Sophie was distraught at the thought of losing Emmaline to the women Christine said would be their lifelong enemies. To think that only days before they had shared their first kiss, and now it was likely she may never see her again, or even worse that an encounter would result in having to actually fight her former best friend.
Despite all those misgivings it was surprisingly easy for Sophie to put it all aside and trust in her mistress. She still hadn't quite worked out why this was so, but it seemed that whenever Christine issued a command, the rest of the universe didn't matter and she just went to work doing what was asked.
Of course when this pertained to sex the pull was obvious and need not be explained. The Lady Christine's body was to her the most inviting and alluring thing she'd ever known. Yet even when her duties had nothing to do with that, like when she was told to return home one night, to the place she had lived before being turned -- and her Lady bade her to get her clothes and then leave promptly once more, she did not argue a moment.
Even when she was forbidden from speaking to, or even glancing at her parents, Sophie had no difficulty obeying orders. By all logic that should not have been an easy thing.
Christine's instruction in the matter was all she needed and it was done. This ease she felt with her mistress by her side gave her comfort she had never felt. Sophie honestly believed that with Christine to protect and guide her nothing could go wrong.
This fact made what happened a few days later all the more disconcerting. Christine was visibly upset. She had woken from her usual slumber with wide eyes and if Sophie hadn't known any better she'd have thought she saw fear in those sparkling blue eyes.
" Sophie, my darling something is wrong."
"What?"was all the young vampire could muster in response.
"I've had a premonition dear. And It isn't good. What's more is that I think it concerns your Emma, at least somehow, maybe indirectly. The thing is, in my premonition, or dream, I saw her. And something, or someone else. I guess we can be absolutely sure of the fact that miss Black is no longer among the mortal beings of the worlds. Exactly what this means I can't be sure but I have a sneaking suspicion that we could be in for some serious trouble."
"What kind of trouble?" asked Sophie concerned.
"The softbites have always been a nuisance but nothing I can't handle. This has to be something more, I feel it in my soul darling. Perhaps those witches have done something, made a pact with demons of demigods. Similar deals have been struck before and it wasn't good for our kind. See, our immortality is, shall I say still as yet imperfect. True nothing mortal, nor equal, can kill us. Sunlight of course can hurt, but really only leads to sun-sickness which can be healed with enough rest. But there are ways we may die. Rare as the threats may be they do exist. For now I will spare you the gory details but I think that I may need to call in some help."
All these revelations were hitting Sophie like a ton of bricks. She could die after all. So many questions were now swirling through her head but the one she seized on and repeated out loud was a simple one.
"W-who would help us?"
Christine said simply "we need a fixer."
XXX
The sound of insects could be heard as they scurried across a damp wet floor in a deep dark tunnel A loud audible crunch was made as a beetle was crushed to wet bits on the cavern floor.
The fixer loved the noise and feeling of it as the lower lifeforms being squished and exterminated under her sharp, black, high heeled shoes. Truth be told she would have enjoyed it just as much barefoot.
It was a powerful sensation that bordered on an erotic experience for her. To take life in an instant, so utterly and completely was a real satisfaction for her. That was what made being a fixer so damn fun.
A fixer, in this sense was a very high order of vampire ; Loners in most cases fixers were vamps who delighted in killing. They were not mad, that would have made them rouges and utterly cut off from the larger vampire community.
On the contrary fixers were valued by any vamp with good sense. They were the assassins of all things otherworldly. From werewolves to devils and demons of all kinds. It was strictly forbidden of course to contact a fixer to kill another vampire, but it did happen from time to time if the price was right.
This particular fixer was named Rebecca. She was beautiful, almost beyond words. She stood to a height of 5ft 5 inches but walked with an air of supreme confidence that came with knowing power even most vampires could only dream of.
Rebecca was no ordinary vampire. She inherited her uncommon abilities in her equally uncommon birthing. Rebecca was the lovechild of a vampire and a succubus -- a demon of hell's seventh circle and devourer of souls. What all this meant in practical terms was that Rebecca could not be a maker in the conventional sense ; but this downside was made up for by her increased strength, speed, and a special skill that no one else even knew she possessed.
Rebecca was a leecher of supernaturals. Meaning she could steal their powers and lifeforce thereby growing stronger with each kill she made. This is what drew her to fixing in the first place, but she found that as time went on it really was an enjoyable job.
Despite the joy she found in her work Rebecca did have an intense desire to create. If she couldn't do it with bites she thought she must find other means.
Her original instinct was to do it the way her parents had, the way human did it. But upon reflection she thought better of that. Male supernaturals were a real pain in the ass, and always thought that they were superior beings.
Rebecca knew the falsity in that belief having dispatched any number of them in her past. She was clearly capable of raising the thing on her own. The real trick was to figure out how to achieve her goal alone.
After several weeks of planning Rebecca had finally settled on an idea that just might work. This was how she found herself wheeling a coma patient through the subterranean passageways beneath London.
She stole away this particular comatose cutie-pie in the late hours of the night. The extraction had been easy with her speed. When she arrived back home, in a disused mansion she had procured just days before Rebecca pushed her prize inside the room basement bedroom she had chosen for the coming experiment.
Rebecca brushed her long black hair out of her hazel green eyes and pulled the sheets down to get a full look at her specimen. The girl before her had auburn hair to her slender girlish shoulders. Her eyes were dark and almost gray in color. She had a lower lip piercing that Rebecca liked a lot.
Rebecca had several piercings of her own ; including both nipples, her ears, and several dermal implants -- some of which were in the back of her delicate neck. The most erotic work of all though was the dermal implants on her tender pussy. The implants protruded from the softest of all feminine flesh and were placed in a line leading downward so that they eye of any luck enough to look upon them followed ever closer to the pretty little slit.
