Liz Maverick - Crimson City

Fleur Dumont flung herself out of the ninety-third-floor window and somersaulted along the vertical length of the skyscraper. She quickly adjusted to the altered plane of the fighting field and leaped into the air, one leg bent at the knee; the other leg she kicked straight out into the chest of her assailant.

Her foe lost his footing, but he recovered position within seconds, foregoing any attempt at bracing himself along the slick glass of the building beneath him. Instead, hovering in the air, he gestured to someone behind Fleur. A glance at the reflection in the windows below her feet confirmed two more enemies. Sweat pouring down the back of her jacket, Fleur pulled a pair of daggers from the sheaths strapped around her thighs and whirled in a circle, her weapons at the ready, trying to make herself a little more space.

The sky blurred into a luminous rainbow as she turned, the night's darkness making the lights that streamed past much more vivid. Projected down to-ward the human world at street level, they originated from a fleet of flying advertisement projectors. Looped videos, holographies, multicolored skylight lasersall touting a seemingly endless number of desires and cures. The lights were uncomfortable and distracting to vampires, but Fleur had trained outside enough to be able to ignore them when it counted.

The three vampires floating around her were, like her, armed with daggers, and she already knew firsthand of their power and skill. Well, size and numbers could not trump the strength and agility inherent in her blood, so at worst, they were equals. Fleur focused and moved in for the kill, directing a flurry of blows at all three men as she danced through the air.

Until one of the men snatched a gun from his shoulder holster and fired. Caught by surprise, Fleur lurched away and hit the top of a billboard with her knee. She cartwheeled wildly off in the other direction amid a shower of sparks as some of the bulbs exploded from the impact. She went into free fall, just missing a remote-controlled drone that hummed by projecting an all-species evening edition of the news onto the thickening smog particles.

She let herself drop and took the opportunity to catch her breath, but the splash of violet on her right sleeve spurred her back into the fight. He'd capped her, all right. That pissed her off, and immediately she reversed direction, purposely holding her left arm behind her and out of sight.

Just as she reached the three men and lunged forward with her knife, a watch chime froze all her foes in midaction. They stopped fighting immediately, and the session ended with the flat end of Fleur's blade slapping dully off Marius's chest armor. "That's time," he said. "And we're off."

Without another word, the men all turned and headed upward, Fleur on their heels. They alit gracefully on the edge of the huge picture window leading back into the training room, where the slick angles, metal, and glass wrapping the outside of the massive landmark building gave way to a completely different world: dark woods, lusciously colored fabrics and touches of gilt.

"Come on, come on finish this!" Fleur looked wildly from one man to the next, but the three Protectors were already stripping off their fight gear.

"Sorry, Fleur," Warrick said, swatting her dagger away as if it were a fly. "Nice work, but next time, don't expect a reflection to save you."

Fleur knew he was right. She wasn't quite where she needed to be. She should have been training from the day she was born, but the assumption had been that she'd never be called. That hadn't really changed, but the number of vampires left between her and serious responsibility had been whittled down to two: her half-brothers, Christian and Ryan. She could have gotten away with calling them brothers, straight up, but they simply weren't close.

Her cousins, the three Protectors standing before her, were her core family now. For Marius, Warrick, and Ian Dumont had never once swayed in their loyalty, not even amidst the power struggle during the war between the species when her mother had not only fallen from grace, but had fallen forever.

Still, Fleur wasn't convinced her cousins took her training seriously. Probably no one did. But at least they humored her, and they could humor her all they wanted as long as they gave her the training she'd requested.

She sighed and threw herself down on one of the carved rosewood benches lining the training hall. "I thought it was just going to be Marius today. Nice trick calling for the others."

"You know us too well. You're able to anticipate our movements at this point," Ian said, busy flexing his chest muscles with the pleased air of a man who knew his body could not be more perfect. "And even with those damn stuffy helmets on, I'm sure you still know who is who. From movement or sense if not by sight. We should bring in some outsiders for you to practice on."

Warrick stripped off his shirt and tossed it in the corner bin, then glanced over. "You're not hurt, Fleur, are you? You took a nasty bounce off that advert."

Fleur crossed her legs to hide the rip in her training suit and quickly peeled off her jacket so they wouldn't see the violet paint. If Marius had been toting a real UV weapon, she'd be lying on the floor writhing in pain. "I'm absolutely fine. Not a bad recovery out there, I think So, what are you meeting about?"

She asked them the same question every morning. It had become something of a joke, since they all knew they wouldn't say. What went on in the war room, stayed in the war room. That's the way Fleur's half-brothers wanted it, though it wasn't the candid policy vampire leaders had exercised in the past. But, then, there had been quite a few policy changes recently.

Ian gave her the look she'd been expecting and promptly changed the subject. "Same time, day after tomorrow? We can try something new."

She shrugged and nodded.

"You're welcome to come for the beginning, you know," Warrick said, pulling a fresh shirt over his head.

Fleur managed a half-smile. Actually, she wasn't welcome. Inside the war room, they treated her as if she were still a small child; they tempered the discussion and waited until she gave up and left before letting the real discourse begin. It was a waste of time for everybody, and her presence made everyone uncomfortable, to boot. All because of her past.

The vampires of CrimsonCity were primarily descendants of four families who formed an organized body called the Primary Assembly, which controlled the policies of survival for the entire vampire world. Fleur had been born into the Dumont family, and thus was a key link of the most powerful lineage. The Dumonts, by tradition, controlled the Assembly. This was a legacy that should have run straight to her, and someday down to her children.

Yes, one vampire stood at the podium in the Primary Assembly meetings to report on the intricate web of relationships between the species in CrimsonCity. One vampire sat with the inner circle comprised of the heads of the four families and their advisors, and made final decisions on matters of defense and survival. There were other vampires who controlled matters of business and internal welfare, but it was the head of city intelligence who most impacted the survival of their species, and as the vampires evolved, it was this position that had be-come a kind of de facto presidency for the vampire world. And upon the death of her mother in the first major battle between the species some years back, that vampire should have been Fleur Dumont.