Dark Paths Ch. 05

~~~

The absence of clutter in the room which Xavier had claimed for his own told Rayne more than words, more even than his finely tuned senses. The boy's delicious scent was still there but faint and subtle like something caught on a breeze then lost again. He opened a cupboard door and saw what he was expecting to see; empty space.

The coverlet on the bed was hastily smoothed. He sat down there and stroked a hand restlessly over the pillow, plucking a short, fine, blond hair from the soft linen and running it between his fingers then discarding it.

"Damn it!" he exhaled, shaking his head.

~~~

"What d'you mean, gone?" Clay looked up from the TV with surprise as the singer hovered in the doorway of the dayroom, a grim look on his handsome face.

"I mean, exactly what the word fuckin' means, idiot! He's gone. He's not here. He's taken his stuff and he's gone. He jumped the gun, I told PJ he wasn't stupid. He knew the party was nearly over and he's just cleared off."

"Did he take your wallet?" Clay asked with a little quirk of his lips.

"No! He's not like that!" Rayne shook his head impatiently. "Bloody little shit though!"

The bigger man laughed softly.

"You're priceless baby! You were ready to shoot off back to London without saying a word and you're pissed because he's run out on you first!"

"Bollocks, I'm not!" Rayne narrowed his eyes. "I just wanted to tell him to be careful. It's not safe out there."

"He's streetwise," Clay said amiably. "I think he can figure out what's safe and what's not."

The slender Englishman shook his head again, irritably. He half turned back into the hallway as if he expected something to have tried to creep up on him there.

"You don't get it, do you?" he muttered. "Christ, Clay! You watched me bite him. You know what I am, even if you're brushing it off as a weird fetish. PJ's accepted it for years, so has Mikka. Do you think I'm the only one, huh?"

"You're talking crazy," Clay said quietly, returning his attention to the newscast on screen.

"I'm trying to tell you something important, something that might keep you safe," Rayne hissed impatiently.

"That Frisco's over-run with blood-suckers? You've been watching too many late-night movies, Wylde." Clay tilted his head, looking back at the younger man with a mixture of affection and sadness. "Too many disco biscuits, baby."

"Yeah? Well when some toothy fucker comes for your throat out of a dark alley somewhere, don't come crying to me about it!" Rayne snapped back at him and went off to find Chavez. The Latino boy had gone with Xav to pick up his stuff and might at least remember where the boy lived.

~~~

Chavez seemed despondent about Xavier's disappearance too and was oddly quiet on the run downtown. Rayne was not complaining, his own thoughts were still turbulent. He had not forgotten the look in Cole Lagrado's eyes when he spoke of 'his property' so casually.

The rooming house was a dive, there was no polite way of describing it. Rayne spent several minutes hammering on the door before Chavez persuaded him to give it up. They went to the club where he had watched the boy dance on the night they met, but the guys at the bar told him that Xavier wasn't scheduled to work that week and hadn't been seen for a few days. He signed a couple of autographs and made his excuses. At the door one of the security guys, whose face was familiar from that night in the dressing room, stopped him and mentioned the names of a couple of clubs where Xav liked to hang out when he was off the clock.

For the next four hours they moved from venue to venue, checking out the dancefloors and the chill-out rooms. At 2am they called it a night. There had been no sign of the boy at all.

"San Francisco's a big city," Chavez sighed as they got back into the car. "He'll probably be okay, man. You know, I'll look out for him the next few days, so will Clay. He talks tough but he's a pussycat."

"I know he is," Rayne said grimly, still staring out into the night and wondering which pocket of darkness had swallowed Xavier so completely that he could hardly even feel the boy's presence in his head. He wanted to believe that everything would be okay but he had a bad feeling in his gut. A very bad feeling.

~~~

Rayne did not rest for the remainder of that night. PJ sat up with him and they played cards half-heartedly. The old man promised that they would make sure Xavier was fine, and even try to get him into a better apartment. Rayne felt a little happier about that but he was still concerned.

His Lufthansa flight back to London was via Paris and left first thing in the morning. Paddy held him close for a long time before he got into the waiting car and Chavez drove him to San Francisco International. There had been no talk of Vampires but Rayne whispered; "Be careful. Please, be careful," to the older man before PJ let him go.

"We'll be fine, sweet thing," PJ assured him, kissing him on the nose. "You call me when you get back and I'll update you."

Rayne never made the call, because he didn't get that far.

~~~

He generally travelled light, just a couple of small cabin bags, so he had a little time to wander around the airport hall before check in once Chavez had left him at the airport. He was browsing a souvenir shop admiring a reproduction oriental Katana that he thought Simon would have liked when he felt the first prickle down his spine, an uncomfortable sensation like someone was sticking tiny pins into him. The singer looked up with a frown, pushing his elegant, black framed sunglasses up into his hair and looking around. He wasn't certain but he had the uneasy feeling that he was being watched, and not in a good way.

His gaze took in fellow shoppers, most of them suited business travellers this early in the morning, but a fair few holiday-makers in garish shorts and tee-shirts too. One traveller stood out from the crowd. He was tall with immaculately close-cut grey-blond hair and a dark, almost empty stare behind his semi-translucent shades. One of Rayne's English friends, Lord Dominic Warren, had the gift of seeing psychic energy and he swore that Vampires and all the Undead had auras like interference on a badly tuned TV set. Rayne could not see this creature's aura but he could feel it, like white noise in his head. This close he could almost taste it, metallic like raw meat; like blood. The stranger's attire was smart without being formal; dark pants and a loose black jacket over a slightly paler charcoal sweater. All the garments were well cut and very expensive. The delicate green chiffon scarf he wore loosely knotted under the roll neck of his jersey stood out as the only item of colour. Sunlight glancing down through the high glass roof of the concourse picked out the delicate threads of silver and gold running through it.

Rayne experienced a moment of chill that gripped at his intestines and then anger swallowed it. He knew that scarf was meant as a message the moment he set eyes on it. When he was packing earlier he had not missed it, but he remembered bringing it with him to Frisco. He had worn it at the studios the day he met Lagrado. It was a Jean Paul Gaultier, a one off; a present from the French designer years ago when Whipsnade first became famous. And there was only one way that this smug, suited, Undead bastard could have acquired it.

Rayne put down the Katana and pushed his way through the crowds toward the other Vampire with murder in his vivid green eyes.

~~~

About the same time that Rayne and Chavez were giving up on searching the clubs for him, Xavier was waking up in an unfamiliar room. His jaw ached and he brought a hand up to gently run over the low throb on that side of his face. For once he was glad to find himself unfettered when waking up in a strange bed.

"My apologies for Steffen. I'm afraid he was a little over zealous in subduing you. It wasn't my intention that you should be harmed."

Xavier found the owner of the dark, syrupy voice. It belonged to a man sitting comfortably in a chair in the corner of the room. Intensely black hair, dark eyes that looked almost coal-black in the dim light, a trim, medium build, casually but expensively dressed. He looked Hispanic, but Xavier was used to seeing Mexican and South American ancestry in the residents of his home city. There was something just a little different in these features, the face a little narrower, the brows and nose more sharply defined. Mediterranean, maybe? Something not south of the border but a little farther away.

To his right, standing near the wall in an easy stance, hands clasped lightly in front of him, was the guy from the club; Steffen. He wasn't smiling. The smug look was gone completely. He didn't look chastised though, just bored. Definitely giving off the hired-muscle vibe.

"My name is Coelho Lagrada-Diaz, I'm hoping you'll be my guest for a little while."

"Right!" Xavier answered. "Listen, I'm the fuck outta here. This is bullshit!"

He got up, and his head immediately started pounding. Fantastic.

"I'm afraid I can't let you go," his captor told him softly.

"Fuck off!" Xavier headed for the door. Who the fuck did this guy think he was?

Steffen unfolded from where he leaned against the wall. Xavier only got two steps before the massive Vampire grabbed him. His arms locked around Xavier's body like steel bands and he turned so that Xavier faced Cole Lagrado again.

Lagrado shook his head, as if he were truly regretful.

"There is no need to make this unpleasant, Xavier. You would have sought us out soon or later anyway. Mr. Wylde has been indiscreet, and now has abandoned you to your own devices. This creates a problem for both of us. It would be much easier to simply kill you, but there are complications that might arise if we were to do so."

Xavier stared at the guy, not a clue what to say. What do you say to crazy people, after all? Telling them they're nuts obviously wasn't the wisest course of action and arguing with them seemed equally pointless.

Lagrado suddenly rose and moved to stand in front of him. Xavier blinked twice. His heart was thumping against his ribs like a caged thing; that creepy crawling feeling of panicked fear dancing all over his skin. He'd moved so fast it was hard to follow, Xav's brain refused to register it. In contrast, as the Vampire stretched a hand towards him now he seemed to move in slow motion. Lagrado grasped the end of the fine, green scarf and pulled it gently from Xavier's neck, letting every inch of the fabric slid along the bite mark underneath, watching Xavier shudder and writhe in Steffen's grasp. When he'd pulled it free he laid his fingers against the little pin-points dimpling his captive's skin.

~~~

If the boy weren't marked Cole could easily have ignored him, or killed him, depending on how things panned out. If the boy was simply a feeder he wouldn't have thought twice about it. But, he couldn't kill another Vampire's favourite. If he did, he'd owe Wylde a blood debt. The hell of it was, Wylde seemed ignorant of a lot of vampire customs. He probably wouldn't even realise this. However Cole couldn't take that risk, or the off-chance that Rayne Wylde wouldn't discover his error and come back to collect his debt. So many of these little customs were designed to keep all out wars from occurring between Vampire Clans. Even if Wylde never made an issue of it, someone else, someone with the weight of more years and experience might make it an issue. Vampire politics was a complex game. How easy to use the killing of this one marked boy as an excuse to try and usurp him. Essentially calling him out for breaking Vampire Law.

He couldn't kill him then, but since Wylde had abandoned him, or was apparently planning to - if his sources were correct, and he was confidant they were - then he had the right to make sure this boy didn't cause any trouble.

His fingers trailed lightly over the pulse beating like a frantic thing in the human boy's throat, upward and along the smooth line of his jaw and the dusky purple bruise there.

"Steffen is quite taken with you," he said quietly and casually. "You will be given to him."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Xavier demanded incredulously. "I'm not staying here. You can't give me to anyone. Does the word kidnapping mean anything to you? Aiding and abetting? You may not be up on your American history but it's been almost a hundred and fifty years since you could own people here, dickweed."

~~~

Cole Lagrado looked amused, but Xavier was pretty sure a lot of it was feigned. The Vampire clearly wasn't used to people talking to him with anything but deference.

"I assure you, the slave trade thrives in this country, although I will grant you it is no longer limited by race. Whether you are treated like a slave or a favoured consort is up to you." Lagrado looked from Xavier to Steffen now. "Take him to Jeanette. Perhaps he will learn from her that it isn't wise to be disrespectful to one's Elders."

Steffen kept his face carefully blank, but it was obvious he was not overjoyed about this order. He didn't dare argue though. He was not happy that his newly promised pet would be punished, but he wasn't pissed enough to risk punishment himself. He shoved Xavier toward the door. Once in the hall he forestalled any potential struggles with a warning.

"Jeanette is one of the starved ones. She will act as a revenant; crazed, mindless. I can control her, but it will take all of my focus. If you scream and struggle it will make controlling her more difficult. Stay calm and I will be able to keep her from ripping your throat out."

"Has anyone ever told you you're astoundingly bad at not creating panic?" Xavier managed to gasp as he was propelled along the hallway and down a flight of stairs.

The basement (of course it would have to be a basement, wouldn't it?) did not open up into a room like one would expect, but a hallway lined on one side with steel-reinforced doors. Xavier was brought to the third of these, although dragged was more accurate. Fuck it if he was going to co-operate!

Once inside a switch was flipped and a single, bare, overhead bulb cast harsh light down. Straight away it showed there was a woman in the room, fastened to the wall with what looked like thick tractor-tire chains. Although, 'woman' was being kind. She had obviously been female in life, but now was little more than a decaying corpse in chains. The sweetly rotten smell of putrefying flesh was gagging. Xavier might have vomited if he hadn't been in shock. Every horror movie he'd every seen was wrong. There was no way makeup and effects could capture the reality, the sickly colour, the smell of a real dead body.

Terror, sharp and bright flashed through Xavier. These people were not just your average crazies. No, this level of craziness went far beyond anything in Xav's experience. Before he'd even fully managed to take in the horror chained to the wall before him, the head slowly rose, milky eyes fixing him with a rabid stare. The creature opened a ruined mouth, parched lips blackened and drawn back from its jagged, ruined teeth, and snapped at him like a mad dog on a chain.

Xavier felt the air compress in his lungs. He couldn't move, couldn't scream, couldn't think. His mind still hadn't been able to catch up, to force this nightmare to make sense, and then suddenly it did with a snap. He was being dragged toward the horror.

"NO! No-no-no… don't!" He tried to claw his way out of Steffen's grasp, kicking and throwing all his body weight into trying to get away. The thing on the wall lunged to the end of its chains. A sound that was part animal, part nothing he'd ever heard before issued from its throat. Xav was screaming 'NO!' in a repeated litany like a chant that could somehow keep him from being drawn any closer.

His arm was grasped and extended, he could see the maw of the dead thing snapping and then it latched on at the crook of his elbow, sinking its teeth in and shaking his arm like a dog that wanted to rip flesh from a carcass. Xavier's screams echoed around the room.

"God, oh god, don't let it touch me! Don't let it touch me!" The hands that grabbed him were not bony, they were cold and waxy, almost slimy as if the skin was congealing on its bones. Xavier reached a level of horror he'd never imagined possible

The overpowering smell of it, the agonising feel of its rotting lips touching his skin; he was going crazy. It couldn't be real, couldn't be happening, but it was. He could feel the warm spurt of his blood pumping from his arm, the thin, blackened lips moving against his warm flesh as it slurped and swallowed. He struggled reflexively but couldn't break its grip, or Steffen's.

When he thought for sure he was either going to puke, pass out, have his mind snap, or all three at once, Steffen finally yanked the thing off of him. It snarled and snapped and tried to clutch Xavier but he somehow stumbled back. Steffen grabbed him by the arms and half dragged, half carried him from the room. The thing continued to make those inhuman, animal sounds of hunger and rage, only partially cut off by the slamming door that closed it up in its prison again.

Steffen let Xavier go then, dropping him in the hallway, and he fell on his knees, retching up the contents of his stomach. When he had stopped heaving he realised he was babbling incoherently, sobbing like a child. Blood ran down his arm in little rivulets. Steffen crouched over him with a sneer of disgust and picked him up. Xav had neither the strength nor presence of mind to try and fight him off. He was taken back up the stairs and carried into a different bedroom than the one he'd awoken in. This one had no windows and the door clicked shut and locked after Steffen had deposited him wordlessly on the bed and left him alone with his fear.

By the time Xav had calmed down enough to take inventory, the wound on his arm had closed though his flesh still looked sore and angry. Xavier guessed that it was about an hour later when Steffen finally returned. There was a feral look in the vampire's eyes, a hungry look that Xav recognised.

~~~

The vampire on the concourse at San Francisco International smiled at Rayne pleasantly as he approached. He did a very fine job of feigning cool nonchalance but he couldn't do anything about the aura of nervous fear he gave off. Rayne could taste it and his fangs extended automatically. The strange vamp waited until Rayne was just within striking distance before speaking.

"Mr. Lagrado wishes you farewell and safe journey, Mr. Wylde," he declared, moments before the small, angry Englishman's left hand wrapped itself around the trailing ends of the scarf tied loosely at his throat and yanked his head down to shoulder height. At the same time Rayne Wylde's right knee came up hard and connected with the softer tissues of the tall blond vampire's groin.

"Suck my dick, you cold-blooded bastard!" Rayne hissed at him as he went to his knees with an astonished groan that told the smaller Vampire that no one had treated him with quite such blatant disregard in a very long time.

Once upon a time, Rayne might have worried about that. Blondie was no Ancient but he was older, and probably stronger. The element of surprise would not last forever so he needed to capitalise whilst his opponent was still distracted by the pain coursing through his mangled genitalia.

He crouched automatically, putting on a show of mock-concern.

"Oh my god! I am so sorry! Did I hurt you?" he exclaimed in a stagey tone designed to carry and put other passengers at their ease. He was already projecting; his thoughts telling anyone close enough to have witnessed the assault that this was really nothing for them to worry about and it would all be taken care of. Passengers bustled on around him, seemingly unconcerned that he had just attempted a non-surgical castration on the man kneeling before him. In a lower register for his victim's ears alone Rayne growled; "Where is he? Tell me now and maybe I won't strap you to the wheel of a 747 and leave you for the fuckin' carrion chasers!"