This is my version of first encounters of Anita Blake by the players. One was a round robin, the other my first entry on my own on WWOMB. Hope you like them. I've never written Anita Black fics, only read them. Just finished the last book out, Skin Trade. It was cool and can't wait for her next Merry Gentry offer.
FIRST ENCOUNTERS WITH ANITA
She’s shaking badly and doesn’t look good at all. Elizabeth asked me to come and interview for the job of Nimir Raj but before I could actually discuss things with her, I learned this pard already had a Nimir Ra.....a human Nimir Ra! How could this be?
No time to ask questions as her bloody and shaking form is rushed into her home by the Master of the City and Ulfric. This female has powerful friends and I must be careful not to give myself away or get too involved with their politics. My own cruel master would have me for breakfast if I dared tell these people the true reason I am here.
Instead I quickly offer my services and my pard’s in trying to save this female from dying. As I take my turn laying with her, I can’t help but be mesmerized by her beauty and intrigued by what her scars could tell me about who she is. What I do know for certain is she is a dangerous person. I’ve spoken to her pard and got a thumbnail idea of who she is and what she means to those around her.
It is a long night but she manages to survive. Could she be the one to free us? Dare I trust her to save us? I press my body close to her sharing my heat to help her heal while my mind roils in turmoil.
I feel so drawn to her and I’m not sure why. Her leopards are a mess. I can feel how hurt they are......almost as bad as my own pard.
What a pair we are......two dysfunctional pards. I shiver suddenly as a strange premonition passes over me. This woman could play a decisive role in my life if I let her or she could destroy what is left of my miserable life.
Am I willing to take the risk? My internal argument is interrupted when I feel her awaken and begin to try and figure out what is going on. Her modesty is sweet but I know there is nothing sweet about her. She is as dangerous as the pard she protects so fiercely.
I realize suddenly as I roll over and stare into her eyes the answer to my question is yes.
I move quickly through the club I manage and out onto the street where a car is waiting for me. One of the wererats is my chauffeur for the night. I climb in and order him to take me to the far side of town. I settle back in my seat and brood. My master is in an angry mood tonight and I dare not fail in my mission.
I stare listlessly at the passing scenery as I remember Nikolaos’ orders. She wants me to pick up a person of interest and bring him back to her. She doesn’t tell me why.
Sighing, I frown at my reflection. I chafe under the Master of St. Louis’ control but she was my chance to escape an even worse master. I fled to the America’s to make a new life away from my Souer de sang, the terrible but beautiful Belle Morte.
Though Nikolaos’ is cruel and vindictive, she is still easier to bear than the pretend love Belle offers her kiss. Sex is her power and she wields it like a sword. That is a more terrifying noose than anything Nikolaos’ might do to me.
As we pass the silent graves and near the entrance to the cemetery, I notice few cars just inside and a group of people standing to one side of a grave stone. I feel my brows raise in curiosity.
‘Seems a zombie raising is scheduled for tonight.’ I muse then come to a decision. “Driver, halt here for a moment,” I order.
Puzzled but obeying, the wererat slowed then stopped the car.
I roll my window down and watch the group. I feel magic in the air and that draws me like a moth to a flame. I open the door and step out. Slowly, as if I’m being drawn by a thread, I walk to the entrance then slip behind the stones as I silently approach the group.
I do not want to warn them of my presence. I walk until I’m about fifteen feet from the mesmerized humans then halt behind a tall mausoleum and move just enough to see but not be seen.
Standing before a grave and holding a very impressive knife is a small woman with flowing black hair. Her face is intent on her ritual, raising the dead. I realize I’m watching an animator at work. I can feel her power from where I stand, it makes my skin shiver.
I am now as mesmerized as the humans and cannot look away as she beheads a chicken and walks her circle of power sprinkling its life blood. The magic tightens around me as she closes the circle with a snap. She calls in a strong, firm voice the person she is raising tonight.
She does her work with seeming ease, her zombie able to speak within moments of taking her blood. She is far more powerful than I have ever seen in a human. I think perhaps she isn’t really as human as she appears. Her power speaks to me in a way I’ve never felt before in my long life.
A kernel of an idea begins to form in my mind as I quietly slip away before she senses me. She is certainly powerful enough to detect me I’m certain. As I climb back into the car and order the driver to continue on to our rendevous, my mind works on a way to bring that powerful woman closer to me. I feel she is the key to changing my life’s fortunes. I don’t know who she is but I will make it my business to find out.