Blogophilia 16.11 – Migina Part 2

It’s time again for blogophilia. The prompts are:

Ecrits Blogophilia Week 16.11 Topic: It Sounds Kind of Cheesy, But….
BONUSES: ** Hard Bonus (2 pts): Include a creative use of a candle other than light (paperweight)
Easy Bonus (1 pt): Incorporate an ice sculpture
.

And migina rolls on. Sadly still not finished. I need a month of free time.

**

The following evening, Migina woke and showered in her private bathroom. She technically didn’t need to – vampires didn’t produce the sweat and oils that gave humans their distinctive odor – but she enjoyed it. It had nothing to do with Franklin’s impending return, or at least she told herself it didn’t. They’d been together too long to bother trying to impress one another, anymore.

Despite that, she took the time to comb out her wet hair and plait it into her usual long, whip-like braid. Maybe, if he got back after she’d finished with the bathroom, she’d unbraid it and leave it loose. He’d commented before that he liked that.

After a quick call to maintenance to have the water shut off, she checked the min-fridge. There was no blood inside, bottled or bagged. She hadn’t restocked it. Now that Sabrina was gone, it was one more thing she’d have to do herself.

Right.

With no alternative, she left her apartment behind for the café. She found a corner seat and ordered, watching as the waiter scurried away. The sickly yellow walls made her feel nostalgic; she remembered when murals had been in their place, representing an outdoor area. Gone too were all the plants, and the cute sidewalk-style signboard. Instead the air was sleek ultra-modern, like something from a science fiction TV show. The plastic and chrome chairs matched the triangular shaped tables, and pendant lighting hung low enough to be annoying.

Change is rarely good.

She leaned back in her chair, fingers tapping that plastic table top, when a vampire called her name. She cringed inwardly as she recognized the voice, but forced herself to remain aloof on the outside.

Never let them know they have power over you.

Ignoring him only served as encouragement, and a moment later Philip, a fellow Executioner, took the chair across form her. His dark hair fell carelessly in his face, and even darker eyes smoldered with an intensity that had tripped up many a woman.

But not me.

“Migina! How lovely to see you! And where is Franklin?”

“Waiting to cut out your heart.” Instead, she said, “On his way back.”

“The absences make relationships hard.” He gave her a knowing smile that felt smug. “So how are you?”

“Hungry,” she bit back.

Not to be deterred by her short answers, he rubbed his hands together. “As am I. Did you get a pitcher or a single glass?”

“Single glass. You’ll have to order your own.”

He chuckled. “Of course. Nothing to worry about. If I recall, we don’t like the same mix-in, anyway.”

The waiter saved her from having to answer. He dropped off her breakfast and took Philip’s order before he disappeared.

She took a drink, savoring the deep, unadulterated flavor. Unlike the others she wasn’t tired of the flavor and didn’t need to add fancy peppermint or sage or whatever Philip had ordered.

The Executioner across from her chattered as she drank. When her meal was half gone, she cut him off. “Why are you here?”

He laughed, motioning to the counter. “To feed, obviously. Though it would be more appealing if they had live humans to drink from. I miss that when I’m here. Of course in the field-”

“I meant, why are you sitting with me?”

“Ah, and why not? I know you try hard to be unfriendly, but no one can be as sharp as you pretend to be. Your affair with Franklin proves you have soft places.” He gave her a wink. “Besides, is there something wrong with wanting to be friendly with a fellow Executioner?”

She gulped the last of her blood and deposited the empty glass. “Good luck with that.” Then she stood and headed for the door, leaving him alone with his amused laughter.

At least he didn’t come after me.

**

Back in her den, Migina checked that the water was indeed off, then grabbed her sledge hammer. She moved through the empty bedroom, to the equally empty bathroom. She’d never noticed before that the bathtub was starting to look worn. When was the last time it had been replaced? They’d put in the human facilities in the forties. Then they’d updated it…It had to be the sixties. She’d passed on the last round, just two years ago.

Just as well. It would have been a waste of money.

Yes, she was sure it was the sixties. It was just before that night with Sabrina… The memory popped to the surface, bright and clear as when it happened. She’d come home to the sound of sobbing and the scent of blood. A few steps had taken her to the doorway of this bathroom. Inside, Sabrina was rolled into a ball, back pressed against the tile wall, knees to her chin, body shaking with sobs. No matter how many times Migina asked her what was wrong, she couldn’t get an answer. Finally, she stormed into the room and jerked the woman to her feet to find her dress shredded, and her shoulder gaping, blood still running from the wound.

“What in the hell?”

Sabrina pulled away, curled in on herself. “It-it’s nothing. It…”

But they both knew it was a lie. A threat or two later and Sabrina confessed the truth. It was Philip. Always Philip. Sabrina’s first years at the citadel had been spent much like her human life; she’d replaced the drugs with the euphoria of immortal coupling, of having her blood taken by a vampire. But the day came when she didn’t want to anymore, when she weened herself off of the high, when she wanted to stay away and be left alone.

Apparently Philip hadn’t gotten the message.

“I’ll kill him,” Migina had snarled, turning for the door, but Sabrina had grabbed her arm and tried to hold her back.

“No! If-if you do he’ll know I told you, he’ll know…” she let go and dropped back, hand pressed to the wound.  “I’ll just stay away from him, I’ll just-”

“Just what? At the best, you are legally my property, Sabrina! Your job is to guard my den against him, as well as the others! How does it look if he’s savaging you? How can you protect me? And at the worst, what he did was tantamount to-”

“I know!” She’d fallen back a step, body shaking. “I know what it was. What it is. I just don’t want to talk about it, all right! I just.. I just need some blood to heal this and then it will be fine. Everything will be fine.”

Except it wasn’t. How many times had she come home after that to find out something similar had happened; and it was always Philip. Good looking, sex-obsessed Philip. It was the fifth time when she ignored Sabrina’s pleas and stormed to his den. His human guard dog was on the floor, her hands tied behind her back, her mouth gagged. Was it punishment or some game?

Philip, meanwhile, was still laying across the lounge, half naked, a satisfied smirk on his face, a smear of blood on his chin.

Sabrina’s blood.

“Migina, what can I-”

She’d punched him before he could finish his sentence.

“What in the hell?”

“You know damn well what that’s for!”

His human stirred, terrified eyes like saucers, but, restrained, she couldn’t do anything. Not that Migina as sure she wanted to.

Philip wiped the blood from his nose. “Is this over your guard dog? Why are you so worked up? She’s just a human.”

“Yes, but she’s my human, do you understand that, Philip? My property. If you so much as look at her again – let alone touch her- I’ll pull you apart and barbecue the pieces!”

Philip sneered, dark eyes flashing that smugness she hated. “You’ve gotten soft, haven’t you?” He swung to his feet and stood slowly, stretching with the motion. “How long have you had that one? Too long, I think. Better to kill her and get a new one. I cycle mine every year.”

The bound girl on the floor made a soft whimpering sound.

“It’s none of your business how long I keep my property. I mean it, Philip. If you go near her again-”

He leaned close and waved his hands in Migina’s face, “Oooo. What will you do? Report me? As if Ark will care.”

She leaned close, so he could feel her breath on his cheek. “I won’t bother reporting you, Philip. I’ll cut out your heart and give your guard dog a reason to celebrate.”

The girl made another sound, and Migina stormed out, her warning delivered. Though he’d blown it off, he’d evidentially taken it seriously because that was the last time she’d had to find Sabrina bleeding, broken, sobbing.

That son of a bitch.

Rage bubbled and Migina swung the sledgehammer at the worn out tub. Splinters of porcelain shot out like missiles, bouncing off of her arms. With a snarl, she pounded the bathtub again and again, smashing it into bits that crunched under her feet. She swung around for the toilet and did the same, then to the sink, the empty counter where Sabrina’s things used to sit, where her hairbrush was always thrown, and that stupid bracelet holder that looked like a severed hand. Where the hell had that thing even come from?

It was ugly. Sabrina had such horrible taste! Everything she loved was ugly! Like that damn pineapple candle!

Migina swung the hammer again. That ugly candle! She’d been there for three years and suddenly decided to shove a Christmas gift at her master. Migina had stared at the package, and when she’d finally opened it, her reaction was no better.

“What is this?”

“It’s a goddamn candle!” Sabrina snapped, jerking it away so she could point to the wick and wave the wax monstrosity around.  “Of course you hate it! You hate everything!”

Migina wanted to hit her in the head with the grotesque item, but instead she’d gone to pack for her assignment. When she came back in the room, Sabrina was seated in the middle of the floor, using a lighter to melt the candle into a puddle.

“What in the hell are you doing?”

“Why do you care? You didn’t like it anyway!”

Migina had grabbed it away from her; the soft bottom half hardened quickly, so that the pineapple looked like someone had smooshed it against a table. After that, she’d used the ugly thing as a paperweight, even as bits of it fell off over the years.

And if it got too warm, it always left a waxy film on everything.

Stupid, ugly pineapple.

Migina slammed the sledgehammer again and again, only stopping when she realized the sink was little more than dust and palm sized chunks. She staggered back to look over the bathroom; porcelain lay everywhere, most in small pieces. Even the mirror, still stuck to the wall, was shattered.

“Looks like you’re having fun.”

Migina spun, hammer raised, but stopped just in time to avoid slamming Franklin in the face. Torn between hugging him and hitting him, she was left blinking, eyes narrowed.

He made the decision for her as he stepped forward and swept his arms around her. She let the hammer go and pressed close to him, inhaling his familiar scent.

“I wasn’t sure you’d actually make it back today.”

He squeezed her tight, then let go. “I wasn’t either, but things went well. How are you? Did you get rid of-”

“Yes,” she snapped, stepping away. “Sabrina is gone.”

“Ah.” He laid his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

Migina stepped away from the compassionate touch. “For what? She was only a human. It’s not like I care.”

“Of course not.” But the corner of his mouth quirked in an amused smile.  “How did your last assignment go?”

“Fine. Yours?” But she didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to talk about anything. She just wanted to pin him to the wall and lose herself in his blood. Though he wasn’t a mind reader, he seemed to sense her desire, and cut the conversation off with a deep kiss. She returned it, sliding her tongue past his lips, into the hot recesses of his mouth. He tasted coppery, like blood, a flavor that fueled her desire.

He pulled her tighter, until their bodies meshed. One hand cradled the back of her head, the other in the small of her back, pressing her closer. She ground against him; trying to meld with him, disappear in him. She snaked her hands under his shirt, and ran her palms over his hard chest. Her fingers danced down his stomach, and she pulled back enough to reach his belt buckle.

He caught her hand, and she looked up to see his smirk. “Shall we?”

**

An hour later, Migina felt better. She lay back on the bed, watching Franklin smoke a cigarette. The smell was sharp to her immortal nose, and she waved the smoke away.

“You should quit that.”

“This?” He held the cigarette up and grinned. “Why? They’re all the rage.”

“Yes, but I don’t know why.”

This may sound cheesy, but the humans say they’re good for your health. Or they did a few years ago. I can’t imagine that would change.”

Migina rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to worry about your health. It just makes you feel sophisticated and modern.”

“Maybe. And what’s wrong with that?” He laughed. “Come now, Migina, don’t pretend to be an impenetrable ice sculpture. You’re as prone to your little vanities as anyone.”

About Joleene Naylor

An independent author, freelance artist, and photographer for fun who loves anime, music, and writing. Check out my vampire series Amaranthine at http://JoleeneNaylor.com or drop me a line at Joleene@JoleeneNaylor.com

One response to “Blogophilia 16.11 – Migina Part 2”

  1. Marvin Martian says :

    Superb!! 8 points, Earthling!! BTW, smoking is really bad for you.:)

    Marvin Martian

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