Breaking the Habit, Ivy's Prologue
Title: Breaking the Habit
Author: P-L
Fandom: The Hollows, AKA the Rachel Morgan Series, Skimmer/Ivy, Rachel/Ivy
Rating: M
Disclaimer: Those characters belong to Kim Harrison. I'm just having a little fun with them. Breaking the Habit is an intellectual property of Linkin Park.
Summary: Set in an alternate universe, where circumstances forced Takata to step up as Rachel's father right after Monty Morgan's death. Sent into hiding at an isolated private Inderland school for her own protection, Rachel stumbles upon a couple of vampires that will change her life even further.
(Ivy’s POV)
Fear of planes officially sucks. I thought as each of my breaths brought in me the scent of fear.
I’m not afraid of flying; as a living vampire, I’m nearly impossible to kill definitely, and it would take a very nasty crash to end my first life, let alone both of them. That doesn’t mean fear of planes isn’t a pain; sitting close to someone who reeks of fear, even baseless fear, for hours really sets me on edge. It doesn’t help that I haven’t taken blood in several days. The morning I’d spent with Kisten today would be the last in two years, and I didn’t want to spoil those moments with my more savage needs. Still, I knew this would be a long flight the instant my fingers started to ache with the need to touch someone. Bloodlust… god, I hate that feeling. Almost as much as I love to sate it.
Looking at me, you wouldn’t guess I felt as wound up as a high tension wire; I was slumped in my seat, eyes closed, head tilted comfortably backward against the headrest. My huge headphones covered my ears, blaring Takata’s music from my CD player, volume cranked up so I couldn’t hear the rapid heartbeat of a very scared, and honestly very irritating, were. That helped control my instincts, but there was little I could do about the smell of fear and musk he pumped into the air, making the predator in me come alive.
God, you’re pathetic. Practicing vamp for four months now, and already you can’t endure your hunger for a few hours. Keep it together! I thought angrily as I felt my eyes dilate behind my closed lids. Berating myself didn’t help either. Right now, I’d just about kill for a glass of…
“Miss, do you need something?” The voice that broke trough the pounding music was accompanied by a soft touch on my arm. I slowly opened my slightly (I hoped) dilated eyes to find a flight attendant leaning over the empty seat next to me. She smelled like a norm, and reacted as such as she realized what it was she had touched. I could almost hear her thinking vampire as she backed up. Her swallow sounded incredibly loud even through my headphones, and fear started seeping from her pores, only adding what was already pumped in the air. “Miss? Do you need something?” Her voice was now thick with terror as she repeated her demand, habit taking over when rational thoughts failed.
Besides your jugular in my mouth? “Orange juice, please.” I answered in a completely neutral voice, although the images running trough my mind would probably have her running in fear and locking herself in the cockpit. I’d never bitten a girl before, but I felt far from choosy right now. And that beautifully pristine skin that would just feel so good under my… Dammit, snap OUT OF IT!
She nodded and left with more haste than was polite, or prudent for that matter, but I was beyond caring. It took most of what I have to quell the rise in my bloodlust that the cloud of fear she left behind caused, but at least having spooked her got me my drink fast; I think she was in no hurry to find out if I wanted something more iron-rich to drink. I inhaled deeply over the small glass of juice, the rich citrus scent helping calm my instincts. Don’t ask why, but citrus covers everything to a vampire’s nose, and drinking it calms the bloodlust; I don’t know why, but it works, and I am completely hooked on it.
At least this addiction doesn’t make me feel like an animal. I thought as my eyes lingered over the empty seat besides mine, a gift from my father. An empty seat next to me in the first class section gave me as much space as I could hope for on a plane filled to capacity, but it was also a painful reminder that the whole point of this trip was to try and fix myself, or at least gain some control over my bloodlust. Hopefully, the distance with my master vampire would help me find some way to deal with the savagery I was capable of when taking blood. Although some dark part of me deeply enjoyed the brutal and savage fulfillment that came with it, I hated hurting someone to get it.
It’s what HE wants… He wants me to be like that.
He being Piscary, the master vampire my family looked up too. The one who showed me the depths of pleasure and passion I could find in my bloodlust, the same one who made sure only he could sate it and stay alive, or at least not limp for a week afterwards. That’s what the bastard wants, the way he likes it; that I be savage with him and come begging to him after I hurt someone, shamed and broken.
Kisten, however, was the exception to the rule; I managed, somehow, to keep my bloodlust in check with him, but I still felt like I was using him, even if he said it was all right afterwards. How can it be all right when I basically get feral on him and claim to love him after? Maybe that for some vampires, blood is passion, but for me it’s only an animal need, an addiction that feels too good to deny, even when it leaves me feeling dirty and hating myself. I’d probably feel better if I could let him reciprocate, but his own bloodlust had yet to awaken, and the idea of taking my blood in exchange for his didn’t appeal to him in the slightest.
I downed the glass like an alcoholic downs his first drink of the day. I’d miss him, more than I could admit to myself. I cared about him deeply, even if I never had a choice not to be with him, since we had been engaged since the moment of his birth, a few months after mine. We were meant to be together and prolong our families’ bloodlines; feelings didn’t really enter the equation, but that was hardly a reason to complain. I could have gotten worse than Kisten. Smooth, beautiful, delicious Kisten…
Dammit! Are we there yet?
Don’t ask how I managed to stop myself from slaughtering someone before we landed; I just did, even though, as I waited for my luggage, I felt like I’d been in a nasty fight I’d just barely survived; forcing the bloodlust down without sating it causes almost physical pain and a deep exhaustion. The airport was a definitive improvement over the tight confines of the plane, although the air was still charged with stress, exhaustion, frustration, anger… it’s official, I hate traveling.
People still unconsciously gave me a wide berth, possibly because my eyes still hadn’t constricted and I was still vamping out; it’s not something vampires do consciously, but sometimes our predatory nature just… surfaces. Even though we still look human, there’s just no way to mistake us for humans; were faster, more graceful, often downright terrifying even though our sex-appeal goes through the roof. To other species, it often feels like we steal the warmth from the room, yet as much as they want to look away, they can’t. One look can steal someone’s breath away, can terrify as easily as seduce. So really, it’s no surprise I had no trouble getting out of the airport. There are some perks to vampirism after all.
I stepped outside, snapping my sunglasses over my eyes against the hot California sun. The air felt different this close to the ocean; I had always lived in-land, and the salty breeze felt wonderful and calming. The sun helped too, since it suppressed my vampiric traits and instinct, so much so that I was I was finally able to bottle everything back up and pretend I was a normal teenager and not a half out-of-control predator who could snap at any second. Avoidance and self denial are rules to live by in my world…
There was a woman waiting for me next to a black car. She called out to me the instant her eyes found me, and I answered with a nod.
“Ms Tamwood? I’m Danielle Withers, assistant director of Everlake academy. Your mother has asked me to pick you up.” She gestured to the driver, and the trunk popped open. “I hope you had a pleasant flight?”
Don’t even get me started… I thought as I rolled my eyes behind the shaded glasses, but I still answered positively, the lie flowing from me easily. My masks were all up, my thoughts and emotions carefully hidden behind a veneer of cool indifference.
I hoisted my luggage into the trunk easily and slid in the backseat. Ms Withers tried briefly to initiate a conversation with me, but she quickly found out I wasn’t much of a talker.
“We don’t often get transfers so long after the start of term, or from so far away, for that matter. Was there a particular reason for your parents to send you away?”
A master vampire who’s too intense in his interest in me? The risk of me completely flipping off and killing someone in a cloud of bloodlust? “I need to see new faces.” I answered curtly. When I didn’t offer more she dropped her attempt at conversation, and the rest of the ride was uneventful and quiet.
We quickly left the airport behind and got on the freeway. We drove for over an hour, further away from San Francisco than I thought we would, arriving at Everlake near sundown. Again, my instincts felt on the rise, but not to a dangerous point. My pupils were still contracted, but I could feel the subtle changes in my movements and body language that told me my inner vampire was on the rise. The familiar tingles in my fingers were joined by others in my small, living vamp fangs. Nothing to worry about, just my genes telling my body that I was finally into the domain of my species; the night.
“This way, please. I’ll show you to your room.” The witch strode past me, leaving me in a pleasant-smelling cloud of her rich, earthly scent. I’d never really been around witches, and they creeped me out. It’s actually set in my genes, just like the bloodlust and the need to dominate; since dead vamps have no souls, they have no aura to protect them from the effects of magic, and therefore are much more vulnerable to its effect than other species. Evolution had inscribed a wariness of them in the very core of my being.
Still, they smell nice… I thought, inhaling deeply but discreetly, committing the scent to memory. Better than the bland smell of humans or the animal musk of were. I wouldn’t say I enjoyed that smell more than that of another vampire, but it’s still very nice.
Everlake turned out to be a beautiful place, divided in several buildings housing classrooms, offices and habitation quarters. It was pretty big, especially considering the number of students, but the more predatory Inderlanders, weres and vamps, need their space to live in relative harmony, so the size makes sense. We walked into one of the habitation building, up several flights of stairs and into a long hallway bearing doors on each side. We stopped before one of them.
“Here we are.” Ms Withers knocked. “Dorothy? Dorothy, are you there?”
“Just a minute…” A soft, melodious voice came from the other side of the door. I thought I heard a soft hint of exasperation in it. A few seconds later, the door opened.
The first thing that hit me was the smell of air freshener covering up a faint thread of lust in the air, then the potent, delicious smell of good coffee. A soft gasp brought my other senses to bear on the woman standing in the room.
She was a vampire, no doubt about it. Long blond hair framed an aristocratic, fine boned face graced with high cheekbones and a fine jaw. Her huge eyes were a deep shade of blue and long lashed, making her look fragile and vulnerable. He skin bore a healthy tan that spoke of a fondness for afternoons on the beach. Her body was long limbed, and I guessed she stood a few inches shorter than me. As soon as our eyes meet, the small leftover of lust in the apartment became an intoxicating cloud that seeped into my lungs and set my instincts on edge.
Her name was Dorothy Claymor. Soon, I would be calling her Skimmer.