Vienna feels like an unfinished city. The streets are wide, still covered in dirt though the city has been populated for nearly a millennium. Angelus walks in shadows, far from the webs of grime spun by cart wheels and liveries rushing to late night parties and after theatre fêtes.
His hunt for Darla is getting old. Having time to himself was fine in the beginning, gave him time to heal from their last encounter. Absently rubbing at the side of his head, he feels for the knot that is no longer there. His ribs ache as he crouches behind a pillar, waiting for a crowd of drunken soldiers to pass. Fighting the urge to pull his shirt from his trousers and pick at the still-tender skin left by the numerous arrows and flaming torches he had endured during his escape from France and through Germany to Austria, Angelus gives a short pinch through the cloth and moves on.
Half a year has passed since he watched Darla ride off into the forests of Lyon and his more primal urges are in desperate need of being filled. The trail through Europe has hardly been difficult to follow. Every corner turned brings Angelus fists to his side, expecting Holtz and his merry band of idiots to be there waiting. How he has managed to evade them and yet get this close to his sire he doesnt know, but as he catches a waft of scent so purely Darla, all thoughts of their pursuers disappear.
Entering Prater Park, Angelus stays close to the trees, their soft rustle the only sound in the freshly sown ground. The grass beneath his boots is thin and slick with the coming of a storm, the dew seemingly rising to meet the mist that has begun to fall. Sticky dampness covers his head, dripping down his back in streams from the narrow ribbon holding his long hair in check.
Moving slowly through the park, he winds along trails so newly laid the pebbles havent had time to sink into the soft earth below. The sound of his boots shifting the stones hits his ears like a gunshot in the quiet night and he quickly steps off the path and onto the supple grass. Satisfied no-one has seen him; he continues to follow the beacon of aroma leading him through the sleeping city.
At last he comes upon his treasure. Giggling into the shoulder of a short yet athletic looking man, Darla looks the part of a duchess, or whatever imaginary title she has donned to woo her prey. Her dress is immaculate despite the moisture in the air. Water plays off her parasol, dancing in swirls as she turns it between her fingers, laughing at her companions words. Darla is every bit the coy predator, leading the man further into the park, far from the rampant construction that covers this side of the city.
Angelus stands in wait. Watching her toy with the man reminds him of a thousand nights spent at her side playing this same game. She pulls the mans unbound hair from his neck, tracing ivory fingers over the shadow of his jaw. The man stands oblivious as Darlas brow furrows into the beautiful demon Angelus has traced across half a continent.
Just as she leans in for the kill, Angelus steps from the shadows.
Hello, lover, he calls to her.
Disbelief covers Darlas face as her features melt back to that of a human. Why Angelus, she flusters before regaining her composure. A short laugh escapes her lips as she looks from Angelus to the stunned man. In London society the impropriety of being seen in the midst of an abandoned park at midnight would have paled her companion, but as everyone reminds them, this is an age of enlightenment. In Vienna things are not nearly so prudish and the man seems far more perturbed at being interrupted than embarrassed.
We were to have dinner together, Angelus says, putting on an air of the disappointed.
Surely that was not tonight, Darla coos, playing along.
Aye, but it was. Circling the duo, Angelus takes her hand, If it is not to late for your constitution, Id be delighted to treat you as yet.
Oh but the night is early, Darla says, her eyes turning dark as her sometime lover meets her stare with golden eyes and fang.
The hand at his lips trembles, and as Angelus diverts his stare to the man he sees that the tremor comes not from Darla but from the knocking knees of her would-be meal. Angelus barely registers the movement as Darla dashes a hand from the folds of her skirt and slices her nails through the mans throat. The thud of the body against the pebbled walkway is only a momentary diversion from the conquest of their reunion.
Is Holtz with you? Darla whispers into his ear as she leans in to run her tongue along his neck.
Havent seen him in near a fortnight, but there was plenty of him to keep me in memory for a good while. Pulling her hands to his chest, he runs her fingers over a nearly healed wound above his heart. That was a tad close for comfort.
Wish I could have been there, Darla says, moving to kiss his cheek.
As do I. Yanking her hair back and sinking fangs into her throat in an instant, Angelus grins into the bite as her powerful blood glides down his gullet.
Darlas hands run over his chest, darting beneath cloth and into as yet unhealed wounds, her nails digging new ones into his flesh as she outlines the muscles of his body by memory. Angelus mouth working her into a fury, she finally pulls him free, forcing him to stand at arms length while his body shakes with the need blood cannot satisfy.
Yeve acquired an apartment of some sort I assume.
I have rooms, although I dont recall you ever requiring a bed to Unlacing her bodice, Darla doesnt bother to finish the thought. Dropping to her knees, she uses the dead mans chest as a cushion against the rain-soaked stones beneath her.
Unfastening Angelus breeches with nimble fingers she lets the cool mist dance on her tongue beside the salty taste of her lovers skin. Swallowing his cock with neither shame nor abandon she quickly works him to completion. The sounds coming from his lips are as fresh as though she had heard them only yesterday.
Satisfied? She asks, knowing the answer before he even begins shaking his head.
Never. Drawing his trousers up from his ankles and repositioning his shirt and jacket until he once again looks presentable, Angelus tightens the laces of Darlas gown until they are stifling, pushing her breasts to the edges of her bodice, hints of rose colored nipples showing above the lace ruff. Well be on to Madrid in the morning.
Why Madrid, my love?
I feel the need for an inquisition, Angelus says, a ruthless smile curling at his lips.
Is that what they are calling it in Spain these days? A gasp of air escapes her as Angelus lifts her over the corpse blocking their path out of the park.
Theyve not a name for what well be doing tonight. Angelus kisses her roughly at first, and then gently, breaking away he slides an arm around her waist and guides her back into the city. I do imagine though, that someday annals will be written about what were to leave in the wake of our journey.
Of course they will my darling, Darla agrees, steering him
towards her temporary apartments and a night they will neither one forget.