London Loves Ch. 05

Rayne swallowed his reservations and whispered. "Come on. Let me take you somewhere you can rest and get better."

The entry code for the apartment came back to him just as he had hoped it would as he set his fingers on the keypad. Rayne practically had to carry the blond boy up the stairs to his front door but Jack was barely any weight at all and he got the lad inside without being overseen. Once they were in, Rayne took him upstairs and laid him on the bed. The room had been left as it was when he last used it, the dark silk of the sheets was drawn back and rumpled, and ever so slightly dusty. Rayne checked that the power was still on then turned on the bathroom light and ran a hot bath. He managed to get Jack undressed and into the hot water then called out on his mobile for a takeaway.

Once the kid was warm and Rayne had coaxed food into him, he put Jack back to bed and wrapped the duvet around him, leaving his exhausted guest to sleep it off. Feeling numb, Rayne went back down to the lounge and curled up on the supple suede cushions of the long sofa. He chewed on the large knuckle at the base of his thumb, lost in thought, but he did not succumb to sleep. It would not do to have Jack wake in the night and come looking for him only to find him 'dead' on the settee.

Rayne spent the night in darkness, alone on the couch. He was not ready to sleep upstairs, not yet. And certainly not with another man. The darkness was full of ghosts, full of memories, and he was unable to shut them out. He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes but whenever he did that he could feel Kevan's hands on his body, sliding under his clothes; Kev's hungry mouth on his neck and those strong fingers stripping him, groping him, parting his legs...

With a little gasp of anguish he pushed himself to his feet again, pacing the room restlessly, refusing to sleep.

"Leave me alone," he whispered disconsolately. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! But please... please let me be!"

Finally, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, retrieving the little velvet bag and the ring it contained. He tipped it out into his hand again and slid it onto his finger. Like a charm it stilled the unquiet spirits in his head. Pressing the third finger of his left hand to his lips, Rayne returned to the sofa and curled up there once more.

He did not sleep but his thoughts were more restful and the memories that came to him were not of blood and vengeance but softer and more consoling. He contented himself with the recollection of strong arms around his shoulders and warm, steady breath on the nape of his neck. More than once he considered calling Xavier. He needed to hear a fond, familiar voice and more than that he needed to be in a comforting embrace. Rayne was used to feeling lonely, the desolation had been a part of him for most of his life, but this was like a nightmare. The need that kept driving him was eating his spirit. For a little while that night he understood why people believed vampires to be soul-less. In order to survive it was necessary to shut out any sense of humanity. But he still craved it. Without it, what kind of a creature would he become?

He already knew the answer to that question. Without it he was a cold, blind, ruthless killer. Stripped of his humanity he could go back up those stairs like a silent ghost and drain the sleeping boy in his bed until he was little more than a breathless husk. He could go out onto those teeming streets peopled with mindless hedonists and rip out their throats until the police sent a SWAT team over to pump bullets into him and blow him to oblivion.

Miserably he drew his knees up to his chest and hugged them there staring into the darkness. He was the darkness made corporeal, the worst of nightmares in a human form. And here he waited, back in the place that forced him to confront it more than almost any other. Time and time again he reached for his phone and turned it over in his hands, playing up and down over Xavier's number. So easy; it would be so easy to just call and listen to his sleepy voice; to tell Xav how precious he had been, one last time.

And then he would do it. He would go out there and show them what a monster he could really be.

Rayne turned off his mobile and threw it across the room, then he wrapped his head in his arms and wept silently until daylight began to seep like blood into the room.

Jack was mildly embarrassed in the morning, bereft of the confidence the speed had given him, but Rayne played it cool. He made coffee and called the kid a cab to take him home. As they were waiting, Jack grinned shyly and whispered; "I like the toys in your bedside cabinet, Jay. Maybe we can come back here again some time and you can tie me up and use them on me, huh?"

Rayne studied him for a moment. Once upon a time he would have capitalised on a remark like that but today he was too sorrowful and far too tired.

"I don't think so, sweetheart," he said gravely. "Last night was enough. Take care, Jack."

When the boy was finally gone, he pulled off the bedclothes then stripped himself and took a long, hot shower. The scalding water focussed his thoughts as always and he shut out everything unnecessary as it drilled down on his head and simmered through his lank hair, enfolding his body in liquid heat.

Then he set about the preparations he had come here to make.

For most of the morning he was on the phone to various estate agents, arranging for the valuation of his property and the clearing of his personal effects. Some of this he sorted out himself during the remainder of the morning. There were things here that he did not want to leave to the hands of outsiders.

The restraints and sex toys he packed into the lid of the small case he had brought with him. Each one conjured a memory and he was not ready to explore those memories yet.

Rayne opened the sliding glass door of the wardrobe next and flicked through the clothing within. Most of it could go. He had been a peacock in his younger days but now he tended to stick to a certain look and style. Sleek and simple, suited his spare frame. The little black silk dress that Kevan had bought him when they first began to play more exotic games still hung in its wrapper and he took it out and laid it on the bed.

Over the next hour or so he emptied the drawers and the wardrobe and divided the contents into two piles, a small 'keepers' pile and a much larger 'charitable' heap. There was a third, brief selection on the bed but he packed the larger mound of items into carrier bags and put them aside and packed the 'keepers' in his case too before addressing those. Of the pile that remained, most of the things were undergarments and he had neither the desire to keep them nor the wish that they should fall into the hands of others. In the end he took them down to the basement where the caretaker had a small incinerator and he fed them, piece by piece into the flames; each item conjuring up a separate memory, one that would never leave him. He lingered until he could be sure that everything was fully committed to the fire and then he turned away, returning to the apartment with crimson tears glazing his eyes.

XAVIER ALONE

As Xavier went through his morning routine he realised that it had been a month since their arrival by train in London. Rayne had left for Manchester in the small hours this morning and now Xavier found himself... bored. Dominic had things to do, Rayne was heading north, and Xavier didn't really know anyone here. He and Rayne had spent most of the time since they got to London wrapped up in each other and hadn't even gone out much, which Xav did not regret in the least, but now it felt a little odd to be alone, even for just a few hours. Maybe it was knowing that Ray wouldn't be back by lunchtime that made it feel different to the other days when he'd just popped out for ciggies or a bite to drink.

Still, life had to be lived, and this morning Xavier had decided he'd had enough of cold cereal for breakfast. By the time he was dressed he was picturing bacon and eggs. Of course, if he wanted them edible they weren't going to be cooked by him!

With nothing more than breakfast in mind he headed out the front door, locking up behind him. He got no further though before he spotted a hunched figure on the top step, dressed almost the same as he'd been the first time Xav had seen him.

The kid looked, if possible, even thinner and scruffier than he had on the day of Xavier's arrival in London. There was a tiredness in his eyes and dark circles around them like Rayne sometimes got when he was hungry or hurting. Though his hair was obviously dyed, a strip of some tawny shade showing through now close to his scalp, he seemed to have made a conscious effort to actually look a little bit like the singer. The slight upward tilt of his nose was almost identical and the way his full, colourless lips hovered between a smile and a sneer was very self-consciously Rayne.

His dark hood was pulled up over the back of his head and unruly hair poked out around his face like the mane of a small, starved, emo lion. It was a cool morning and he was already shivering a little as he pulled on a roll-up between the thin white fingers protruding from his cut-off gloves.

"Didn't Rayne chase you off once already?" Xavier asked mildly.

"I need to talk to 'im," the boy said, rising at once when Xavier turned to face him. "It's important."

Xavier's eyes settled on him, though it was hard to tell if his expression was sympathetic or just resigned. "You're not supposed to be here, you know."

"It's important!" the boy repeated stubbornly.

Xavier shook his head once. "He's gone. He had some business to take care of."

"When will he be back?" The boy was nothing if not persistent. He shivered again though, shifting from one sneakered foot to the other as if both gave him pain. From the look of his battered Converse hi-tops there was not much sole left in either of them. He stared at Xavier with big, unblinking eyes, defensive and fascinated, like a little fox that had found something inexplicable waiting in the mouth of its den.

Xavier cocked his head slightly, considering the boy in front of him just as curiously.

"I'm not sure. Could be awhile," he finally answered. "You could tell me what it is, and I might be able to get a message to him," he offered, curious to see what the kid thought was so important, or what he figured Rayne would think was important.

The boy continued to study him with that wary expression on his face. His nose twitched as if he was scenting out the truth but then he just sat back down on the steps and wrapped his arms around his skinny knees. "I'll wait for him."

"Guess it's not that important then," Xav said and turned to head down to the street.

"What would you know?" the kid muttered under his breath, sinking his chin onto his folded arms and shivering again.

Xavier stopped and turned slowly, one eyebrow arched almost delicately. He bent from the waist so that he could look the boy in the eye. Holding one hand up in front of the scruffy kid he ticked off a count, touching his first three fingers to his thumb on each point.

"I know where he is. I know how to get him a message. And I know bullshit when I see it!" Xav said, and then straightened. "If it was really something worthwhile, and if you were smart, you'd use me to get a message to him. He's gone, probably won't be back for a week, maybe two. And I'm sick of being polite to a brat. If you're here when I get back I'm calling the cops and I'll have them move your ass."

"Don't..." It was a half-strangled noise in his throat but the look on the boy's face said it was an effort to make the plea. "Don't call the bizzies. I know he threatened it but he wouldn't call them, not really. He knows it'd get me in a lot of trouble. Will he really be gone for that long?"

The look in his hazel eyes was suddenly lost and a bit desperate.

Xavier studied him carefully, not immune to that desperation. He knew what it was to be afraid of the cops too, and he hadn't really meant the threat either. Of course, the kid didn't need to know that.

"Tell me what's so important and maybe I won't call them," Xavier said.

The emo kid bristled for a few seconds but he was too tired and cold for such a battle and probably hungry too. Shoulders slumped as he tugged his hood forward over his face but he muttered; "Need him to talk to my grandad again. I need some money, they won't let me have any more. They said I have to go home if I want it. But this is my home. I just need what's mine."

This, understandably, didn't make any sense to Xavier. Why would Rayne talk to this kid's grandfather? And why would the kid think he would? Unless he was just nuts... but Xavier didn't think so. Rather than satisfy his curiosity the answer brought up more questions.

"All right...I'll ask him for you," Xav said cautiously, then on a whim added, "...if you come to breakfast with me."

The kid just stared at him and Xavier gave a little shrug. "I don't like to eat alone. Come on, I'll buy." The boy didn't move and Xavier sighed, turning his back again. "Or you can sit there freezing your ass off and starve. Like I fuckin' care!"

The boy on the doorstep gave this all of fifteen seconds thought. Xavier was just wandering back towards Portobello Road when he bounced to his feet like Tigger and ran after him, catching up before the turn. He held himself very straight in an attempt to match Xav for height (which just about failed) then glanced sidelong at him almost shyly, muttering; "Don't suppose I can come in and have a shower or something after, can I?"

"Maybe," Xavier murmured, deliberately not sniffing in the kid's direction. "What's your name?"

There was a moment's hesitation and then, a little shyly, he answered; "Clint. Don't laugh, it was my mum's idea. She called me Clinton James, I'm not named after Clint Eastwood!"

"I'm not laughing," Xav said, although he was smiling a little at the way he answered. "My name's Xavier. How old are you, Clint?"

"Seventeen," the boy flashed back immediately, a defensive look in his tawny eyes.

Xav snorted softly. "Don't fuckin' lie to me, okay? I peg you at thirteen maybe, fourteen tops."

Clint bristled a bit at this but reluctantly conceded; "I'll be sixteen soon!"

Xav nodded, that was more like the truth. Clinton had been living on the street for a while too, Xav gauged by the look of him, but at least he'd had someone to call for money. Seemed grandad's wallet had dried up though. Xav wondered why. It could be a lot of things. Maybe whatever family member had been playing the sucker had finally had enough of funding his habit. Xavier didn't see any obvious signs though. The kid was tired and dark eyed, but he wasn't twitchy, itchy, and bitchy. Well, not beyond normal bitchy anyway and Xav thought that was mostly self-preservative bitchiness. Still, Xavier knew full well that looks could be very deceiving.

He wanted to ask why Clint didn't just go home but he kept his mouth shut. Sometimes home really was worse than the street. It wasn't his business, and besides any suggestion like that would just make Clint go on the defensive again. He also didn't ask how come Grandad wasn't coughing up cash any more. If he wasn't cutting the kid off because of drugs he figured it was because he was trying to bribe him to come home. He did however have one question.

"How come you want Rayne to ask your grandad about the money?"

Clint looked at him with a knowing smile. "Get me breakfast, and I'll tell you. I should have figured he wouldn't talk to you about it."

Xavier narrowed his eyes suspiciously, thinking maybe the kid was just playing some kind of game, being all mysterious because he wanted attention. He managed to keep his tongue still only because Clint maybe had a point, Rayne did make habit of not telling him things, that was for sure. Since he'd already offered to buy him breakfast anyway it wouldn't hurt to wait until they were settled to hear what Clint had to say.

"Okay," he conceded, with a shrug and took Clint to his favourite cafe. They had a little seated area out the front where customers could sit in the watery autumn sunshine, though when they got there Clint preferred to stay indoors, so Xav collared a double table by the window where they could at least see the daylight.

"What are you having?" the genial Irish waitress asked and Clint looked a question at Xavier who just waved at the menu.

"Whatever you want."

In the end Clint ordered most of the breakfast menu; sausages, bacon, grilled tomatoes, mushrooms, onions, baked beans, black pudding, fried bread (extra slices) and three poached eggs. Even Xavier, who could eat for his country, blinked at the size of the plate. Clint beamed his thanks at the girl who brought it to their table and emptied it in under three minutes. He ate like he feared someone would steal the food from under his nose and mopped it up with the extra slices of buttered bread. He knocked back the mug of milky tea and grinned at Xavier enthusiastically.

"You're right, it's fantastic here. Can I have another poached egg? And some more sausages? And that fried bread was ace, just nice and crispy."

"As long as you don't puke or expect me to carry you outta here you can have whatever you want," Xavier said airily, and then added; "Except beans! I don't know what is up with putting beans all over a perfectly good breakfast. That's just... wrong!" His expression clearly said he thought it was disgusting. He kept his opinion about the milky tea to himself though. Ugh!

The waitress came again and took Clint's order and Xav got a refill on his coffee. "While we're waiting on your seconds, you wanna answer my question now?"

The boy stretched like a well-fed cat and said; "You sure you really wanna know?"

Xavier narrowed a look on him that could have refried his beans.

"Okay... you asked," Clint licked his lips and leaned across the table. "I've got a secret that puts me closer to him than you'll ever be."

"Look, don't try and play cute." Xav said, a bit of a sharper edge cutting into his voice. "Just spit it out." He was starting to lose patience.

Clint looked taken aback, very briefly, as if he hadn't expected Xavier to be quite so sharp with him. He retreated behind his mug for a moment then when he saw that the cute approach seriously wasn't going to do him any favours, he put it down.

"Xavier, you're a nice bloke. I didn't come here to piss you off," he said carefully. "You wanna know what you're getting into though. He's used to getting what he wants. But I know what I'm worth, all right? And I think you do too, so don't get mad at me when I tell you this."

"Just fucking tell me, okay. I'm getting very tired of all this," Xav warned him, still conscious of a little bubble of anxiety that was welling up inside him as Clint fixed him with those solemn, unblinking eyes.

"You want it," Clint muttered, holding out his hands helplessly. "Okay, Xavier. He's my dad. Is that straight enough for you? He fucked my mum, she had me, he's my daddy. Cool?"

Xavier looked at the none-too-clean boy across from him and his mind automatically kicked the words back at him and told him the kid he was lying. He had to be lying. Rayne wouldn't let his own son live on the street. Would he? If Clint was really his kid Rayne would have told him. He would have told him something like that! Wouldn't he?

He stared hard at the boy and he actually felt the word 'liar' form on his tongue but it didn't quite make it out of his mouth. He saw now what he'd been seeing all along but hadn't put together. Clint's eyes weren't the vivid green of Rayne's but they were the same shape, and placed in a face that had the same fine bone structure. His nose had the same jaunty tilt at the tip and his mouth had that cherubic softness that could twist into a slightly mocking, not-quite-smile at the drop of an 'h'. His colouring was different, and his face was a tad longer and leaner, but the resemblance was so close that Xavier couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before, and now that he had he couldn't un-see it.