As you all know due to the teaser sent out by Jussi Nikander, the
Black Rose Mailing List had something we've been calling the "October
Challenge of Doom" last month since Halloween was coming up and this is the
centennial year of Bram Stoker's "Dracula". This is one of the stories
resulting from that challenge. ^_^ ... You might want to keep in mind that
I'm not on the ffml and will quite probably miss any and all comments not
made directly to me. ^_^

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                * Standard Takahashi/Viz/Shogakakun disclaimer *
                * Standard R. Schell disclaimer. Standard lemon*
                * disclaimer. The lemon bits aren't the squishy*
                * variety and are pertinent to the story line  *
                * (one hopes!) On with the story!!             *
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        This is for Jason; somewhere, sometime, happiness finds us all...

                                Crimson Thorns

Crimson crying crawling for you,
My daemon dark lover,
and the snow is stained
Pink with proof of my passion.

        Dancing with the fireflies in nighttime rhapsody, a favorite of
hers that drew her, night after night, to the flickering skylines of Tokyo.
Here, there was no "Black Rose", no "twisted sister", no Ranma looking at
her as if she were some kind of horrifying creature. Here, there was only
Kodachi and the dance, ribbons flying around her as if they were some part
of her, mystic proportions of motion belonging to her and her alone.

        Here, there was a newcomer, a darker shadow amongst the shadows
that watched the dance nightly. His name, for lack of a better one, was
Romalov; a wanderer much like Kodachi, one who had spent too long peering
into naught but the dark pit of the night.

        There was much about her to catch his attention. The green dress
she had worn before flinging it away to reveal the black leotard beneath
was a style not often seen in the last century and her motions were
graceful the way few women's were aside from roving Gypsies and Japanese
geishas. There was a dark sensuality underlying this woman's dance, a
sensuality that tugged at him to come closer, closer, to truly look at her
and determine more about her.

        Romalov clenched his fist when first he saw her face, barely
keeping the gasp of surprise between his teeth. Her eyes! Her eyes, the
same that had haunted him forever, eternally, the eyes that had kept him
running from one side of the world to another. The one that he'd never
thought to find again and he found her dancing for him in the dark.

        He stepped forward into the wavering radiance provided by the neon
lights of Tokyo, abandoning the friendly shadows as she whirled and
whirled, embodying passion and love and fever and forever. This was his
need, this was his One. He took her in his arms and danced with her,
enraptured even as she was entranced.

        "Your name, Beloved?"

        "Kodachi. Kuno Kodachi."

        His lips brushed hers, cool in the cold night air. "You're mine,"
he whispered, tenderly stroking a tendril of her hair away from her
perspiration damp face. "Mine and mine alone."

        "Yours," she whispered dreamily. "Yours, and I won't forget it."

        "Not if it takes years?"

        "Not if it takes centuries."

        With that, he stepped once again into his world of shadows, removed
himself from the pattern and watched her fly. {Forget,} he thought.
{Forget.} And he was gone.

        Kodachi slowed, her eyes opening. She felt so dizzy, so...
confused. Wasn't there someone here, just a moment ago? A man with dark
hair and blue eyes and... No. There was no one, nothing but a fantasy of
her Ranma-sama come to taunt her here in her lair. She slumped tiredly to
the roof, gasping quietly. She had danced too long, i' faith, for she'd
lost track of time and rhythm. That meant that it was time to go home; time
to go home and rest.

        He watched her leave from the alley below, saw her jumping from
rooftop to rooftop. {I'll find you again. And this time, I won't let you
go.}

* * * * *

        Kodachi yawned listlessly, her eyes drooping slightly as she sat in
the library reading quietly. Gothic literature was one of her favorite
genres and yet she could barely keep her eyes from falling closed! She must
have danced too much tonight, after all. "Brother dear, I believe that I
shall hie myself hence to the baths and to bed," she announced, stifling
yet another yawn with the back of her hand.

        Kuno raised an eyebrow. So soon, my sister? 'Tis only eleven, not
so late an hour, methinks, as you are accustomed to keeping."

        "Indeed, brother dear, and yet I feel the pull of sleep dragging me
away to my bed. Good night to you and to Sasuke, should you see him again
before he seeks his own rest." Her eyes lit up with amusement. "Those
dreadful dubbed American cartoons of his. How can he love them so?"

        "My sister, I see not the rhyme or reason of it, either. Good night
to you, then. Sleep well."

        Kodachi moved up the stairs slowly, her typical bounce seemingly
drained as she walked into the baths. She slid off her clothes and sat on
the nearest stool to wash in the frigid water, scrubbing the lengths of her
hair with rough fingertips. So very tired was she that she didn't notice
the shadow among shadows that watched her from the nearby window, barely a
glint to let her know that he was there. The heft of her breasts made him
desire her, the graceful motion of her arms gave him unimaginable yearning.
He could hear the little gasp as the bucket of freezing water slid over
her, saw her shiver uncontrollably as she rose and slowly slipped into the
warmth of the furo.

        Kodachi slipped her head beneath the warmth of the water. She could
feel the silken tendrils of her hair wrapping loosely around her arms and
tickling against her back, sensual and teasing. She rose slowly and brought
her hands to wipe the water from her eyes. The low light made the droplets
on her lashes glisten, made them magnify the light so that surely the form
standing at the end of the furo was a figment of her imagination.
"Ranma-sama?"

        "My love," came the tender whisper in response. Romalov had waited
for this for so long; he had waited for her, this beautiful soul! And now,
again, for the first time in a century, he had found her. The sparkle of
those gray eyes, the tender depth of her black tresses, even the pallor of
her skin, it was sheer perfection. His eyes almost overflowed with the
blood tears as he took her hand in his and kissed the inside of her wrist
tenderly. "I've waited for you," was all he could think to whisper.

        "Ranma-sama," she repeated quietly, putting his finger to her lips.
The sound of this other man's name on her lips made him want to howl,
scream, bay at the very moon. "Shhh, love, darling."

        She stood from the water and it ran over her in little rivulets,
caresses of wetness seeking crooks and crannies, hair streaming down her
back as he pressed her against him, not caring that the silk of his shirt
was soaked, that the velvet tai-chi were ruined. All he could think was
that this was her, his eternal love, and she was hot and wet against him.
He could smell her need as he lifted her so effortlessly and brought her
into the bedroom full of black roses; even the sheets were embroidered with
them. "My Rose," he murmured adoringly as he lay her back against the
English style four poster.

        There was no embarrassment in her; no, nor maidenly squeamishness,
for even as he moved towards her, she drew him down and began to pull and
tug at the buttons of the wet material. His mouth was on her, ravenous,
starving, so long! So long since there had been a woman who brought this
steaming arousal to life, so long since he had been warm. He helped her to
strip away the shirt, shoes dropped by the bedside leaving only the thin
black cotton pants he had come to favor during his sojourn in China. Her
breasts were delicious as he slid his hands over them, pinching at the pink
kernel of her nipple with delicate fingers, mouth trembling against hers as
he pressed down between her legs, fitting himself closely to her. The blood
was running under her skin, so close, and he wanted more than anything to
drink of her as she came to him, to bring her the exquisite pleasure that
only he would ever be able to bring. He could feel the warmth of her
wetness even through the pants and his fingers searched out the crevice of
her.

        Kodachi jumped, gasped, every nerve ending attuned to this being
who fulfilled something in her soul, it seemed. His mouth caressed over the
hills and dales of her breasts, kissing beneath them with something akin to
joy, the water still hiding beneath the heavy globes and then down her
belly, the delicious size of her waist. She wasn't the type of tiny
half-starved woman that disgusted him so in this century; no, she was
larger, well-built, and he would never have to be afraid of breaking her.
The song of her time was almost upon her and he wished, wished, wished,
that it was, that he could taste the thin sweetness of her blood and cream
mingled in his mouth but there was nothing for it. He kissed her inner
thighs and heard the soft keening of her breath as she arched towards him,
wanting more, wanting the touch of him -there-, against that kernel of
pleasure existing and yearning only for him. His tongue flickered over it
and then his mouth closed, suckling tightly in that motion she'd so loved
in her life before and he felt her cries more than heard them as her thighs
clamped tightly around his ears. With careful motions, he brought his thumb
to her entrance and pushed slowly into the tightness of her, feeling her
tender flesh shudder beneath him at the touch. He could feel the thin
barrier of skin that came between the two of them and he lashed against her
with the tip of his tongue, distracting her. There was no other man! none
but him and the pleasure in that was overwhelming, immense in the
realization. His thumb slid loose from her and he kissed his way up her
belly, ignoring the soft whimpers, the rock of her hips as she begged him
for more.

        Kodachi was wild, on the very verge of forever when he stopped and
she wanted to beat her hands against his shoulders, to make him fulfill
her, bring her over the edge and drive her mad with it. He knelt between
her thighs and she watched his fingers as he slid one hand between her
thighs again to enter her, making her moan with the pleasure-pain of being
stretched around that impaling digit, lips trembling with the flood of
emotions. The other hand moved to the simple ties holding up the cotton
pants and she watched lasciviously as he stripped them away. She wanted
more than anything to reach up, to touch and stroke and make him barbaric
and primitive the way he'd made her but he was over her then and it didn't
matter anymore. She could feel him pressing against her and it hurt, ached,
burned, made her want to sob and beg for him to stop but his fingers were
caressing her again, the place he'd used to bring her to pleasure before
and she couldn't stop him, wouldn't.

        Romalov covered her mouth with his own, catching the cry of pain as
he thrust deep inside of her, moaning into her as he lay still. So hard to
keep still after so long, when all he wanted to do was take her and take
her and take her again until she lay beneath him, quiescent and as filled
with the warm glow as he. Instead, he kissed her mouth, her jaw, under her
chin. He could feel her contracting around him tightly, could feel the
shivers rushing through her with each stroke of his thumb against her clit
as his heartbeat echoed inside of her. The smell of the blood was
overpowering now and he groaned violently as he kissed against her jugular,
ravenous. Just a taste, just a bite! Before he knew it, his teeth were in
her, the sweet taste of her blood bursting in his mouth, and she was crying
out beneath him as he thrust, deep, deeper, and it wasn't pain, no, but the
most immensely erotic feeling that had ever flown through her, golden
bubbling liquid in her veins and she cried a name, not his name, but that
was all right because she belonged to him, forever, now and always, and he
came with her, groaning against her throat as the salty blood tears washed
over her momentarily and the holes closed themselves as if by magic.

        It was moments later when she gave that husky whisper that always
seemed to burn in his mind. "Oh, my love. You've made a woman of me."

        "Yes," he said quietly. "And you're my woman, no mistake about
that. Never forget it!"

        "Yours," she whispered sleepily and then she was gone into a
netherworld of dreaming.

        He caressed her eyelids with his kisses, sighed at the tangle of
wet sheets even as he rose from her and pulled on the damp clothes he'd
left on the floor. With tenderness, he moved her to the fainting couch that
lay in one corner and covered her with a light cotton blanket. He frowned
at the sheets, the blood splattered in a tiny splotch against them proof of
his presence. With care, he stripped them away and left the mattress to
dry, touching her face one last time before walking to the window and
looking out into the night sky. It was late and he must go, feed fully
before he returned to his basement full of the dirt of his homeland and the
quiet darkness of his enclosed bed. Tomorrow would be enough time to return
to her, to love her again -- or to find this "Ranma" and discover exactly
what was going on here.

        That decision made, he narrowed his sapphire eyes and threw his
black braid over his shoulder. Enough. Time to go.

        The only remnants of his presence were the cracked window that left
Kodachi shivering in the starlight and the sheets rumpled in a corner of
her closet. "My love," she whispered in her sleep. "Oh, my love.."

* * * * *

        Kuno looked up from "Titus Andronicus" with a frown. What could
that noise have been just now? With his usual arrogance, he strode to the
French doors opening from the library out into the garden. The moon still
graced the night sky with its presence, though barely, casting a silvery
light across trees and shrubbery, lighting well the paths through Kodachi's
masterpiece. He opened the door and glanced around before his eyes lit on
the trespasser. Before he could call out, the figure jumped to the top of
the surrounding wall and he saw him in the thinly filtered light of the
setting moon. The pigtail was outlined to advantage and the shimmering
moonbeams revealed enough of the build that he knew then who it was.

        Saotome Ranma.

        Fury arced through him and yet he held it in check, an admirable
feat for Kuno Tatewaki. The certainty of the reason for Saotome's presence
filtered into his mind. Tomorrow. He would find Saotome tomorrow and they
would discuss this dishonorable behavior. They would discuss it and he
would wed Kodachi, will he, nil he.

        Lips pressed together firmly, Kuno placed his bookmark carefully
between the pages and placed the book on his desk. Indeed, tomorrow would
be time enough to bring the Sorcerer to task.

        Muscle jumping in his clenched jaw, Kuno turned out the light and
moved upstairs slowly to find his own bed.

* * * * *

        Ranma blew his bangs out of his eyes, the kata slow and exquisitely
perfect with each motion that he made. He'd been doing this for hours,
since the fight at the dojo had gotten him thrown out of the house yet
again. Luckily, it wasn't mid-winter this time -- only the middle of
October and so it was more beautiful than anything else. The mornings were
crisp with the scents that he associated with traveling. Smells of fall
flowers and burning leaves and the "taste" of pumpkin, cinnamon and nutmeg
from the bakery around the corner.

        "Saotome Ranma."

        "Kuno. Whatta you want?"

        "Though the very notion of coming to you in this manner rends my
heart and makes my very blood chill within these noble veins, I find that I
must do so, for..."

        Ranma stopped his kata to tilt his head to the side and interrupt
Kuno. "So why're you wantin' to talk t' *me*?" he asked, settling down
beside the tiny fire over which his breakfast currently bubbled.

        "It's about my sister. Kodachi," Kuno answered in a patronizing voice.

        "Yeah, so?"

        Kuno frowned angrily. "So I -saw- you leaving her room last night,
Saotome! How -DARE- you take advantage of the most noble gift of her heart
and undoubtedly her body in such a manner? Indeed, you shall marry her this
very day!"

        "Whoa, whoa! What're you accusin' me of, man? You really think I'd
do that with.. Don't answer that question, I'm sure ya do. But I ain't been
nowhere except here since last night around two. What'd I be doin' over at
your place with Kodachi?"

        Kuno growled angrily, his dark hair standing almost on end. "I
believe you not! Indeed, you lie with the veriest finesse, I doubt not that
you take advantage of the other young women you have seduced in the
self-same manner!" His bokken came as if from nowhere, his lips pressed
together firmly. "Prepare thyself, Sorcerer, for I..."

        "RANMA!" Akane shouted as she stormed into the vacant lot, coming
between Kuno and the object of his anger, her hands on her hips as she
glared up into the surprised eyes of her fiance. "How DARE you behave the
way you behaved last night? If you had JUST apologized, you wouldn't have
been thrown out at TWO in the MORNING!"

        "Tomboy! It ain't' MY fault Ryouga came in an' busted up the house!
It ain't like I did nothin' to provoke him, he just came outta nowhere but
do you blame -him-? Nooo, it's RANMA'S fault, send Ranma out t'sleep in the
cold an' the rain an' the snow, let the pig sleep in the house..."

        The mallet came down firmly, making him twitch. "RANMA, YOU IDIOT,
STOP MAKING FUN OF RYOUGA!!!!!!"

        Kuno looked at his love with a serious expression. "Then he was
truly in your home until two this morning?" he asked quietly.

        Akane tilted her head to the side as she turned to look at Kuno.
"Of course, Sempai. Where else would he have been?"

        Kuno closed his eyes, the wind ruffling his hair as he crossed his
arms across his chest and whispered ever so softly, "Something wicked this
way comes..."

        Ranma and Akane watched him with a certain amount of confusion. "I
told ya it wasn't me," Ranma growled.

        "What wasn't you?" Akane's suspicious nature made her fingers itch
to be at the mallet again.

        "Aw, Kuno here thought I was sneakin' into Kodachi's room last
night before two but yanno Ryouga was at the house an' we were fightin'
come midnight. I ain't been in Kodachi's room an' ya couldn't pay me enough
t'make me go!" he insisted.

        "Sempai?" Akane asked softly. "Why would you think it was Ranma?"

        "I saw the miscreant!" he replied, anger again creeping into his
voice. "The moon shone bright upon him. I tell you, it was exactly like the
sorcerer!" Leveling his bokken at Ranma once again, his icy gray eyes
narrowed. "The truth, Saotome. Thou art some sort of incubus, art thou
not?"

        "I ain't no SEX DEMON!" Ranma shouted.

        "You PERVERT!" Akane shrieked angrily.

        With those words, the usual melee commenced.

* * * * *