left for my husband and bonded, upon seeing a letter on his desk from flynn. during such times, i could sense a measure of turmoil within my lover... at times, i wondered if he felt as though he was slighting me when he would ask for flynn to come out. this was written to let him know my own heart and acceptance of the matter.
***
My Eternal Maestro,
My, but you are being inundated with letters today, lover mine. *chuckles* Yet, as I have seen my former alter ego has left something here for you, I felt moved to add a note of my own. Do not worry, I did not read Flynn’s note because I feel whatever thoughts he shared should remain sacrosanct between you both. Such is why I have been so accommodating toward the moments you both have been sharing. I know Flynn is a tumult of emotion and I can only imagine what you must be thinking based upon the things I have felt through our bond. I have been attempting to give you both ample time with which to sort such things out.
Now, I know you would probably chide me somewhat for feeling as though I must import some assurance into my words... but I cannot help myself, my maestro. *grins* I believe at times I add the words as a balm, even when they are not demanded, purely because I know whatever has you troubled, you have not felt at liberty to share with me. Such is alright, lover. I have always respected those times when you have wished your private thoughts and such is why the vow I have never to read your thoughts in particular is so solemn to me. Still, I write my poems for you even when the waters are still and the malestroms of life have been put behind us.
Consider these words in much the same vein.
I love you, my maestro. My eternal companion. This... is a strange and amazing thing which has seemingly come out of nowhere, brought about by an idle conversation, and yet it seems to be a miracle which blossomed from something as simple as a wistful thought. As though that small pining which might have existed as the ghost of an ember within you sprang up into a spark of life. *chuckles* Such is how it always seems to be with Flynn and I, truth be known. Whether one or the other of us exists as a ghost, we are never completely gone. I have no trouble believing such sentiments can exist in much the same manner. Which underscores how amazing such things are.
Amazing things, for an amazing person such as you. You are loved. How brilliant and exciting of a thought is this? You and I have been united in marriage, bound in blood, and are devoted to one another the way we are. You and Flynn have been gifted the chance you have now to uncover the possibilities kept from you before now. And know this, my lover... I shall never begrudge whatever form that might take. Nothing could strip from either of us what you and I share and the addition of anything else which might follow cannot divide us. *chuckles* I confess, I have entertained my own thoughts and notions. Such is why I have embraced Flynn the way I have, because I value he is going to be a part of your life now which makes him also a part of mine. (In other manners than the normal, that is to say.)
Does it sound strange for me to mention I think of Flynn somewhat like a brother now?
But as I always endeavor to do with the poetry I pen for you... I wish to know you are loved as you are, with all of the nuances this entails. I have always loved you in this manner and always shall. You are my life, my heart, and my very soul. In fact, I am delighted by the thought that I am permitted to see you so happy. Happy about the love we share. Happy about the relationship you have now with Flynn. With two immortal children who care for you and Robin and Lydia, who value you in their own ways as well. It occurs to me quite often what a strange nest of sorts we fashion when one considers us as a whole. Yet I would defy all the forces of heaven and hell to attempt anything against any one of us.
Such things are never an accident of The Fates, if one believes they orchestrate the things which often find their way into our lives. The positions and unexpected twists which make up the world in which we live. A funny thing this all is... Not only did this give you another chance to love Flynn as you had desired before, my maestro... It gave me a chance to value him as an autonomous being in his own right. We might share memories, but I never truly appreciated the nuances which encompass him in his own right. Perhaps having my personalities merged has permitted me this perspective, or maybe since you value him, it has given me the excuse and ability to look at him as something other than the meddlesome annoyance I made him out toward being for so many years.
You are mending him as you did me, lover. He needed this. For whatever higher purpose this might serve, even the things which influence you and him both are extraordinary to be able to watch. Believe it or not... I am rather curious to see what the future holds.
Now, I believe I shall climb back into bed. Even though I cannot recall getting out of it. *scratches my head and grins* Simply woke to found myself sitting at your desk. As a side thought... I am rather glad John sleeps through the day. It would be very disconcerting for him to come downstairs and... shall we say... come upon me in my current state of dress. I am making a mental note to inform Flynn of where I keep a few pairs of sleep pants.
My love to you always, my husband.
Your Poet,
Peter
P.S. - Considering how often I have been coming and going (which, granted, I know shall find some manner of balance in time, but considering we have no notion of how long, could take a short while), perhaps we might wish to tell John soon? I trust his ability to keep such matters under confidence and at least have something of a level head about it, even if our brother Robin might still be apt to dive over the deep end. *winks* Perhaps we can gradually work on that with Robin.
But I say this not merely because of him discovering Flynn, but also because Flynn has, rather coyly, expressed some interest to me in conversing with John. I think this is as close of a fatherly instinct as my former counterpart is apt to summon, yet I commend him for having it. I told him in our last discussion that conversing with Lydia again might be a ways away because informing her shall have to accompany informing Robin and Delilah. He said he understood.
Simply a thought. You shall have to inform me of what you might think about this later. For now, I have an incredibly attractive man to nestle up beside in our bed. *grins broadly*
***
Scribbled on the outside of the folded note:
Dear Victor,
Need more blood.
Damn, Dad must have been in a writing mood. There’s two letters here. Sorry for writing on the outside of one of ‘em. Hope it wasn’t important. Gonna fly solo on a hunt, but I’ll be back after that.
Author's note: This piece contains an explicit sexual encounter between two male vampires, in no way, tethered to any particular event. Simply a vignette, if you will. You have been warned. *winks*
***
“One.”
The word resonated in my mind, a breathy statement which tickled my ear as Victor whispered it. Poised behind me, our bodies yet joined and the height of climax still a heady undertone between us, he issued the challenge in that simple declaration and the corner of my mouth curled in a smile. He threw the gauntlet down and I was apt to accept.
We started the night in something of a devilish mood. Just arrived home from a night’s worth of driving, we had built a full head of steam in the car. Glances exchanged. My hand running up his thigh and brushing his length as he struggled to keep his eyes fixed on the road. I felt the surge of lust through our blood bond and knew I had him right where I wanted him. Ever since the first time we slept together - the very first coupling which transpired between us - I became addicted to the way I could make him respond to my ministrations. Marriage and several months had done nothing to quell the urge.
Far from it. I was more and more apt to pleasure my lover with each entanglement which transpired.
The door had barely swung closed before he had me pinned to the wall, our mouths pressed harsh together and a series of rolling kisses being exchanged. I groaned the moment I felt his fangs cutting into my bottom lip and mine descended, adding to the mix of blood coating both our tongues. Taking hold of the lapels of his jacket, I thrust him from me and walked with him without breaking the kiss, inching the both of us closer to the bedroom. Victor’s hands ran along my back and more than once, we collided with a corner or two as we blindly fumbled toward our destination.
I freed one hand to open the bedroom door. From there, all bets were off.
The moment the door swung open, I shoved him back and further into the room. As soon as we were close enough, I threw him onto the bed and climbed on top, connecting our lips the moment I did so. Victor clutched onto me tightly, but I soon felt my shirt being tugged from my pants and his fingers dancing across the bare skin of my back. The touches provoked a growl and my hands set to work at once.
I parted the buttons of his vest and unthreaded his tie. His shirt became forfeit, though, as all my patience had been expended in keeping his tailored suit intact. Taking hold of his shirt with both hands, I gave it a hearty tug and listened to fabric rip and buttons pop with the effort. The moment his bare chest was exposed, I groped it freely, allowing my fingertips greedy purchase on his skin. Our lips ripped apart and my eyes drank from the sight.
Muscle and sinew. A dip where his abdomen and his hips met which seemed to provide a target toward my ultimate goal. I licked my lips and kissed down his neck, my sharp teeth scratching his flesh and causing it to weep crimson rivulets. I lapped up the blood and licked closed the wounds while listening to him moan and feeling him arch up against me. Our lengths brushed together and when his hardness impacted mine, I moaned and scarcely noticed my shirt rip open and Victor’s hands begin their own claim to their conquest.
I also had little time to react before I found myself on my back.
Victor climbed on top of me this time and eyed me hungrily. We exchanged several deep kisses before he pulled away and whispered, “Where are your knives, lover?”
The question sparked an immediate response. I shivered and regarded him through half-lidded eyes. “I do not know, lover,” I said, as a devilish grin spread across my face. “Perhaps I might tell you and perhaps I might surprise you.”
Victor growled. He reached down and unbuckled my belt, but once he unclasped the button of my pants, his hand did not fist my length. Rather, he brushed against it, teasing me while his eyes remained set on mine. I moaned and thrust upward, my body attempting to coax more contact in a response as natural as drawing breath for a mortal. My lover, however, refused to answer its call and I groaned while bunching fistfuls of the comforter beneath me.
Finally, I nodded. “The nightstand... in the drawer...” I grunted, hips undulating beyond my own volition.
Victor grinned. He climbed from on top of me to fish for one of many blades I kept within our house. While he did so, I kicked off my shoes and rid my body of any offending fabric keeping it from ultimate contact with my husband and bonded. By the time the bed dipped again, I directed my attention toward Victor and groaned at the sight before me. Completely naked as well, he had disrobed and held an unsheathed knife in his hand. He waved the blade around and my eyes rolled back as I knew what he intended to do with it.
His body slid against mine. My hands flew up and touched him, cupping his ass and thrusting upward again for friction. He grunted and for a moment, the contact almost deterred him from his mission. But then, he lifted from me and waited for our eyes to lock before lowering the blade slowly, pressing it against my throat. I muttered, “Oh... fuck... yes,” despite myself and was rewarded instantly.
The sharp knife cut into my skin. Blood wept from the wound and began running down my chest. Victor dragged the blade down from neck to shoulder and drank the crimson offering in a greedy manner, closing the wounds as he did so. My nails dug into his back and I felt them drawing blood in their own right, something which provoked a moan from Victor. He lifted up and once again, the knife cut into me, forcing obscenities to spill from my lips like a current running from a broken dam. The process continued until my body began writhing, hands groping, a litany of noises rising to the air, incense lifting from the altar of indulgence.
My reactions must have been too much for Victor to bear over time as the teasing turned deadly serious in a rapid fashion. He flipped me onto my stomach and I crawled onto all fours, knowing precisely what he meant to do and inviting him to do it. As he lined himself up behind me, he nipped at my shoulders. When he entered me in one solid thrust, the passionate pain caused light to dance before my eyes and I whispered his name with harsh undertones, following it up with a silent request. Gods, yes, fuck me, lover.
Whether or not I projected the thought, Victor complied. Our coupling fast and furious from the start, my hand slid in front of me for leverage while I felt him thrust, not holding anything back. One hand settled on my hip, but the other fisted my length and from there, it seemed to be a race to see how long we could hold out. I moaned and swore like a man possessed. He did the same, both in voice and in thought, and before long, I felt him swell and knew I could not bear repressing the climax any longer.
As he released, I did, too. For wave after endless wave, I tensed and throbbed and relaxed with one steady pulse after another. Our bond echoed a thousand sentiments which bled together in such an indistinguishable fashion, it seemed hard to unravel one from the other to give a name to each one. I felt love, passion, desire, devotion, and every other conceivable form of those emotions with others deeper than words could describe.
Finally, Victor kissed up my shoulder. His lips hovered over my ear and I heard the single word which determined the tenor of the entire night.
“One.”
***
I chuckled in a sinister manner. The moment he parted from me, I spun around and took hold of him, throwing him onto his back. His eyes widened with surprise, but then narrowed again as a devilish grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. Now, I pressed my body against his and looked down at him, framing him in my arms with my hands pressed against the mattress. He tilted his chin to regard me, his grin broadening as mine mirrored his. “Two,” I said and acted upon the dare with haste.
My lips claimed his, but moved immediately to his jawline and his neck. He moaned softly, but drew in a sharp breath when my fangs plunged into his skin and I began to drink. I knew what this did to him. His back arched the same way mine had and his hands gripped onto my arms tightly while I drew lusty swallows of his blood. I felt his length turn hard again and dig into me and my lips lifted so I could moan. The reaction inspired my cock to stiffen and for interminable moments, we ground against each other, a series of kisses marking the heightened need rising between us. Until it became more than I could bear.
My hands pushed at his knees and they bent without argument. I lined my length with his opening and this time, I entered him just as pointedly as he had me. He hissed with the entry, a sound which rapidly turned into a groan and inspired an, “Oh fuck,” from my lover’s lips. Victor opened his eyes to regard me.
I grinned and whispered. “How hard do you wish me to fuck you, lover?”
He moaned. “Hold nothing back, lover mine.”
A shiver shot up my spine and from there, I proceeded to pound into him with reckless abandon. He called out my name in a growl of desperation and pure, unadulterated lust surged through our blood bond, driving me past my senses. The pursuit of an orgasm was only offset by my body’s desire to draw out the erotic bliss as long as humanly possible. Until I warned, “Oh fuck, lover... I am going... to... oh fuck... yes...”
This time, the climax surged through us as though bent to rend us asunder. I did not relent in the intensity of my thrusts until he joined me in spilling over the edge and a violent shudder ran up my spine while the haze took me under. I can not begin to relay the various noises we both made as my mind became lost within the myriad of sensations which sprang to life between us. By the time I slipped from inside Victor, we both settled onto the bed together and spent interminable moments attempting to regain some semblance of lucidity.
I glanced at my lover and chuckled at the way he grinned at me. “Did I tire you out, my poet?” he asked.
My grin turned mischievous. “Never,” I said.
“Oh, good.” Victor licked his lips and raised an eyebrow at me. “Wish to attempt something different with me, then?”
I perked an eyebrow as well. He laughed and proceeded to demonstrate where his thoughts had wandered and I groaned as his mouth wrapped around my length while mine did his. “Three,” one of us said after we both came, although I could not be certain which of us said it first. Four was spent in the shower, washing up from the previous three encounters. We groaned and collapsed on the bed before five commenced. As both of us spent ourselves for the final time, we curled next to each other and chuckled.
My eyes met Victor’s. I grinned broadly. “Lover, I think now I can assuredly say you have tired me out.”
He chuckled and kissed me. “Shall we rest, then, lover mine, so we can dance in our dreams?”
“This sounds like a splendid idea.” Our arms wrapped around each other and in the embrace, I felt the familiar comfort of his closeness lulling me toward our daytime repose. “I love you, my maestro,” I whispered.
“I love you, my poet.”
I shut my eyes and breathed in deep, imbibing Victor’s scent and feeling the corner of my mouth curl in a sated grin. In the darkness, close to dawn, sleep began to take me under, but not before I heard my lover’s voice once more.
As the sun rose on the other side of the shade-covered windows, I sat in my chair, the same disheveled shirt and wrinkled suit hanging from my frame. My eyes felt tired and my mind still spun around in circles, coming back to the same conclusion while hitting the remnants of my brick wall and creating more rubble. Two glasses of scotch and an attempt to sleep yielded nothing but wasted hours and at last, I surrendered to sitting alone, waiting for something to finally make sense to me.
I could not cease thinking about Victor.
A litany of images formed a movie montage inside my head. The first time I met him, the first feelings he ever inspired before our confrontation in Nocturnal Embers. The regret I experienced over causing such ado over nothing. The chance to make amends when I returned to San Francisco. All of our discussions and the steadily growing need to be with him, blossoming into this moment, when I both wished to embrace him and push him away.
I had never been so frightened before in my life. The past few days had culminated into this, forcing me to confront myself with a simple, yet complicated, fact. He had claimed a part of my soul. I wished for him to have it, too. A voice in the backdrop of my mind spoke of sentiments far deeper than friendship, with so much more at stake than time. I could no more take a step backward than I could take one forward, because either way, I feared what it would bring.
One step backward would mean distancing myself from happiness. Each time we were together, the world settled into a steadier rhythm and for those fleeting hours, I could both forget myself and embrace myself. I could speak to him with such honesty, it forced me to wonder how anybody could continue listening to the nuances of my bizarre existence and yet wish anything to do with me. Likewise, he told me things I knew he did not share readily with others. We trusted one another. We fit together like two puzzle pieces one would swear had been carved to always fit into place. Birds of a feather, and yet with enough distinct between us, our differences complimented each other.
One step forward, though. I perked an eyebrow, asking myself what about it would be so wrong. That he was another man? No, the evening prior proved to me I could be just as aroused by the sight of Victor as any woman for whom I had ever cared. No mortal woman could have sated the shivers which overwhelmed me and had Flynn not knocked me from the moment, I would have assuredly indulged in the carnal with him. The attraction, strange though it was for me to consider, did not frighten me as much as what I saw within the confines of my psyche.
The ability to surrender myself to him.
The desire to do so.
The knowledge that should Flynn drive him away, it would devastate me.
That startling realization that I did more than enjoy his company. I...
Clenching my eyes shut, I prevented myself from continuing the thought. The words danced at the tip of my tongue, but remained there, safe from my ears which would hear them and my mind which would latch on to their reality. Raising my hands, I rubbed my face and slowly lowered them back down onto my lap.
Somewhere in the distance, I heard a heartbeat.
Groaning, I realized the door to John’s room had opened and my son’s footsteps confirmed he had woken early. I heard him pad down the hallway and disappear inside the bathroom, but tensed nonetheless, wondering if downstairs was to be his next destination. For a few moments, I heard nothing. Then, the door swung open and the sounds of plumbing in operation masked any further movement my son made. I failed to hear his door close, but did hear one thing which brought my hands to my face again.
Bare feet on the top stair, lowering to the next one. I settled my hands onto my lap and prepared for my son’s arrival, eyes fixed the entryway by the time he made it the rest of the way down. He strolled for the kitchen, then stopped. When I failed to look at him, he cleared his throat. “Dad?” he said, voicing the form of address as a question. “What are you doing up?”
I drew a shaky breath. “Thinking, John,” I said. My eyes remained fixed elsewhere.
He walked a few paces closer and stopped again. His voice softened when he spoke next. “Is everything okay?”
I felt his gaze settle on me. Finally, I turned my head to regard him and sighed. “I do not know how to answer that question. I have simply been thinking and unable to settle into sleep.”
John nodded. He walked toward the couch and settled into it. “What’re you thinking about?”
Our eyes met and I frowned. John perked an eyebrow, but waited patiently for me to go through the various motions I needed to in order to bring about the answer. I knitted my hands together. My gaze darted around the room before settling on my mortal son again. Swallowing hard, I forced one name past my lips. “Victor.”
A broad smile blossomed on John’s face. “What about Victor, Dad?”
I shook my head. “I do not know if you are ready to hear me speak of my thoughts, John.”
John laughed. “Dad.” He chuckled once more and shook his head. “I’m not a kid. And I’ll bet you ten bucks I’ve seen stuff you’re not even aware I’ve seen.”
“Such as what?” I asked, an eyebrow raising.
The corner of his mouth curled in a much more sly grin. “I’ve seen the way you guys look at each other. Hey, I might have never been in love before, but it doesn’t mean I don’t know when other people are.”
Hearing him speak the words in such a brazen manner forced me to swallow the lump forming in my throat. I chuckled nervously. “What in the heavens are you talking about?”
“You love him, Dad.” John’s face developed a sober seriousness to it. “It’s alright that you do, too, because he’s a good guy. He cares about you. He treats you good, and you both like being with each other.” He pointed a finger at me. “And don’t you deny it either, because I’ve seen the way you dash off when he comes to the door and how damn nervous you get when he’s about to arrive. You were happier than a fucking clam the time he spent the day here.”
I stared, dazed, at John and nodded slowly, my gaze lowering toward the floor. “I was very happy when that happened.”
“Yes, you were. I might have been a little bit of a sarcastic ass in giving you shit about it, but that’s kind of part of the reason why I did.”
My gaze shot up to John again. “What do you mean?”
He chuckled. “Ah, that whole ‘nothing else happened.’ Hell, I knew that. I guess in my own snarky sort of way, I was trying to get you to see, though, that you care about him.”
I nodded slowly, furrowing my brow. It had been so apparent even then? Little wonder Robin held the sort of discourse he did with Victor. Perhaps he saw it, too. I remembered my hand lingering on Victor’s shoulder and with a small voice, I said it for the first time. “I love him.”
“Yes, you do.” John grinned. “As I’d probably be more apt to say, though... You’ve got it pretty fucking bad.”
I laughed despite myself. “Define ‘pretty fucking bad,’ John.”
He laughed. “Heel over head, out of your mind, I bet you fifty bucks you haven’t stopped thinking about him in at least a couple weeks, maybe more?”
I winced. “Yes, that would be pretty fucking bad.”
“Which is alright.” John sat closer to the edge of his seat. “You’ve... Well, I’m gonna come right out and say it. You’ve had a couple shitty relationships. No offense to the chicks themselves, but... they weren’t you, Dad. We barely tolerated you-know-who. I never knew that Keira woman, but considering how you came back, I bet you got raked over the coals a little bit.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I just know Victor seems a hell of a lot more like you.”
The corner of my mouth curled in a grin. “It does not trouble you that he is another man?”
John laughed in an uproarious manner. “Hey... Dad, seriously.” He pointed around. “This is the twenty-first century and we’re in fucking San Francisco. I don’t think we could get any more ironic if we tried.”
“You have a rather valid point.”
“I have a few of ‘em.” He shook his head, still grinning at me. “You want my blessing or whatever the fuck they call it, well, you’ve got it. I want you to be with him. I approve, go be happy, la-dee-fucking-dah. Come on, Dad.” He perked an eyebrow at me. “I honestly think you’ve got more of a problem with this than I do.”
I sighed. My eyes lowered toward the ground and finally my lids shut as I let the words escape my mouth unabated. “It has nothing to do with the obvious, John. I simply know how deep this sentiment runs. Perhaps in some manners, I fear he might not feel the same and perhaps I am concerned I would get that which I wished only to lose it again somehow. Flynn might scare him off or the assassin might attempt to corrupt something harmonious in his nefarious manners. Or...”
There was a pause. “Or what?” John asked.
I opened my eyes, a pained expression latent in my gaze. “I could fall in love again only to lose him. As I did your mother.”
John frowned and rose to his feet. Strolling over to me, he placed a hand on my shoulder and crouched beside my chair. “If somebody would have told you, when you first met Mom, that you’d lose her someday, would it’ve stopped you from loving her?”
“No.” I glanced at John and frowned. “No, it would not have.”
John nodded. A solemn grin curled the corner of his mouth. “Then don’t think about it. Don’t think about Flynn or death or anything like that. And don’t be afraid to throw yourself out there. I’m not a rocket scientist, but I think he likes being around you just as much.”
Swallowing hard, I nodded. “It does appear that way.”
“It is. I’d even put money on it.”
I mustered as much of a grin as possible. “I have not felt this way in years, John. Perhaps why I have been sheltering myself in such denial. Not since your mother have I felt the pull toward another in such a manner.”
John shrugged. “Eh, she ruined you to women. It’s alright.” He winked.
I chuckled despite myself. The bout of merriment inspired a wider grin on my son’s face. “Seriously,” he said, “I know you haven’t. I didn’t have to be here all these years to see what you probably went through. It had to be pretty shitty.” The smile dissolved. “Wouldn’t you rather take a shot at being happy, though? Fall head over fucking heels, Dad. Take a chance or two. It sure as hell beats sitting here like this.”
Opening my mouth to issue a protest, I found the words cut short and my sentiments closing in around me. ‘I could go back to the way things were,’ I thought, but realized that option was not possible any longer. It would build until I broke and poured out my sentiments to him, the dam of sentiments bursting, the undertow sweeping me under with its current. ‘I do not wish to end this simplicity,’ I mused, but the door shut behind me and all that was left was to step forward. Step forward and pray to whatever gods were listening I did not love in vain.
I exhaled a shaky breath and nodded. “What do I do, John?” I asked.
John patted my shoulder and withdrew his hand, allowing it to fall by his side as he stood. I raised my eyes to meet his. “Go tell him, Dad. Well...” He chuckled. “When it’s a little less sunny out.”
I smiled, feeling the tension in my posture dissipate, giving way to a rush of nervous energy. “I shall go to him tonight,” I said.
“Excellent. I’ll order pizza and not wait up.”
John winked. I laughed. “You presume entirely too much, John,” I said.
“Hey, I’m liking my odds here,” he said as he turned for the kitchen and padded into it. I heard the refrigerator door open. “Ten bucks says he says the same damn thing you said and I don’t see you for a couple of days.”
“Now, I could never leave you by yourself for that long.”
“That wasn’t me throwing a pity party, Dad. If I need company, I’ll go to Uncle Robin’s.” He emerged from the kitchen, a bottle of water in hand. “I’m telling you not to worry ‘bout me. I know you feel responsible and it’s touching, but right now, I’m more concerned about you, okay?”
I nodded, smiling softly. “Thank you, John.”
He grinned and nodded in return. “Don’t mention it.” Glancing at the stairs, he looked back at me. “I’m going to go back to sleep for a couple of hours. Get some rest. You don’t want to pass out on his doorstep.”
I blinked, then perked an eyebrow. “It would be an amusing way of alluding toward how I feel.”
“Yeah, but the waiting would be a bitch.” John chuckled and ascended the stairs again, leaving me to myself. Within a few minutes, I stood and made my way into my bedroom, each step along the path feeling somewhat disconnected, as though I moved out of step with the world around me. I felt lighter than air and heavier than gravity, calmer than the ocean and more unsettled than a tempest. Stripping, I slid under the covers and laid in bed staring at the ceiling, mouthing the words until my voice finally gained the courage to speak them.
“I love you, Victor Mason,” I said. “Perhaps deeper than I have loved somebody in a very long time.” My heart swelled as I voiced the confession, the simple summary far more significant than even my conversation with John had been. I knew what I intended to do after sunset and shut my eyes, telling myself now was not the time to fight sleep. I wished to have a clear mind for what would follow in the evening.
Within minutes, I fell into slumber and for the next few hours, I rested without waking. When I opened my eyes, however, I swallowed hard, knowing what I intended to do and already feeling my hands begin to shake. As I stepped into the bathroom, my stomach twisted and as I started the shower, I had to laugh at myself. “Bloody hell, what is wrong with me?” I asked, addressing myself and no one else.
The answer proved to be quite obvious.
I had confessed my feelings for him. For better or worse, I knew damn well how I felt. Now, came the part where I wore my heart on my sleeve and searched my brother for what laid behind his stolen glances. Suspicions did not do much to quell the need inside me. I was desperate to know for certain he felt the same way in return.
***
I lost my virginity at the youthful age of sixteen, to a girl I met in high school named Melissa DiFranco. I could yet recall the moment I knew she and I were going to escalate past kisses, into clothing shed and the inevitable coupling which took place. I had never been so nervous before. My bedroom door locked and my aunt and uncle out of the house for the evening, we engaged in the sort of clumsy ritual all young couples face when they first become intimate with one another. I had been jittery teenager feeling his way around the unknown.
Yet, that experience could not hold a candle to how I felt after I stepped out of the shower.
I found it somewhat ironic. Here I was, a grown man - indeed, a vampire now with twenty-six taxing years of immortality behind me - and I could not recall any moment when I felt such apprehension. Not facing the myriad of foes I faced as a seer. Not executing one assassination. Not even at any point in my relationship with Monica, save but for the slight bout of jitters I experienced the night before she and I were married. I touched the reflectionless mirror in front of me and smeared away the steam, wishing I could gaze at myself and see it written all over my face.
Instead, I drew a deep breath inward and exhaled it in a slow manner before stepping out into my room.
Tossing the towel onto my bed, I fished out a fresh pair of boxers and slipped them on while walking to the closet. My fingers skimmed across my suits, looking for my best one. Finally, they settled on one I usually reserved for more formal outings and took hold of the hanger. Turning around, I fetched a black, button-down shirt from another hanger and set the suit onto the bed while slipping my arms through its sleeves. I fastened each button with meticulous detail. Securing the cuffs and dusting off the material, I ensured not a wrinkle marred the fine linen before plucking my pants from the bed and slipping them on. As I fastened the belt around my waist, I became aware of John standing in the doorway.
I flashed a wan smile at him while pulling a pair of socks from the drawer. He raised a bottle of water to his mouth and swallowed a hearty drink before pointing it at me. “Dressed to kill, eh?” he asked.
Chuckling, I sat on the bed to slip my socks on my feet. “Would you fetch my shoes for me?”
“Roger that.” He set the water bottle on my dresser, then walked into my closet. I sighed, running my fingers through my hair again. “Trying not to find it funny that you’re as nervous as a guy on prom night, Dad.”
“Thank you for not laughing at my expense, John.”
“Hey, what’re sarcastic sons for?” He walked out, holding a pair of black, wing-tipped shoes and handed them to me. His eyes met mine. “You’re gonna do fine. Just keep telling yourself that.”
I nodded, my smile turning a trifle more genuine. “I appreciate you saying so. And I promise, I shall.”
He nodded and turned to leave me alone, plucking his water bottle from the dresser before disappearing down the corridor. I watched the door to his room close, then focused on the task at hand again. Each shoe made it onto each foot and I finally stood to slip on my suit jacket. Straightening the sleeves with a brush of my hand, I evened out the lapels and nodded.
My eyes drifted to the clock on my night stand. A quick gaze directed toward the shaded windows confirmed matters for me. The sun had set. Now was as good of a time as any for me to leave. Shutting my eyes, I drew in a deep, steadying breath. “The boy says I shall do fine and so, I shall. This is the same man I have known for all these weeks. Nothing has changed.” The moment the words escaped my mouth, though, I realized how false the last sentence was.
Everything had changed. I could only hope for the better.
Strolling down the stairs, I balled my hands in fists, determined not to be thwarted by the knots forming in my stomach. Pausing only to thrust my keys and wallet into my pocket, I made my way outside and inhaled deeply again, feeling the city sidewalk beneath my feet and heading in the proper direction. My arms remained at my sides until I settled in a more casual gait and slipped them in my pockets. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I asked myself... was I really going to go through with this?
I nearly turned around halfway there. I went through the menagerie of possible leading sentences I might insert to bring us around to the subject and even had the flicker of a thought to simply pull Victor close and press my lips to his in a searing kiss. Shaking my head, I sighed. No, I wanted him to know this transcended being carnal. I wanted him, not his body, not his position, not a single other solitary motive which one could list with misguided intent. The whole of him. His grin, the upturned eyebrow, the dry wit and self-confidence. The music, the laughter, the moments of intimacy which might be waiting for us. I wanted a partner. A companion. A lover.
Such thoughts were what motivated my feet to continue onward to Victor’s door.
As I stared at the wooden obstacle before me, I felt another rush of apprehension flood through me in such a visceral manner, I swore it should have restarted my heart. I swallowed reflexively and raised my hand, pressing my knuckles against the door before lifting them and summoning the courage to knock. My hand lowered slowly and I waited, counting each second until I heard the lock turn. The door swung open and there stood Victor.
A smile lit his face when he saw me standing there, but when I could do no more than summon a coy grin in response, he furrowed his brow. I cleared my throat and nodded. “Good evening, brother,” I said, my eyes searching his, seeing more than my close friend for the first time with the wall removed. My hands shook. I slipped them in my pockets. “Might I come in?”
“Yes, please come in,” Victor said, but I saw his smile falter and wondered what he saw when we glanced at one another again. I stepped into the entryway and cast a quick look around as he shut the door. Music streamed from the back of the house as it had several nights ago and for a few seconds, I visited that memory, wishing I had spoken with him then. The wisps of recollection dissipated like smoke when Victor appeared before me again. He summoned as much of a grin as he seemed apt to muster. “You walked all this way without calling me again.”
I nodded, exhaling a breath rife with tension. “Yes, but I did somewhat need the walk.” My eyes shifted around again, then met his. “I am not intruding while you are busy, am I?”
Victor chuckled. “Not at all, brother. I was merely indulging in my music. Nothing momentous.” He eyed me in a careful manner, then pointed toward his living room. “Come and sit with me. Tell me what brings you to my doorstep, as good as it is to see you. You seem to have something on your mind again.”
“I do have something on my mind.” Following Victor, I scolded myself to settle down a trifle as I sat in one chair and he, in another. Facing one another, we held a steady gaze and I hesitated, wondering what in the heavens to say first. Each segue into the matter at hand I had rehearsed on my way over all seemed woefully lacking now, staring at him. The words themselves needed to be meaningful, gold lacquered and polished to their most pristine quality. I drew a deep breath inward. “It is nothing grave, I assure you, although I...” My throat captured my speech and I fought hard against wincing. Instead, I ran my fingers through my hair. “I... needed to tell you something. Regarding last night.”
Victor raised an eyebrow at me, then nodded. “I did wonder, last night, what had happened.” A soft smile settled at the corners of his lips. “But I truly didn’t want to pry, Poet. You hardly need to tell me anything.”
I chuckled. “Actually, I do. I...” My eyes shifted away again, but shot back to Victor again as though magnetically drawn. I focused on his lips and felt a tingle run up my spine. Our gaze locked once more. “I wanted you to know... how much I enjoy your company, Victor.”
Victor’s eyes searched mine. He paused before responding. “I enjoy your company a great deal as well, Peter. You are the first man I’ve ever known, and appreciated, what it means to call brother.”
I could not help but to smile more readily at the sentiment. “You truly are a good...” I wrestled with the right word and stuttered the one which emerged. “... friend... to me.”
A flicker of a frown crossed Victor’s features. “And you to me.” A heaviness settled on him, one which made my stomach twist in a much different manner. Fuck. He had misinterpreted what I was trying to say. “Is that what you came to tell me, friend?” he asked in a subdued manner.
“No...” I spoke the word quickly, almost as a start, and followed it with a shaky breath. My grin turned coy, while I suppressed the urge to swallow hard. I heard an echo of the word ‘friend’ in my mind and fought against the inclination to mutter profanities under my breath, opting instead not to break eye contact. My tone of voice became quieter, more tender. “No, I have been... Have been doing a lot of thinking since we parted company last night.” I chuckled. “I can scarcely believe some of the things I have been thinking, truth be known.”
Victor eyed me steadily for a moment, raising an eyebrow. “Thinking, dear brother?” He seemed to turn the notion around in his mind until a slow grin curled the corner of his mouth. If I had a pulse, my heart might have leaped into my throat. His gaze turned more deliberate, slightly coy and knowing. “I am curious, but also patient. Whenever you are inclined to tell me, I will be willing to listen.”
For a few seconds, we held the gaze, neither of us speaking. I studied him and he studied me and I would have sworn in that moment, we asked the same question of the other. Did we hear what we thought we heard? Did he mean what we thought he meant? I inched closer to the edge of my chair and nodded. “Perhaps when I can believe what it is I am thinking, dear brother. I know I said friend a few moments ago, but...” The precipice stood before me. I nodded, scared, but resolute. “... You are so much more to me.”
“Yes, I know precisely what you mean.” He continued looking at me until he rose to his feet and walked over to where I sat. I remained frozen, curious and wondering at what he was doing until our eyes met again. Victor stopped before me and hesitated, then leaned forward and placed a kiss on my forehead, his fingers lifting to touch my shoulder. I shut my eyes when his lips made contact with my skin. As he motioned to pull away, I acted without thought.
My hand snapped up and captured his free one. Slowly, my eyes opened. He looked at me and I, at him, and I held him in place as my voice descended to a whisper. I needed to say it, but feared the response. Dipping my toes in the water of truth, I spoke as much as I dared say without knowing how he felt. “I care for you, Victor.” Further words danced upon my tongue, but I suppressed them and waited. Hoped.
Victor’s hand tightened around mine. His gaze softened and I felt a rush of warmth inside me as it seemed happiness laid somewhere inside the way his chestnut-colored irises regarded me. “And I care for you, Peter. I have for some time now.”
The air around me lightened, a burden I did not know I was carrying lifting from my shoulders. I nodded, smiling. “I have, too, if I had to be honest with myself. And if I had to be honest with you...” My grip on his hand tightened as well, drawing courage from the simple touch. My grin broadened despite myself. “I love you.”
Victor swallowed hard, the look in his eyes transforming to that of wonder. I basked in the expression as he spoke. “You are the first person in quite a long while to say those words to me. But you are the only person who has heard it from me in return.” He drifted closer, bending forward. One of his legs brushed against mine, his lips hovering above mine. His eyes flicked down toward them before raising once more. “I love you.”
My heart soared into the cosmos. The first person to whom he had spoken those words. The mere invocation of the sentiment; he loved me. Fates be praised, I had precisely what I had yearned for before my eyes and I could not stop myself. I breathed in his scent. I shut my eyes. Slowly, steadily I inched forward until I felt our lips touch. Finally, after weeks of building up - after days of indecision - I kissed Victor, mouths touching in a firm, yet gentle, manner.
He kissed me back, the motion of our lips continuing in one caress followed by the next. His tenor turned encouraging and while I did not sense him wishing to rush anything, I could feel it. All of the time and tension spent in my presence and how much he must have been holding back all this time. His lips parted and he deepened the kiss, which sent shivers running up and down my spine. The hand not holding his raised to touch his face and while the contact burned my fingertips with desire, I threaded them back into his short, dark locks of hair and realized how much I needed this. How desperate I had been for it. My lips parted and I met the new tenor he established, pouring sentiment into the embrace.
Victor reacted at once. While our lips continued communicating where words seemed inadequate, he leaned even closer, his knee resting on the seat of my chair while his arm slid around my waist. The kiss deepened further still and I fought the urge to groan as I knew I was drowning. His taste lingered on my lips. His scent conspired to unravel me, making me hungry for more. As I felt him lifting me to a stand, I allowed the kiss to break, yet exhaled in such a shaky manner, I wondered where this all might stop and prayed it would not. It all struck me so oddly, yet I knew I was becoming hard and would only become all the more so long as this persisted. And yet, I silently asked him for it, crashing my lips into his again once I stood before him. My hands lowered and slid around his waist until they pressed against his back and drew him against me. Both of his arms wrapped around me as well and his tongue touched my lips, issuing the question without breaking the kiss again. I felt the sharp points of his fangs as they ran down.
My fangs descended and my lips parted, granting him entry.
The point of no returned loomed before us, but neither of us seemed willing to reconsider.
Instead, my tongue slid into his mouth and danced with his as my hands explored his back. In my mind’s eye, I saw the night before, his naked body a feast before my eyes, and envisioned each muscle and sinew while my fingers ran across the fabric of his clothing. The taste of blood filled my mouth while our fangs scratched at each other’s lips and I could not tell if the lust latent in the crimson offering originated from him or me. ‘Both of us perhaps,’ I thought, then I sampled another few droplets. ‘Yes, definitely both of us.’ His hands claimed greedy purchase on my ass and pushed us roughly together. I felt him just as aroused as I was and moaned into the kiss, the motion of my lips on his turning hungry and searching. The love I felt for him remained a steady undercurrent, but need beyond my wildest dreams rocketed through my entire body.
I thrust him against me in response. Victor moaned. One of the hands resting on my ass slid upward as he growled and pulled my shirt free from my pants. Both hands slid underneath the fabric, touching my bare skin and tracing across the topography of my back. I groaned at the contact. ‘Yes, yes... Gods, yes... Yes, more of that,’ I chanted in my private thoughts, untucking his shirt as well and mirroring his actions to encourage him onward. Rough kisses and heavy groping littered the exchange until I dared one hand up and around to his chest. My lips ripped from his, a shaky breath being drawn inward and expelled as my eyes refused to open.
“I want you, Victor,” I whispered just before pressing my mouth hard against his again and daring the hand on his chest downward. I felt the muscles of his abdomen. I traced over the belt around his pants. Dipping lower still, I answered the challenge to myself and felt it for the first time, his erect length through the fabric of his pants. My digits wrapped around it and began to stroke, becoming more encouraged when Victor’s fingers dug into me and he broke the kiss with a much longer moan. He shivered in my grip and the reaction already had me intoxicated past the point I had been a few moments prior.
I became all the more so when he responded in kind.
It started with his hands both sliding around my front, his lips meeting mine again. When I felt his thumbs hook around my belt, I rocked my hips in a tacit plea for further contact. One hand broke free and cupped my length the same way I did his and stroked me in time to the rhythm I established. This time, I was the one forced to part the kiss to moan and establish contact once the need to touch his tongue with mine became overwhelming.
His other hand slid up my chest. Then it lowered only to raise freed from the prison of my shirt. The buttons began to part in a hasty manner and I mimicked the actions with my unoccupied hand and his vest, his shirt. I unthreaded his tie and felt my chest exposed to the air before Victor’s hand pushed the fabric from my shoulders. I freed my fingers from their pursuits to allow the shirt and jacket to fall to the ground, but touched him again in the same manner until his chest was exposed as well. After his arms slid from the confines of his garments, they rapidly wrapped around me and pulled me flush against him, allowing our bare chests to touch for the first time.
One of my hands found his back. The other wrapped around his rigid length again and stroked much more in earnest. I felt his hands slid around to the buckle of my belt and did not stop him. Not even when the leather slackened and the button of my pants unfastened under the orchestration of skilled hands. His fingers slid beneath my trousers and cupped my ass. I found myself playing the mimic once again. Only this time, when the waistband of his pants opened, I dipped one hand underneath his boxers and touched the erect cock I had been toying with through the fine linen mere seconds ago. ‘Yes,’ my thoughts cried out, in a notion I could not be entirely certain I did not telepathically broadcast. My fingers set to exploring. Touching. Running over every inch and marveling in some distant corner of my mind at being able to do this to another man.
Victor, however, was not about to let my ministrations go unanswered. I felt him shove my pants and boxers down past my hips and his lips kiss along my throat, fangs scratching and drawing blood. While that sensation was erotic enough, the hand trailing down to join my stroking made me shiver. Victor’s fingers wrapped around mine and served as a tacit demonstration of what he enjoyed while we both worked on stroking him. My mind became a blur, faintly aware of me kicking off my shoes and tossing aside my garments, pushing down his pants and boxers with my unoccupied hand and him shedding the barrier of clothing as well. Every stitch of fabric became forfeit until we both stood naked before each other. He freed his hand to wrap around me and I spoke it aloud, “Yes...” when he touched the most sensitive parts of me.
“Gods, Peter...” He whispered against my skin. His tongue trailed across the wounds his teeth inflicted. My eyes rolled back. I became lost in the cravings of my own body, groping Victor as he groped me in return. I felt my sentiments surging in equal measure to my desires and knew what laid ahead. Especially when his fingers toyed at my opening and thrust inside. The strange and new sensations throttling through me caused my eyes to widen at first, until my lids fluttered shut again. I groaned despite myself and for a few moments, he and I became a tangled mess of stroking, groping, and exploring until my lips took their turn kissing down his neck and I whispered, “Gods, Victor,” back to him.
I barely had chance to lick closed the small wounds before he acted.
My knees had already become weak from the sensation of his digits pumping in and out of me, but when he freed them, he threw me down onto the ground and climbed on top of me, his eyes bright with unadulterated lust when they met mine. Victor’s hands guided me in position before touching his length and poising it where his fingers had been no more than a few moments prior. I tensed slightly, but groaned despite myself, too hungry and too lost to dare question what he intended to do. Instead, my entire body begged for it. Our eyes locked and his seemed to ask for permission first, half-lidded with his actions barely restrained.
I nodded at him. “I ask you for it, lover,” I said, using the new term for the first time, but communicating precisely how I felt about us proceeding forward. The ultimate surrender laid before me and I waited for it, hands settling on his arms, knees bent, eyes just as consumed with desperation. I clutched hold of him tight when he pressed forward and for a moment, exquisite pain accompanied the initial sensation of him entering me. “Oh... Gods...” I moaned, once the initial bursts of discomfort gave way to a delicious form of pleasure until I felt myself floating somewhere in a state of pure euphoria. I attempted to figure out where to land, hovering somewhere between adjusting to a steady pace and demanding a more forceful coupling. My fingers dug into his arms more pointedly as I felt him slip out and assert himself back in with a much more decisive thrust.
“Peter... Lover...” He whispered, but the actions soon took us both under. He moved in a much more deliberate manner, slow at first, and holding back, but eager for more. As the pace became more fluid, light danced before my eyes and the pleasure mounted, building one layer atop the next. I attempted to keep my eyes focused on Victor, but before long, the haze settling over me forced my lids shut with a steady stream of moans growing in volume past my parted lips. Victor’s arms slid around me. One hand freed to fist around my length. I groaned and felt my fingers nearly drawing blood with the way they claimed purchase on Victor’s arms. He kissed the side of my throat and encouraged me in a husky tone of voice, warning when he reached the limits of his restraint.
I called out his name and flew over the edge with him, into oblivion without being able to settle on one sensation in particular to focus on past the blinding orgasm and muscles knitted in tension, unraveling in a rapid manner when I finally reached my climax. Moan after moan marked a heady crescendo which forced my eyes shut with each ripple of completion more pointed than the last. I hardly noticed when Victor ceased moving, but a shiver marked the final pulse ripping through me. Slowly, I opened my eyes to regard him, a sated smile curling the corners of my mouth upward.
His eyes opened as well. At first, he seemed lost in the same cloud of haze I still floated in, but as he looked down at me, he swallowed hard and motioned forward until his lips met mine in a gentle, reverent kiss. The action communicated more than words in a moment more important than I could have dared to imagine. I kissed him back, my hands sliding to wrap my arms around him, holding him tight even when he slipped from me. He settled to my side and for a moment, we simply held each other, savoring the moment together.
Finally, I opened my eyes to regard him again and smiled. “I love you, Victor,” I whispered.
Victor mirrored my grin and nodded. “And I love you, Peter.” He stole a quick glance around and chuckled when he looked at me again. “It occurs to me we’re laying on the floor.”
I laughed and his grin broadened in response. “Yes, it would appear that way, would it not?”
“Yes.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Would you care for a better tour of the house? Namely...” He smiled in something of a devilish manner. “... The bedroom.”
Our gaze converged and I nodded, reaching up to touch his cheek. “I would love it, Maestro.”
Victor nodded, kissing me again before standing and helping me to my feet. We gathered our clothing and crossed the house, back toward the music room and where Victor typically slumbered during the day. It did not take long for us to fall onto the bed and become tangled once again, but by the time the evening hours waned into the earliest embers of dawn, we clutched onto one another tight, sentiments spilling past our lips until sleep threatened to take us under.
For that night, I could revel once again in what it felt like to love and be loved. Deeper than the past year, hearkening back to the days when Monica and I first allowed ourselves the forbidden emotions we began to exchange. Except, if I had to be honest with myself, the fire blossoming between me and Victor bore a level of intensity even I had not experienced and could not compare to anything else which had preceded it.
I shut my eyes and felt my heart swell before I drifted asleep. I knew it was his, and his it would be from this point forth. Only one being seemed to have the ability to possibly disrupt the peace and passion my new lover and I discovered with one another.
His name was Flynn and I knew he was lurking, waiting for the right moment to make his presence known.
I had come close to asking if I could call upon Victor the next evening when I stood at the door, watching him depart. The words settled on the tip of my tongue, but all I could manage to spit out was a simple question. Would he be occupied?
Not knowing if he sensed the hidden meaning written between the lines, I could not even interpret them if I had to be honest with myself. There were impulses wriggling underneath my skin, actions I could sense myself holding back without knowing what they might entail or why I kept them shadowed. A wall blocked revelation from rushing headlong into my consciousness, but heaven only knew why. I trusted Victor. I enjoyed his company. I wished to be around him when we were separated and felt happier when we were together. Still, something prevented me from adding everything together and staring eye-to-eye with the sum total of the equation.
Perhaps it was not knowing what he might be thinking. We were drawn toward one another - always had been, even when we stood at odds with each other. For being a telepath, though, I refused to read the thoughts of somebody I cared for to the point of preferring to wrestle with uncertainty than invade the sanctity of their private ruminations. “An out of practice telepath,” I murmured to myself as I sat in my chair, staring at the clock on the wall. Yes, I had been hidden in a closet for so long, I had nearly forgotten what I was.
I glanced down at the hand cradling a half-depleted glass of scotch. Foreign memories surfaced of when these fingertips illuminated with energy, when they caused other immortals to cower and burn with the sheer force of my will. Ever since Flynn came to the surface, though, I hid away from myself so much, I could not bring myself to regard my own reflection in the mirror of self. “I am father,” I whispered to myself. “I am brother. I am seer...”
“... I am vampire...”
The admission forced a shiver up my spine. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes. A whisper traced across my thoughts, but I shoved it back and drew a shaky breath. Opening my eyes once more, I tightened my hold on the glass and wondered if I was as much afraid of peeling back the layers for Victor as I was myself. I had no reason to; Victor had come to accept each and every thing I revealed to him about who I was. He neither blinked, nor cowered, and yet I kept the door shut, with the lock held firmly in place.
Perhaps because I feared what laid underneath.
“This is ridiculous.” My eyes flicked to the clock on the wall, seeing the hour hastening toward ten in the evening. I had not received a phone call from Victor and yet, I needed to see him. Why alluded me, but it became enough of a compulsion that I set the glass onto a table and ignored the unfinished liquor in favor of fetching my coat from the closet. During one of our conversations, I recalled him mentioning the neighborhood in which he resided and figured, should I be unable to locate his residence for myself, I could at least bring my Blackberry with me. Fetching it from the entryway, I slipped it in my pocket and set out to the streets.
Digging my hands in my pockets, I wove my way through San Francisco, not paying much attention to my surroundings except to use them as landmarks. I searched memories of conversations for a description of his house. Faintly, I recalled such mentions as the exterior of the house, the adjacent buildings, and other details which gave me more of a compass to go on. Within a half-hour, I found myself entering the community and after an additional fifteen minutes, located the residence which matched Victor’s description.
Approaching the entrance, I readied myself for apologizing to the occupant, should my recollections prove faulty. I drew a deep breath inward and knocked on the door, slipping my hand back into the protective folds of my coat pocket after doing so. The night stilled, the noise in the periphery drowned out by my own apprehension. The moment the door swing open, though, I was forced to smile.
Victor appeared in the doorway and the moment his eyes met mine, he mirrored my grin. “Master Poet,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
I chuckled. “Yes, I know. I did not give you much forewarning.” Pausing, I fished for how to explain my presence, not apt to confess I set out so deliberately. “I was out and happened to wander into your neighborhood.”
He peered over my shoulder, eyes scanning around the immediate area before settling on me again. “Considering I don’t see a vehicle, I will have to assume you walked.”
“Yes.” I freed a hand to run my fingers through my hair. “I do not drive. A long story, but I have very rarely indulged the practice for quite a few years.”
Victor nodded, his characteristic grin surfacing. “And at your plodding pace, I assume you could use a chance to get off your feet.” He sidestepped, freeing part of the entry. “Please, come in.”
“Thank you, brother.” Nodding, I entered, pausing a few paces inside to regard the interior. I slipped my coat from my shoulders slowly, my eyes skimming over my first glimpses of a house just as impeccable as the elder vampire who stood beside me. Yet, it still bore an air of hospitality to it. Much the same as its occupant. I heard music filtering from somewhere else in the house and basked in the tranquility such an atmosphere provided.
Glancing at Victor, I grinned. “I trust I am not interrupting anything important?” I asked, perking an eyebrow.
He chuckled and shook his head. “Not at all, brother. You caught me in a moment of enjoying an old past-time, actually. My business last night was finished without any trouble.”
“I am glad to hear that.” My smile broadened despite myself. I folded my coat in the crook of my arm. “What old past-time would that be?”
Victor led me toward the coat closet in the main hall. As I procured a hanger from inside, he gestured toward the source of the sound. “I believe I’ve at least tentatively mentioned my affinity for music?”
I slipped my coat on the hanger and secured it in the closet. Nodding, I followed Victor away from the entryway, my eyes still flicking about my surroundings. “You have mentioned it a few times,” I said. Finally, my gaze settled on Victor. “It is quite pleasant, actually. What piece is that playing?”
He raised an eyebrow, glancing away as he stopped to listen. “Mussorgsky. Pictures at an Exhibition.” He looked at me and grinned. “I understand his Night on Bald Mountain piece is more famous because it was used in a Disney movie. One of the odder things I've ever discovered.”
Victor punctuated his words with a chuckle. I could not help but to grin in response, imagining the elder vampire being familiar at all with such aspects of mortal popular culture. Still, the music dancing around us formed a soothing blanket of notes and I found myself unable to break eye contact with Victor. His chestnut-colored irises held me steady and I could not look away. Truth be known, I did not wish to. “I cannot say I am all that familiar with Disney movies,” I said. “At least not any longer. Just the same... I quite like this.”
Something about those last four words gripped me from the inside, coiling around my psyche and taunting me. Strangely enough, Victor did not blink and neither did he avert his eyes. Instead, the smile remained affixed on his face. I felt a pull which dissipated when he finally turned his head. “There is much more where this comes from, brother.” He stepped toward a corridor and angled his body in an unspoken invitation for me to follow, perking an eyebrow as a tentative glance rose to engage me before drifting away again. “I would enjoy showing you, if you would not mind indulging me.”
Nodding, I walked toward the back of the house with him. As Victor turned away from me, I settled a hand on his shoulder, answering a subliminal dare to make contact with him. My fingers lingered only for a moment prior to lifting, but by the time we emerged past the main portion of the house, I was forced to shove my hand into my pocket. A slight wave of nervousness settled onto me. “So, what do you mean much more?” I asked, perking an eyebrow as I continued to follow him.
Victor chuckled, but did not glance back at me. He led me to a short set of stairs and paused. “I think I shall let the room explain itself.” The staircase descended into a large room that encompassed half of the residence's width. Grinning, he stepped aside, his eyes finally meeting mine expectantly as I stepped into the room. A piano sat in the center of the room, displayed prominently, with in-wall speakers which linked to a sound system playing the rich tones of a brass ensemble. Strings and woodwinds joined the symphony and I drifted inward a few paces further, surveying everything with my mouth hung slightly agape.
An assortment of other leather cases, zipped closed, rested on display shelves on the wall opposite the stereo. Atop a couch laid a collection of sheet music, scattered about as though Victor had been thumbing through it prior to my arrival. I heard him humming along with the music as I gravitated toward the piano and skimmed my fingers along the top. Turning, I regarded the elder vampire again. “You are quite the musician, are you not?”
He chuckled and nodded. “As I said, an old past-time.” His smile softened, eyes settling on me for a brief moment before glancing about the room. “My one great solace, music. When I bought the house, it was partly because I could envision all this in place.”
I nodded, directing my attention back to the piano. As my gaze settled on the arrangement of ebony and ivory, I lightly pressed a couple keys, my fingertips caressing each one in a reverent manner. They touched something sacred and wished to linger, as though they could express something with the instrument I could not otherwise. I regarded Victor again when I felt I could trust myself to do so. “I am soundly impressed, brother. I had always debated playing an instrument, but never could sit still long enough to appreciate them as I ought.” My fingers stroked the keys absentmindedly. I cocked my head toward the piano. “Might I trouble you to play something?”
A broad grin lit up his face. I felt a rush of warmth simply at seeing his expression and mirrored his smile. “No trouble, Master Poet. I would love to.” He seemed to wince at his words, but recovered before I could acknowledge the gesture as anything more than an afterthought. I lingered by the piano. Victor indulged in a deep breath before stepping around the couch to shut off the sound system. I watched as he strolled to the piano bench and settled into place. His eyes fixed on the keys I touched. I lifted my hand reflexively.
Victor’s gaze swept upward to meet mine. “Any particular request?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
I deliberated on the question all while staring at Victor. Something meaningful. My memories whispered a song I remembered from my youth, the notes forming the ghost of an echo inside my consciousness. I felt a soft smile settle on my face. “Do you know Clair de Lune?”
Victor nodded, grinning again. He broke the gaze by turning his attention to the keys before him, his hands lifting from his lap and settling atop the first chord of the song. Out of my periphery, I noticed his foot raise to settle on the proper tonal pedal and without a single sheet of music before him, Victor began to play. The first few notes emerged, both tickling a sense of bittersweet reverie and firmly planting me in the present. Another person might have heard a melody being played, but I felt it in the marrow of my bones.
His fingers lifted and settled on each series of keys as though painting a breathtaking landscape with music. I heard poetry and watched the piece flow through him, feeling as connected to him in that moment as I had ever been. Images without form tickled at me. Words without definition swept through my mind and the hand which had been touching the keys rested atop the piano out of a need to hold onto something. I felt both unsteady and enthralled; confused and yet, somewhere in the back of my mind, I saw each conversation and filtered through each look we exchanged, wondering. I could not bring myself to ask the question to myself, though, and the final notes resonated around me with my eyes still distant and my mind still a million miles away.
My gaze shifted to Victor with my head still swimming. The soft smile affixed on my face was met with an equally-gentle tone of voice. “You are... quite the maestro, Victor,” I said.
He chuckled lightly, yet Victor held perfectly still, frozen in position with me not flinching from the posture I assumed. The world seemed to pause for a few beats, communicating something unspoken toward which I remained daft. I could not ascertain what we were searching each other for, but the wall around my sentiments prevented me from piecing together what laid before my eyes. His hands lowered from the keys. “No one has ever called me as such before, but I thank you, Master Poet. From you that is high praise, and means a great deal.” Victor’s voice possessed the same subdued intonation mine did.
Slowly, he stood from the bench, stepping away from the piano while I remained standing beside it. Still, I watched him consider me as he slipped his hands in his pockets. “Thank you for indulging me,” he added.
I shoved my hands into my pockets as well, as though my subconscious found itself responding to a subliminal suggestion at seeing him perform the action. “The title is well-earned, Maestro.” I permitted myself a wink. “And it was no indulgence. It was quite lovely. I...” I hesitated, attempting to ascertain what I wished to say. I loved it? Yes, this was certain, but might be saying too much. I fought the urge to furrow my brow at myself. Why did I think that? Where had my mind drifted without informing me of its destination? I cleared my throat, my grin turning somewhat disarming. “I... have never heard it played in such a manner before. My mother used to play it all the time, but you... have a gift.”
Victor chuckled, his head dipping as his eyes lowered to the floor. He lifted his eyes back to mine, his chin rising as he grinned back at me, a hint of playfulness emerging in his expression. “I like to think as such, at least, but I admit, I no doubt have several centuries of practice over your mother.” The look on his face softened as it seemed he considered my words. “I did not realize she would have played, and that being the reason you chose the piece. It is one of my favorites.”
I chuckled in return. “Yes, undoubtedly for as much as she enjoyed playing, you would have quite a bit more practice.” His words resonated in my mind, though. One of his favorites. I had to nod. “It has remained one of my favorites as well. For many reasons.” As our eyes lingered in a gaze again, I forced mine to shift away, as though attempting to hide something from Victor which might have been patently obvious had I continued to regard him. I surveyed the collection of instruments. “You play all of these, brother?”
He nodded, turning to face the display. “Yes, to varying degrees of mastery. The piano is...” Victor chuckled. “Or, rather to say, I took to the piano best.” He glanced toward me, then stepped toward the shelves, removing one hand from a pocket to rest it on a leather case. “Clarinet.” It settled on another case beside that one. “Oboe.” He raised his fingers to settle on one the next shelf up. “Trumpet.” They then lowered two shelves down. “Bassoon.” Slipping his hand back into hiding, he moved away and regarded me again. “I could go through the list. Mostly woodwinds, as I’m partial to them. The brass are not my favorites, though I keep a trumpet for the odd times it strikes me to play.”
My eyes had followed the movement of his hand as he touched each instrument. Lost in wonder over the thought of one person having mastery over such a collection, I could yet hear the chords of the piano piece resonating in my mind and wondered if Victor possessed the ability to create such lovely music with each one. “Woodwinds...” I heard myself say distantly, the first word escaping my lips as was apt to at the moment. I glanced back at him and grinned. “I might have to continue showing up at your doorstep in order to hear you play each one.”
Victor chuckled, grinning. “Perhaps you can simply tell me the next time you are inclined to indulge me and I shall retrieve you rather than making you walk all this way.”
I held my smile steady, but surrendered to the notion of how often I felt inclined to call upon him. “I shall have to do so. I did not mind the walk in the slightest, though.” Inside my mind, I heard myself finish the thought. ‘Because it was a walk to see you.’ My eyes flicked to the instruments and my grin turned somewhat playful. “Perhaps you might coax me to take further interest in learning one of these myself.”
He did not respond at first and I feared glancing back at him, wondering why it seemed my mouth was running away on me. Swallowing hard, I felt an undercurrent settling and finally dared myself to make eye contact with him again while he looked lost in thought for interminable moments. Victor blinked several times and drew in a deep breath, flashing a subtle grin at me. “If you would be so inclined, I would hardly object, brother. I did not think you would be one to find an affinity in such things, so I confess, I rather like the idea.”
I nodded. My feet moved of their own volition, closer to where he stood while he continued looking at me. “Yes, I know, it is not the first thought one associates with me.” I punctuated my words with a chuckle. “I have actually fancied the notion on and off the past few years especially, I simply did not know where to start.” Pausing just shy of Victor, I pointed toward the array of instruments. “What would you suggest, Maestro, if you were to recommend one to me?”
He stared, unmoving for what seemed like an eternity, eyes fixed on mine and lungs filling slowly with a deep breath. A shiver ran up my spine completely bereft of the assassin when I caught the way he looked at me, but Victor averted his eyes before I could react further. “For you, brother?” I watched his gaze shift from one instrument to the next and linger on the wall. He hesitated, then turned his head to regard me again, looking somewhat apprehensive. “Strings,” he said. “A violin. The movement of a bow across the frets is something akin to the mastery of a sword. I would say it would be almost natural for you.”
I perked an eyebrow, but glanced away, eyes distant as I considered the recommendation. A smile touched the corners of my mouth. Inside my mind’s eye, I saw the fluid motions of a bow dancing across the strings and saw myself holding one, with Victor standing close by, watching me play. Some euphoric surge of happiness accompanied the picture. I regarded Victor with a soft expression. “That... actually sounds rather tempting, I must say. Do you happen to know how to play one?”
Victor nodded, with our eyes locked again. He grinned. “I do. Not as proficiently as some, but well enough.” He raised an eyebrow. “Would you consider having me teach you, brother?”
My smile brightened despite myself. “Brother, I would be honored if you did.” I chuckled. “So, you can play your instruments for me and teach me the violin. I think this sounds rather pleasant.”
Victor laughed, nodding in return. “Very pleasant. There might be hope for you yet.” He winked.
“Perhaps. I almost believe it when you say it.” My grin turned coy. “I knew the term maestro came to mind for a reason.”
His eyes lingered on mine. I could have been mistaken, but it seemed as though his shoulders lifted a fraction of an inch, his expression softening a minuscule amount. The corner of his mouth seemed to curl an extra millimeter upward and it was the first moment of our many locked gazes that night where I desperately wanted something. Distantly, I realized what it was, but I could not look away. Fortunately, Victor simply nodded and said, “You are the wordsmith, Master Poet. So, I am hardly surprised you came up with something apropos.”
Moments elapsed without anything happening, either of us acting upon whatever impulse had woven us together and sucked us into its gravitational pull. I managed to look away and we drifted apart enough that the temptation waned and normal conversation took over as much as possible. An unmistakable tension settled on the room which strained the normal tenor of our banter, but not enough that either of us seemed apt to acknowledge it.
Victor drove me home some time afterward. I parted company with a smile and a ‘see you soon’, but walked up to the house feeling much more unsettled than I had been prior to departing. As I slipped my key back into the lock, I found myself asking what in the heavens was happening to me. My sentiments crowded in on me and started to gain an unmistakable form, something I found myself having to confess with brick by brick of my wall crumbling right before my eyes. My thoughts drifted back to the gaze exchanged which seemed rife with electricity. What had I wanted?
I wanted him to kiss me. To close the gap and press his lips against mine. I drew a shaky breath as I opened the door and slammed it shut behind me. My coat flew off and landed on the floor, my keys shoved into my pocket with me nearly collapsing into my chair. When had this happened? When did my heart begin to slip into the ether and set its sights upon my best friend?
I shut my eyes and sighed. I could not be the only one. The attraction buzzing between us jumped from one body to the other and back again, and yet I did not know what Victor might be thinking and had not reached the level of urgency where I could even justify reading his mind. This marked uncharted territory for me. Never before had another man done this to me and yet, something seemed so right about it.
“Utter nonsense,” I murmured to myself and rose to pour myself a drink. I passed out on my bed some time later with the debate still unresolved within me.
The next evening, I rose and paced the floors, tempted to indulge in a hunt, but not wanting to move for fear that I might miss Victor. John perked an eyebrow at me on more than one occasion, but I ignored him in favor of setting out to Nocturnal Embers after a few hours had elapsed. My Blackberry sat dormant in my pocket. I could not bring myself to using it. Instead, I returned to the house and whittled away the hours until settling in to sleep for the day.
The next evening was much of the same. By the third night, I felt the familiar ache of needing to feed and knew if I did not answer it soon, there would be hell to pay. Just as I finished buttoning my shirt, I saw my Blackberry buzzing on my dresser and perked an eyebrow as I strolled over to retrieve it. Victor’s number flashed on the screen and had I a pulse, my heart would have leaped at seeing it. I immediately pressed the call button. “Hello, brother,” I said, bringing the phone to my ear.
Victor hesitated for a moment, then said, “Hello, brother. How does the night find you?”
I shrugged, attempting to sound nonchalant. “Well, for the most part. I have simply been meandering about the house, attempting to settle on what to do for the evening.” Pausing, I perked an eyebrow. “How does the night find you?”
He exhaled a shaky breath. “Well, although I’ve had a frustrating evening.” He paused as well. “I was actually thinking about indulging a hunt, brother, and thought I would see how you felt about joining me.”
“I was actually planning on much the same thing.” I grinned, resting a hand on top of the chest of drawers as I leaned against it. “You should know I would hardly refuse to accompany you.”
“Yes, I know. It is...” Victor trailed off for a few seconds. “Brother, I have a question for you. Have you ever indulged a bit more in your hunts?”
“Indulged?” I asked furrowing my brow.
“Yes.” He chuckled. “Are you in the mood for a little seduction to find our meals this evening?”
I blinked and then suddenly realized what he meant. Flashes of my days as an assassin resonated within me, those times when I would seduce and lure away my victims to indulge in them, both body and blood. A shiver of a different sort traced up my spine and for a moment, I debated whether or not I could partake of such a thing without it affecting me adversely. The debate provoked a soft sigh. Why could I not indulge in such matters without fear of the assassin?
‘What am I? I am vampire, that is what.’ I nodded in a resolute manner. Victor had to be the most self-assured, confident vampire I knew and such a thing often made me jealous. To indulge in the hunt without fear of losing one’s soul. To embrace that which made us what we were - immortals - and not be consumed by it. I wished to learn this more than anything else in the world. Victor might have offered to be my teacher in the matter of music, but tonight, I wished a different instruction from the maestro.
“Yes,” I said, not knowing how much time had elapsed. “Yes, it has been a while, but I used to partake of such a thing rather frequently.” My smile turned a trifle more sinister than normal. “You wish to indulge in a bit of mischief?”
I could almost hear the grin across the line. “Yes, brother, I think mischief is the operative word.”
“Come by and pick me up. Heaven only knows I could use it right now.”
Victor heartily agreed and we both hung up. A few minutes later, the doorbell rang and I spirited out the front door without much of a farewell to John. Instead, I walked side-by-side with Victor to his car and climbed in, exchanging a devilish smirk with him before we set off toward downtown. Not much discussion transpired en route, with the exception of Victor admitting he had been preoccupied with the political arena the past couple of days. “You could say that was what provoked the hunt,” he said as he turned into a parking garage.
I nodded slowly, acknowledging the sentiment with as much understanding as I could impart. I confessed toward moments when the inclination to shred apart humanity became more pointed than others, without acknowledging their usual source. Victor smiled softly in recognition, then asked if I was ready before opening his car door. I nodded and followed him, assuming a place by his side again as we strolled out onto the street.
The city bore a distinct hum to it, with a thousand pulses resonating in the area surrounding us. I felt the light chill of a breeze blowing past and exchanged another smirk with Victor as we crossed the street. One of the larger nightclubs in the area laid in front of us, rife with possibility and causing an ache to infect me from head to toe. I held back my fangs while we glamored our way past security, and stood at the edge of the room, surveying the crowd gathered with my hunting partner.
I inhaled deeply, savoring the scent in the air; humanity laid before me, yet I beheld it in a much different manner. Something hearkening back to my earliest days as a vampire. I recalled seducing my prey, yet the notion was such a distant recollection, it tempted me to curse my youthful moral wrestlings. The finer pleasures of being an immortal laid nearly spread before me and the word seduction resonated within my mind, forming a siren call. I glanced at Victor. “It has been a long time since I have tasted wanton lust in their blood. As I recall, this is a feat very easily accomplished.”
Victor grinned in a devilish manner, his eyes glinting as he nodded slowly in response. “Yes, lust is quite simple to entice, brother. I think the pair of us will manage to find something for both our tastes.”
Nodding in response, I drew another deep breath inward, shivering as I caught a tendril of Victor’s scent in the process. I tried my hardest to conceal the reaction it inspired while we strolled deeper into the recesses of the club, yet my fangs almost descended of their own volition. Swallowing hard, I cast a quick glance at Victor, then redirected my attention to the mortals engaged in their various pursuits, attempting to redirect the fledgling temptation toward a victim. We paused beside the dance floor and I stepped closer to Victor. “Lead the way, dear brother,” I whispered.
Inhaling again almost became my undoing. Victor’s scent seemed to break through any other in the crowded room, with a worse form of temptation than even the pulses thudding around us. He glanced at me and must have read the drunken expression on my face, for he smiled and flashed a hint of fangs. For a moment, I thought he knew the object of my attention, but he motioned for me to follow as though sensing my need being much more a need for blood. I strolled beside him willingly, yet my eyes continued gravitating toward various parts of his anatomy. His neck. His shoulders. His arms, torso, and...
I lifted my gaze before it could descend below his belt.
We swept past a few mortals dancing, two vampires who might as well have worn the robes of death and been its dark harbingers. The lights were dim and colored beams flared down from projectors in the ceiling. The room bustled and as I forced my eyes away, I caught sight of humans flocking by a bar. A set of stairs led to a lounge area. A few mortals conversed while seated on plush sofas. Doors led to back rooms, but the selection on the floor seemed ample enough. “Do you see anything which strikes your fancy?” I asked, risking leaning closer to Victor again.
He paused and skimmed around the immediate area with his eyes before stopping. I watched his gaze settle on a human and the wicked grin emerge anew. “I think I just did.”
Turning my focus in the direction I saw him looking, I regarded a redheaded woman not too far away, dancing with a brunette I could only ascertain was her friend. Both women slender, they bore curves in all the correct manners and were indeed an intoxicating sight to behold. I saw Victor lick his lips from the corner of my eye and shivered again, wondering if half my problem was being away from the attentions of a woman for so many weeks. I perked an eyebrow at myself.
I could allow the denial to persist for another evening, I supposed.
While Victor’s eyes continued drinking from the sight of the redhead, I regarded the other woman and admired her from head to foot and back again. Firm breasts, long legs; yes, she inspired a glint of lust in my gaze and I was all too willing to use her for those ends, knowing how rapidly I was unraveling otherwise. “Yes, and with a companion,” I murmured only loud enough for the elder vampire to hear. “How quaint and convenient.” The corner of my mouth curled upward as I rifled through her mind. “Oh, her thoughts are sinful, brother. Her companion’s as well. They came out tonight desiring a bit of action.” I turned to look at Victor. “What do you say we give it to them?”
A flicker of something I could only define as unadulterated desire crossed Victor’s eyes as we regarded one another, yet I could not be certain if my words or the convergence of our gaze again prompted it. I ignored the part of me which seemed intrigued at the latter and mirrored the wicked grin which spread across Victor’s lips. “I think that sounds like a marvelous idea, brother,” he said. “Perhaps we should go introduce ourselves?”
“After you,” I said, extending a hand pointed toward our would-be conquests.
Victor nodded. We both crept up on the women and within seconds, both surrendered willingly to us, held in our thrall with their bodies’ reactions bereft of thought. Hands traced across scant clothing and warm flesh and for a while, Victor and I seemed to be lost in the moment, indulging the beginnings of debauchery in such close proximity to one another. With the women there, it kept our desires focused and as we lured them away, we glamored another security guard past his watchful eye and into a private room.
I groaned the moment the door closed and the brunette threw herself into my arms. Fangs descending, I kissed her hard and deep and sank into the impulses throttling through me.
A shiver assaulted me at once. I ignored the faint whisper of my alter ego while pressing the stranger against a wall and allowing my hands a much more sensual exploration of her body. As I kissed down her neck, I stole a quick glance Victor’s way and watched him dispatching of his victim’s clothing, his hands and mouth very similarly occupied. My eyes rolled back and I stole a quick taste of my conquest, listening to her moan in response to my ministrations.
It did not take much to push me over the edge with her.
Clothing fell with haste, my suit jacket and shirt landing atop the blouse she had already shed. Her short skirt lifted. The moment my pants joined the other discarded garments, I wasted no time in throwing her down and entering her in one solid thrust. She worked me to a fever pitch and the conjoined sounds of moans and groans from the activities in the other side of the room built a frenzy from which I could not descend. Climax transpired within moments and my teeth sank into her neck only seconds after I felt her clench around me.
Her blood rich with lust, it flowed freely into my veins and my eyes shut as I relished the feed, the taste of endorphins saturating the viscous liquid pouring down my throat. I moaned sharply, but pursed my lips again around the bite marks, imbibing swallow after swallow until I felt her pulse begin to wane and the hands clutching onto me relax before they fell limply by her sides. Pulling away, I slipped from inside her, issuing a few steadying breaths. My eyes shut. I remained in the same position for interminable moments, attempting to catch my bearings and push back the assassin. I almost had Flynn subdued. He retreated back a few solid paces. But then, I heard something which knocked my focus completely to hell within seconds.
A moan of completion. My eyes darted to Victor and the redheaded woman with whom he had been occupied. He drank from her neck as well, his skin bare and nothing hidden from my vision as I took in the sight of him. A lean body, the sinews of his torso marked with toned muscle across its topography. My fangs remained down and in that moment, I wanted him as I had wanted nothing else before.
I saw myself ripping him away from his conquest once he finished feeding and pressing against him. Lips meeting lips, fangs cutting into each other while we explored each other as we had the women we claimed. Topping to the ground. Driving teeth into his neck. I heard him moan and groaned as well as I felt myself beginning to lose control.
Kneeling on the ground in front of the now-dead body of my victim, I could not take my eyes off Victor.
‘Well, is that not a curious thing, seer. When did you drift toward the other side of the fence?’
No. Not Flynn.
Not now.
I clenched my eyes shut, obliterating the mental image while covering my face with my hands. Inhaling sharply, I shook my head. ‘Damn you, assassin. Now is not the bloody time.’
‘Oh, I think this is a splendid time, boy scout. My, my, look what you have managed to do without my prompting.’
I shivered. ‘Yes, I am enjoying being a vampire for once. You should be grateful.’
‘I am tickled. Utterly tickled. And with a companion. Might I introduce myself to him?’
‘No.’ I gritted my teeth. ‘No, you leave him alone or so help me, I shall find some way to end you, Flynn.’
‘Ending me would end you, too. What a conundrum you face.’
Swallowing hard, I forced my eyes open, staring off toward the other side of the room. ‘I promise you, it shall be worth it. If you scare him away...’
‘You shall do what?’ He laughed in a mocking manner. ‘Are you infatuated, seer?’
The question caused me to blink. Victor pulled away from his victim and I was forced to glance down toward the floor.
‘Well? Are you?’
I rubbed my face with my hands and sighed. ‘What I am is none of your business, assassin. Now crawl back into the hole from where you came.’
He snickered, but retreated into the shadows, leaving me shaken in more than one manner. I felt Victor’s gaze settle on me, but refused to look at him, not wanting him to know I had just stopped my alter ego from emerging right in his presence. Beyond that, though, I heard Flynn’s question echo in the stillness of my thoughts and issued several steadying breaths as I denied the answer to that question. I knew, though. Without speaking the words, I knew exactly where the truth of matters laid.
Coming to a shaky stand, I gathered my clothing and attempted a disarming grin for Victor’s sake. He appeared puzzled, raising an eyebrow at me with a solemn gaze issued toward me. It made me ache to see him look so lost, but I could not bring myself to discussing the matter with him. Not yet, anyway. I needed to get home and do a sizable amount of thinking.
I slipped my pants on and kept my shirt untucked after securing the buttons closed. Threading my arms through the sleeves of my suit jacket, I slipped on the shoes I had discarded at some point during the fracas and ran my fingers through my hair. Victor spoke at last, stating it would be a good idea for us to dispose of the bodies and I nodded in agreement. We set to the task in silence, and with the same tense quiet, we wandered back to his car and secured ourselves inside.
The journey home was strained, at best. Victor turned on the radio, in some effort to drown out the deafening sound of our thoughts as it seemed we both wrestled with what to say to one another. He cleared his throat reflexively when we were halfway to my house. “Did the hunt bother you, brother?” he asked.
I had been looking out the window, but with the question, I shot my focus to Victor and shook my head. “No,” I said. “Heavens no, not at all. I quite enjoyed myself, actually.”
He nodded, but frowned as his eyes remained fixed on the road. “Did I...” The question trailed off before he could finish it.
I perked an eyebrow. “Did you what?”
He sighed and shook his head. “Nothing, brother. I don’t wish to pry.” Victor glanced at me and grinned, but even the grin looked somewhat forced.
Frowning in response, I considered him and fought the urge to groan at myself for wishing to keep my silent ruminations hidden. He was floundering. I had no need of reading his mind to know what Victor was thinking as I stared at him. My mind felt too chaotic, though, to offer him the type of reassurance I would have liked. “I had a good time tonight, brother. Honestly, I did.”
Victor’s grin became more genuine. He parked the car in front of my house and nodded, shifting slightly in his seat to line me in his sight. His eyes traced across me and I looked back at him, fighting the urge to do something. Touch his face. Kiss his lips. Whisper to him gentle reassurance that somehow, some way I would figure things out and be able to converse with him more freely. Instead, we sat in silence until Victor nodded. “I did as well. Take care, Poet. And thank you for the company.”
I nodded slowly. “I appreciated the company as well, Maestro.” The term of endearment slipped as the only comfort I could provide before I opened the car door and slipped out from the vehicle. Pausing a moment to study him, I finally averted my eyes and shut the door, not wishing to make matters worse with half-baked thoughts and trite platitudes. My hands slipped in my pockets and a casual gait marked my path back to the door. Behind me, I heard his car drive off, leaving me standing on the stairs by myself. As I turned my head, I watched the taillights drift farther away, until he turned and disappeared altogether.
With a sigh, I finished ascending the stairs. The air around me became heavier, the world duller once again. I paused in front of my door and slipped my keys from my pocket, but then remained standing there, holding them in my hands.
I could produce my Blackberry and call him. I could run after him. I could scream out to him the very words I could not bring myself to uttering for myself. Instead, I dismissed each notion and finally unlocked the door, not slamming it shut this time. Not even slipping off my jacket before I settled in my seat. Instead, I stared off into the distance, eyes on the clock, listening to the steady ticking as though it would be enough to drown out my thoughts. Truth be known, I knew nothing could now.
I had crossed the path of no return. The rest would be inevitable.
This is part one of a three part story told from Peter's point of view. For Victor's point of view, click here to read "Changes on the Wind - Uncertainty".
***
I cannot recall when the visits started to become more frequent, except to say they did, gradually at first until it seemed I saw more of Victor than I did Nocturnal Embers. We found ourselves phoning one another on occasion after the hunt, meeting either at the bar or, eventually, at my house since it laid in closer proximity to Nocturnal Embers than Victor’s residence. Many times, we started with the intent of wandering out, but over time, we found ourselves doing so less and less. Conversation became more important than the familiar meeting place.
The shift between us happened in such a subtle manner, it might as well have flown well under my radar screen. Where the company of the others in the supernatural bar once had been such a crucial indulgence, I found myself favoring Victor’s presence, opting to venture outside on my own only on those occurances when his duties kept him indisposed. Even on those evenings, though, I would dress and make it only to the living room before coming to a halt and reconsidering. I devised a litany of excuses. I wished to read that evening; or write in my poetry journal; or converse with John before he disappeared in his room.
The truth of the matter was, I wanted to be around in case Victor came calling.
He became such a familiar fixture. Even John grew accustomed to the sight of him. After their initial introduction, John would slip downstairs on occasion and join us in our banter when not preoccupied with his own pursuits. I both laughed and pinched the bridge of my nose at my brash, impudent son, more than once wincing at how blunt he could be. “I apologize. He is far too much like his mother was in that regard,” I said once, shaking my head.
Victor grinned in his characteristic manner. “It isn’t necessary for you to apologize, Master Poet,” he said. His eyes shot toward the stairs where John had disappeared. “He strikes me as a lot more than what he presents on the surface.”
I nodded. “That he is. Where he learned his manners, though, I shall never know.” With a chuckle and a wink, I added. “Thank you, brother,” to him. It was the first time I remembered addressing him as such.
Yet, it became a commonplace from that point forth. The term of endearment marked a strange turn down the path between us. It was how I addressed Robin, yet with Victor it had a different intonation, one I could not place my finger on at the time. As though it was the placemarker for another word which had yet to trickle into my consciousness; fully meant, and yet, not the right term all at once. He reciprocated it freely, but I could never find myself regarding him in quite the same manner as I did Robin.
It was not that Robin occupied a place in my life unable to be filled by another. To the contrary, with my sibling in the ways of immortals, he had a sound definition to him - a title with respective boundaries, never to be crossed one way or the other. With Victor, I had yet to give unction to what those boundaries might be, even if my initial thoughts never strayed toward anything romantic in nature. That rapidly changed, though. And all it took was one confession.
The night before it transpired, we had been up until the latest hours of night, far too close to the first strains of daylight for Victor to drive back to his residence. Victor sighed as he regarded the time, stating he felt the hour simply from the alarms of instinct resonating within him, telling him to ready himself for his daytime slumber.
I perked an eyebrow. “Is this something latent in your bloodline, brother?” I asked, still seated in my chair.
Victor nodded, rising to his feet. “Yes, it is.” He glanced toward the door, then back to me. “I would ask if I could stay here, but I don’t wish to inconvience you.”
“What other option would you have?”
He shrugged. “I could go to ground.”
“Nonsense.” I chuckled and stood as well. “There is an empty bedroom and I assure you my protection. Your lineage might sleep soundly during the day, but mine can be roused if there is any sort of danger.” I punctuated my words with a wink.
Victor grinned rather broadly. “Thank you, brother. I would appreciate it.”
With a nod, I led him to the spare bedroom I had equipped with a bed for whenever Lydia would be ready to visit with us. As it was intended for her, it possessed the same light tight shades over its windows found in every other room of the house, save but for the bathrooms and John’s room. Victor nodded appreciately when I instructed him where the bathroom was for freshening up and with that, I left him alone.
As I strolled to my room to settle in for the morning, I disrobed and could not help but have it in the back of my consciousness that the man who was, for all intents and purposes, my best friend slumbered just down the hallway from me. I perked an eyebrow at myself, wondering what might be so momentous about such a thing to warrant the train of thought, yet it still encroached upon me despite myself. There was a distinct sense of happiness at being able to wake the next evening and have the well-dressed vampire present. As I sat on the edge of the bed, I furrowed my brow, then nodded while slipping underneath the covers. “I simply enjoy his company,” I murmured, shutting my eyes.
It was a far better thing to have a companion than to be alone, after all.
I rose well before sunset, several hours later, and cursed my insomnia while showering. Clad in a fresh suit, I entertained several strange notions as I moved throughout the house. I wished I had an acceptable change of clothing for Victor. I mused that perhaps he might see fit to keep a suit or two here in the event such a thing ever transpired again. I wondered if I should call in a favor to Tony at Nocturnal Embers for some blood present. At one point, I chuckled at myself for wishing to be the perfect host and poured a glass of scotch. The liquor and a favored book helped me pass the time.
Not too long past sunset, I heard the sounds of somebody moving about upstairs and grinned. The bathroom door shut and the shower started. A few minutes later, John emerged downstairs, strolling nonchalantly toward the kitchen until he stopped and turned toward me. He raised an eyebrow, glanced up the stairs, then looked back at me. “Who’s in the bathroom? I thought that was you,” he asked.
I perked an eyebrow. “John, the master bedroom has its own shower.”
“Yeah, I know, but...” He trailed off and scratched his head. “Okay, then that would be who?”
“Victor.” I stood and polished off the remainder of my scotch. Walking past John, I halted my steps at the sink and rinsed out my glass. “He spent the day here.”
A pause. I heard the rustle of John’s clothing as he leaned against the door frame. “He spent the day here?”
The amusement in John’s voice could not be denied. I set down the glass and turned to regard him, laughing at the smile present on his face. “Yes, he spent the day in Lydia’s empty bedroom.”
“Yeah.” He nodded, raising an eyebrow. “Right, sure he did.”
Grinning, I shook my head. “John,” I said folding my arms across my chest, “It is not like that. Unless something transpired while I was dead asleep, he stayed in his room and I, in mine.”
“Oh, yeah, I completely believe you, Dad.” He straightened, his smile only turning more mischievous as he walked to the refrigerator and opened it. Procuring a bottle of water from within, John shut the door and continued smirking the entire way to the stairs.
I sighed. “John, you are impossible,” I called after him.
“Yup. Your son, remember.”
He laughed, but as I heard one set of feet ascending, another descended, these clad in a pair of fine dress shoes. Victor raised an eyebrow toward the stairs, then glanced at me and grinned. “Good evening, Master Poet,” he said, closing the distance to the kitchen, his hands slipping in his pockets.
“Good evening, Victor,” I said, mirroring his grin. I regarded him in a fraction of a second, seeing the same suit upon his frame and once again, wishing I possessed something more to offer him. My eyes met his again. “I trust you rested well?”
“Quite well.” He nodded. “Thank you for the accommodations, brother.”
“It was my pleasure.”
Victor glanced back toward the stairs, then freed one hand to point in their direction as he looked at me. “Was something amiss with the young man?”
I laughed. Shaking my head, I waved my hand to indicate Victor should follow me into the living room. I sighed as I sat in my chair. “No, the young man thinks he is being witty,” I said, grinning broadly. “But you are well aware of the sort of comedian he is by now.”
Victor chuckled. “He certainly has a unique sense of humor.” An eyebrow lifted again. “How was he attempting to be witty?”
“Oh...” I grinned and cleared my throat as a nervous habit. “He was questioning why you spent the day and thought he might hazard a guess that something more transpired. As I said, he fancies himself a comedian.”
My dear friend blinked before bursting into laughter. I nodded, chuckling as well. “Yes, apparently I am entertaining your presence with nefarious intent now, brother,” I said.
He grinned. “Hardly anything nefarious about that, Master Poet.” Shaking his head, he laughed again. “Still, very humorous the young man’s thoughts drifted toward that idea.”
“Quite so.” I could not help but to be swept up in the bout of merriment with Victor. We exchanged another chuckle. “You need not fear, though, brother. I promise not to take advantage of you whenever you stay at my house,” I said with a wink.
Victor shrugged, grinning in a somewhat devilish manner. “I don't mind either way, actually. I play both sides of the fence.”
For a moment, I studied him, expecting another round of laughter or some sort of gesture which would indicate Victor to be kidding with me. When he continued to regard me in an even manner, I grinned and nodded. “Ah, I did not think to presume. Some, I have known to stray one way or the other. Not many who have entertained both.”
The characteristic smile remained an indelible feature on his face. “You are still a young vampire, brother,” he said as his eyes ran across me, not so much as to search as to study. “Sometimes I forget how much so.”
I nodded, surrendering to a coy grin. “Yes, at times I can mask my twenty-six years, but it would seem I yet have a few vestiges of my youth yet to be shed.”
“It will come in time.” He opened his mouth to continue speaking, but both of us were interrupted by a knock at the door. I perked an eyebrow and he did as well. “Did John order something for dinner?” he asked.
“I do not know.” Rising to my feet, I noticed how weak my knees had become and attempted to mask it as I strolled to the stairs. It caused me to furrow my brow at myself. I called up to John, “There is somebody at the door. Is it for you?”
“Is what for me?” he asked, shouting back.
I winced. Victor chuckled. “John, you do know we can hear you without the shouting, right?” Victor asked.
A pause. I remained standing in place, staring at Victor throughout the exchange which ensued. Had I reflection, I might have noticed the coy grin yet present on my face. “Right. Yes, sorry about that,” John said, in a much lower tone of voice. I heard footsteps close in on the top of the staircase. “You said somebody at the door, Dad?”
“Yes,” I said with a nod, not breaking my focus on Victor. Somewhere in the distant recesses of my mind, I heard myself making note of Victor’s proclivities with more curiosity than disdain. I failed to notice when I repeated myself. “Is it for you?”
“Uh, no.” John spoke, while Victor’s eyes met mine. We held a steady gaze. “Not unless there's a hot girl who happened to see me through the window.”
Victor grinned. I could not be certain if it was directed at John or at me. I grinned back. “If you are in the habit of picking up strange women by leaving all the windows open,” he said without breaking eye contact, “Might I recommend you refrain from doing so during the day?”
“What?” John’s voice seemed to grow distant. “It’s not like I live with a vampire or something.”
Victor hesitated for a moment. I suddenly realized I was staring. My grin turned disarming as I glanced away and headed for the door to finally answer it. I heard Victor retort with, “A quick remedy to that forgetfulness would be turning you. Should I be tempted so that I know your father is safe?”
John replied, “Yeah. Alright, keeping windows closed during the day. Gotcha, Victor.”
My feet paused by the door, though, while I heard an echo of Victor’s last statement.
‘So that I know your father is safe.’
“Good lad,” Victor said.
Attempting to assess myself, I opened the door and debated whether I was flattered he would be so concerned for my benefit, or if the nervous twist of my stomach indicated something else sitting on my mind. I shrugged. Opening the door, I found myself so lost in the internal wrestling, it took me by surprise when I saw who was standing on the other side.
It was Robin. He folded his arms across his chest as the corner of his mouth curled upward in a grin. “I wondered when you would answer the door, dear brother,” he said. “I was about to knock again.”
I blinked, then laughed, scarcely believing what my eyes beheld. “Robin.” We met in an embrace and held on for a few seconds before pulling away and stepping back from one another. I looked him up and down and chuckled once more. “Goodness gracious, I did not know you were going to visit. Please, by all means, come in.”
“Thank you, Peter.” He stepped inside and removed his coat, my older, more regal, brother dressed impeccably, as he always was. Robin glanced about his surroundings, but his eyes stopped when they reached the entryway separating the living room from the vestibule. I glanced in that direction to see what held his attention.
The moment I spotted Victor, I grinned at the perplexed expression on his face.
“Hello,” Robin said, confusion latent in his tone of voice.
I glanced from Victor to Robin and swiftly walked to my newfound friend as he strolled toward Robin and returned my immortal brother’s greeting. Without much thought, I said, “Victor, this is Robin. I believe you have heard me mention him several times.” Then I looked at Robin. My hand gravitated toward Victor’s shoulder and came to a rest there. “Robin, this is Victor Mason.”
My fingers brushed against Victor’s suit jacket and a tingle shot up my arm. I could not budge for what might have been seconds, but seemed like an eternity as the world around me paused and gave me the chance to register the strange reaction. It was the first time I had ever touched Victor with the gesture ever affecting me in such a pointed manner. As Victor motioned forward, I snapped out of the moment and lifted my hand to slide it into my pants pocket.
Victor extended his hand. “A pleasure to meet you,” he said. “Peter has told me a lot about you. It’s good to put a face to the name.”
“Yes, he has mentioned you several times as well. It’s good to meet you, too.” Robin shook Victor’s hand, grinning broadly, but even that gesture seemed frozen in time. I could not help but wonder at the way he studied Victor first before letting him go. He perked an eyebrow, then turned his head to regard me, the same expression still latent on his face. Robin searched my eyes for something. I raised an eyebrow, considering Robin’s statement. Had I told Robin about Victor before?
My mind traced across phone conversations. I scanned through what I recalled of them and mustered a sheepish grin.
Yes, I had been mentioning Victor frequently, had I not?
“What brings you to San Francisco, dear brother?” I asked.
The question seemed enough to break the ice. Robin nodded, his eyes shifting from Victor back to me again. “Well, despite any grievances I might still have against this city from years past,” he said, “I thought it would be a good idea to bring Katerina and Lydia out here. Lydia misses her brother immensely.”
“How is the young vampiress faring?” Victor asked.
Robin shifted his attention back to Victor. “Much better now. She seems to be settling into immortal life quite well.” He sighed. “Katerina has been the larger problem.”
I frowned as Robin looked at me again. “What is wrong with her?” I asked.
He shook his head. Walking toward the living room, he prompted Victor and I to follow and sat in one of the available chairs. I settled into mine and Victor, into another. Robin folded his hands on his lap. “She... tried to starve herself. Again. Only this time, she almost did weaken herself severely.” He glanced between us both and then continued. “I spoke with Matthew a few evenings ago and informed him I would be going on a sabbatical. I think she needed to get away from the others.”
I nodded, then felt compelled to look at Victor. “Katerina is his child,” I said. “She is still a rather young immortal herself.”
Victor nodded, as did Robin. “It’s a long story,” he said, looking at Victor. “But the last few months haven’t been easy on her.” He regarded me once more and smiled. “As I’ve told you, though, brother, your daughter is quite a credit to our kind. I’ll be looking forward to a little bit of a break, but in the meantime, I wondered if John might want to come and visit.”
“You have a place?” I asked, perking an eyebrow.
He chuckled. “I sorted through temporary arrangements prior to leaving. Aiden was actually very helpful to me.” Robin looked at Victor, his smile fading only slightly while he studied the third man in the room. I wondered at the look in his eyes, knowing his gaze to be appraising, but not in any sort of suggestive manner. Rather, I began to wonder if Robin thought he should evaluate this new presence in my life. “I can linger a few moments, though,” he said, nodding. “I would love to catch up on how you’ve been faring.”
Victor grinned and studied Robin in much the same manner. From there, a conversation commenced, but I found myself frequently wondering at the raised eyebrows and the questions aimed from Robin to Victor and vice-versa. By the time Robin departed with John, our talk had turned lighter, so whatever the one man sought to glean from the other, it must have been satisfied by the time our discussion ended. All Victor offered me after the fact was, “Your brother seems to be protective of you.”
It was a fact I could not deny and yet, a truth which perplexed me even after Victor took his leave in favor of attending to business at home. In turn, I found myself with far more to think about than I cared to admit to myself. Could Robin be thinking something else was afoot, just as John had? I chuckled at the notion, and yet, dared to ask myself that question.
Especially when Victor returned two nights later.
Once again, we spoke the hours away. Neither of us seemed too apt to end the conversation and with John now able to see his sister in small doses, Victor and I were alone during the duration of our time spent together. He asked more about Katerina and I obliged by explaining all the trials and tribulations the sorceress-turned-immortal faced in becoming acclimated to her newfound existence.
Victor’s thoughts turned toward his own child, Delilah.
“She took a while to settle as an immortal,” he said, standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen while I polished off a glass of Scotch. “And when she did, the inclination to change her name seemed to accompany her redefinition of herself. Delilah wasn’t her mortal name.”
“A while to settle as an immortal?” I asked, rinsing out my glass and setting it in the basin of the sink.
Victor nodded slowly. “You've mentioned enough details of your turning that I gather you do so somewhat by choice. My bloodline can force the change, so long as the mortal accepts out blood after we drain them. Delilah... did not have an easy beginning to her immortal life. She lost quite a few things that were precious to her.”
As I glanced back at him, I saw something in his eyes which caused an ache to spring up in my soul. Something inside me wished to close the gap between us, but I remained standing in place for some reason. “I know how it is with us, though. Any one of our victims could have things which are precious to them and such is the same for anybody you might turn.” I paused, sizing him up for a moment before issuing the question. “Might I ask you why you wished to turn her, brother?”
He smiled in a soft manner. “Selfish impulse, I admit, at least in part. When I first laid eyes on her, there was something about her spirit that called out to me. It was one of the rare times where I allowed impulse to overrule my reason.” He chuckled. “Though I do not recall reason ever even coming up.”
I grinned, feeling the ache subside, at least in part. “Still, if you saw something in her worth making an immortal creature out of her... Now that she is settled, I am certain she is a credit to our kind.”
Victor nodded. “That she is, brother. She does not have my penchant for politics, but she is an enterprising vampiress.” He paused. “Though, I do occasionally wonder if her own trials are why she has not made any children of her own.”
My expression sobered. I nodded in return. “I could see that making her more cautious about the choice. Robin has been very careful about the notion himself, ever since what happened with Katerina. Such is why I turned my daughter. I imagine it shall take him at least another century before he considers it again.”
Victor nodded and chuckled. “I suppose I am in much the same boat. I turned Delilah in 1773, when I was 168 years immortal. And two centuries later, she is still my only child.” His smile softened again. “I suppose I simply haven’t met anyone else that affected me the way she did.”
I mirrored his smile. “You never know. Somebody might cross your path when you least expect it, brother.”
He sobered somewhat. His nod slow, he weighed his words before speaking them. “It does seem to happen that way. Still, I am content to let things happen as they may.”
Regarding Victor, I furrowed my brow as my eyes swept across him again, seeing something restrained and yet, marvelling over how many layers there always seemed to be to him. Many cards held close to his chest. Personal pains and situations he always handled in such a stalwart manner. Much the same as in the bar, when I first saw him after Trisha departed, I wished to mend the pain and stitch together whatever troubles might be lying beneath the slight fissures in his demeanor he allowed me to witness. The notion so foreign, it also seemed so familiar as well. Hovering just out of reach to me. “I suppose that is the best any of us can do,” I said. “Truly many things in this world catch even us immortals by surprise.”
Victor nodded. “Indeed. As I am still learning, in rather pointed detail this year.” He quieted, gazing back at me in a way I could not interpret before allowing his eyes to stray toward the front door. “Perhaps I could beg your leave for the evening, Master Poet. I have a few things I need to see to before dawn.”
I nodded. “I completely understand.” While my mouth uttered the words, the ache in my chest returned and I could not determine why, save but to say it always seemed to magnify in nature each time he left my presence. I felt saddened, but could not understand why; compelled to ask him to stay, but determined to give him his space. I smiled softly, at a lack for how I should react to any of this. “Thank you for conversing with me tonight, brother. I appreciate your company.”
He grinned more readily. We started to walk toward the front door. “And I very much enjoy your company, brother. It has been one of the few things I've come to look forward to each evening I have the chance to indulge a span of time with you.”
The sight of a grin returning to his face prompted one of equal worth onto mine. The closer we came to the door, the more conflicting sentiments raged within me. We paused before it, turning to regard one another. “As have I, Victor.” I glanced away, then looked back at him. “I confess, there are not many people I can speak with as readily as I do you.”
Victor nodded, but our eyes lingered in a connected gaze. Seconds passed without a word spoken, yet neither of us could look away from the other. “And I appreciate that greatly, Peter, and can echo it. There are few people I would be able to reveal so much of myself too, as I seem to be able to do with you.”
My gaze strayed toward his shoulder, a recollection of touching him springing to mind before my eyes lifted slowly toward his once more. I mirrored the grin on his face again and nodded. “Likewise.” My fingers burned. I chuckled to fill the space while debating what I should be doing with myself. “And I am glad you feel that way. I know what it can be like not to have many people with whom you can speak freely. I am glad you are at ease to do so with me.”
Victor chuckled. He stepped through the door, but turned to look back at me again. “Your friendship and brotherhood has kept my feet on much more solid ground than it might have been otherwise these past weeks. I would say I owe you a debt, but I have the sense you would tell me not to think of it.”
I leaned against the door frame. “I would.” My grin broadened. “You have helped keep my feet on solid ground just as much.” Hesitating for a moment, I sensed Victor about to turn for the stairs and took one step forward. I spoke before I could stop myself. “Are you occupied at all tomorrow evening, brother?”
He stopped before motioning for the first stair. Turning around again, he chuckled. “I have a small amount of business to take care of, if I'm not able to finish tonight.” He paused, grinning. “But there will still be plenty of hours yet remaining in the night.”
I nodded and smiled back. “Perhaps then, we might continue conversing tomorrow?”
Victor nodded. “I shall see you tomorrow evening, brother Poet.”
“Until then, brother Victor. Be well.” Watching Victor start his descent down the stairs, I frowned, unable to hold back the response to seeing him slowly make his way toward his car. Each step resonated within my psyche, such that it took a great deal of effort for me to manage a smile when he glanced back in my direction. He offered me a parting wave. I lifted my hand to wave back.
As he slipped into his car, I lingered by the door, my eyes still fixed on him until he started the engine and drove off into the night. Once he disappeared from my vantage point, I sighed deeply. I rubbed my face and turned back toward the house, stepping inward and pausing just inside the entryway. As I stole a quick glance at my surroundings, I noticed how empty the house felt, how much duller and more subdued everything had become in just the short space of a few minutes.
Reaching behind me, I shut the door. I still did not understand, though, what to make of the way I felt.
my eternal maestro, as i have considered what brought us together and what we share, i came upon this poem which was penned just before i confessed my sentiments for you. indeed, i would have left it on your desk, or somewhere you could stumble upon it. i am glad, though, i have the occasion to share it with you now.
i am truly a charmed immortal for being able to call you my husband. eternal companion, such shall always be my sentiments, on this mortal coil and the world which awaits when this earth perishes.
i love you with all that i am. peter
***
nervous breaths exhaled wild with anticipation if you kiss me, i just might perish but if i perish, i would die happy.
watching you with eager eyes gaze upon you with hungry thoughts. all it would take is the world stopping for just a few seconds
and i might summon the courage and i might take the plunge and i might burn brighter than the sun lest i atrophy without your touch
if you only knew
staring at you in my mind’s eye how many times have we embraced? how many times have i savored the taste, the feel, my senses overwhelmed.
if you only knew
that in this moment, at this very minute, i want nothing more than to part my lips and speak the words and damn the consequences
i want nothing more than to study you with my fingertips and memorize your scent and pray for you to reciprocate and never, ever stop.
This is not the first time I have tangled with the Supernatural Order and it will not be the last. I spoke those words to Victor as we headed to Toronto, albeit with more humor in my voice than I currently would impart upon the declaration. Still, it is a reality I have occupied for over twenty years now. It seems my fate has been interwoven with their existence.
The simple explanation could be summarized by noting I am a seer. I was born to be a vampire hunter and somehow, wound up becoming an immortal instead. Throughout the twenty-seven years I have possessed fangs, twenty-two of them have been spent walking this earth with psychic abilities. I managed to avoid the stern eye of the cosmos for the past sixteen years. And now, my respite from my calling has come to an unfortunate end.
One could be very quick to remind me this is not my fault. In these sixteen years, I have been a rogue, but without any duties from The Fates I have been shirking. Oh certainly, I could have been in servitude to the Order had our last meeting not gone the way it did, but even if I had not been warned to stay as far from Seattle as possible, I would not have been of the mind to help them. Not after they stole John and Lydia and stripped me of one of my abilities.
Correction. Blocked one. That, however, is a story for another time.
Whatever the matter, in those years, I both mourned and healed, both came to lose everything and gain so much more back. I lost love and found love. I watched the woman I adored turn to dust; held the hand of the man for whom I would die and exchanged vows. The first time I looked at Victor and beheld my new husband, I saw the future within his chestnut colored eyes. I knew it would be filled with both good times and bad ones. I never realized, though, how soon the tide was to turn in the world around us.
It started with the videos, and turned into the summit we attended with distinguished members of his bloodline. I recall being introduced to kings and queens, dukes and members of the class to which Victor belongs, the Primael. I listened to a man named Mitchell Livingston declare to us this threat could be the single worst problem immortal kind has ever had to weather and saw it in the eyes of each immortal gathered that this was truth. On the other side of this tempest would either be our victory or our destruction. There was no way, however, that vampires could remain underground for much longer.
And yet nobody seemed to have the answers.
Truly, I should have walked out of that meeting knowing what happened. Nobody else has the resources or the will to launch such an underhanded attack against us. No, it is the Order who are both entrusted with the responsibility of protecting the natural order and the engineers of its collapse in recent years. They were behind the slaughter in Europe I ended and now, it would seem the Fates have chosen us to be the ones to stop its latest enterprise. At the same time, I find myself wondering about the cost.
By now, John and Lydia have made it into the Order’s Seattle Headquarters and heaven only knows what happened the first time they sat down with Wallace Alexander. I still remember being held down and screaming in agony as his hands touched my head and his will shoved my ability to turn mortal into the tightest closet ever manufactured. I remember that distinct emptiness at losing it all sixteen years ago, an emptiness which almost resulted in a successful suicide attempt. Knowing he is now supervising my children brings with it no measure of comfort for me.
Beyond this, though, I know the moment he looked at Lydia and saw I had turned my daughter into a vampire, I might as well have signed my death warrant. John approached Victor and me prior to leaving for Seattle, asking us to seek shelter somewhere far away from Philadelphia for this very reason. In order for he and his sister to figure out why the Order is recording Victor’s bloodline in the midst of feeding and distributing those videos, he needed to know we would be safe. We spirited away to Toronto and then, departed for Vancouver. As we waited with Delilah and Robin for our final flight to Tokyo, I watched my brother and his bonded suffer with anguish over what might happen to John and Lydia. My eyes fell to Victor as we boarded the airplane, and my demeanor faltered despite myself.
I could no more leave him to such a fate than Delilah and Robin should have been asked to do for John and Lydia. Indeed, wherever Victor goes and in whatever danger he might find himself, I would be right there, facing it beside him. Still, there was no way any of us could accompany John and Lydia without weapons drawn and all of us ready to face our deaths. We would slay as many as we could. Our ends, however, would be imminent.
In not doing anything, though, I still find myself in trouble. Two master seers have visited Allen’s coven and threatened my old friend. We are half a world away, bound for the residence of Victor’s old friend Nathan, but I still see the storm clouds on the horizon, the familiar harbinger of danger about to engulf us. The sword I carry with me once again hums with the familiar resonance of duty waiting, a threat riding on the wings about to descend like a drove of hawks. What we are about to face, I do not know. I only know one thing for certain.
While I know Victor can more than hold his own, indeed he has lived for four centuries on this mortal coil by his own recognances, I still fear for whatever might come for us. The twisted hand of fate has never spared me my sentiments as it has brought its weight upon my shoulders and knowing the Order will have me in its sights causes me to fear for my maestro, my husband and lover. Whatever may come, I know we can face together as we have faced every trial we have endured thus far and made it to the other side.
Still, I would feel that much better about it if I knew what to expect.
I came to live there during one of the darkest periods of my existence.
When I became a vampire again, past the years of marriage and the birth of my two children, Ophelia’s coven became a place of sanctuary. The coven mistress always had her own air, something whimsical for a vampiress and yet lacking nothing in the manner of immortals. Over three hundred years old, she knew precisely who she was and what she wanted. And she knew how to soothe even the most troubled soul.
Of course, Ophelia’s method of consolation often involved the carnal. After a glass of blood or a glass of wine, I would find myself tangled in the sheets with her, working out whatever troubled me. First, I sought solace after having to leave my family in Costa Rica, determined to allow them to live out their lives without the danger I would pose to them. Then, it became purging the heart-piercing agony I experienced when Monica died and John and Lydia were taken from me.
The years directly following Monica’s death were not pleasant years for me.
Robin might have saved me from meeting the sun on that bridge in Paris, fresh from having the Order rip away all I had left in this world, but my brother could hardly save me from myself. Under his watchful eye, I made it back from Europe into North America and somehow, to Ophelia’s coven in Toronto. This would only be the beginning of seven very difficult years in my economy, though.
I recall the first night spent in Toronto after waking from restless sleep, staring out my window only to see the downtown skyline stare back at me in the emptiest manner possible. The room a different one, it was the best Ophelia could do on such short notice and I had to at least appreciate the fact that she did not make me sleep in the quarters Monica and I had occupied during Monica's short tenure as a vampire. Such is a long story for another time; as it was, each time I closed my eyes, I saw her form reduced to ashes with my hands yet holding my katana, frozen in position for what seemed to be eons.
The shower I took might have washed away the crimson tears shed, but nothing seemed to fill the void left within me. The first few days, I spent long hours staring into nowhere and was visited on more than one occasion by Ophelia with the offer of simple companionship. The gypsy mistress could not even claim to be a substitute lover any longer. She knew better than most what I had lost. The best she could offer me was conversation to occupy my chaotic mind.
I refused to sleep with her, or anybody else for that matter. The numbness prevented even the carnal instincts of being a vampire to filter through into my psyche and take hold. I feared the assassin, yes, even after staring my newly-formed split personality in the eyes and coming out the victor. I feared myself even more, though, and what I might be reduced to if I so much as flinched at another person.
And so, I walked the streets of Toronto, half starving myself, feeding only when I sensed the shiver up my spine and even then, resorting to the blood reserves in the coven rather than pricking the flesh of a mortal. There certainly were moments when the heartbeats surrounding me would become intoxicating and the smell of fresh blood under soft skin would lure me away from my senses, but I feared to feel anything. Could not bring myself to manifesting anything more than being a walking shadow of my former self.
That is, until the night I almost committed suicide again.
Nearly two months had elapsed, enough time for me to fail to be moved at all by the looks of pity directed my way from Robin and Ophelia. I still was not sleeping, eating sparingly, and moving through each motion while disconnected from the world around me. I had at least pushed the constant images of Monica’s death back into a closet of my psyche, but nothing rose to the surface to replace them. Simply the solemn echoes of realizing I lost everything when I lost her.
Rising in the evening, I dressed in a black suit and strolled to the front doors without looking at a soul I passed along the way. The bitter chill of wintertime failed to move me and each step I took along the sidewalk swept me under a current of reminscience without any merciful end. I walked past the opera house and glanced at the building, wanting to burst into tears while lacking the energy to do so. I strode past an endless stream of businesses, through stoplights, and mingled with mortals without the familar temptation of wanting to take one as a victim.
It was the middle of the night when I found myself at the water front.
The sight of the shores of Lake Ontario drew me closer and closer to the docks where boats sat idle, the night bereft of any sign of life of which to speak. By this point, even the light of the moon seemed absent, though the sky remained its same inky black color, indicating I at least had a few hours before the sun would rise. My eyes transfixed upon the waters, I stood at the edge of a pier and stared into the depths below.
That was when it happened. I recalled standing on that bridge in France, wine bottle in hand with its contents being steadily depleted as each hour hastened onto dawn. Lines of red marked the tracks of my tears and my whole body shivered with grief while accepting the inevitability of what was about to happen. The glorious rays of the sun would engulf me, and I would smolder before catching fire and being reduced to dust. I had been told by a minute, it would be over. Sixty seconds of agony before being freed from my misery.
It would have happened. Had Robin not come to my rescue, I would not have had the motivation to save myself from what was about to transpire. Standing near the lake in Toronto, however, I had nobody to come to my aid. Nobody would know where to find me. It was a sheer miracle Robin found me the first time and I knew better than to hope for repeated blessings so long as I seemed bent on killing myself. The time of reckoning was at hand.
Swallowing hard, I closed my eyes, waging the internal debate over whether or not to go through with it. While the grief tore through me like knives, the numbness might have been worse. Not feeling anything, relishing anything, or having one single sensory experience to savor in this black hole of eternity I faced. Immortality, that curse which would keep me bound to this mortal coil for centuries, experiencing nothing more than emptiness. I could not face such a prospect. I needed to feel something, even if it would be the consuming fires of hell.
I took one step closer to the edge of the pier.
While I did not intend to jump, the motion must have been enough to make it appear I meant to drown myself. I can only begin to imagine the sight of a tall, well-dressed man with the wind touselling his hair, his arms slowly raising as though to embrace destiny. As my palms turned upward, a voice shouted at me from the darkness. I lowered my hands and whipped around, seeing a flashlight illuminate and a man start walking toward the pier, bearing the colors of the local police. It was enough to jar me from my melancholy and into action.
Summoning every measure of my vampire speed, I dashed across the pier and toward an adjacent park. The police officer called after me, then stopped several yards away while I hid behind a tree, feeling something like an elephant seeking refuge behind a trash can. Bringing my hand to my head, I fought against the urge to murder one last human before embracing my death. What if another police officer was to come in his wake? Or somebody else, for that matter? Would I hide and wait for the early morning hours, lest I slaughter a host of people attempting to stop me.
It simply was not worth it.
Glancing first at the approaching officer, I then turned my focus away from the pier and ran for the main streets of Toronto again, gritting my teeth at the interrupted suicide attempt. Within an hour, I entered the coven once more, walking past everybody who cast eyes on me, glowering at anybody who tried conversing with me. Ophelia called out for me, jogging after me as much as one can wearing high heels. I whipped open the door to my room and slammed it shut before she could reach me.
Stripping off my coat, I threw it onto a chair and adjusted my suit jacket’s collar while strolling to the windows. Whipping open the shades, I rested my arm against the glass and closed my eyes. Well, I could always do it this way, standing at the window, but Ophelia would hardly leave me alone until dawn after seeing me storm into the coven in such a repose. And even if she did, heaven help any other immortal who would open this door before sunset the next day. They would be a casualty because of my selfishness.
“I cannot continue doing this,” I said, pressing my hand against the glass, leaning my forehead on my arm. There had to be another way to feel something, anything other than this profound emptiness. I promised Robin, when he brought me back here, that I would someday be his second and I at least owed him those years for everything I had put him through. I simply could not endure another night of being a ghost in a shell.
My mind spiraled. I faintly heard the door to my room open behind me, Ophelia’s voice reaching me through a tunnel while tears brimmed in my eyes. Grief, frustration, and anger consumed me and the hand pressed against the glass formed a fist. I needed to do something. Smash the glass. Scream. Yell toward whatever god was listening and beg them to smite me. A hand touched my shoulder and my temper flared beyond the breaking point.
Turning, I grabbed Ophelia’s arm and threw her onto my bed.
The coven mistress landed on the mattress and my instincts took over, primal and desperate for whatever panacea could be afforded me. Fangs descending, I jumped onto her and ripped open her dress, seeing her olive skin exposed to me, her chest heaving with anxious breaths while her sharp teeth ran down as well. I looked at her, growling, hissing, and bit into one of her breasts, drawing blood from the wound, my eyes closing as I tried to lose myself in the experience.
She moaned out, encouraging me onward as though fully aware of what I was doing. Her legs wrapped around my waist and her body ground against mine and before I knew it, my teeth ripped from her skin and the rest of her dress became forfeit to my animalistic actions. Ophelia ripped my shirt open, buttons flying, and pulled me close for a kiss while her hands slid down to my pants and began to rid me of my clothing. Within minutes, I was inside her, pounding her with rapid thrusts while she writhed underneath me.
The entire episode ended almost as quickly as it started, both of us hitting the peak of climax together shortly thereafter. I shook with a torrent of emotions ripping through me and as I slipped out of her, I collapsed onto the bed beside her and did not reach for the woman I had ravaged mere seconds ago. Her arms wrapped around me, her voice soothing as she stroked my hair and told me everything would be alright in time. I let her hold me, not speaking, not even when she stood and ensured the light proof shades were in place again.
Ophelia spent the day with me, sparing me as many moments of waking as she could manage. Although she departed when the sun set once more, she returned prior to dawn and we fucked once more, beginning what would become night after night of indulgence between the two of us. Several nights elapsed before I cast my sights on one of the other women and over the course of seven years, I slept with every vampiress in the coven several times over, always with somebody in my bed by the time dawn approached.
Not every one of them were made privy to the type of mindless screwing Ophelia endured that first night. Over time, I became adept at the game of pretending each experience meant something to me, going round after round with my bed-mate until we expended ourselves and collapsed from exhaustion. I let some curl against me, even held a few who made return trips to my room. Each time I rose, though, the ache remained, only slightly duller by the end of seven years than it had been that first night.
I learned a pointed lesson by the time I left Toronto for Philadelphia. No matter how many times I opened a bottle of liquor or fucked a woman, the man who remained still had skeletons in his closet to wrestle the next evening. I made myself a promise to eschew the practice when I became Robin’s second, in part so I would not shame my brother and master with my actions. A good part of it could be summarized, however, in the word banal. In no way was I honoring Monica’s memory by becoming what I came to embody.
That was nine years ago, when I stepped into the train station in Philadelphia and assumed the mantle of being Robin's right hand man. Since then, I have not returned to Toronto, save but for two occasions, one of them being Ophelia's three hundred and fiftieth birthday. I could not help but to smile last October, though, as she met Victor and smiled at my new husband, seeing in him everything she had hoped I would find. She might have flirted with him and certainly winked at what a 'catch' I had managed to 'reel in', to use her words, but I caught the sparkle of her eyes at knowing her former ward had found peace at last.
I grinned, knowing that regardless of what eternity had in store, I would never again find myself in the state I had been in when I lived in Toronto. Such is how it has been these past few months, although a whole other set of storm clouds seem looming on the horizon. I am nervous for John and Lydia as they return to the Order. I am nervous for my lover and his bloodline, wondering what shall become of all we are facing. I frown for Robin and Delilah, as they console each other past fearing for their lovers. At least I know sojourning in Toronto, before we travel onward to Tokyo, shall be a welcomed respite in the midst of this upheaval.
After all, we are under Ophelia's roof. And I know better than most how the coven mistress treats her guests.
