Encounters with Evil Pt. 05

(c) Copyright jvaughn, 2013, 2014. All rights reserved. Copyright violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

Chapter Fourteen

Guy jacked himself furiously. He had just cum all over the tile floor of his bathroom, but his cock was as hard as ever. The need to plunge it into Mel was overwhelming. He gritted his teeth and tried to force his thoughts away from his compulsion. His cock erupted again, but his need did not diminish. His vision was still red around the edges and the roaring in his ears had not gone away. He felt like he was hanging onto his sanity by a thread. He needed to stop himself before he lost complete control again.

He flung the bathroom door open and the scent of Mel's sex hit him, strong and fresh. He groaned aloud in an effort to keep the beast within him from chasing down Mel and fucking him.

Mate! Mate! Mate! It was difficult to think through the chaos of crazy in his brain. He went quickly to his bureau and took out a set of handcuffs with shaking hands. Snapping one cuff around his wrist, he launched himself toward his bed, landing on his knees next to it. Quickly, before the demon took over again, he snapped the other end through one of the metal hooks in the sturdy wood.

A howl of rage filled the room. His conscious mind fled to the dark recesses of his mind, where it watched like an observer, no longer in control of his body, which was now thrashing against the steel, testing the strength of his manacles. He wasn't sure how long they would hold him; hopefully long enough for whatever possessed him to yield to his higher brain functions.

He didn't think he'd ever be able to rid himself of the monster inside. His father had tried already and it hadn't worked. Not only that, he was sure it wasn't a separate entity; it was part of himself. He himself was a demon. He couldn't get rid of it without destroying himself.

It seemed like an eternity that he thrashed against his bonds making ferocious noises. Finally the roaring in his ears subsided and the redness of his vision faded. He found he was shaking and sweating. The need for Mel was still so strong he felt like he wanted to peel off his own skin. His wrist was bloody from fighting the sharp steel, but the physical pain was blunted by his mental anguish.

As he thought about what had happened, he was filled with repulsion. I almost took him raw, without lube or even prep! How could I do that? The shame he felt was almost too much to bear. He pictured his angel broken and bleeding beneath him after he had finished satisfying his carnal urges and swallowed back the bitter bile that welled up in his throat.

I am dangerous. I need to make sure this never happens again. I need to figure out how to protect Mel from me.

His eyes lit upon his discarded jacket on the floor not too far away. He stretched out carefully, wincing when the handcuff pulled on his bloody wrist. He was able to grab the collar with his toes and drag the jacket toward himself.

Emptying his pockets, he set his cell phone on the end table. The pills came out next and he considered taking a handful to calm himself, but that was a stopgap measure at best, and he didn't like the feeling of being drugged.

He pulled his dart gun out of an inner pocket and set it on the floor beside him, contemplating it. I could shoot myself—end it all. There was a strong appeal in that thought. His torment was almost unbearable. Peace sounded heavenly. I wouldn't be able to hurt Mel anymore.

No one would miss me. Well, Ed probably would but mainly because I wouldn't be able to work for him anymore. Consuela, probably, but she'd get over it soon enough. Mel will certainly be glad to be rid of me after this morning's events.

If I were dead, I wouldn't be in any pain. I wouldn't have to deal with what I've become. I wouldn't have anymore nightmares.

I wouldn't be able to rape Mel.

He wasn't sure if a single full dose would be enough to kill him. It would certainly kill a normal man, but he wasn't that anymore. Maybe if I dosed myself with a second shot as soon as I came to, it would kill me.

In the end the main thing that stopped him was the belief that if he weren't there, Valjevo would get to Mel. He couldn't let that happen, no matter what the personal sacrifice. As bad as what he might do to his angel, Valjevo would do far worse. And Mel was such a pure, sweet spirit, he couldn't bear the thought of anything hurting him.

You already hurt him. His heart twisted as if trying to turn itself inside out. He gasped against the pain. What the hell am I going to do?

He found himself on his knees next to his bed. "Holy Mary, Mother of God..."

The cool stone floor was unyielding under Salvatore's bare feet. He shifted from foot to foot, trying to ease the discomfort in his limbs. He had been standing for much too long. He pulled in frustration against the chains that bound his wrists above his head. His arms ached, and the cold metal bit into his tender flesh, which was already raw and sore. He stilled himself, some instinct telling him he didn't want to make himself bleed. Escape from the steel manacles was impossible, of course. There was no point in trying.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire, he thought. He'd been desperate to get away, thinking anything would be better than the life to which he'd been bred. He had thought the horrors he'd seen were the worst that humanity had to offer. He hadn't realized that there were creatures that walked the earth that should never have been. Soulless creatures with bottomless eyes and skin as cold as ice; creatures with sharp fangs and inhuman strength whose minds were twisted in a way no mortal mind could conceive.

Now not only was he prisoner of one of these creatures, but his sister was too.

For that, he would never forgive himself. Guilt warred with despair to take over his thoughts, and beneath the surface was a cold, gnawing dread.

He heard the door to his prison swing open and terror flooded him. With sheer force of will, he tried to calm his pounding heart. Two sets of footsteps came closer, and his captor came into view with Eva on his arm.

They looked like they were dressed for an exclusive costume party. His sister's silk dress fit her like a glove through the low cut bodice before cascading in voluminous splendor to the floor. It was trimmed with an abundance of fine lace. The ruffles of the demon's cravat spilled down his chest. His coat was cut short in the front with long tails in the back. Every detail was perfect; they looked as if they had just stepped out of London, circa 1750.

His sister was even more stunning than usual. The deep red dress complimented her Mediterranean skin tones, and her dark curls were pulled into on elegant coiffure on top of her head.

What the hell has he been doing with my sister? Salvatore was incensed, but even at sixteen he had enough experience to know that the demon held all the high cards. He needed to play his close to his chest or he would throw away any miniscule chance they had of breaking free.

Her beautiful brown eyes were upon him, showing no emotion. She is likely in shock. Her face was pallid, but she appeared unharmed. Then he noticed a red mark on her neck, an area roughly two inches across and oval-shaped, that was a deep, angry red, with two small puncture wounds in it.

"Eva!" he gasped. "What has he done to you?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I am perfectly unharmed," she said in a well-modulated tone.

A chill went through him. She should not be so calm. His sister had always been excitable—full of life and energy. She should be bouncing up to hug him, or screaming at their captor, or ... something. To see her so emotionless affected him like almost nothing else would have.

"What did you do to her?" he cried in alarm, staring at his sister in horror and trying not to look at the demon's terrifying black-black eyes.

The demon, whose name he'd learned was Derrick, chuckled low in this throat. "She is lovely, is she not?"

"You ... you've drugged her!" Salvatore cried.

"I have not," the demon said. He turned to Eva. "I have not drugged you have I, my love? You are a willing participant in this are you not?"

The ends of Eva's lips pulled up in an appalling parody of her usual smile. "You have not, my Lord, and I am."

"Eva, what is going on?" Salvatore took a deep breath to try to keep control of himself. He was very close to flying apart. He managed to ask, "Participant in what?"

"I have chosen to take her as my bride. She is destined to stand at my side for eternity. It is fortunate that I found her while she is still so young. She will never age now."

"What?" The demon's words shook Salvatore to his core. "Eva, what is he talking about?"

The demon smirked at him. "Eva and I are getting married—shortly after sunset on the morrow."

"She's not going to marry you, you creep!"

The demon shook his head sadly. "Tsk, tsk, love. Your brother has not been taught manners."

"He is young, and this is all rather unexpected," she said. Her voice sounded hollow, not like her at all.

"Eva, what has he done to you?" Salvatore cried.

The demon stepped up to him, close enough for him to feel the coolness of his corpse. The acidic scent of the demon filled his nostrils. Derrick grabbed his chin, holding his head still with ice cold, steel fingers. "You are beautiful too, he crooned, "the male version of my exquisite Eva."

Salvatore's eyes flicked involuntarily to the demon's. In those inhumane obsidian eyes he saw the light of lust. The demon's gaze travelled over his body appreciatively.

"You are so young, so nubile..."

Salvatore felt the depth of the monster's desire for him, and with his sister's safety foremost in his mind, he burst out. "Take me! Let her go. I will stay with you. You may have me, just let her go."

The demon's laugh was low and eerie. "Oh, you are brave and chivalrous as well, offering your life for your sweet older sister. But you see, I don't need to let her go to have you. She is a better fit as a marriage partner, but that doesn't mean I'll neglect you. Don't worry, dear boy, you'll get your turn." He let his fingers trail down Salavotore's chest in an icy caress that he could feel through his thin T-shirt. He shuddered involuntarily.

"Yes, I will have you ... many, many times before you are finally too broken. I'll try to be careful with you, but humans are such fragile creatures, I'm afraid."

Salavtore's stomach heaved in revulsion. He swallowed the bile that came up in the back of his throat.

Derrick turned his black eyes on Eva with a chilling smile. "Are you a voyeur, love? Would you like to watch me deflower your little brother?"

"Not really, no," she said, but there was still no emotion in her voice, as if it hardly mattered to her one way or another. Her expression was impassive.

Salvatore's chest heaved as he fought to get control of his emotions and keep his mind from skittering into madness.

The demon had not let go of his chin, and now he said, "Look at me, boy."

Salvatore had been watching his sister, and now he fastened his eyes on the floor. "No."

The fingers dug painfully into his chin. "Look at me. I will not ask you again."

Salvatore kept his eyes resolutely on the floor.

"If you don't do as I ask, you will be very sorry." The demon's voice was as dry as a bone. A heartbeat went by. Salvatore didn't move.

The floor was the last thing Salvatore ever saw with his left eye. Quicker than thought, Derrick grabbed his head to hold it still, put a finger in his socket, and popped his eye out, callously ripping the connective nerves and tissues so that he came away with a bloody eyeball in his hand.

Salvatore did not see this, of course. He was aware of nothing at that moment but agonizing pain. Dimly, as if from a distance, he heard Derrick's cold voice.

"Look love, a human eyeball. Such a delicacy. Would you like a taste?"

"Yes, my Lord," came his sister's calm reply.

Guy sat bolt upright, a scream dying on his lips. His heart pounded, loud in his ears. Oh my God! Oh my God! It was so real. He took in the calm tranquility of his bedroom. A dream. Just a nightmare. He wished that was all it was. With a groan, he sank back onto the sheets.

It was getting on toward evening when Consuela took the elevator up to Sal's house. She hoped Mel had had enough time to complete his seduction plans. Pausing in the front hallway, she listened to the silent house. The mahogany chair was on its side and a dried puddle of ... she approached it and examined it ... semen was on the floor nearby.

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She couldn't even be angry at them for getting her floors dirty. That didn't mean she wasn't going to make them clean it up, of course. Mission accomplished, she thought. They would both be much happier now.

Before she set about making dinner, she decided she would check on them. She wasn't going to walk in on them if they were occupied, but something told her she needed to make sure they were okay.

Why wouldn't they be? she chided herself. You're just a nosy old vieja. But that didn't stop her from quietly descending the stairs and sneaking down the hallway. She didn't pause at Mel's door; she assumed they'd be in Sal's room. Listening carefully at his door, she heard nothing. Very slowly she turned the knob, eased the door open a crack, and poked her head in.

Guy was sitting stark naked in bed with a gun trained on her. He was alone.

"Jesus, Consuela," he said quietly, setting the gun aside. "You're going to get yourself killed walking into bedrooms unannounced."

"I didn't want to disturb you," she said. She was about to withdraw when he said, "As long as you're here, maybe you can free me." He raised his arm to show that he was handcuffed to the bed.

She didn't let her surprise show. Somehow Melvin didn't seem the sort to chain someone up. And why would he then leave when he had such a gorgeous naked man at his disposal? As she approached, though, she saw that Guy's wrist was covered with dried blood.

"Dios mio, Sal," she said softly. He finally seemed to realize he was naked and pulled the sheet up around his waist. Looking at him closely, she noted that he had dark circles under his eyes, stress lines creasing his forehead, and tension around his mouth. He was doing a good job of hiding it, but he was under serious duress.

"What happened here?"

His eyes slid away from hers and she caught a flush rising in his cheeks. "I don't want to talk about it. The keys are in the top drawer." He nodded toward the dresser.

Ten minutes later, as she wound gauze around his wound, he asked, "Are you going to tell Ed?"

"You're not?" she asked.

"I might not tell him if I didn't think you were going to."

She glanced up at him in surprise. "How long have you known Ed? Years, yes?"

He nodded, watching her curiously. "Just over ten years now."

Ten years! How had Ed managed to...? Careful there Coni, she told herself. If Ed had wanted him to know, he'd know. "You'll tell Ed," she said.

He sighed. "I suppose I'll have to."

As she was leaving he stopped her with a word, "Consuela?"

She turned to him and saw a flash of anguish in his eyes before he swallowed, and his face resumed the cold, emotionless expression that he so often wore. "Yes, Sal?"

"Will you check on Mel, please? Make sure he's okay."

She almost asked, "Why wouldn't he be?" but something about Guy's demeanor stopped her. She simply nodded and slipped out the door, apprehension building in her chest. What the hell happened?

She knocked softly on Mel's door. "Mel?" she called. She tried the door and found it locked. "Let me in, please."

"I don't want to see anyone," came the response. His voice sounded shaky.

"Unlock this door, right now," she said in her most intimidating voice. She always found that simple demands worked better than a threat of consequences. She heard scuffling, and then the lock clicked and the door swung open.

Mel stood there in sweats and an oversized T-shirt. His hair was rumpled and his eyes were red and puffy; he'd obviously been crying.

"What do you want?" he asked scowling at her.

"Just making sure you're okay, chico," she said softly.

"I'm fine."

She eyed him up and down. Her sharp eyes caught a redness on the skin of his left arm. She reached out and pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to discover that he had red marks on his arm in roughly the shape of large fingerprints. They were going to bruise.

She pursed her lips. She knew what Sal kept in his drawers, but the bruises still surprised her. She would definitely be reporting this to Ed. "Do you have any other injuries?"

"No." Mel glared at her and his cheeks reddened.

She almost demanded that he go clean up the mess they'd made on the floor in the foyer just so she could see him move around and determine whether he was hiding any other injuries, but she thought the better of it. It would be too cruel; she'd clean up the semen herself. Instead she said, "I'll have dinner ready in forty-five minutes. I expect you to be there."

Guy had wrapped steel wool around his emotions before he arrived at EERIE's Seattle office. He was in the same interview room as usual, sitting stiffly on the edge of the comfortable couch. He stared stoically straight ahead as Ed talked about inconsequential things. His heart rate was elevated, and he knew Ed would know that too. He had called in himself and told Central that he was coming in for Evaluation again. When he'd arrived he was informed that Ed had nixed the Evaluation but wanted to talk to him. That was ominous.

So here he sat staring at a painting of a stormy sea that hung above the small table. The picture was all grays and midnight blues and blacks with swirling clouds and a tortured sea. It seemed to represent the state of his emotions perfectly.

During a brief pause in Ed's analysis of their lack of progress on finding Valjevo, he said abruptly, "I'm getting worse. Have you figured out what's wrong with me yet?"

"We have a theory." Ed began, easily shifting to accommodate the new topic. "You are aware that vampires sometimes take mates?"

"Of course." Guy knew that it was extremely rare, but if they did find someone they mated for life—er death—eternity maybe.

"We think that Mel is your mate," Ed said bluntly.

"That's crazy!" Guy cried, although the idea immediately took seed.

"Is it? Think about what you're feeling Salt: your obsession, bordering on fanaticism, your need to protect him at all costs, your overwhelming urge to claim him—mark him with your seed. It all points to him being your mate."

"What the hell am I going to do with a mate?" he growled.

He could almost hear Ed's raised eyebrow in his response. "Well, the usual activities, I would imagine."

"That's not going to happen," Guy snarled, suddenly furious. So much for the steel wool around his emotions. The frustration of the past several weeks had pushed him over the edge. His usual cool was nowhere to be found. "How the hell did this happen?"

"Did you taste his blood?"

"What? Of course not!" He might be part vampire, but he didn't have fangs, and the idea of drinking blood disgusted him as much now as it had before he was infected.