Skin Deep

This story takes place after the main events of Blood Lust, but before the wedding. It is written to be a stand-alone.

Originally published in the Scribble Nook "Love and War" anthology in 2022.

If there was one thing that Daniella Lanoue hated more than the idea of practicing magic on a full stomach, it was extended trips by plane.

It was a fourteen hour journey from New Orleans to London, and that didn’t include the hour and a bit layover in Houston.

Fourteen hours of being thirty-five thousand feet in the air. Fourteen hours of being trapped in a flying tin can, breathing recycled air and existing in close proximity to a bunch of people who were so caught up in the baggage they’d packed below their feet and above their heads that they had no idea how much of it they were carrying on their souls…

“Is it too late to change our minds?” Daniella looked over her shoulder at the tall, trim blond wearing a neat and exceptionally well-fitted suit. “Is there any way that we could just tell your grandma that we can’t come for the New Year’s eve party after all?”

Daniella was tall for a woman, and she wore a pair of heeled boots that added a couple of inches to her height, making her somewhere between five foot ten and eleven; Nicodemus towered over her still, and when he draped his arm over her shoulder and leaned down to murmur in her ear, his stature felt encompassing. “We will be absolutely fine, Nellie,” he assured her, his accent making his words smooth and clear despite the soft gravel of his voice. “It’s just a plane, and I will be in the seat next to you.”

“Oh sure you will,” Daniella muttered under her breath. “If they don’t decide that you’re too big for the cabin and try to put you in the hold instead.”

“Don’t be daft. I’m barely bigger than the average human.” He paused to brush a strand of dark hair from her ear and kissed the skin he found there. The movement was accompanied by a quiet jingle as the cat collar on his wrist turned. Oddly, Daniella felt more comforted by the bell than she had his words.

“Welcome aboard,” the flight attendant was a petite, cat eyed woman with thick, dark hair that had been tamed into box braids and then tied back neatly. She wore the deep blues and red accents of her airline and a smile that had a paid-to-be-here quality to it. She looked first at Daniella, and then seeing nothing in Daniella’s hands, turned to Nicodemus. “Do you know where you’re seated?”

Nicodemus flashed their tickets at the woman. “To your left, I believe.”

“Yes, that’s right, sir. Seats 4E and 4F are just here.” She gestured, and let them pass into the first class compartment, which somehow managed to smell just as much of stale plane as it did excess money.

Daniella looked at the comparatively sparse section of plane, which had two rows of four seats on the outside edges of the aisle, and three rows of two seats in the center.

“Okay, so we’re less cramped, but we’re also closer to the front of the plane. Which means if it goes down, we’re probably going to die. Or I will. You’re a vampire. You’ll probably hit the ground and bounce back up to the moon.”

“Well I am a space vampire, and I can breathe in space.” He smiled his fangs at Daniella and she scowled and pinched his arm.

“That,” she said, pointing a dark, taloned finger at him, “was a really bizarre dream and not a reflection of my impression of your abilities.”

Nicodemus chuckled, which made her scowl more as she watched him stow his small carry on in the compartment designated to his seat and then handed him her own when he held out his hand.

“Love, if the plane goes down, you’ll pull some spectacular magic out of thin air and stop both of us from dying. Sit down here and try to take a few minutes to breathe while the rest of the passengers board the plane, all right?”

He did not exactly herd her into her seat, but his insistence was both verbally and physically firm enough that she found herself settled into a tiny plush little matchbox masquerading as an armchair. On all sides, she was assaulted by small buttons and closed compartments of things that both begged to be explored and possibly warned of setting off alarms. Not that that stopped her from poking and prodding and turning things.

“I still can’t believe that we’re rich enough to fly in first class. Or that you’d actually let us be that conspicuous.” She did her best to keep her voice devoid of emotion even as she felt Nicodemus watching her. She felt his amusement and bemusement as she pulled at the seam of some hidden compartment that apparently housed her dining tray.

“The Hargreaves are an old family, and I’m not traveling for work. So yes, we have money, and no I’m not going to sit in the cramped economy seats when we can have chairs that are almost comfortable.”

He caught her hand mid-search for something else to poke at and brought the back of it to his lips. “Are you all right, pet? You’re a little more erratic than usual.”

Daniella pursed her lips, unsure how to answer his question. Physically, she was fine. Even the idea of being on a plane, although unnerving, wasn’t really so bad now that she was confronted with the inevitable reality of being on said plane.

But going to see Nicodemus’ family in England? Being a guest of honour at a New Year’s party hosted by one of the most organized branches of the vampire mafia for other vampire families? Not to mention that the party was going to double as an official announcement of her engagement to Nicodemus…

Maybe if it had been a personal celebration with just Nic and his family, Daneilla wouldn’t feel like her head was spinning. But this was bigger than that. This was a marriage that would tie Nicodemus Neon Hargreaves, third in line to take over the Foster branch of the vampire’s mafia-like network, to her: a necromancer and hedgewitch from New Orleans, who’s only real claim to fame was a break-up so bad and a debt so monumental that she’d had to resort to summoning a vampire hitman to help her sort her life out.

Half the time, she was just thankful that Nicodemus had fallen in love with her rather than deciding to drink her dry. The other half, she wondered what the hell was wrong with his brain that he hadn’t just snapped her neck and moved on the moment she’d lifted his binds.

How long do you think his love will last? How long will your human body be in a condition to keep him entertained?

“Nell?” Azure eyes regarded Daniella carefully as he prompted her again for a response. The bell on his wrist shook again as he jiggled her hand in his.

Daniella inhaled deeply. “I’m fine,” she said, not quite managing a smile, though she did tighten her grip on his hand. “Do you think they’ll let me use the bathroom before we take off?”

Nicodemus looked around the cabin. The seats around them were mostly occupied now, but the cabins behind them were still full of people trying to find their seats and settle in. “If you’re quick.”

That was all Daniella needed. She followed the sign to the front of the cabin, darting into the tiny stall and locking the door even before the automatic light could flicker on. Fortunately, getting into the bathroom before takeoff meant the room had been freshly cleaned, so when she looked at her own reflection in the mirror, the glass shone brightly between her face and its.

Was it her imagination, or did sigils of demonic magic flow under her skin?

She leaned forward, getting closer to the woman who stared back at her, analyzing pale skin with clinical scrutiny.

Nothing.

So was the voice that she heard her own fears, or Mivea’s input?

A demon of heartbreak couldn’t survive in a body that had chosen healing and love, but Daniella had signed her pact with Mivea in the throes of desperation and despair. The demon had sunk her claws into Daniella and pulled her into an icy world devoid of grief, fear, and doubt; but she had also closed off Daniella’s heart to joy and celebration and love. By the end, emotions of any capacity, including the kind of fear that would drive her own self-preservation, were almost entirely beyond Daniella’s capabilities.

Nicodemus had changed that. He’d broken the ice and plunged unquestioningly into freezing waters to find her and pull her out of the place where she had stored the center of her Self.

But Mivea was jealous, and sometimes feeling nothing was a divine experience. So, like an addict, Daniella pretended she did not see the monster lurking behind her own eyes. And like the demon that she was, Mivea used the stick of fear and the carrot of oblivion to try to draw Daniella in.

“I am not you,” she whispered to the woman in the mirror and to the shadows that she might only imagine running beneath her skin. “I am not you. I am so much more. And I will trust that his love for me is more than skin deep.”

If Mivea was actually awake, she did not reply, and Daniella felt stupid for running off to the bathroom to simultaneously hide and confront her own stupid self.

At a loss, Daniella shook her head and threw back the latch of the door handle, pushing the door open carefully and returning to her seat.

Nicodemus watched his witch come back to him. He recognized the look on her face, and it did not bode well for their trip or the woman herself. Steely determination mixed with pride and the smallest pinch of self-loathing, making Daniella’s porcelain doll face almost viperous as she collapsed heavily into her seat.

What’s more was that he could smell her nerves and fear, and it was difficult for him to believe that a woman who ferried souls from the realm of the living beyond the veil of the dead would be quite so discombobulated by a lengthy plane journey as she was.

No sooner was she in her seat did a flight attendant appear with a tray of small glasses. “Orange juice? Water?”

It was a small comfort that his wife-to-be seized the distraction with enthusiasm.

Whatever is gnawing at her, you can’t help until she decides to share.

And she wouldn’t share if he prodded too much.

They should have told Mona to come with them. The familiar’s presence was a good security blanket for Daniella.

Unfortunately, the familiar was also the security system for their home and all of Daniella’s unfinished spellcraft, so taking the cat overseas wasn’t feasible.

With a glass of orange juice under her belt, and a little more colour in her face, Daniella’s nervousness seemed to bank, and they chatted quietly as menus for the flight’s meal were passed around, and final checks were made to each of the cabins. Other than a brief, almost literal hiccup during take off, where Daniella clutched his hand and held her breath, she seemed to have settled, and Nicodemus felt himself relax.

“I think you’ll like Brum,” he offered the sentiment as a way to continue keeping Daniella busy, but also because, he hoped, it would be true. “It’s not as big as London, but the independent business scene is strong, so there are a lot of small but good restaurants and tiny shops.”

Her smile was more in her eyes than her mouth now, and that let him know that she was feeling more herself. “Labours of love, rather than franchises? Sounds a lot like New Orleans.”

“They’re not dissimilar. Though, Birmingham leans more to Indian and Middle-Eastern influences, we still get our pockets of Caribbean undercurrents.”

“Not so much the French, then?”

Nicodemus laughed. “Not generally. It might be an old stereotype, but the French and the English still aren’t always on the friendliest of terms.”

“Well, you did go to war with each other for like a hundred years.”

“More than that, and more than once. I’ve a great-uncle who could probably tell you about it, if you’re interested. Nan, too, for that matter.”

“I just want to see Gideon’s library.”

“Okay, well, for the record, it’s not his library,” Nicodemus fought to keep himself from rolling his eyes. “I don’t care what my brother has told you, our collection on magic and the occult was well established long before he started bargain hunting on eBay.”

Her laugh eased something in his chest. The fact that she was relaxing now made him feel like he could finally relax, too, and he allowed himself to enjoy that he was going home.

Everything felt a little better and brighter now that they had air under their wings. The food was actually shaped like food. A perk of first class, Nicodemus had told her. So was the wine, which Daniella eyed suspiciously until Nicodemus reminded her that they had already paid for it as part of the price of her seats.

Normally, she wouldn’t have bothered, but the vampire had already picked up a glass for her as well as himself before she could protest. In the end, she didn’t regret it. The alcohol smoothed some of the remaining edges of her fears, and she leaned into the warm feelings of content and-- dare she admit it? Excitement-- of traveling.

“I have to hand it to you, Neon: this is so much cooler than I thought it would be,” she chirruped as she adjusted the footrest of her seat. She felt Nicodemus watching her, and when she flicked her gaze in his direction to catch his eye, she also caught the way his subtle smile dimpled his cheeks. “Dinner, wine, an almost comfy chair, and if I get tired of talking to you, a whole selection of movies and noise canceling headphones so I can ignore you until you go away.”

“Oh, nice. I see how it is,” but his smile was bigger as he said, “You know they’ve got movies in the other cabins as well, so if you’re that desperate to get rid of me, you can fuck off on your merry way to the back.”

Still smiling, she placed her hand on his. “You’d miss me.”

“I have my own movies, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

He gestured to his own screen, which she considered carefully. Her thumb found the band of the cat collar that he wore on his wrist, and then traveled down to the bell that hung from it. Each flick of her thumb added a tiny jingle to the droning hum of the aircraft.

One corner of his mouth twitched upward as she looked at him. She felt herself respond in kind.

“I’d miss you,” she admitted.

Pleased with her admission, he recanted. “Yeah, fine. I’d miss you too, ye silly bint.” He brought his free hand up to cup her face and drew her in for a brief, all too chaste kiss.

She smiled against his lips, her teeth catching his bottom lip briefly in a challenge and invitation. “Hey, isn’t there like a Five Mile High Club or something?”

His laughter was quiet, and his other hand came up to catch her face completely. It kept her from pulling away, but it also kept her from chasing after him as he retreated. “While there might be, I don’t fancy getting banned from the airline when we’re caught.”

Disappointment to an irrational level swam through Daniella as she plopped back into her seat. “I mean, if you weren’t so loud.”

“Now that is the pot calling the kettle black.”

She could tell that his refusal was good natured, but something about it stung slightly. “You didn’t mind fucking me in that bite nook at Oisin’s,” she dropped her voice low as a flight attendant pulled back the curtain over Daniella’s shoulder and continued up the aisle to the front of the plane.

“A bite nook is designed for sex,” Nicodemus murmured, leaning against the armrest between them and letting his mouth hover near her ear. “An aircraft toilet is not. Especially the way you like to be thrown about. We’d break something, then we would get caught, and then we’d never be allowed to fly this airline again. And that would put a real damper on future international travel.”

The fact that he was being sensible didn’t help. If anything, it made her feel slightly worse, because the fun of the suggestion had gone and left her feeling rejected.

Get used to it, said a voice that was her own but did not come from her. Decades or years, it doesn’t matter. Your beauty will fade and so will his lust for you.

Knowing that the origin of that fear was not her own mind did not make it feel less real, and she couldn’t quite put her heart back into the next kiss that Nicodemus gave her.

She turned away when he released her, and poked haphazardly at her screen. “Movie?”

The lights of the cabin dimmed half way through, and the armrest between them prevented them from curling up the way that she wanted them to. Nicodemus held her hand, but that was the most that they could do without her climbing into his seat, which the seat was not big enough to do even if it had been allowed.

By the time that the credits rolled, Nicodemus was dozing slightly, and Daniella’s head was spinning.

Frustrated with herself, and feeling short of breath, she released her lover’s hand, and once again found herself in the bathroom, confronted by her own reflection.

This time, it was not a trick of the light. Shadows of empty sigils traced intricate paths across the skin of her face, her neck, and her hands. The sight of them seized Daniella’s heart, stole her breath, and made her shoulders wilt in shame.

She avoided her own gaze as she splashed water on her face and tried to find a more natural pattern of breath. “Go away,” she whispered into her palms, letting the darkness behind her hands replace the deeper darkness of the veil and the void. “Just let me go.”

You’re not that foolish, girl, said the voice that was hundreds and thousands of variations of her own. You think that getting rid of me is going to be as easy as a dream and a wish? This isn’t Disney, Daniella, and you’re not a princess…

“I am not yours,” the witch insisted the words, dropping her hands to clutch the edges of the sink. Now she did look up, and she saw Mivea staring back at her.

She wore Daniella’s face, the kohl around her eyes was the same as Daniella had applied that morning. The faded red of her lips were the remains of the lip stain Daniella had put on. But Daniella saw the demon in the emptiness of her own tawny eyes. She saw her in the creeping glow of magic under her skin.

And the witch bared her teeth at that face masquerading as her own. “I. Am not. Yours. My heart. Is not yours.”

But it’s not his, either, is it?

No, Daniella reasoned. Her heart was her own, and she gave it to Nicodemus for safe keeping.

Of course. And he’ll guard it well, as long as you’re useful to him.

It took everything in Daniella not to strike the mirror. “Fuck you.”

It must be exhausting to feel so angry all the time, and so perpetually afraid. It wasn’t long ago that you weren’t afraid of anything. And now look at you. My frail… little… witch.

Daniella slammed back the latch of the door and pushed it open with enough force that she nearly bounced off of the person on the other side.

Hands caught her. First her shoulders and then her face, guiding her gaze to the very blue eyes of her vampire.

“Nell.” His thumb brushed across her lips and his eyes followed the lines of her face in a way that told her he could see the shadows of the demon beneath her skin. To his credit, he did not indicate that he recognized what he saw. He simply drew her closer and whispered, “Talk to me.”

The murmuration was gentle, soothing. The invitation pulled Daniella in as sure as he pulled her into his embrace.

“I’m so tired of this,” Daniella leaned into Nicodemus’ shoulder, pressing her face into the smooth, crisp fabric of his shirt. “She’s supposed to have gone quiet. She’s supposed to have left me alone, and she just keeps…” She foundered as she looked for the right word.

“Harping?” Lips found her temple, and a hand found her hair, smoothing it from the crown of her head down the length of her back.

“Exactly. I feel like, of anyone, I should be trying to embrace this New Year’s garbage about New-Year-New-Me. I sold myself some massive song and dance about how this trip was going to set me up for an easier time with planning the wedding and setting up the club. Like going away and coming back is going to magically sever my tie with Mivea. But the truth is, she’s been gnawing at me non-stop for days. I feel like…” She took a breath and gritted her teeth in frustration. “I feel like I’m fighting a war, except that every time I turn to look at enemy lines, one of my own allies sneaks behind me and attacks.”

Nicodemus pulled away enough to look at her. “I wish you had said,” he murmured.

Daniella shrugged. “There’s nothing you can do, Neon,” she lamented. “Mivea is a part of me, whether I like it or not. She’s damage that I did to myself, and knowing that she’s there--”

“Daniella,” he shook his head, taking one of her hands in his and placing it over his heart. He echoed the gesture with his own hand on hers. “I love you. Even if I can’t directly help you address whatever might have prodded Mivea to riding you, I can always, always make time to remind you of that.” He leaned, placing a kiss on her lips before whispering, “Never feel like you have to go to war alone, love. I’m always here to watch your six.”

His words banked her fear. His arms around her stilled the torrent winds tangling her thoughts. His kiss, gentle, delicate, and somehow delicious now in its chastity, closed the door on the demon and shut her out completely.

For a moment that could have been a thousand years, the vampire held the witch, and the witch sank into his embrace.

And then the plane rocked, and a quiet ding requested that they return to their seats and put their seatbelts on.

“Fuck,” Daniella muttered under her breath. “This is ridiculous. Being in our seats doesn’t keep us alive, you know. It just helps them identify the bodies after.”

Nicodemus laughed and ushered her down the aisle. “That’s fine, but you still have to follow the rules.”

“One more kiss,” she offered as a compromise. “To seal the deal.”

And now his smile was soft as he took her chin into the crook of one finger, and leaned down to kiss her. “In war and in peace, Daniella Lanoue, I’m with you.”

And despite every dark and creeping thought that might have lingered, she believed him.