A Bloodthirsty Angel:
Part Five - Reunions
By: Kitty E.
Quatre's eyes slid open as the sun sank beneath the horizon, a few
lingering rays briefly holding off complete darkness. He hadn't bothered to
train himself to rise with the dawn again as he was between lives,
unconnected to anyone. There was no one left to convince of his humanity
except himself, and he knew better. Absently, he hugged his shoulders as he
sat up, replacing the embrace that should have been there. He sighed, closing
his eyes to shut out the visions of a boy, wronged, and abandoned.
I'll see him again... soon, he promised himself. Just a little
while longer, and the war will be over. I'll steal him away then, and
together we'll disappear into a new peaceful world. Each time he rose was
another step closer to the night he'd find Trowa again, that fact, and that
fact alone, was what kept him going. There was little else to cement his
convictions, for his life was frighteningly dull now, devoid of interaction,
and even the thrill of battle was gone. There was nothing to do but think
about was what he was missing, and search for his next meal.
In silence he dressed and readied, and in silence he left his apartment.
He walked through the streets, eyes moving through the crowd, always
searching. But for what? he asked himself. Your next victim... or for
him? He knew that the true answer was both, his body craved to be fed, but
his heart was ever bleeding without Trowa. He shut out his feelings, blocking
them for as long as he could, all he needed was just a few hours for the hunt.
He crossed over into the wrong side of town, walking without fear despite
the gazes, some curious, some lecherous, of the people he passed. Still
fresh faced, he thought bitterly, But my heart has seen things the likes
of you will never know. Poverty... you don't know... the filth and ugliness I
lived in before I could make my own way. Killing, lies, loneliness, pain,
hate, none of you could know in your short lives what I have endured. He
was startled by the frightened look a child gave him as he passed, and
schooled his features. He continued walking, doing his best look idle, and
unaffected, people never come to those they fear.
"Hey man, I really could use a little change for the bus..." a young
voice, maybe seventeen. Quatre turned, almost gasping at what he'd stumbled
upon, or rather, what had stumbled upon him. A boy, teenager really, with
mocha colored flesh exposed to the chill air. He wore nothing but a pair of
tattered fatigues, and boots held together with tape. He had bleached his
hair sometime ago, with yellow tips, fading to brown, then ebony.
Quatre smiled, not as a hunter, not as a child, but simply as an equal.
"Well, I suppose. But wouldn't you enjoy something more? Perhaps a better
night than you've seen in a while?"
The other boy's eyes narrowed in distrust and offense. "I'm- I'm not a
whore," he spat defensively.
Quatre laughed softly, shaking his head, "Of course not! As if anyone
could buy what you have to offer. I just mean that you and I are alone... but
we don't have to be. I was just heading for the Diablo, I could get you
in..." The boy still looked wary, "But you wouldn't have to stay with me."
The boy bit his lip as he considered it, the chance to get out of the
cold, and maybe even have a good time was clearly tempting. He looked at
Quatre carefully, noting his apparent youth, and small size. Whatever he was
afraid of, and there were so many dark things a stranger could want, he found
it hard to believe it could come from such an earnest face.
"What's your name?" Quatre asked, trying to seal his consent. "I'm-" he
hesitated imperceptibly. "Quatre," he finished.
"Dominique," he answered with a weak smile.
"You'll come with me then, Dominique?" he invited, with his own flat, but
winning smile. "And keep me company if just for a little while?"
He shrugged, forcibly nonchalant, "Yeah, I guess. I've got nothing else
to do."
Quatre smiled again, and motioned with a nod of his head for him to
follow as he turned and continued down the street. They walked the few blocks
in silence, Dominique looking back frequently, gauging the distance between
he and his home corner, constantly reconsidering his decision to come. Quatre
a breathed a small sigh of relief as they stepped onto Seventh Street, he
could now see the Diablo at the far end. Once they were inside, there'd be no
turning back.
"Haven't you got a family you could be with?" he inquired, his voice
calm, soothing.
"None that I would ever want to return to," Dominique replied, sighing
softly.
Quatre nodded, "I can understand that. My family left much to be desired
as well."
"Is that why you're alone?" he asked, treading softly lest he offend his
free ride. "I'm you seem just a little young to be out here on your own."
"I'm alone for a lot of reasons," Quatre said, a hint of darkness in his
voice.
"Oh," he could think of nothing else to say. He looked up at the building
they now stood before. It was black, every brick was coated with a thick
black paint, the windows and sidewalk as well. The only color on the entire
building was the two blood red doors and a sign above them. "Step into the
other side of the night," he read aloud. He looked at Quatre who smiled back
mysteriously, "Sounds like fun."
Quatre almost laughed, but turned his attention towards the bouncer. It
didn't even take words to reveal himself, vampires have an innate sense of
life. Quatre had no vital energy, only what he could steal. The door was
opened for he and his unknowing victim, and they stepped through into a
dangerous world. Inside was a society of killers, and their victims cleverly
disguised as an exclusive club scene. No human entered the Diablo unless they
were led, unless it was clear they wouldn't be coming out. There was one
almost everywhere on Earth, and in every colony, no matter where one wandered
there was a safe haven for their kind.
Normally, Quatre avoided such establishments, preferring to feed from his
own stock of people. When he led battalion, squads, or rebels he would pick
them off slowly, and replace them. When he fabricated families, often he was
left to play the grieved sole survivor of a mysterious plague. The Diablo
felt like a restaurant where innocents were laid before cunning predators. He
felt Dominique hug tightly against him, and smiled. He supposed it had been
intimidating the first he'd ever entered a Diablo. The combination of red or
black lights, the heavy fog and multitude of curtains restricted one's
vision. It made the club seem small, incongruous to the sheer mass of people
inside, vampires rarely passed on, their numbers only increased over time,
and it seemed they were all out tonight.
Quatre started forward, feeling his chest vibrate with the thick base
beat, and he pulled Dominique into a dance, moving ever towards the back of
the club where they could be alone enough to feed discretely. He felt the
better side of his nature rising, and he forced himself to ignore his
sympathy. One in a thousand, he told himself. He set to work enticing
Dominique to let him get close. It was clear the other boy was embarrassed,
Quatre doubted he'd ever danced with a guy before, but he wasn't pulling
away. Quatre put his arms around the boy's waist, showing him how to move and
tugging him closer.
He felt his back press against the wall, and knew he, no, Dominique was
out of time. "Will you let me kiss you?" he asked softly, whispering into the
other boy's ear.
Dominique was silent, staring at him and breathing harshly, before
leaning forward. Quatre closed his eyes as their lips met, but opened them
immediately. In his mind there was Trowa and a sense that he was being
unfaithful, in reality there was Dominique and an ugly task before him.
"Dominique," he whispered, as he had many times before he subtly moved his
kisses downward, finally resting his lips against Dominique's neck, feeling
the vein thudding against his lips. "I'm sorry," he sighed, and bit.
As he fed, he realized Dominique he wanted death, there wasn't a single
struggle or noise. Quatre finished him quickly. Solemnly, he arranged his
victim on the floor, making it seem as if he had simply passed out. When the
night was over the club would be cleared, and the bodies quietly and
efficiently disposed of.
He didn't want to linger, circumventing the crowd and moving along the
walls, the noise was killing him. His ears were too sharp, he couldn't help
but hear snippets of conversations, but was unable to focus on any one of
them. He couldn't imagine how one could simply ignore the constant murmur.
They were all unfamiliar voices, many telling lies, and as soon as he focused
one, he was distracted by another. He was near the door, and thankful to be
near freedom even if it was only to solitude.
"You're quite exquisite, you know that?" Quatre stopped dead his tracks.
I know that voice! His eyes narrowed and he scanned the crowd all around
him, but there was no one he knew. That phrase... it was said to me... long
ago.
He turned slowly in a circle searching out that voice, he thought he'd
lost it, perhaps even dreamed it. He closed his eyes and tried to calm
himself. "Such exquisite sadness, it's almost the reason you're so beautiful."
His eyes snapped open, "Lucien," he whispered. His whole body tightened,
and a small crease formed between brows. "Lucien is *here.*" The very thought
was troubling, he turned, wanting to leave before he could even see the gold
haired bastard again. "What's your name?" the voice asked, taunting him as he
fled.
"Trowa."
Quatre whipped about, Allah, no! Trowa's with that monster? Shimatta,
there isn't much time. Quatre never considered himself a hunter, but as he
used his every dark skill he knew what he was, a predator, an elevated,
nocturnal beast. It didn't seem to matter so long as they led him to Trowa.
He followed the conversation, panicking at every pause.
"What brings you to such a place, Trowa?" the thick, deep voice was
dripping with false sincerity.
"I've lost... something," the answer was so soft, as if Trowa knew he
were in danger.
"Someone, you mean?" Quatre could almost feel the moment of feeding was
getting closer.
"Hai," the response was a soft whisper, barely audible in the noise.
Quatre knew he was close and began to systematically search through the
crowd, until at last he saw them. "You've found me, now," the voice echoed in
his ears. He saw him, Trowa and his most hated enemy together in one of the
booths along the wall. Lucien was leaning forward, Trowa didn't move, a tight
frown on his face. Quatre ran the distance between them, wrenching Trowa
away.
Two voices called his name, one true, one false. Trowa's anguished cry of
"Quatre" ripped his heart apart, and Lucien's amused whisper of "Aurel" set
it aflame.
He clamped one hand on Trowa's wrist, and hid the taller boy behind him,
not bothering to explain anything only staring at Lucien waiting.
"Aurel," he said again. "You've been running from me for so long, and yet
tonight you come? And simply to save a mortal? Ch', you were always stupid.
It's against Blood Law to steal another's food."
"Don't you dare call him that," Quatre hissed.
Lucien's forked eyebrows raised, "You've broken more than one Blood Law,
haven't you?" He slowly got up from the booth, and moved to stand over
Quatre. "Taken a human lover?"
"And if I have?" Quatre asked, undaunted by Lucien's greater size.
"Well, then you must be punished," Lucien smiled with a grim
satisfaction. "We are a society, you know? And you've fought for such lofty
ideals, my pet-"
"I am not your pet!" Quatre shouted. "I was never your pet, you may have
owned me by law, but I was never yours. You've punished me enough, any sin I
could dream of committing was paid for when you made me what I am!"
"You were always so lovely when you got angry," he smirked. "Always
defiant, always fighting. I became Trieze Khushrenada simply to fight you, to
hurt you again, and see you come back for more. I'd never give that up."
"Let me go, just this once. Let me have just one thing," Quatre begged.
"You made me love you once, enough to play for you. Was it all a lie?"
Lucien's eyes dropped for the first time, and Quatre reached his other
arm around to small of Trowa's back. "Every word a lie," he said finally, an
unnamable emotion in his voice. "But I'll let you go... if you give me that
beauty behind you. He'll die soon enough, be it a one day or a hundred, why
bother in postponing it?"
Quatre clenched his teeth to keep from shouting in anger. "Ne-ver," he
spat out the word in two halves.
"Then I have no choice but to report this to the Council. You'll both be
killed, and there'll be no escaping this place." Lucien smiled again, "I
should have killed you all those years ago... but I'm so glad I didn't. I
want to see your face when they crucify you and your lover."
Lucien started to move, and Quatre snapped into action. In the space of a
second, he grabbed the gun he knew was hidden in Trowa's jeans, aimed at
Lucien's heart, and fired. Bullets couldn't kill a vampire, but they hurt
like hell, Quatre knew this from experience. The sound reverberated through
the club, and the sound of human voices reacted. Hundreds of humans ran for
the doors, vampires trailing their unclaimed victims. Quatre dropped the gun,
and ran, dragging Trowa with him, moving against the crowd until he hit the
back wall. With a growl of frustration he ripped the curtains down and found
the emergency exit. Alarms sounded, and he knew there would be no one
lingering. The authorities would come, and any vampires, out for his blood or
not, would not want to greet them.
He ran down the alley a bit, stopping only when Trowa pulled his hand
away. "Trowa?" he asked turning.
The other boy was breathing hard, glaring at him. "Why did you do that?"
he demanded.
Quatre blinked in surprise, "I - I saved you. Lucien would have *killed*
you. I couldn't-"
"I know you couldn't, that's why I wanted him to do it," Trowa
interjected.
Quatre tried to speak, but his heart was being clenched to tightly in an
unseen fist. He wanted to die, Allah, why? Because of what I did? "Why,
how could you *want* that? Don't you-"
"You left me Quatre, lied to me. I thought you were different, I really
believed you loved me, but I understood the morning I woke up alone. You used
me, like all those before. Why you left me alive to endure such a nightmare
is beyond me. You should have killed me, you should've-"
"No!" Quatre shouted, finally bursting. He pushed Trowa back against the
alley. "Trowa don't you dare! Don't you dare believe that! You just... you
couldn't understand," he said through clenched teeth. "You are the only
person I have ever loved. My mother died before I knew her name, my father
sold me to the monster that made me what I am, and ever since then I have
been alone. I surrounded myself with false families, false friends, false
lovers, but in the end I always discarded them for whatever role I wanted to
play next. You, Trowa, you were different, real. Everything I said I felt, I
meant. You are the only one, Trowa. The only one I have ever loved, and the
only one who has ever truly loved me." His words so quiet now, having burned
off his fire in the first few declarations. He was left raw, utterly exposed
and unable to fight the two red tears that slid down his cheeks. He let go of
Trowa to wipe it away.
"Why did you leave?" Trowa asked, his voice barely breaking through the
still air.
"You mean so much to me, Trowa. Everything, really, and I won't let
anyone hurt you. Not the war, not another vampire, and most certainly not
myself. My indiscretion, my weakness to deny all that I wanted for you could
have gotten us both killed. You have to understand, I only did what had to be
done. It broke my heart, but losing you would kill me even if they spared my
life." He caught Trowa's hand in his, kissing the palm in an old gesture of
reverence.
"You could have told me," Trowa insisted, curling his fingers against
Quatre's cheek. He shivered slightly in the cold, his jacket still inside the
club, Quatre pulled him close to keep him warm, sensing no resistance.
"It needed to be a clean break, any promises or regrets would have drawn
me back too soon. I trusted, though, I trusted that you loved me." Trowa's
arms came up now, first hugging him tightly, then resting on his shoulders.
"It's all ruined," he breathed. "Whatever plans we might have had are
destroyed now. Lucien will be very, very angry, he won't rest until-"
"Don't say it," Trowa pleaded, closing his eyes tightly.
Quatre pulled away and kissed Trowa twice, one chaste, another deeper. "I
meant it, no harm will ever come to you so long as I'm alive. I'll get you to
safety and deal with Lucien myself."
"Aurel-"
"Iie, Quatre," he corrected. "I'm your Quatre now, and always." He
turned, keeping one arm around Trowa's waist, pulling him along. "We've got
to get out of here." They left the alleyway, Quatre holding Trowa so tightly
it made it almost hard to walk side by side. Lucien still thinks I'm a
child, but I can put up a much better fight than last time. He won't take
him, I'll die before I let that happen. He won't steal all that I care about,
not again.
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Part Six