The Dark Edge Chronicles - Clan War

Back in the Tank

Lash floated for a long time in the red haze that was his body under compulsion, its pain barely sensed flashes of lightning licking around the edges. Even under full compulsion, he could feel that he was badly injured. And, to his horror, he could feel it get worse the longer he floated in the haze.

Then, after what felt like forever under Anka's control, he was clawing away the fog to open his eyes. To find himself being carefully lowered onto a gurney. Out of the corner of his eye, on the periphery, he could see a newly opened blood tank. Damn it, had he been injured badly enough that they were forced to tank him again??

"Doctor," a vampiress's voice said somewhere off to his right. "The patient has regained consciousness."

The human doctor that had watched him decant the first time, abruptly came into view over top of him, her eyes narrowed as she looked him over.

"Can you hear me, Commander?" she asked, her head angling to allow her to look down along his body.

"Yes," he managed to mumble.

The human looked back at him, a relieved smile appearing on her face.

"Excellent. You took a lot of damage at Mistress Anka's hands, Commander. We weren't sure if we could bring you out of the coma she put you in with trauma to your head and spine." The smile brightened slightly.

"Thankfully another round in the blood tank triggered healing in your central nervous system. We won't know whether you lost any memories or capabilities until we test you, however."

"I ... understand," he painfully got out.

"Good. Now, are you capable of taking in a blood meal? The tanks work wonders, but nothing heals better than a blood meal!"

Lash hesitated as he did an evaluation of his condition. Could he bite? Yes. Feed? Yes. Keep it down? Definitely. Stand?? Unknown. But he was willing to try.

"I think so," he said.

"Good," the human replied and the gurney started to tilt towards the vertical. As it did, the human made a gesture just out of sight. Then the two vampiresses that were on either side of the gurney, pivoted it around to face whatever the human's gesture had summoned.

Lash blinked in surprise when he saw it. It was a werewolf female, aged nineteen or twenty. In other words, in the prime of her life. Despite being cleaned up and wearing proper clothes in contrast to the standard werewolf condition, she still had a wild look about her with her unkempt brown hair and rumpled appearance.

As surprising as her presence was, however, it wasn't half as surprising as seeing a House glyph tattooed onto her neck.

"She's a familiar?" he stammered in shock.

That drew the werewolf's attention, which had been absorbed in looking around the tank chamber in curiosity, to him. And her eyes immediately widened.

"Holy shit, doc!" she exclaimed in a husky alto, her vampiric flawless and with just a hint of a Mediterranean accent. "You didn't tell me I'd be servicing some vampire god!"

"Because it wasn't relevant, Mimsy," the human retorted as Mimsy took several steps towards the uncertain Lash, eyes still wide.

"Is he horny, doc?" she asked, a pleased smile on her face when she stopped a step away. "Because I can take care of that for him, too, before he feeds."

"Focus, Mimsy. You're here to provide a werewolf blood meal, nothing more."

"We'll see," the young werewolf said, biting her bottom lip as she looked him over.