Was there a life before Delmascus? Kyle laid his head in the vampire's lap as he stroked Kyle's short blonde hair. He had the vague thought that there was someone or something else important he was supposed to remember, but any time the memory come close to forming in his head, Delmascus' hand cleared it away again.
Delmascus leaned back in his heavily pillowed bed, his other hand stroking the thickly toned muscle of a woman's leg that lay near him. "Lidda, you will let me know as soon as the hunter reveals himself, won't you? I have a feeling that he won't let this prized puppy stay in my hands for too long."
Lidda rolled over to face Delmascus, causing his hand to slip off her leg. She nodded, but stayed quiet.
Delmascus touched Kyle's eyebrow ring, then his thumb traveled down until it glided over his lip. "Open your mouth." Kyle obediently opened his mouth and revealed the tongue stud. "As I thought. I bet that would feel amazing."
Lidda cocked her head, her blank eyes looking at them. "I don't understand. You say you hate dogs, you go to dog fights, but you want to have sex with this dog?"
Delmascus sneered at her. "You don't understand anything! What I do in here is neither your concern nor that of the council's."
"If you like dogs, why don't you have a pen like the other families?" She asked, using her own arms to pillow her head.
"Dogs like me. I have told you, Lidda, we all have our gifts." He turned back to Kyle, stroking his hair. "I'm not some foolhardy vampire who needs a pack of dogs to show status. Mala may have a point with finding a better use for these dogs, rather than just for entertainment, but I'm not about to throw out the old ways for her cause."
Lidda smiled, for once looking animated as she said, "The hunter, he will come for the dog. I don't know when, though."
Delmascus got up out of the bed. "Good, Lidda. It seems my hunch was right, give a rat a little cheese and he'll come right into the trap." They left the room, closing and locking the door behind them.
Without Delmascus' constant touch clouding his thoughts, the cogs in Kyle's mind began to turn as he finally figured out where he was and how he had gotten there. He looked around the room to see he was in a large bed chamber, with thick draperies around the bay doors and large Tiffany light fixtures along the walls. The bed was made, the oversized comforter draping to the ground while the decorative pillows lay slightly askew. Kyle shook his head and let out a hushed realization, "Logan." Where was he? Had he been hurt? Was he captured as well?
Kyle went to the balcony and threw open the large glass doors. He was at least five stories up. With no plausible way down he shut the window. He sniffed around the room, looking for any other exit he could take, but the large ornate door Delmascus had left from looked to be the only exit. He jiggled the handle, but it was securely locked. After a moment of looking around for a weapon of some kind he heard voices. He glanced over to the fireplace and picked up one of the fireplace pokers.
However, Delmascus was not the first one to enter the room; instead it was the last person Kyle would have expected.
Jace waved at his coworkers as he left the clinic and began walking to his motorcycle. He strapped his helmet on and turned over the engine, making it hum loudly. Work was very therapeutic for Jace, it allowed him to test himself near patients, but without the constant smell of blood a hospital would have. The rehabilitation clinic was stocked with blood regularly from blood drives the facility held, and allowed Jace to use the resources without having to endanger anyone. The days before he had a job all seemed to blend together, but with order and structure, Jace's life was able to have meaning and substance.
Jace slowed as a taxi cab ahead came to a halt and was surprised to find people climbing on top of the car and tearing off the roof. It was a spectacle that Jace couldn't look away from, but before he could even react he saw a figure he recognized very well walking around the taxi's hood and towards a pair that had just tumbled out of the car door. He watched in awe as Delmascus headed towards a blonde man that was sitting in the middle of the street, looking intensely at him.
It was Kyle; Jace was almost sure of it as he glanced in his direction once more before turning his attention back towards Delmascus. Jace debated with himself as Kyle walked with Delmascus to his car, and then jumped into action. Revving his engine Jace raced towards Kyle, but it was too late. The car was already speeding off, but the other man from the taxi was still struggling with another vampire.
Jace pulled up next to him yelled, "Get on!"
The man looked at the destroyed taxi, and seemed to hesitate for a moment before deciding to jump on. He grabbed Jace around the waist as they sped off away from the crash and in the opposite direction of where Delmascus had gone.
"Where are we going?" The man yelled, looking back at the crash.
"I know where they took Kyle; you can't go after him on your own!" Jace yelled back.
"Wait," The man pulled back from Jace, "how do you know Kyle?"
Jace raced, pushing his bike to go over ninety miles an hour, and felt the man behind him grab on tightly to his body. "He's a friend."
They stopped at a restaurant called Bloody Pies and parked around back. Jace took off his helmet and looked more closely at the stranger he'd rescued. "Oh, it's you." Jace felt his teeth beginning to descend and a tingling sensation run through his body. "Kyle said your name was." He pondered for a minute before he remembered, "Logan?"
"So you're Kyle's friend?" Logan leaned against the bike, his hand rubbing his face.
"Yes, we work together," Jace said, finding himself staring at the large veins in Logan's thick neck, loving the way they seemed to spider up the man's throat. "The man that took him, his name is Delmascus."
"I know who he is," Logan snapped, looking at Jace with cloudy red eyes. "Wait a minute!" Logan sniffed Jace, bringing his neck dangerously closer to Jace's mouth. Suddenly Logan threw Jace against the wall. "What are you playing at?" He yelled.
Jace whimpered when he felt the brick wall scratch his back. He looked down at Logan who was flushed red with anger. "I—I'm not," was all he could choke out.
"You think you can hide your true form from me?" Logan growled, tightening his hold on Jace's neck.
"It's not—not like that." Jace felt his fangs getting even longer as he looked down to the torn sleeves to see the bulging muscles and the pulsing veins. He could feel Logan's heart beat through the hands around his neck.
Logan sniffed him, looking slightly disgusted. "Enough." He threw Jace into the nearby trashcans and turned to walk away.
Jace brushed himself off and called to Logan, "Wait! You need someone who can get inside the House of Tauren. You'll never make it if you try to get in by yourself."
Logan looked back at Jace, knitting his eyebrows. "You know where the House of Tauren is?"
"Of course I do. Vampires aren't allowed to live in this district without paying respects to Delmascus." He paused, swallowing the lump forming in his throat. "Anyways, I know him."
"What do you mean you 'know' him?" Logan asked, concerned.
"He's, not so much a friend, but we're on good terms," Jace said backing away from Logan who looked like he might hit him. "Delmascus and I disagree about a lot of things, but he's not crazy. He's a nice guy." Logan started rushing towards Jace, his face murderous, and Jace threw up his hands. "Listen! What I mean is that he wouldn't expect anything from me, he knows me and he wouldn't throw me out. If Kyle is there then I could try to get him out."
"Why would you risk your life for a Lycan?" Logan asked, still looking angry.
Jace smiled. "Kyle is my friend. I haven't fed on live blood in almost fifty years, and most of the bloodlust has left me. I'm not like most vampires, I no longer think only of myself, of the pleasures the earth can give me. I am trying to repent for what I did."
Logan cocked his head. "What did you do?"
"You don't have time for my stories. Now, Logan, why don't you come inside? I'll make us some tea and we can discuss our plan of action."
Colin looked down at his phone and saw there weren't any new messages. He restarted it one last time to make sure he hadn't gotten a text from Rakshasa. With a huff he lay on his bed.
It wasn't doing him any good to lie about the hotel room; he decided to go drinking. Colin kicked himself up with his feet and rolled off the bed, grabbed his wallet and headed out the door. He walked quickly to a nearby bar; after being driven out of the Double Wide, Colin hadn't been back and he knew it was best to steer clear of it. After walking for close to an hour he finally came across a place that was open and looked busy. He headed inside and took a seat at the bar, looking over to see a large crowd huddled around a TV in the back room.
"I need a scotch; well to be honest, I need two." Colin put a ten on the bar and waited for bartender to bring him a glass. After Colin swallowed the first shot and put his glass down for the second one he asked, "What's going on back there?"
The bartender poured the second shot and leaned across the bar. "They're watching the fights. If you want to go back there it's a fifteen dollar cover; you get free drinks though."
Colin's ears perked up at the mention of free drinks and slipped the bartender the fifteen dollars. He stamped Colin's hand and motioned for him to head on back. A woman nearby scoffed and asked the bartender, "Why does he get to go back there?"
The bartender replied, "He had an invitation."
Colin's eyebrow shot up, wondering what he meant. The bouncer outside the room looked Colin over and nodded for Colin to go inside. Right away he felt a different atmosphere. There was a division, people that were closer to the television all had large glasses of what looked like wine, but smelled of blood. The men and woman that watched from those seats all wore classy and elegant clothes.
On the outskirts of the room were much gruffer patrons, and were watching the screen with much more violent enjoyment. Colin got up closer, and a waiter came up and offered him alcohol. Finally Colin got a good view of the screen as he sipped his whiskey, but seeing what was on the screen he almost choked on it.
There on the plasma TV were two werewolves tearing into each other, the larger one was working on ripping out the smaller Lycanthrope's arm. Colin watched with wide eyes as the skin and muscles began bulging and tearing apart until the larger Lycanthrope stood with the detached arm in his hands, blood gushing onto the dirt ground. The smaller werewolf yelped and clutched the bloody stump that had once been his arm while the bigger one turned to the crowd that was watching the battle live. He tossed the arm up over the large fence, which kept the two wolves contained, and watched as the crowd reached for it. Two vampire women snatched the arm from midair and began feasting on it, lapping up the blood from the detached shoulder.
Colin felt as though he was going to be sick and he took a step back. "You're in the way, man!" a gruff man behind him yelled, waving for him to move to the side. Colin complied and stared back at the screen. The bigger werewolf loomed over the smaller one and he was looking at the crowd, getting them to cheer louder as he picked up his victim and brought the crying Lycanthrope's neck to his jaws and ripped it out. In a flood of blood the smaller one gurgled, before twitching and letting out a hissing breath as he died. The larger Lycanthrope pointed the body and its gaping wounds towards the waiting crowd, the spray coating the wire fence and the on lookers who opened their mouths to catch the red blood.
An announcer came into the pit and held up the werewolf's arm. "Ladies and gentleman, this is Alistair's final fight! He has won his freedom! You and your family will no longer be under the House Dev'on."
A woman with large sunglasses and a thick fur coat came up to the beast, smiling coyly at him. Alistair panted, his bloodstained chest rapidly moving up and down as the woman took out a key. Alistair bowed down to her and gave her access to his neck where a metal collar lay. She unlocked the large padlock, and took off the collar, allowing it to fall to the ground with a heavy thud.
Alistair looked at the camera and then towards the door. He walked out with his head high, leaving the pit behind him without looking back.
"Fifteen fights. You have to win fifteen fucking fights to be able to leave their service." One of the gruff patrons sneered. "Still, it's nice to see one of our own make it out."
Colin looked in horror at them. "Why would you watch this?"
"It's exciting. Don't you feel it? The thrill of it all?" someone answered him.
The gruff one smiled. "It may be a vampire pastime, but it still plays to our nature. As I said, it's nice to see one of our own get out of that life. It's about the only way. What's the difference? Run away and you will probably die, but if you fight in the pits at least your family is safe."
"Drink, sirs?" the waiter asked, offering a tray of drinks.
Colin picked up a glass, downed the contents in one swift gulp and left the room in a hurry. He felt the familiar fuzziness in his head, and on normal occasions he would rather stick around and enjoy the bar atmosphere, but he needed to get away.
As Colin was leaving he bumped into a pale man who hissed at him, revealing long and sharp fangs. Colin jumped back as the vampire laughed at him, and swaggered away toward his friends at their table. They looked over at him, and their stares made Colin even more uncomfortable. He knew about vampires, as he had spent too long in their service before. It was the reason he'd left the U.K to begin with.
Colin left the bar, finding his footing was not as stable as he would have hoped. He slouched against the wall of a nearby store, and shook his head. He'd had more to drink in a shorter time before, but he was more than a little tipsy. He took a breath and began walking back towards his hotel.
After about fifteen minutes of stumbling down the road he saw a dog standing in front of him; she was bloody and looked severely hurt. When she noticed his approach she growled, her eyes blazing with rabid anger.
"Okay, wee little lass," he chided. "No need to get your nickers in a bunch." Colin stepped to the side to give the dog space. Their eyes locked and for a moment and Colin was sure he could hear a voice in his head. You! You're the one that stole from Logan.
Colin took a step back, his eyes squinting as he tried to shake the voice out, but again the voice came into his head. I'll … drag you in …
The dog stumbled in front of him and then collapsed. Colin looked at her, confused what to do. She was laying in the middle of the road, just off the sidewalk, and in danger of being hit by a car. Colin sighed to himself, knowing he couldn't just leave her lying there. He picked her up, still stumbling around and started walking back towards the hotel.
The dog groaned in pain as Colin shifted her against his shoulder to unlock and open his room door. He quickly took her into the shower and began washing off the blood. With his cell phone he dialed the only contact he had, Rakshasa.
The voice was soft and welcoming on the other end. "Hello?"
"Hey," Colin whispered, clutching the phone.
"Are you taking a bath Colin?" the voice on the other end asked, followed by as tsk-tsk. "Calling me right before you get naked?"
Colin smiled, feeling his chest getting warm and fuzzy to match his head. "Hey … actually I'm calling because I have a strange request to ask of you. I found this dog … she's hurt pretty bad."
"I'm not a vet, Colin," Rakshasa said, sounding slightly annoyed.
"I know, but you know how to sew better than I."
There was a pause and then Rakshasa finally spoke up, "You're still in the same room, right?"