The Devine Image
Disclaimer: Legacy of
Kain belongs to Edios and
Warning: it has to be said . . . .
This fic contains YAOI (GuyXGuy),
blood play and a lemon, if this offends or upsets you do not read this, it’s that
simple. Please also note it contains Possible
If you choose to avoid any of these things the back
button is right there for your use and I hope you find what you are looking
for. By continuing and reading you are acknowledging the above information and
accepting it.
Pairing: Vorador/Kain. Yaoi elements but little emotion, maybe a hint of
Vorador/Janos
Rating: NC-17
Part: Four of five maybe more.
Set: Pre Blood omen two, why oh why
can’t I get out of this time frame *cry’s pitifully*
Authoress note: A
completely stand alone fic, not related to any of my others. I wanted to try
something a little different but I think this is turning out very similar to
all my others . . . bother. But I just really wanted to write it.
Dedications: As always
this is dedicated to my wonderful beta reader, Odeena skywalker who without, this would be unreadable for most.
Also to Eiko the werewolf for sharing
my insane moments and my bizarre mood swings and not freaking out and for passing
her driving test, I’m so proud.
For all my
reviewers, who without I would have surely given up a long time
ago.
WARNING:
LEMON
The Devine Image
Cruelty has a human heart
And Jealousy a human face
Terror the human form divine
And secrecy the human dress
The Devine image. William Blake. Songs of experience
Chapter Four
Cult? Ha! Just a fancy way of stating a lack of people for the
minority
Vorador – The divine Image
{Vorador}
The Seer!
How had the Serefan gotten the Seer? It made no sense to
his weary mind. Slowly, Vorador watched the last of his fledglings retire. Cyan
turned to look at him as she lifted the red velvet curtain that showed the
doorway to her room. He’d given her one of the best rooms he had, and that was
what made his heart ache now. The best he had consisted of a small room hardly
bigger than a stable stall. Inside, it held a casket, a small desk and chair,
and a candle. He had been ashamed to only have this to offer her; she had been
a jewel among mortals, and now was a jewel among vampires. She deserved better
than this.
“One day,
my princess, I will give you more,” he had promised her when he had
pulled the velvet back to show her the room.
She had been delighted at the modest accommodation. Apparently,
she had never had a room or even a ‘bed’ all of her own before and it had
thrilled her that she was allowed to fill the room with books and fix her
drawings to the walls. She had barley held in her joy when he had disappeared
and returned with paper and charcoal for her. It was an innocent joy one that
would have overwhelmed him if he hadn’t experienced it before.
Kain had not reacted like Cyan. He had not thrown himself
around Vorador’s legs and hugged him, he had not shed tears and he had not
covered him in kisses the way she had, but it had been similar. It frustrated
Vorador now that almost anything anyone did could set off his memories of Kain;
it was like the fledgling vampire had invaded his mind. He thought more about
him now when he was sleeping than he had when the fledgling was awake and
wandering about the mansion. Sighing loudly as Cyan disappeared into her room,
he couldn’t help but feel guilt.
He had always given his fledglings the best. He had loved
the looks he would get when he would turn a peasant’s daughter, bring her to
the mansion and give her a room that was bigger than her entire house had been.
Secretly he knew why he loved their innocent joy at such things. It reminded
him of Janos. His maker had always been easy to please; the slightest effort on
Vorador’s part could have Janos grinning for hours. A loving word or a quick
embrace could leave his sire purring no matter his original mood. Janos could
have been contemplating his own death and a smile from his fledgling would have
kept his spirits high for the rest of the evening.
In truth, Vorador hadn’t expected such a reaction from
Kain. Kain had stayed at the mansion before, temporarily, between his wanderings,
but had always fallen asleep in one of the libraries on a couch or in the
dinning room; once, when he was badly hurt, Vorador had taken care of him in
his own rooms. but the fledgling had been barley conscious enough to blink, let
alone admire the décor. But despite that, he had not expected the reaction he
had gotten.
“This is
mine?” Kain asked. Vorador nodded. “No, really,” Kain smirked, “where’s my room?”
Once he had managed to convince the pale fledgling that
this country-pretending-to-be-a-room was his, Kain had proceeded to open a
cupboard and peer inside, and after a few moments Vorador had frowned and asked
what he thought he was looking for.
“What are
you doing?” Vorador asked, looking over the fledgling’s shoulder at the empty
walk-in wardrobe.
“Looking
for Willendorf’s Circus I think it’s still in here.”
The bed had been large, but so were all the beds in the
mansion. Vorador had frowned even more so, more out of surprise than actual
confusion, when Kain had prodded the mattress a few times before leaping onto
it and bouncing. He had laughed as the fledgling had fallen off the bed. Kain’s
reaction to his wealth had honestly surprised him. Kain was a noble, that much
was clear from his manner of speech. His education, even his bone structure
gave it away.
“I
thought you were a noble?” Vorador laughed and sat next to the fledgling on the
bed, rocking as the fledgling bounced on the mattress again.
“True, I
was, but I was a hare catcher, Vorador,” Kain grinned.
A hare catcher was a noble by name only. It had taken a
little alcohol and a lot of questioning to discover that Kain’s parents had
travelled a lot, so much so that Kain couldn’t recall seeing his mother once.
His parents had taken all the money and spent it travelling. Occasionally he
would receive a letter from two people who claimed to be his parents; the
postal mark was different every time. Only a little money had been spared to
ship their son off to boarding school during school terms and on non-school
terms Kain had lived in his house with the live-in servants. There had been
practically no money there at all and to feed himself and the three household
staff who were like his family he had taken to hunting.
“It gave
me a strange kind of pride to know that it was because of me that we ate every
night”
Letting the memory fade, he stood, wincing at the ache in
his shoulders. He wasn’t feeding enough for such a trivial ache to occur. Walking
to his room, he rolled his shoulders, trying to work the stiffness out. He
shouldn’t complain; the Seer must be going through worse at the hands of the
Serefan. It completely stumped him as to how the human dogs could have captured
her . . . unless of course they had waited till the dawn, when she was weak, or
worse, and more probably just after the dawn when she was sleeping. The myth
that vampires were catatonic in the daylight was untrue. Daylight weakened
normal vampires and killed fledglings, but evolution had spared them catatonia.
Once, a long time, ago many of the ancient vampires had suffered this catatonia,
which was no doubt where the myth had sprung from. But the vampires had evolved
to the point where daylight just weakened them. The only existing vampire alive
today that still held this primal weakness was the Seer.
The Serefan had obviously taken advantage of it. But how
had they moved her during the daylight? Even covering her with animal skins or
thick tarp would not definitely keep her safe. It wasn’t just the light that
weakened the vampires, but the heat as well. Even the modern vampires like Cyan
and Lillith felt the heat sapping their strength. Vorador was lucky if he could
function properly in daylight even inside. The only vampire he knew to not
suffer the crippling weakness of daylight was Kain. There again, the pail
haired fledgling had worked his way into Vorador’s thoughts.
Shutting the door to his room, Vorador slipped out of his
clothes and dropped them on a chair, not caring if they became creased. How to
rescue the Seer was the important question, not how she had been captured.
Walking around the room, blowing out candles, he began to formulate a plan. He
loved the smell of candles when the flame had only just been extinguished; it
reminded him of so many things. Of Janos’ library, walking in and finding his
sire bent over some book or other, becoming what Janos dubbed a ‘distraction’
and ending up pinned to the table held in place by the weight of heavy wings.
It surprised him how Janos flew sometimes when the wings that held the ancient
aloft were so heavy, but always his musing would be disturbed by a hand
wandering up his thigh or a cool breath against his throat.
It was odd how smells could trigger memories. The smell of
birds feathers unsurprisingly reminded him of his sire; the smell of old books
reminded him of his sire; the smell of warm skin reminded him of his sire. The
smell of damp, rot and mildew reminded him of the swamp. The smell of dry
warmth, young bodies and some incenses reminded him of the mansion. And for
some reason, the smell of the rain on warm ground, usually in the summer -
summer rain, the smell of summer rain, reminded him of Kain.
It had been raining for a long
time; three days at least. It was, after all, the rainy season. The smell of
the cool rain hitting the warm roof was distinctive - a smell he had often
liked.
He was here. Vorador nodded to
himself; Kain had always liked the roof for some unknown reason. Maybe because
it was quiet up there or because you could see what was left of the Pillars
from there. Even in a rainstorm he would come up there. Vorador shook his head
at the fledgling’s stupidity, opened the umbrella and marched out onto the
rooftop, avoiding the occasional puddles. The fledgling would often stare at
the pillars; even if he couldn’t see them, he would stare in the direction of
them. It reminded Vorador of hypnosis. Kain always denied it however.
Carefully making his way around the
roof, he found Kain inside one of the vents. The roof vents were easily large
enough to fit a man, maybe two if they were ‘good’ friends. The warm air from
the mansion came up inside them and they were raised, avoiding the water. They
reminded Vorador of snakes somewhat, arched metal snake, ready to strike. He
stopped behind the vent. He knew Kain was inside and just listened to the rain
hitting the roof for a moment.
“You’re going to get wet,” Vorador
warned after a moment or two. Kain snorted.
“Do you really care,” Kain answered.
It wasn’t a question, just an opinion. Vorador walked round to the front of the
vent and peered inside. It was obvious the fledgling was feeling sorry for
himself. It was probably all the rain; it got everyone down eventually. It even
made him sentimental and poetic, something he thought he would never be again.
“No, I don’t care,” Vorador snapped.
He didn’t care . . . he didn’t care so much that he’d come out in the pouring
rain to look for him, that was how much he didn’t care. He was about ready to
tell the sulking fledgling this, but he was cut off by a nearly silent mumble
“I have been used far too many
times already . . . but I can’t seem to stop it from happening,” Kain sighed
loudly. “And you don’t even bother to hide it. It’s just sex, power and control.”
He sniggered, but it was humourless. “And I just let you.” He sounded disgusted
at himself
“Kain.” Vorador sighed. It was true,
he couldn’t deny it, he didn’t care and, like the people to which Kain referred
to, he too was just using the fledgling. Using him to win a hopeless war - and
using him to sate his own lust. He stood in silence for a few more moments
before turning to re-enter the mansion. At the rooftop door, he paused as Kain
mumbled, “Would it kill you to give a damn?”
He didn’t answer.
He had
spent the rest of the day contemplating what Kain had said on the rooftop, only
to find that he could not justify his own selfishness to himself. Maybe this
was why Kain reminded him of Janos. Maybe it had nothing to do with the magic
that they both seemed to share, nor that the taste of their blood was
remarkably similar, nor their heart beat. Maybe what reminded him of Janos so
much was the way Kain made him feel guilt and shame while at the same time
rousing his lust. He had stood later that night, until when the sun was
breaking the horizon, and walked towards Kain’s room.
“What the hell do you think you’re
doing?” Kain snapped, tensing up as the sheet he lay under was pulled back and
another body entered the bed and pressed up against his own. He sighed when he
saw Vorador. “You do realise its nearly morn . . .” he snapped, sitting up, but
was interrupted.
“Shut up and go to sleep,” Vorador
grumbled, reaching up to pull Kain down next to him. The fledgling grabbed his
hand, stopping him. The look of sudden surprise on the fledgling’s face made
him laugh. “You seem shocked that I would just want to sleep next to you rather
than on top of you.”
Vorador smiled smugly when the
fledgling – still confused – turned to lie back down. Wrapping a possessive arm
around the fledgling’s waist, he pulled the two of them together, Kain’s back
against his chest. Smiling, he wrapped a leg over Kain’s hip and buried his
nose in his hair. He smelt like the rain.
“What the hell are you doing?” Kain
asked again, when Vorador nuzzled at his hair. There was no anger this time,
only a lot of confusion.
“Giving a damn,” he answered.
The rain stopped mid-afternoon.
Slipping
into bed now, Vorador half wished he wasn’t alone.
* * *
The moment he opened his eyes he knew what he was going to
do. The Serefan would not be allowed to have her. The Seer belonged to him. He
would kill all of them if he had to. Every last human would die at his hands if
that was what had to be done. Everyone who had ever hurt one of his own would
die. He used to revenge his children before and he saw no reason to stop now, just
because the Seer was not a child of his. She was a friend, one he had known for
all his long life and she deserved to be revenged if she had perished at
mortals hands.
He smiled, rotating his neck,
listening with pleasure to the crack as his bones clicked. It wasn’t often he
indulged in mass murder, but he had needed this. The party he had killed had
been a vicious one, six humans in total, and they had killed at least twenty of
his children, maybe more. He couldn’t quite remember. Apparently, they were a
vampire killing cult. That had made him laugh. Cult? Ha! Just a fancy way of stating a lack of people for the
minority. So when they had wandered into the
swamp he had ordered their capture, but not their deaths. Their deaths were his
alone. It was rare, so rare that he did this any more. The humans seemed to
take more notice now when a number of them disappeared at once. It had been so
long since he’d trapped the mortals in a cell in the basement, stripped himself
- blood does not wash out- and bathed in their screams, their begging cries,
their blood. He was covered head to toe; hardly any of his emerald skin was
visible under the thick coating of slowly congealing blood.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood
there, but the peace of the moment was soon taken away. Not that he minded. The
fledgling was, after all, a wonderful distraction at times. He hadn’t even
realised Kain was in the room before he was pressed behind him, kissing his
neck. a rough tongue scrapping the clotting blood from his skin. Vorador turned;
gold met gold as their eyes locked for a moment. Vorador opened his mouth to
speak, but Kain cut him off with a firm, passionate kiss. Vorador purred,
feeling the hardness of fangs behind the fledgling’s mouth. Pressing forwards,
he walked the fledgling to the wall. Kain drew back after a moment
“That,” Kain breathed, “looked like
fun.” Blood had smudged across his face, chest and legs from being pressed up
against the elder. For a brief moment Vorador wondered if he’d come down here
naked, but a quick glance behind him at the crumpled leather told him
otherwise.
“It was.” Vorador nodded and
smirked, kissing the fledgling harshly again. Killing, sating bloodlust always
brought out physical lust in him and he was pleased to see that watching him
kill had pleased Kain as much as it had him.
It wasn’t long before the fledgling
was kissing him back, thrusting his tongue against that of the elder’s. Vorador
purred, closing his teeth mock dangerously over Kain’s lips, making him bleed
and drinking down the droplets. Grinding his form against the younger vampire,
he gasped loudly as he felt claws dig into the skin at the tops of his legs,
tearing his thighs not too deeply. The wounds healed quickly, but he bled a
little, his blood mixing slowly with the human blood that had gone firm and
sticky on his skin. He watched as Kain suddenly knelt, licking the blood from
his thighs before kissing the tip of his need for him. Vorador growled low in
his throat as his tip was sucked into the fledgling’s mouth; he wasn’t in the
mood for foreplay. The murder had left him trembling violently with the desire
to rip something else apart. Kain’s appearance had allowed him to channel that
lust elsewhere, but it was still just as raw, just as powerful and needy.
He restrained the desire to sharply
raise his knee, hitting the fledgling in the chin hard enough to stun him, to
make him malleable. Instead he just pushed his hand on a white blood-smeared
shoulder, slowly leading the fledgling down and immediately climbing on top of
him and grinding down. He heard the fledgling groan and felt him thrust upwards,
dragging claws down the elder’s chest, drawing more blood, which again mixed
with the human one and again he cleaned the elder’s skin. Vorador purred,
pressing his hips down hard against Kain’s while placing nearly nasty bites up
and down the fledgling’s throat and collar bone. Kain snarled loudly and pulled
back before sinking his own fangs into the elder’s throat. When the fledgling
drew back Vorador gripped his hips in a hold that had moments ago crushed a
mortal scull. The elder vampire rolled them, placing the fledgling above him,
and brutally trust up inside.
Kain groaned low in his throat, in both pain and pleasure. Vorador smirked,
knowing that the blood had eased his entry a great deal, but he also knew that
he’d have done it even if he’d been dry. Only three times in the past five
years had he been courteous enough to stretch the fledgling. Bizarrely enough,
when he’d tried to do it a few other times Kain had hissed at him unwilling.
Maybe the pain reminded him that this was not a lover, maybe it was just a kink
he had. Vorador didn’t really care.
After a moment of unneeded panting,
Vorador renewed his grip on Kain’s hips and began to move, picking up speed quickly,
violently. Kain cried out, grabbing the elder’s shoulders, forcing him to speed
up more so. Vorador hissed and flipped
them both so he was on top. Kain wrapped his legs around the elder, and
attempted to roll them again, but Vorador’s weight stopped him as he thrust
into him even more furiously, grunting harshly as he came deep inside of pale
skin.
Spent, he pulled out and with out a
second thought moved down and swallowed the fledgling whole.
It didn’t take long.
Later, when the sun set behind the
horizon, Vorador woke in his bed, not sure how he gotten there with the taste
of sex lingering in his mouth, dried blood covering him and the sheets, and Kain
still asleep, curled tightly around him.
Shaking off the memory, Vorador pulled himself from the
bed and threw on the clothes from yesterday. He knew that the only way to get
the Seer out alive, if she still was alive, was to go in and get her himself.
None of his fledglings would survive if he sent them; they were still too young
to inexperienced. He would be sending them to their deaths. So, with a few
barked orders at his children and a quiet word to Cyan that if he did not come
back she was to go and get Umah, he set off.
The city was surprisingly quiet as he ventured across the
rooftops. Sometimes he truly felt the loss of his more humane looks, the fact
that his ears and skin made him extremely obvious and forced him to either
travel across rooftops of wear a scary amount of clothing and cloaks. Tonight
he needed to be fast, so he had chosen light clothing and the rooftops. It was
faster this way anyway. He didn’t have to stop to open half a dozen gates;
there was literally no chance of the Serefan being up here and it was easy to
see where he was going. The mansion was just on the lip of the upper city,
between the upper city and the industrial quarter.
It was impossible for a vampire to enter the building and
return alive, no matter how old or powerful they were. He paused on top of the
entrance gate. He knew that if he took a step inside that building he would
never come out again. He watched in surprise as a bishop, the bishop of the
city emerged from the building, walked across towards a wall and seemed to
disappear thought it. He knew the bishop had not actually walked through a wall
. . . a secret passage then, a secret entrance to the Serefan Stronghold. He
made a mental note to talk with this bishop before turning his attention back
to the task at hand.
First of all, he didn’t know where in the building she was.
She could have been in the tower or in the basement, he had no idea. Second of
all, he was weak, nowhere near as strong as he should have been. But he knew if
he procrastinated to built up his strength she could die. Every second he
wasted feeding was a second the Serefan could spend thinking up ways to kill
her. He knew now that she was alive. He could feel her life pulsing out of the
building, but it was too large; he couldn’t focus properly, so he still had no
idea where she was in the building.
“That daemon in the basement still hasn’t woken,” a voice
snapped. Vorador blinked; he could not believe he’d just heard that.
“Still,” the guard muttered at the messenger, “send for me
when she does.” With that, the messenger scurried away.
Basement it was then. He sighed; trust her to get taken to
the basement. If it had been the roof, he could have teleported easily up there,
grabbed her and left without ever having to enter that cursed building. But no.
“That would be too easy,” he muttered to himself before
dropping down on a guard, knocking the mortal out. Looking into the mortal’s
mind, he learned the location of the basement and paused, considering how to
continue. This was a suicide mission, really. The Serefan Lord could sense
vampires as easily as vampires could sense him when he was close, so that
creature would know he was here. He knew he didn’t stand a chance against the
creature, but he also knew he couldn’t leave her here to suffer a humiliating
fate.
With that thought he teleported inside.
He knew magic was easy to sense, but by teleporting about
quickly he hoped to confuse the Serefan lord to his whereabouts. Teleportation
was a hard thing to get a focus on. After at least half an hour of ‘porting’
about the mansion he was exhausted, but he was in the basement. The basement
was huge, scarily huge. Just from the way sound travelled in here he knew that
the basement spread further underground than the mansion did above it. But also
a little piece of luck - he could smell her clearly.
“Daemon!” The cry rang through the building as he was
spotted and Vorador cursed lady luck and all of her relations as a small party
descended on him.
The humans had stood no chance really, he thought as he
crushed yet another skull in his talons. But still this constant fighting was
exhausting him. His limbs were shaking with weariness and he knew if he didn’t
find her soon they would both die down here, in this endless basement.
* * *
She lay on a table, chained by her ankles to stop her from
running. They hadn’t chained her arms, which was unusual. For a moment he
thought it was a trap, but he discarded the thought quickly. No doubt they just
didn’t feel threatened. She was, after all, female, and she was asleep. Stupid
humans. He lifted her in his arms and looked down at her. Amazingly, it seemed
that the humans had not hurt her yet. They must have been waiting for her to
wake. Smelling him, she stirred, feeling safe in the arms of a fellow vampire, blinking
half-awake eyes at him. He smiled at her.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “You’re safe now.” And with
that he began his journey upwards on foot, too exhausted to teleport them
anywhere.
After a few minuets he cursed loudly. He’d gotten turned
around; he had to have gotten lost. This wasn’t right, it didn’t smell the same
or sound the same, something was wrong. He felt a soft cloven hand close on his
forehead and he could have leapt for joy when he realised what she was doing. She
was sharing magic. She’d been sleeping, building up her reserves for an escape.
Clever witch.
“You don’t know who did it? Do you?” she asked suddenly, hanging
in his grip. “It was not just the necromancer; a human cannot just create a
vampire, no matter how powerful they are. They need blood or something else.” Her
smile was weak and had a very sardonic edge.
“What?” he asked. “What are you talking about? No, wait,
rest now, you can talk more later.” He felt the magic shut off but he didn’t
care. He had enough to teleport them out of there and possibly enough to get
them a little way into the city as well.
“You don’t know who made him? Who gave birth to him?” she
smiled weakly in his arms.
“Who are you talking about?” he snapped under his breath
and he slid into the shadows, watching as the guard walked past without
noticing them. Stupid human.
“Kain,” she breathed, passing out, just as the Serefan
noticed him again.
{Later that Night}
“I heard you had some fun tonight.” Umah grinned. “You
rescued the Seer?” She reached up to touch the large wound above her sire’s eye
and the healing bruise on his chest. The elder vampire had taken a few hits it
seemed.
“Yes, she’s resting with the Cabal.” Vorador sighed, tired
and sore from his rescue.
“Then why aren’t you with her, waiting for her to wake?”
Umah asked, confused. She knew that the Seer was an old friend, someone her
sire cared about. He had just risked his life to save her and now he was here?
Why?
After a few moments silence Vorador spoke softly.
“Go on, I’ll watch him.” He smiled. “You go and have some
. . . fun.”
“Fun.” Umah raised an eyebrow, then, noting her sire’s odd
expression, she nodded. “Alright, old man, fun it is.” With that, she turned
and disappeared out of the door.
Vorador didn’t sit down till he knew she was gone. He
heard the door close and heard her footsteps wander down the street. He
wondered briefly what she would do with her night off, and then he turned and
sat down on the bed next to the fledgling, reaching over to move a strand of
hair from his closed eyes. Kain twitched at the contact, but did not wake.
“I rescued
someone important today,” he started. “She’s an old friend. She is a Seer.” He
smiled, wondering if he was going crazy, talking to Kain like this was just as
bad as talking to himself. “She will be of great help to us . . . but that’s
not why I saved her.”
Kain
didn’t move or do anything to acknowledge his presence, but for some reason
Vorador smiled anyway, feeling better just talking to him.
“She
mentioned you.”
End Chapter
Authoress note: I’m tired. Seriously tired. I need
to sleep now.
We found out why the Seer owes
Vorador a favour ^_^
Please review.