dark muted tones of the brocade curtains and the foamy cream sheers to the distant line of cedars along the shore of the river.  The water and the clouds above were painted with the rosy hues of the setting sun.  It was that magic moment when the warm light gilded the landscape with rose-gold.  It was her favourite time of day.

Once the magic had past and the violet hues of evening darkened the landscape, her pushed herself from the lounge to prepare for the hunt.  She crossed from the sitting area to her dressers to search for the appropriate enticement for her query. 

Once dressed, she smoothed down the fitted black silk shirt, turning up its flared cuffs.  She had buttoned it just enough to show the edge of her black lace bra.   Her black pants were of a modern fabric that stretched and clung slightly.   Their low cut showed off the dark green gem set in her navel.  The sparkles of green and reflected gold from its dark depths matched her eyes, tourmaline.  She opened her jewelrybox; its drawers filled with the items set with that same glittering green, and withdrew earrings of the same brilliant cut. She unpinned her hair letting it fall past her shoulders. She selected a set of black lacquered chopsticks from a vase and with practiced hand nearly tamed her mane into a heavy spiral at the back of her head.  The tops and tips of the crossed sticks barely showed amongst the escaped ends.

There was no mirror that could tell Tourmaline of her success with her ensemble, she had only experience.  She picked up the slim black purse from the top of the dresser and left.

She found a parking spot in the municipal parking garage’s third floor and made her way to the stairwell.  She opened the door, marked Exit, to be hit with the dank smell of old urine and sweat.  And fear.  She made her way down; her steps audible to her ears alone.

There was a soft sob followed by a human growl. A hoarse male whispered, “you make another sound and I’ll gut you.”

Maline found them between the basement and first floor.  She turned the corner to see a large man pressing a smaller terrified woman to the floor.  The vampire could see that the young woman’s eyes were clenched shut cutting off the harsh reality around her.  The man had his back to the door his attention taken by holding the knife and a one-handed attempt to remove the woman’s pants.  Weak and stupid.

In three quick steps she had the-would-be rapist head between her hands. A quick twist and the man died with a spasm. Over so quick. This was the type of prey that could be so much fun to hunt she stoked its hair before letting it drop to the ground.  She looked to the woman, whose eyes were still wide with fright.  She held them.  Go. Home. The woman leapt up and ran for the stairs without looking back.

Maline resisted the temptation to nudge the body before her with her foot and headed for the stairs.  She took a deep unneeded breath once she hit the streets to clean her senses.  She shook her head and straightened her clothes before setting off down York to a bar she knew would be packed even on a Thursday.

She walk into the Clasped Heart under the sign painted with a crowned heart held by two hands.

<prologue   chapter two>