Chapter Three

Clara smiled. "You have risen from the dead and have healed all your wounds. You have no pulse. You do not breathe, and we've been giving you blood so that you can survive.

And the last thing you can remember is a tingling in your neck before you died." She clasped her hands together. "I've read your personnel file, Shamira. I know you're not stupid, even if your former bosses thought you were. You can figure this --"

"Vampire? You're kidding, right? You have to --"

"Wanna go ahead and say 'But there's no such thing as vampires' so we can get that out of the way?"

"There's no such thing as vampires!"

"Thanks. Vampires do exist. So do werewolves and other lycanthropes, and magic and all that stuff.

Not everything you've heard is correct, but there are blood-sucking creatures of the night that inhabit this world.

I'm one of them and now so are you. And don't start looking around for hidden cameras or anything like that. Here, maybe this will help."

She opened her mouth, pointed to her perfect pearly whites, then her canine teeth extended into sharp pointed fangs.

"Jesus Christ!" Naked or not, she scrambled backward off the bed, rolling over backward and colliding with a nightstand, almost depositing a glass lamp onto her already damaged noggin.

"Not exactly." She rolled her eyes when Shamira formed her fingers into the shape of a cross. "Shamira, I'm not even a Christian. I'm Native American. Why do you think that would work?"

Shamira felt a little embarrassed. "Dunno. Works in the movies."

"Well, the movies are wrong on that one. Okay, Vampire 101. The strengths and weaknesses of a vampire depend greatly on how old he or she is.

There are five categories of vamps. You and I are fledglings, and we will be until a century after we were created. Then we become shadows for the next century.

For a century after that, you're a full vampire, followed by a master vampire, and then a vampire lord. If you survive that long, then you're doing pretty damn well, because there aren't a lot of them."

"Once you become a vampire, you're given your own territory, and that territory gets bigger as you get older.

Vampires challenge each other for territories if the other guy or gal has something juicier or wealthier or . . . well, sometimes just because.

That was what you got caught up in. Shane had arranged to meet with these guys about a land deal but didn't trust them. Figured if we met in a public place and had some outside people watching then things would go smoothly."

"That didn't look smooth to me," Shamira said. "Honestly, they looked like petty thugs in nice suits." Of course, that hadn't stopped their guns from working.

"They were. There's a clown out there who wants to muscle in on Shane's . . . Shane's our sire, by the way . . . territory, which is pretty much all of Atlanta and its suburbs."

"Is that big?" Shamira asked. 'I can't believe I'm having this conversation.'

"Huge. Both in area and importance. Atlanta is one of the primary transition points for magical beings entering the United States. Kind of a mystical Ellis Island. That means lots of money and prestige flow through here.

We weren't expecting anything so blatant, which means the guy who tried to backstab us is in for a world of hell from the Tribunal, which is the fancy word for the big council of mystical creatures that makes sure no one does anything stupid that would endanger the rest of us." Someone chose that moment to knock on the door. "Come in!"

Shamira's eyes almost popped out of their sockets when a gorgeous black (excuse me, "African American") woman strolled into the room. She had a body like Halle Berry, though her skin was a bit darker.

She had a short afro which, on her, was actually pretty cute and her breasts were perfectly proportioned to that hourglass figure. She was dressed in a PVC teddy that thrust her breasts upward, and a black thong that was little more than a string with an eye patch on the front.

Topping it all off was an elegant iron collar. Suddenly, Shamira felt embarrassed at being naked again. Next to these two women, she felt something like a rhinoceros.

The woman, who Shamira assumed was Monique, walked with lowered eyes. She knelt at Clara's feet and offered up a pair of designer sweats like it was a sacrifice. "As you requested, Mistress Clara."

"What is with the whole Mistress --" Shamira started to say, then watched as Clara took Monique's head roughly by the hair and pushed her face down to the toes of those leather moccasins.

"You were insolent earlier," Clara said sternly. "You should know that just because we have a guest you should not forget your place."

"But Mistress Clara, I was in my workshop when you called."

Clara's face softened. "Then you behaved properly."

"What is with you?" Shamira asked. "Can't you weirdos wait to play your games until after I'm out of here?"

Clara raised an eyebrow. "Weirdos?" She looked down at Monique. "Do you consider us weird?"

"No, Mistress Clara."

"No?" Shamira asked incredulously. "Bondage vampires from hell isn't weird?"

"Monique is a werewolf, not a vampire. And no, it isn't odd for us at all."

"Werewolf?"

Clara smiled. "Our guest is a woman of few words," she said. "Monique, I think she might like a display."

"Display?" Shamira asked. "What kind of display?"

Monique stood up and quickly undressed. While this was happening, Shamira pulled on the sweats, which were way too tight for her. Her breasts were amazingly firm (thank you Mr. Plastic Surgeon), so the lack of a bra wasn't a problem.

She actually had a pair of sweat pants and a tight workout shirt that was cut low enough to entice the views of every guy at the gym. Or girls. 'What is it with you thinking about girls recently?'

It didn't take long for Monique to get rid of her clothing. Shamira then watched as her skin began to glow and shift, the muscles and bones rearranging themselves under that exterior.

Fur sprouted everywhere and, in the course of about thirty seconds, Shamira had a full-blown wolf sitting in the bedroom. She probably should have screamed or run, but instead just said 

"Beautiful." She reached a handout, and the wolf sniffed her, then licked her hand.

"She thinks you're beautiful," Clara said. "There just may be hope for her yet. Sit!" The wolf sat. "Shamira, vampires tend to collect broods about them. These broods become that vampire's support organization as he or she comes into power.

You can't create vampires until you are at least two centuries old, so the members of the brood tend to be less powerful than their creator. Shane also has made friends and allies amongst the other races and the magic community, so his brood is more diverse. I think that makes him more formidable.

Vampires are also very sexual creatures. At least the movies got that part right. And since vampires tend to live a long time, they surround themselves with people like them. Shane is a sexual dom. Please don't tell me that I need to explain what that is?"

"Nuh-oh," Shamira replied. "I think I've got that one."

"Well, everyone who lives here is part of that scene. Some are doms or dommes, some are subs, and others are switches. A switch is someone who can play either role, depending on their mood."

Shamira shifted a bit uncomfortably. "Glad I won't be living here then."