Dark Paths Ch. 03

Consequently his dick was half-hard behind the hemline of his fitted black shirt as he perched on a stool in the glass walled studios to get the feel of the borrowed guitar. Rayne only partly-listened to the sound engineer explaining what a ball ache it had been to get hold of a left-hand strung Fender at such short notice. He retuned it twice by ear as the fellow rambled on and strummed through a few partly remembered melodies. The familiar vibration against his thigh did nothing to alleviate his hard-on.

A silky voice spoke in his ear, asking if he was ready and he blinked, conscious of a sudden prickle of energy that raced through his skin, raising the fine hairs on the back of his neck and forearms like a warning signal. He lifted his head at once, searching out the creature that had triggered his defences. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't human!

Mahogany coloured eyes looked back at him, dark and fathomless. One ebony brow lifted ever so slightly, as if Rayne had just done a curious trick. The soft mobile looking lips smiled, though there was something hard and artificial in the expression. The face the smile belonged to was smooth and youthful but a strong jaw and less than delicate brows and cheekbones kept him from being a pretty boy. 'Gorgeous', but definitely not pretty.

~~

"Are you ready?" the vampire repeated, the slight smile on his lips now slightly mocking. He'd known what Rayne Wylde was since the singer hit town. After the business with Khaled Zelarin in London, most of the world's Undead knew of Jabez Everman's only surviving Fledgling. The only reason he hadn't immediately detained Wylde was because he knew the Englishman would eventually come to him, and because Wylde was a youngster as his kind measured time. Fledgling vampires were still almost human; they often didn't understand Undead society or even respect their Elders in this day and age. Such respect had to be taught and was often learned the hard way. Cole Lagrado looked forward to Rayne Wylde's first lesson at his hands.

~~

Rayne bristled like a small, feral cat defending its patch. His pale green eyes did not blink as he stared back at the being that made his skin prickle and his teeth itch. A few years ago he might have made the mistake of thinking that this was just another handsome, charismatic media mogul looking for an easy ride but time and experience had taught him to read the warning signs. He was far better attuned to the resonance of other Undead beings now. Just because this one looked civilised it didn't necessarily mean he played by the rules.

The younger vampire ran his fingers up and down the fret-board of his borrowed instrument almost like a child with a comforter. They formed instinctive chord shapes and he coaxed a ripple of sound from the Fender without lowering his gaze for a moment. Even with an audience he was not about to turn his back on the creature that stared at him like a he was an intriguing new plaything. He knew from past encounters just how lethal complacency could be.

"I'm ready," he answered; outwardly cool, although the tightness in his gut told another story.

The older vampire gave a small nod of his head, but instead of moving away he stepped closer to the glass partition wall that separated them, resting his hands against it lightly.

"I hope you enjoyed the club last night." His voice was warm and genuine-sounding, even as he indirectly let Rayne know that his every move was being watched. "Come see me when you're finished here. Ask for Mr. Lagrado. They'll direct you." He gestured dismissively towards his human entourage then turned and left the studio without a backward look.

For a moment the singer stared into the empty space where he had been, not sure whether he had just been issued with an invitation or an order. Then the floor manager was counting him in and he let the music take over. His fingers worked the strings deftly and he dropped back into the song, putting everything else to the back of his mind as the words to 'Hoodlum Lovesong' rose instinctively to his lips. He improvised the elaborate middle eight, chuckling inwardly as he imagined how his fellow songwriter, Sean Courtney, would berate him for ruining his perfect guitar solo.

Rayne's singing voice was husky from lack of use and instead of 'Life's Perfect Victim', which had been the band's only number one single (even though he personally hated it) he moved from the understated urban beauty of 'Hoodlum' into the quiet gothic splendour of 'Dark Paths'. Bizarrely the huge Whipsnade show opener worked nicely as a subtle unplugged number. It felt more like poetry when he played it this way.

He was thinking of the shards of memory he had gleaned from Xavier's head last night as they surged on the bed together; the strange, pure recollection of the boy masturbating furiously to these words, spilling his seed to a paean on bloodletting and self-abuse. It seemed profoundly appropriate.

When he wound it up there was a ripple of quiet applause from the crew. The sound-editor was less impressed and asked if he knew anything more cheerful. Rayne winked at him, unperturbed, and winged a punky version of Beyonce's 'Crazy In Love' by way of response.

The interview that followed was pure pop trash and he could do it in his sleep. The glossy girl reporter flirted with him shamelessly and he enjoyed himself, teasing her.

"Are Whipsnade planning a reunion tour?"

"Not unless hell's frozen over and no one told me!"

"Are you gonna record solo?"

"No one else wants to work with me, so I guess so!"

"Do you have a girlfriend, right now?"

"Not 'right now'. Why? Interested?"

He had almost forgotten about the post-interview appointment with the mysterious Señor Lagrado until he was making his way back down to the foyer once the show was in the can. A hand rested lightly on his arm and he turned to see cute little Lan looking at him with a gleam in his dark, oriental eyes.

"Mr Cole will see you before you go," he said, leaving no space for argument in that statement. "His office is just through here."

Rayne thought about just making a run for it but his curiosity was already piqued. He followed Lan through a dark, varnished wooden doorway into a room that seemed to belong to another building. The modern glass and sleek design ended abruptly at the door, replaced by heavy dark wood and leather furniture. The lighting was dim; thick curtains hung over the room's only windows.

Lagrado was seated behind what was, no doubt, an antique desk. He was also not the only Vampire in the room. Two more, one male, one female lounged about; the way their eyes tracked Rayne's every move belying their apparently casual disinterest.

Lan closed the door behind Rayne and made his way over to Lagrado, sitting on the floor beside him with a cheerful, utterly uncoerced look on his face. The vampire stroked his fingers through the boy's hair absently, as if he was a favoured pet.

"Have a seat, Mr. Wylde." Lagrado's smooth purr broke the silence in the room. Rayne glanced quickly from his host to the pair who flanked him. They both looked immaculately groomed and well fed, like a pair of huge, contented lap cats. He wondered if they had ever learned to hunt for themselves or if Lagrado lured the food in for them to keep them loyal. From the expression on young Lan's face the boy had no qualms about his role. Unless, of course, he did not know what his employers were.

It was beyond the singer how anyone could fail to sense that these creatures were Undead, but the boy was a pretty airhead. Maybe he just liked being a plaything for a rich, older lover. He would not be the first.

Rayne folded his arms across his chest and smiled thinly as his gaze returned to Cole Lagrado. The smile did not reach his cool, green eyes.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather stand," he said in an even voice.

'All the better to run like fuck!' added the sarcastic little voice in his head. He ignored it.

Lagrado smiled, without flashing any hint of fang.

"Are you enjoying your stay in our city?" he asked, in such a way as to imply the city itself, and all its inhabitants belonged to him.

Rayne managed not to smirk. Jabez had told him often enough not to offer insolence to his Elders but in his short and eventful Unlife he had been bounced off walls by bigger and meaner Vamps than this one. Being a cheeky little bastard had always been second nature to him.

"Oh yeah, I usually do," he replied sweetly. "It's such a great place to have fun, after all. So many... temptations. More than enough for everyone, yeah?"

The Ancient chuckled, low and warm; sounding very human.

"Insolent..." the woman to his right observed in a bare whisper; no hint in her tone of whether she was disapproving or amused. She watched Rayne with glittering, dark eyes.

"Perhaps, Patrice." Cole Lagrado said blandly.

The Vampiress turned her head toward her Master, tilting her dainty chin.

"You are not going to punish him?" Definitely there was disappointment in her tone now.

"Tch... he is a guest." Lagrado stood slowly, dismissing her argument. "I agree, Mr. Wylde, plenty of temptations. That little dancer that took your fancy, for instance." He flowed around his desk; the languid movements were effortlessly casual. "However, some would argue whether there is more than enough," he said without inflection, leaning back against the edge and smiling at Rayne again. This time, the hint of a sharp canine flashed between his lips. "Some here are also 'old fashioned' about hospitality." He lifted his hand and gestured airily, "I won't bore you with the details concerning territories and agreements... suffice it to say you've already stepped on toes, albeit perhaps unwittingly."

The smiled slipped from his face and the dark eyes that looked back at Rayne were flat and cold as a shark's. "I suggest you keep your stay short, and confine your feeding to your 'own' entourage." The smile came back, at the flick of some inner switch. "Of course, if you don't have anyone 'suitable' with you, we can offer you certain choices."

Rayne's eyes widened briefly at the obvious allusion to Xavier. He wanted to ask how this creep knew about his connection with the dancer but the warning lights flashing in his head kept his lips sealed for the moment. If it was just 'him' they were watching there was no need to drag anyone else into this just yet.

He had known Vamps like this in London. Or, at least, he had before Jabez sorted them all out and established the current pecking order. Coming up against Lagrado now, without his Sire to cover his back, was something of a shock but he kept his cool. Just about!

"I've got a bit of business to see to out here," he answered casually. "Can't just drop it and run back to London with no good reason. Not that I would, anyway! I, umm... appreciate your hospitality though," he added with a wry, self-conscious smile. He pulled himself up to his full height, all the while conscious that the older Vampire was still effortlessly taller. Not for the first time Rayne cursed his wretched genes.

"Good." Cole made a slight gesture with his hand and the boy bounced to his feet as if he was on an invisible string. "Lan will show you out then."

The door was opened; the interview over. Summoned and dismissed, just like that.

Rayne was actually at the door when the mental controls that had kicked in automatically to prevent him making a scene and, potentially, a complete tit of himself were over-ridden by a sudden twinge of curiosity.

"Just a minute..." he said, glancing back over one shoulder at the assembled Vamps, who were still grouped by the desk like an ensemble shoot for the Addams Family movies. "You said I'd stepped on someone's toes. Would you care to let me know exactly what I'm supposed to have done?" He pressed a smile into service although he was conscious that his fangs were extending slowly. Irritation always did that to him. "I'd hate to think I was 'accidentally' offending someone."

Lagrado's expression was the patient, slightly patronising mask of a parent explaining politics to a child. "You can equate it to trespassing and poaching, Mr. Wylde. Each city has a Master, some more then one. Believe me, as soon as a strange Vampire enters their territory they will know. If the stranger does not seek them out within the first night it is considered... impolite."

For a moment or so, Rayne was utterly still, his body language completely neutral, his face providing no clues to his mood or his thoughts. Only his eyes betrayed the irritation Lagrado's remark had fired up in him. The icy green of his gaze darkened briefly as he considered his words. It was tempting to tell this pompous arsehole just where he could stick his territorial rights but he could guess that he probably would not walk out of this building undamaged if that happened.

At last he flashed a faint smile that did not reach his eyes.

"Well, I've found you now," he said coolly, although his blood was running hot in his veins. "You must forgive me, I'm a foreigner. We do things a bit differently back home."

His host returned a smile just as cold. "Of course."

Lan grabbed Rayne's hand. His own felt warm and nervous as he tugged Rayne out the door after him.

The singer had no desire to hang around, but he took his time, determined not to let them see they had rattled his nerves nearly as badly as the boy's. His fingers curled tightly around the small, hot hand in his own as they descended to the foyer and walked to the main doors.

"I know that all music industry execs are notorious bloodsuckers," he said in a low voice as they reached the exit, resisting the young man's strenuous attempts to pull free. "But trust me, hanging around with those creeps up there is gonna seriously shorten your life-expectancy, Lan sweetheart."

So saying, he drew the boy's fingers to his lips, kissed them very briefly and let him go. As he passed out through the glass doors the breeze caught his hair and the tails of his long black coat and made them flutter like ragged banners proclaiming his freedom. Rayne Wylde strode down the steps and back out onto the street with a look on his face that boded ill for anyone that crossed him.



Back at PJ's Chavez showed Xavier where he could put his stuff. No one seemed to be around yet, but that wasn't exactly unusual. Apparently Chavez either didn't mind keeping him company or had been assigned the task and didn't know how to refuse it gracefully, Xavier wasn't sure which. He also asked a lot of questions. Some of them Xav didn't mind answering, others he avoided. His companion must have sensed Xav was getting annoyed with the twenty questions routine though, and switched tactics. He asked Xavier to dance for him.

"What? You want to see the stage show, or you want a lap dance?" Xavier asked with a little knowing smirk.

"Both! Whatever you want, man."

Xavier fussed a bit over picking out the music, selecting some of his lighter routines; standard club shit, meant to get blood pumping and the crowd turned on. He stepped through JT's 'Sexback' like a slick modern Gene Kelly, then switched to smooth and cool gansta mode through 'Shake Your Money Maker'. It was easy enough to keep Chaez entertained; he knew how to cater to his audience though. He pulled Chavez off the couch when the thumping strains of Eminem's 'Shake That' came though the speakers.

Chavez was shaking his head and laughing that he couldn't dance like that, but that was OK with Xavier because this routine was meant to be more funny than sexy.

He pantomimed most of the song, switching between the roles of Eminem, Nate Dogg, and the stripper with such ease and professionalism, it was hilarious to watch.

'There She Go, Bumpin and Grindin That Pole...' Chavez got to be the stripper pole while Xav did the bump and grind.

'Shake That Ass For Me, C'mon Girl Shake That Ass For Me...' and Xav grabbed Chavez's hips and made him shake it a bit making him laugh.

'Now I Hope You Don't Get Mad At Me But I Told Nate You Was A Freak, He Said He Wants A Slut, Hope You Don't Mind I Told Him How You Like It From Behind...' Xav had timed it so he took a turn around Chavez and ended with his hips pressed to the other man's backside for a second, hands on Chavez's shoulders. Then he moved off again.

It was funny, Xav played the clown just as easily as he did sexy numbers. He had Chavez holding his stomach laughing by the time the song was over.

As they chuckled and clung to one another, catching their breath the sound of clapping broke into the lull between tracks and they both looked up with a start. PJ McNamara was leaning in the doorway, sans reading glasses this time, observing the routine with a small smile playing on his generous mouth.

"Encore!" he exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "You're quite a mover, young man. That warmed my blood, no mistake!"

Xavier watched PJ enter the room with slightly guarded eyes. In Xavier's experience older men with money fell into one of two categories, they were either easy marks, or predators. PJ did not strike him as an easy mark.

PJ settled himself into an overstuffed chair and Xavier knew which set he wanted to do. He went and changed the CD to the 'Morphine Drip' set. These were all back room songs, Zeph wouldn't let him do them on stage, except one. The melodic tones of 'Dark Paths' seemed to seep out of the speakers and Xavier moved across the floor with it, managing to ooze sex and dark forbidden things in equal measure.

At the club he had to follow the rules, but he didn't have to worry about that here. PJ got the full show, the way it was supposed to be, hot enough to set the room on fire.

As he writhed and gyrated across the room, the older man never took his eyes of Xavier. His gaze was not that of a hunter, it was the keen, observant stare of a collector or a cataloguer. He was taking on board the moves that the boy made and the way he interpreted the music. PJ's lips twitched slightly as he watched, but not mockingly. He knew the song well and had watched his other house guest move to that same pulsing, sensual rhythm live on the stage on a couple of occasions, but never quite like this!

Chavez came to sit on the arm of the chair beside him and they exchanged a brief, knowing look now. PJ rested his hand lightly on the Hispanic chef's slim thigh, not in a predatory way but with a genuine sense of companionship. Chavez tugged on his ponytail affectionately.

"He's hot!" the lad said as the song shuddered to a close.

His companion nodded; "Very much so!"

Xavier had stripped out of his shirt during the performance, and stood catching his breath and getting his scattered thoughts back. The song always did strange things to him; made him think of shadowy parts of his life he didn't want to think about and at the same time got him unbearably hot and hard.

Rising to his feet PJ came towards Xavier and rested both hands on the young man's shoulders. He was tall and had clearly once been quite a muscle stud but there was a lean quality to his frame now, a spareness that made his tanned features look slightly aristocratic. His pale blue eyes were curious and kind though.

Xavier stood very still, waiting. He hadn't quite got himself all collected yet and his expression had lost some of its guarded edge. He looked back at PJ with a kind of blankness in his eyes, expectant...pliant. It wasn't quite 'I don't care what happens to me' but very close. Then he shook it off and the cocky smile was back in place and he leaned in a little closer to PJ McNamara.

"Like the show?"

"Baby, that little performance was just too cruel to put before a dying, old man," the older fellow answered, but softly and not in an accusing way. The Irish brogue was back in his voice now, trickling like a spring. "It put fire in my belly and that's the truth. I've been wanting to come and see you dance ever since Barclay first told me about the show but come the night and I'm never quite well enough, unfortunately. It was sweet of you to bring it to me here. I can surely see what I'm missing now. You make me wish I was twenty years younger again."