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MoonStones and Blood	By : miladygrimm Category: Anita Blake > Threesomes Plus Views: 1973 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Anita Blake or any of the characters depicted in that universe. I make no money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-MoonStones and Blood
- 2-Waking in a Morgue
- 1
- 2
“Kendra? Miss Davenport?” The voice was warm and soothing. It spread over her like a warm blanket. “Open your eyes Kendra.” The words were laced with a soft sort of power that willed her to respond.
Her eyes sprang open and light filled them. For a moment she thought she was staring into a too bright sun. She screamed and rolled over trying to shut out the painful glare.
“Light!” The voice called. She felt, rather than saw, them dim. “There...is that better?”
She didn't know. She realized her body felt strange. The momentary pain of the too bright lights had distracted her long enough that she hadn't noticed at first.
Her body felt different, like it was stuck in that moment before you were asleep. That sensation of near unconsciousness that managed to be heavy and light all at once. Moving held the surreal vividness of a dream. Her eyes opened and this time it didn't hurt. Someone had dimmed the room.
She was in a hospital room. The smell of antispectic and death clung in her nose like an unwanted perfume. She waited for her stomach to protest to the smell but it did nothing. No nausea and no headache. She always got headaches in hospitals. It was the scent. The smell of medicine and chemicals. Kendra much preferred incense and fresh air. Something all hospitals seemed to lack.
She sat on a bed. No...that wasn't right. She looked down and found it wasn't a bed at all but a slat covered with a thin sheet. She looked behind her and saw a long silver tube. She was in a morgue.
“Oh goddess.” She whispered.
“Miss Davenport?”
Kendra's eyes adjusted further and she turned to face the man with the soothing voice. He was beautiful. Dark curling hair fell around his face and shoulders, framing a face crafted to make angels cry. His eyes were two brilliant blue sapphires set against porcelain skin. He wore a white shirt with a dark blue cravat about his neck the color matched his eyes perfectly. It had to be done on purpose. His long legs were tucked into black pants that were tailored to fit perfectly. A row of gold buttons trailed on either side of the pantlegs from hips to knee. They may have gone down further but a pair of lace up knee high boots covered the rest. The outfit was completed with a dark gold vest casually unbuttoned across the span of his chest. She recognized him. Everyone did. He was the Master of the City. One of the few to ever let himself known to the public. Jean-Claude.
“Oh no.” Kendra whispered.
There was only one reason why he would be here when she woke in the Morgue. She had been Changed.
Standing next to the Adonis of porcelain beauty was a female version of him. Shorter, dark haired, dark eyed, delicately pale skin. The woman wore a green polo shirt, black jeans and a shoulder harness with a gun clearly visible. The short sleeves of the shirt revealed long terrible scars. Either the woman didn't care if she looked or she was used to it. Because she didn't bother to hide them.
“Kendra, do you know why you are here?”
She found her gaze settling on her knees. “Where is Lorraine.”
“Your friend is fine, she woke a few hours before you, and is being taken to my home.”
“Your home?”
She saw the dark haired woman roll her eyes and cross her arms beneath a pair of breasts that rivaled Kendra’s own substantial bosom. “They aren't revenants.” She says. “First one proved it.”
“What?” Kendra's confusion deepened. “Please, someone tell me what's happened.”
“You were found in your shop three nights ago.” Jean Claude explained stepping past the dark eyed angry woman. “You had been bitten multiple times, drained of your blood. You should have risen as a revenant. A vampire with no mind...only hunger.”
“I...I have a mind.”
“We know. That's why you aren't dead.” The woman stated.
“Ma Petite, please.” Jean Claude asked turning to the woman. “This will be a hard night for Kendra. I ask for your empathy. She did not choose this.”
That seemed to soften the woman. Her eyes lost that hard edge and she held her hands up in surrender. “Alright. I don't really need to be here anyway. Some big bad beasties are out.”
“Your presence was most appreciated, Will you come back tonight?”
The woman seemed to think about it. “Depends on when I'm done investigating the other bodies. But I'll try.”
“That is all I ask of you, Je t'aime.”
She gave a small smile and went on her toes to give him a kiss. “I love you too.”
She stalked out of the room without giving Kendra another glance. Kendra wanted to be offended but she got the feeling that Jean Clade's woman was her own creature and didn't give anyone a second thought without good reason. Considering the gun she wasn't sure she wanted the woman to give her a reason to notice.
“You must forgive Anita. She is a woman of her own way.”
Kendra nodded. “Firey little thing.”
Jean Claude's brow shot up his forehead. “A most perceptive assessment of her.”
Kendra shrugged. “I made a living off of being perceptive. She's easy to read.”
“I would not tell her that if I were you. Ma Pettite makes her comfort around the idea that she is not so obvious.”
Kendra nodded. “Women like her normally are.”
“Like her?” He prompted.
“Oh! Umm...nontraditional. Strong, focused, usually a little on the angry side. Not that I have a problem with that...it's just they usually end up thinking no one appreciates them or that they are alone even when surrounded by affection.”
Jean Claude was quite for another moment. “I think it's best you keep Anita from hearing your musings about her.”
Kendra nodded. “I will.” She sat there for a moment. “I...well...”
“Yes?”
“I was bitten?”
“Several times in fact. It is a strange thing. Many bites usually means that you will raise as a Revanent, but you did not. Both you and your friend seem to be normal.” He raised his long pale finger to his chin. “What do you remember of the attack?”
She struggled to think back. “I was closing the shop, Lori and I, we had begun cleaning. I was worrying about money. I was actually thinking about vampires not too long before the attack...you've stolen a good deal of my business.”
He bowed ever so slightly at the hips. “My apologies.”
She shrugged. “It isn't an issue.” She admits. “You can't control what's popular at the moment. But I...I got scared.”
“Scared?”
“Yeah, this feeling took me, as if I was a child who had awoken alone in the dark. I was afraid but I could see nothing to be afraid of.”
“Poetic, if sad.”
“Huh? Oh! I...I write poetry...sorry. Sometimes my words just sort of getting away with me.”
A smile rode his lips. “You are far more outspoken than your friend.”
“Lori? Oh yeah. Well, Lorraine has always been the quiet sort. But she's very loyal. I've known her since I was a kid.”
“You are both witches?”
She nodded, “We are. Our mothers were too. They met at a Beltane festival and became friends. We got tossed together cause we are the same age. Fortunately we also like each other.”
“Good, it should make your transition easier.”
“Transition?”
He nodded, his long dark hair falling across his eyes. “Into vampirism, Miss Davenport.”
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MoonStones and Blood