To Protect and Serve Ch. 08

She took a deep sniff and then, "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice highly unfriendly.

Renata strolled out of the darkness. "Damn hard to sneak up on you, you know that? We miss you inside," the werejaguar added, tilting her head toward the house. "But you probably don't much care, do you? Shamira, I'm not going to apologize for what I did. Shane says to put someone in the cell, I do it. I can't let how I feel cloud my judgment or stop me from my duty. None of us can. But Banshee and I both hated what Shane wanted us to do and we told him so. How long are you going to hold this against us?"

"I'm immortal. I guess that means I can hold grudges a damn long time. And what is this about telling him how mad you were after the fact? That's like making your last stand after the Alamo has burnt to the ground. Too little, too late." Shamira turned to walk away.

"So that's it?" Renata said, her frustration spilling over in her voice. "You're going to alienate everyone you work with? Nuh-uh chica." She hurried around and got in the vampire's face. "It sucks that the world doesn't work the way you want or the way it should. It sucks that Shane got mad at you for doing the right thing. You know what? Get over it. He fucked up when he didn't listen to me that night you died, and I did what I needed to do to make him feel better. Yeah, I got a thrill, but it still fucking sucked that I had to play the 'victim' so he could ease his guilt. Shane's not fucking perfect either. You want to get back at him? Guess what? You already have. He knows he didn't do this right, and he's been ripping himself a new asshole trying to figure out how to make it right while still playing by those vampire rules you hate so much. He respects you just like everyone else around here and --"

"Just shut up," Shamira said, gritting her teeth. "You know what I thought? That first day I was in the cell. I was awake for over a day realizing that some were or vamp or faerie was probably chained up somewhere being bled to death while I just stood there. Then I realized that the sex and the golf and all the rest of it were just the same. Stupid games this house plays when we could be using all these abilities to actually do some good. All these things that I wanted so badly were happening at someone else's expense. You and Shane and Banshee took away the illusions that make me happy and the ability to do anything about it, all in one fell stroke."

"No one can save everyone," Renata said. "Try and do it without taking time for yourself will drive you nuts. How you felt wasn't an illusion. Lord knows how you felt about Clara wasn't an illusion. I mean, are you going to punish her forever too?"

"No," Shamira said, thinking about the four more days. "Not forever."

Renata was running out of energy. Shamira's anger was wearing her down, but she wasn't out. "I'm not giving up on you. I'm still your friend, like it or not. You have a code that you live by, and I admire you for sticking to it. But so do the rest of us, and I won't apologize for doing what I think is right. Maybe it's more long-term than short-term, but it's still worth doing. Even if it means sucking up your damn pride every once in a while and just letting something slide." Renata lifted her round face. And you've got to either forgive Clara or at least give her heart a clean break, because what you're doing to her right now sucks. Punishing her is like Shane punishing you . . . she doesn't deserve it. But she thinks you're worth it, so she's waiting for you to let her back in." Renata stepped aside and headed back to the house. "If you let an opportunity like her slip away because Shane was a dumbass, then . . . well, then you're a dumbass too."

Shamira didn't let her gaze follow the fleeing werejaguar, because she didn't want her eyes to betray the self-loathing she felt. She wanted to forgive everyone, she wanted to share meals and laughs with them, and she wanted to share Clara's bed . . . their bed. But every time she thought about forgiving, the anger built back up, seemingly worse than before. Four more days, and then maybe everyone could get some peace.

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The next night . . .

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Shamira was woken when Sebastian came into the lounge and started shaking her shoulder.

"Damn, you must've been tired. Shane just called everyone to the garage. Seems that Tribunal person is due to land at Hartsfield in an hour and a half and we gotta get going."

Shamira jumped up, looked at the grandfather clock, and started to curse. "Is he an idiot? An hour and a half to Hartsfield-Jackson? Traffic on the 285 is still going to be hell. Why couldn't this clown land later when traffic is lighter?"

"Okay. You've just managed to be disrespectful to Shane AND a member of the Tribunal at the same time. Are you trying to get fired or killed? Just curious."

Shamira ignored him and moved quickly to the garage. Delaying things would only bring her more attention, and she was tired of it.

"Shamira," Shane said, standing next to his limousine, "You're one of the drivers. Take point, stay on 75. There's a wreck reported on 285 eastbound." He watched her stare back at him and then climb into one of the SUVs without a word. He looked at Banshee who was headed towards the driver's side of the limo. She shrugged.

"I'm sorry, my lord. This is a situation of your own making. We are all trusting for you to resolve it."

He sighed. This "situation" might cost him more than a powerful fledgling vampire, but also respect amongst his friends and employees. He was beginning to wonder if anything he did could make things right.

The vehicles filled up and pulled out, heading to the airport at a generous clip. Driving the speed limit on Atlanta was actually more suspicious of a suspicious activity than not, so she pulled the caravan up to seventy-two miles per hour and headed south. She kept to one lane to make sure she didn't lose the others or allow them to get separated. They actually got to the airport on time, pulling through the passenger pick-up lane.

She wasn't sure how security wasn't raising more eyebrows at their little parade, but she counted her blessings. Leaving the shotgun in the car, she threw her trench coat on to conceal her considerable firepower and moved toward the building. Shane stepped out, talking on the phone and waving everybody over to him.

He hung up. "She's on the way out," he said to the assembled crowd, who looked like the scariest bunch of Matrix extras that had ever lived. "We surround her, she picks one of the drivers, and then we and her people mount back up. Radio silence once we get back in the cars unless something goes wrong. No one knows which vehicle she'll be in."

'At least we know this Tribunal member is a "she",' Shamira thought. The Tribunal member's contingent quickly made their presence known. While Shane's people wore leather, these guys all wore immaculate Italian suits, and they were fucking huge with a capital "H." They were all vampires, and they looked tougher than railroad spikes. Standing in the middle was the Tribunal member and . . . oh, Shamira could feel the power.

The woman was tall, standing about six feet, and she was dressed in a gorgeous black dress that clung to an impossibly supple body. Between the dress and the long black opera gloves, not much skin was showing, and one of her guards was holding an umbrella to help with the sun. A shawl was wrapped around her neck, and it also formed a hood through which only her perfect pale skin and crimson lips could be seen. Shamira didn't need to view the whole face to realize this woman was truly beautiful. And she didn't need to see her in action to realize that she was powerful.

Shamira felt like she was on the bottom of a lake . . . intense pressure caused by something so vast that it mocked her ability to move it all. She wasn't the only one affected as such, with Shane being the only one who didn't take a half step back. Instead, he smiled. Shamira had never seen him smile quite like that. His lips held true joy, and his eyes held welcome.

'Crap!' she thought. 'It's her! That's Shane's sire!' Shane had told her once that he had sheltered several members of the Tribunal without knowing who they were, and one had taken an interest in him. Shamira had gathered that she didn't bring him over right away, but had befriended him, nurtured him, and even saved him from rabid werewolves.

And for all her power, she had been a willing submissive to him, teaching him how to be dominant. 'Does he love her?' she wondered. 'No. It just feels . . . different than that. Hell, he's been her offspring for what . . . 350 years? What must a relationship like that feel like? Not that I'll ever know,' she thought angrily.

They gathered together, and Shane and the woman spoke closely. Shamira could detect a sultry Italian accent to her words, and the sound felt like it could massage all worries away. Then her head slowly drifted until she was facing Shamira.

"I will ride with her," the woman murmured. "We will speak at your house," she added, turning back towards Shane and smiling.

Shamira wasn't sure who looked more surprised: her or Shane. But Shane certainly got over it faster, motioning back to the cars. When Shamira got to hers, she felt a strong hand on her shoulder.

"Let another drive," came that voice. "Please. Sit beside me and tell me of Atlanta. Shane tells me that you were once a police officer, so you know the city well. Yes?"

"He told you all that right now?"

"No. He and I speak often. When I saw you, I knew instantly who you were, for one such as you," the woman purred, her voice lapping at Shamira's skin, "is unique, even among our kind."

"I'll drive," Valeska said properly, averting her eyes.

Come to think of it, everyone was averting their eyes. Everyone except Shane and Shamira. It wasn't that Shamira felt no effect of the woman's presence, but she just wasn't quite as overwhelmed as the others.

"Thank you."

Shamira opened the door for their guest, with a couple of her guards getting in the back seat, Valeska driving, and Reaper riding shotgun. Literally. Shamira sat next to this ancient being in awkward silence as the vehicles got rolling again. The woman was waiting for Shamira.

"What did you want to know?" she asked, her voice breaking under the pressure.

"What would you tell anyone visiting your city? A relative, perhaps?" The woman's told was seeped in meaning, because she was like . . . like a grandmother. She was the grandmother to all of Shane's vampire children.

"The Atlanta Aquarium is nice," she started. "I'll point out the area when we go past. The whale sharks are cool, but I still prefer the aquarium up in Chattanooga better. It's just more peaceful. Underground Atlanta is kind of a waste of time . . . same with the Coke museum. The Fox is great though."

"The Fox?"

"It's a theater. Plays and such, though they have other events there too. It's one of those old fashioned places, you know? The kind you see in old movies. One of the only places you can have wine and popcorn and not be a freak." Shamira just started to spill everything she knew about every attraction in Atlanta, and she knew enough that she kept up the conversation until her voice gave out just past the Chastain exit.

"Are you planning on taking in the sights?" Shamira said, her voice wheezing a bit. How could something that didn't require air anymore wheeze?

"I would like to, but not this trip. I have a slightly selfish reason for my inquisitiveness."

"Which is?"

That beautiful mouth smiled. "I get motion sickness easily. Conversation keeps me distracted."

Shamira stared . . . then started to snicker.

"My malady amuses you?"

"It's just (snicker) that you're probably the most powerful creature that I've ever met, and you get motion sickness?"

The woman lifted her face, and Shamira saw that she was indeed beautiful. Her eyes were lavender . . . Shamira didn't even know eyes came in that color. And those eyes were large, drawing Shamira in ways that not even her voice could. Dark hair brushed gently over the smooth, porcelain skin of her brow, and even her nose had a delicate elegance. For everyone who had ever fallen in love with the notion of vampires, here was the reason why. "Powerful people often have strange fears. Spiders, for instance."

"How did you --"

"Lord Stapleton has told me everything about you . . . who you were, who you are, and who he feels you can become. In all his afterlife, I have never known anyone or anything to confound him as much as you. I am quite curious as to why."

And just like that, Shamira's mood crashed again. "Don't be. It's not your concern." Shamira could see Valeska and Reaper both flinched. Apparently, talking back to a member of the Tribunal was not appropriate.

"Oh, but it is," the woman said, leaning in and whispering into Shamira's ear. "Lord Stapleton is dear to me, so his business IS my business. I know of your shadow aspects, Miss Shamira. I have met two incarnations of Shadow Wing, last of the great Moon Dragons. And Shane has spoken of your will. You bend, but do not break. You submit to the sexual wills of those you trust, but guard your trust carefully and nurse wounds to it, striking out at the cause of those wounds. I do not know all that has happened between you and your sire," she continued, her voice now low and soothing.

"I do not seek to judge or condemn either of you. I only want to understand and help heal the divide if I can." The woman's lips were almost on Shamira's ear. "When word of what I am here to talk is spread, Shane and myself and all those who seek a more enlightened, progressive state for magical beings will need all the help that we can get. We stand upon the door of what will be one of the planet's defining moments. If half of what Shane has told me about you is true, then I want for you to stand with us."

"You're not going to explain what the hell you're talking about are you?"

The woman smiled. "Not yet. Come Monday evening, you will understand."

"Listen --" Shamira stopped, then asked, "What should we call you? 'Hey you' doesn't seem quite right."

Her companion smiled. "The traditional greeting is Representative." Then, the woman uttered a whisper that Shamira knew no one but her would be able to hear, "But in private, you may call me Alessandra."

Shamira's blood began flowing through her veins and something inside her mind began to sing. Shane had told her that no one knew the names of the Tribunal, so why did this woman . . . why did Alessandra tell her? "Yes . . . ma'am . . . I mean Representative." She was really confused.

"Now, tell me what has come between you and Lord Stapleton," the Representative said. "And I'll give you a hint . . . telling me that it is none of my business is neither a wise nor acceptable answer." These words were spoken so closely in tone and inflection to the rest of her conversation that only another vampire could have heard the deep seriousness her voice now carried.

"Why do you care?" Shamira whispered back. She met the Representative's cold eyes. "Hey, I didn't say that it was none of your business."

Those decadent lips curved upward at the edges ever so slightly. "Please," Alessandra said, "tell me about the situation between you and Lord Stapleton. I believe that I like you, and I would hate to have to kill you."

Shamira couldn't tell if the woman was kidding or not and since she figured Shane had already given HIS side of the story that she should give hers. So she did. She made a valiant attempt to appear unbiased, though she definitely put the horns and pitchfork on Shane's side of the equation.

"I see," Alessandra said at the end. "Your story and Lord Stapleton's run parallel more often than they diverge. Interesting. I shall dwell on the issue."

'Dwell?' Shamira pondered. 'She thinks that she's going to tell me whether or not I get to leave? Screw her!'

Alessandra looked forward and, as if reading her thoughts, said, "I can be quite persuasive." And that was all.

When they pulled onto the house grounds, the troops were out in force. Shamira had never seen anyone besides the enforcers and assassins in body armor, but now everyone was. They were going to get the Tribunal member inside. Shamira got out first, waited for the bodyguards to clamber out, then offered her hand to Alessandra to help her. Through those soft gloves, Shamira felt a grip of iron. 'She could probably break my arm without blinking.' But instead of breaking her arm, the Representative took it as they were going on a date. Shane had gotten out and waited by the front door with Renata at his side.

"Representative, the members of my house and I are honored by your presence. Cross the threshold and be welcome."

"Lord Stapleton, it is now and always has been an honor to find myself on your door. I thank you for your gracious offer of home and hearth." Alessandra released Shamira's arm and took Shane's, and the two vampires entered Shane's house. They still had that look about them when their eyes met, of a whimsical joke known so well between two lovers that it no longer needs to be spoken. It was comforting for Shamira to know that such feelings still existed. Even if Shane was a prick.

"It has been too long since I have visited this area. Young miss Shamira has been getting me caught up on all the changes in Atlanta since my last visit. I would like to visit the Georgia Aquarium while I am here, if it wouldn't be too much trouble."

"No trouble at all," Shane said, his voice calm while his eyes shot daggers at Shamira.

She shrugged. She hadn't planted this idea in the Representatives head, and she'd actually just been doing what she was asked. 'It's up to you to make it happen, bucko. Arranging a visit to the Aquarium for an ancient vampire and her retinue of heavily armed guards in this Post 9/11 world?' Then Shamira realized what had happened. This was a test of Shane's power and influence. It seemed so . . .petty. But she wasn't going to sympathize with Shane. No way, no how.

Alessandra swept through the crowd, charming the living hell out of everyone. Of course, most every magical being was acting like they were a Catholic meeting the Pope. Maybe to them they were. Shamira wanted nothing to do with this woman who had made it clear that she was going to interfere in Shamira's business.

Sebastian caught up with her while Alessandra was off talking to Shane and Banshee. Banshee was Shane's oldest creation, and it appears that she'd met the Representative before.

"So, can your donor help us?" he asked.

Shamira stopped for a second. That conversation seemed like forever ago. "Yeah, she can. I haven't given her anyone's name yet, and I won't if I think it'll put her in danger. But she thinks it can be done in a way that will look routine. I'll talk to her on Tuesday."

"Excellent. So, what's she like?"

"She's a nice girl. She and her husband are --"

"I meant the Representative." Sebastian chuckled a moment. "Really, two conversations too complicated for you to handle?"

Shamira elbowed him hard in the ribs. Strange that the guy she was most comfortable with at the moment was someone who terrified her when they first met. "She's . . . a hell of a lot more powerful than I would've thought possible. And she didn't even do anything to me. She's beautiful, obviously, and she's up to something."

"Welcome to the world of really fucking old vampires," the werespider said, then straightened up as the aforementioned vampire approached. She greeted Sebastian and started to make small talk, so Shamira started to excuse herself. Then the Representative grabbed her shoulder and held her in place. Firmly.