Title: Interlude with a Vampire
Author: SrslyNo
Summary: Set nearly 200 years in the future, House tells a tale about the first time he goes to a vampire ball as Wilson's plus one.
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: PG-13 so far. Maybe R for language later?
Warning: AU.
Disclaimer: Not mine or ever will be. Just playing with my House and Wilson dolls.
A/N: Part of the Blood Brothers verse, but this fic is stand-alone. No need to read any other stories. This is my contribution for Halloween. Kind of ran behind on this because of, "In His Footsteps," so updates will come quickly. As you can tell, there is a small homage to "Interview with a Vampire." Not beta'd.
Concrit welcome.
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In the Year 2525 (Song and lyrics by Zager and Evans)
"In the year 2525, if man is still alive
If woman can survive…"
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Ano Domini: 2525
He was in a good part of town in a city from hell.
The hospital made it so. Light streamed through the windows as homeless camped outside its walls. They did the best they could with scavenged bits of cloth and paper to protect their skin from the green rain slicked sidewalks.
The clinic was the only beacon in a world of twilight. Brimstone cinder clouds pressed gray fog against the cityscape, imprisoning the bloodless, bleeders, and bloodsuckers alike.
The bleeder was rushing to an appointment in the building across from the glowing edifice. He didn't want to be late. It was important to make a good impression.
His death depended on it.
With his goal in sight, he stopped to gaze at the two-wheeled transport parked at the crumbling curb. It was a glorious machine. He never saw one before except in the bibliotechno centers.
All black titanium and carbon paper construction. He wanted to rub his hand over the imitation leather seat, but knew better by the dead vermin around its perimeter. A security net protected it.
As if to prove him right, a rat scurried to check on its fallen comrades only to be skewered by a jagged bolt of sizzling silver-blue light.
"Rest in hell. Don't forget to write," the old phrase slipped out of his lips without thinking. It must be because he was so close to his goal. He nervously massaged the base of his neck though there was no pain.
Checking the instructions again. Yes, this was the building. The only one with spires, arched doors and windows in the vicinity. There was no cross. Of course, there would be none. Not if lords lived here.
First sending a warning knock through the ancient cavern, he opened the heavy weather-beaten door. It groaned a welcome.
As he stepped inside, wings fluttered high above in the rafters wafting back whispered, winged applause.
His footsteps crunched against the sand and debris from the old stone walls as he trod down a slate aisle focusing his attention on the remains of a rose window. Not a trace of glass was left, and it would be a waste anyway. The sky was too dark to create a colored shadow. Now, the remaining lead tattooed its pattern onto the clouds beyond.
Below the window was the platform and the alter.
In front of the alter there was a chair.
In the chair was his lordship, a prince. A bloodsucker.
Striking and strong. Infused with health. Everything bleeders were not.
Cockroaches and vampires thrived in this world.
His lordship sat on his throne. Short cropped white hair framing a long face with fierce blue eyes, and a light beard softening the rugged lines of his cheeks and chin. The man struck a princely pose with his elbow on the arm of the chair and his head propped up by his fist. He was dressed all in black linen, denim and leather. Genuine by the old-fashioned cut and the wear-and-tear. A shirt peeked through a long leather duster and spotless motorcycle boots shod his feet.
No doubt about it. This was one of the Borgia family lieutenants.
The young man controlled his trembling and paid his respects, "My lord, I'm Franklin Jennings."
The blue eyes rolled skyward, then the voice all sand and crushed glass spoke with annoyance, "Who else would you be, you idiot?! Do you see anyone else around?"
The bleeder began to stumble an apology, "b-but…"
The Prince straightened in his chair. "Don't waste the oxygen supply. You submitted a candidacy application to become a Borgia vampire? Tell me why?"
Drawing a sheath of papers from under his coat, the dark haired man looked at the floor as he held them out, "My genealogy, my lord. My family directly descends from the bleeder side of the Borgia's."
The papers were snatched from his hand. He stumbled forward as the vampire pulled him close.
"Papers can lie, but you're body can't. I need to examine you."
Cool sure hands ran the sleeves back up his arms as his mottled flesh was inspected. A fingernail scratched his wrist and a drop of blood was sniffed and tasted. The rest smeared onto a square of white cotton.
Next, his collar was pulled back and the same chilled flesh swiped his neck and shoulders. Finally, a flick of a fingertip, and his shirt was undone. His gaunt chest exposed to the same treatment.
The vampire nodded, releasing him. "Alright. I've seen enough unless you want to drop your pants. That's your option."
There was a wet smacking sound near Jennings' foot. He looked, and right between his shoe and his lordship's boot was a blob of black goo. His instinct to look up was prevented by a hand on the top of his head. "Better not. It seems my pet, Bela is having bowel problems again. You might get bat shit in your eye.
"So." The prince sat further back in his seat and steepled his fingers, "You want to be embraced, and none too soon." He snapped his fingers, and a small creature perched on his shoulder emitting a high-pitched squeal.
Startled, Jennings stepped back, but the vampire stopped him with an upraised hand, "Don't be afraid of Bela." The bloodied cotton was waived in front of the diminutive wet nose, and small pointy teeth seized it and flew off with another scream. "He's the smartest pet I ever owned. Of course, there was Steve, but what is a bat if not a rat with wings."
Another wet plop landed on the top edge of the chair back close to the snowy head. The prince, never looked up, but yelled out into the empty vault, "Missed! Now get going! I don't want to spend all evening entertaining this whelp."
Leaning forward, the vampire's sapphire eyes softened, "We have to wait for official results, but I can tell you the preliminary findings. Do you want the good news first, or the bad news?"
Wetting his lips, Jennings opened his mouth…
"Stop!" The prince shook his head, "That's a rhetorical question you, moron. Everybody wants the bad news first.
"The bad is…you're in the late stages of EA, environmental autoimmune, and unless you are turned, you're going to die a slow and painful death."
Jennings had suspicions the disease finally caught up with him. He was 24 and considered old. It was about time he paid for the sins of his fathers, but his throat went dry anyway as he tried to digest the diagnosis.
Now for the good. I sensed a scintilla of Borgia blood in the test sample. Which means, you may be lucky enough to die quickly at the hands of a vampire. Serve a short sentence agonizing in hell, and then rise again as one of the undead."
The Prince's eyes sparkled with silver as he flicked a tongue across his strong white teeth, and viper's fangs sprang out. "Today may be your lucky day."
The human squirmed, "Uh, that soon? I, uh, still have to make arrangements."
"Arrangements? It's not like you're going anywhere. Unless you prefer dying permanently from EA, then you need arrangements." There was an edge to his lordship's voice. He was getting suspicious.
Wiping the sweat away from his forehead, Jennings begged, "This is moving much faster then I thought. Wha-what about the agonizing hell part? How long does that take?"
The white-haired man shrugged, "It's all relative. Twenty-four hours human time, but a century to a rookie vamp. There is no free lunch, unless you have a friend named Wilson."
"Wilson?"
A smile lit the grim lips, but the eyes became sad, "Ah Wilson. My sire. Unfortunately no longer with us."
Jennings clutched at the news. Perhaps he could get his lordship to talk, and at the same time figure an excuse how to get away. "Wilson. You mean, the other Borgia lieutenant? He's gone? Both of you are legend. There are tales about how the two of you guarded the 'Family' ring. It's only you, now?"
Anger swept over the vampire's visage as he spat, "Tell me! How do you know about the ring?!"
Arms held down by his side palms facing out, Jennings body language radiated innocence, "N-Nothing. Only stories passed down from my mother. That it's ma-magical. It holds the key to 'La Famiglia's' power."
The vampire was in his face, "Hush! If you know that much then you should know as a bleeder you have no right to talk about such things. Only vampires have that right."
Jennings knew he pushed the sound barrier to breaking, but did not think he had much to lose, "Since you're a vampire, and we're sort of kin, why don't you fill me in?"
The lieutenant smiled cynically, "Oh sure, that's gonna work." He sighed, "But we do have time to kill, and you reminded me of Wilson. I could tell you one harmless tale while we wait. Would you like to hear about the first time Wilson and I saw the ring?"
The vampire's eyes glittered at the memory as he sat back into his chair to begin his yarn, "It was a dark and stormy night at 'La Famiglia's reunion ball. The theme was, 'Come as You Were,' and it took place nearly two hundred years ago. The masquerade was always held on the eve of Halloween…"
tbc
Thank you for reading. Comments always welcome.