Standard Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Sentinel characters, unless someone has a big, big surprise for me. I likewise stake (get it? LOL!) no claim on any vampy bits that may have been borrowed from other sources. This is strictly for my own personal amusement, and hopefully yours.
Slept So Long, by Jonathan Davis
Walking, waiting
Alone without a care
Hoping, and hating
Things that I can't bear
Did you think it's cool to walk right up
To take my life and fuck it up
Well did you
Well did you
I see hell in your eyes
Taken in by surprise
Touching you makes me feel alive
Touching you makes me die inside
Walking, waiting
Alone without a care
Hoping, and hating
Things that I can't bear
Did you think its cool to walk right up
To take my life and fuck it up
Well did you
I hate you
I see hell in your eyes
Taken in by surprise
Touching you makes me feel alive
Touching you makes me die inside
I've slept so long without you
It's tearing me apart, too
How to get this far
Playing games with this old heart
I've killed a million petty souls
But I couldn't kill you
I've slept so long without you
I see Hell in your eyes
Taken in by surprise
Touching you makes me feel alive
Touching you makes me die inside
I see Hell in your eyes
Taken in by surprise
Touching you makes me feel alive
Touching you makes me die inside
It was half past midnight and Club Doom was packed to capacity. It was Friday night – well, Saturday morning now – and the busiest night as people strove to shed the shackles of the work week. The booze was flowing, the speakers were pumping out bass-heavy techno songs, and most of the mortals were looking to get lucky, either with their own kind or maybe one of the vamps moving sinuously on the dance floor; just enough of them scored so that more would come back, and bring their friends. Separating mortals from their money was a fairly easy business, particularly when they got a thrill from walking on the wild side. And they always got a thrill, because just enough fang was flashed under the strobe lights to keep things interesting.
Jim Ellison watched it all with lazy detachment through the one-way glass in his office. It was the same, night after night, and he did his best to keep it that way. Mortals came to Club Doom because it was just edgy enough without being outright dangerous, like similar clubs in Seattle and Portland. It was his job to keep everything running smoothly, and not just because he was the owner.
"He's back again," Jim said, his gaze turned toward the bar. A burly man stood there, putting his hands on whatever female ass was nearby. The vamps on payroll were under a strict hands-off policy, but one of the mortal women slapped him across the face.
"Third strike. Take him out, make sure David knows he's banned."
Jim received a sharp nod and a predatory grin from Sharyn McKay, his head of security and closest ally. She'd been spoiling for a fight lately and this would let her blow off some steam. He watched her through the glass, smirking. It was impossible not to notice her, even in the dim lighting. Black, spiky hair and a black leather catsuit made her normally pale skin seem to glow by contrast. The thin platinum hoop in her lip glinted off the overhead lights as she sidled up to the handsy drunk.
"Time to go, plasma bag," she purred. As soon as the guy raised his hand to touch her, she grabbed him and instantly had him on his knees; Sharyn knew every pressure point on the human body and had no compunctions about using them.
She was drawing attention, Jim noted, and knew it was the right kind. It showed that the club took care of its patrons, at least those that behaved themselves. You're safe here, was the message conveyed. When Sharyn hauled the guy to his feet and dragged him out the front door, there was applause. Jim knew she was hoping he'd come at her once she got him out, and didn't much care what happened as long as she didn't kill him and it happened outside the club. She'd been working hard and deserved some fun.
Jim turned to the two computer monitors sitting side-by-side on the corner of his desk. Images from the private rooms were monitored here, for his eyes only. These rooms were available for feedings or sex, though the two were almost always enjoyed concurrently when vamps were involved. A male vamp had to feed before he could get it up, though there was pleasure to be had either way. Jim kept an eye on proceedings to make sure nothing got out of hand, though he'd be lying if he said he didn't get a vicarious thrill out of it from time to time.
"Hey, Boss." Kyle poked his shaggy blonde head through the office door. "Couple out-of-towners, here to check in."
Jim had sensed them an hour ago, a low-level hum of power riding along the skin on his arms. They had taken their time, scoping out the club and talking to some of the vamp employees. He was willing to let that slide, though if it had been much longer there would have been a penalty to be paid. There were rules of etiquette, even amongst the undead.
"Send them back." Jim swiveled in his chair and leaned back, arms behind his head. It was always best to start casual, that seemed to put people and vamps alike at ease. So did his office, decorated in layers of gray with splashes of indigo and electric blue here and there; he didn't play up the reds like many of the others did. The seating was a mix of comfort and style, all curves and soft lines. He preferred casual even in his choice of clothing – tonight, tight black jeans and a loose silk shirt in a shade of cobalt blue that set off the blue of his eyes. The only jewelry he wore was a thin leather cord around his neck, from which hung a tiny black vial.
The office door opened again, and Sharyn preceded the male and female that had come to seek him out, taking her place at Jim's side. The relationship between the newcomers was apparent at first glance, more so when the woman stepped up to Jim's desk and bowed her head respectfully while the man knelt behind her, forehead nearly touching the floor.
"Master of the City of Cascade, we come seeking residence in your territory. Respectfully and without design." The woman kept her head down, face obscured by a mass of red curls.
"Who are you, and where have you traveled from?"
"I am Cassandra Wells. I have come here from Los Angeles."
"And your puppy?"
"He is nothing of consequence."
Jim nodded his understanding. The man was well-built, well-dressed, and wearing a thick gold collar that marked him as property. As such, he was below any further scrutiny.
"Why do you seek out my territory?" Jim asked, resting his elbows on the desk. He already knew the answer. "You may look at me."
Cassandra raised her head. She had hazel eyes and high cheek bones, not beautiful but attractive.
"There is a void of power in Los Angeles, and it is dangerous for our kind there. It is said that the Master of Cascade is benevolent, and keeps the city safe for us."
Jim nodded. He'd heard things in LA were pretty dicey right now. The old Master had been assassinated and there were several vamps now fighting for the position. It was a matter for the Council, but they were being typically slow to respond. It would be bad if the conflict continued much longer; mortals held a dim view of vampire politics, particularly when it put them at risk. Regent Cade needed to step in during the interim, before complete chaos set in.
"What will you be doing in my city, should I grant you acceptance?"
"In Los Angeles I worked with the police department as a forensics specialist. I would offer my skills here as well."
Jim studied her, considering. The newly formed Vampire Crimes Unit could use the help. There weren't many vamps trained in forensics, so it was a useful skill.
"I will grant you a trial stay, no more than three months. If you adhere to my rules, I will let you remain as long as you like. In the meantime, I'll contact Police Chief Banks and let him know of your offer." He stood up now, using his height to his advantage. "If you do anything to make me regret this opportunity, you'll get no second chances."
He let his own power sizzle out into the room, backing up his words with a silent promise. Though he was young by vamp standards – some of the Masters were three times his age – he had an edge, a little something extra that added to his juice, made him a more formidable force. There were not many that would challenge him, though it did happen occasionally; he had yet to be defeated.
"Understood, Master." Cassandra bowed her head again, hands clasped loosely at her back.
"Sharyn, the rules please."
"There will be no violence against the mortals." Sharyn ticked each item off on her fingers. "There will be no violence against other vampires, unless a challenge has been issued. All disputes will be brought before the Master of the City. Blood may be taken from donors only; no hunting. You are to notify the Master of the City as soon as you have a permanent residence. During your probation you will be subject to random visits to both your residence and your place of business. Once your probation is over, you will swear your allegiance to the Master of the City and through him the Regent of Washington."
"I understand," Cassandra said obediently.
Jim tapped the intercom on his desk. "Kyle. Two ID cards, please."
"Yes, Boss."
"I'll be checking up on you," he said to Cassandra. "Make sure your puppy knows the rules as well. His infractions will be yours."
"Yes, Master."
Sharyn showed them both out. They would be photographed, their information filed electronically. All resident vamps were required to have a photo ID on them at all times; those without permission to be in the city would face stiff consequences if caught. And Jim almost always caught them.
He turned back to the glass, watching the lithe bodies dancing under the lights, and those standing by the bar or sitting at little tables scattered around the dance floor. To Jim's sharp eyes, they all seemed hungry. For attention, for companionship, for sex…for blood. None of it appealed to him, except the blood. There were nights when he missed the hunt, missed the chase, but times had changed. He had occasional lovers, none of them mortal, but that was merely to scratch an itch. There was no desire for a day-to-day companion; too much work, too much of his treasured privacy lost. Some days it was all he could do to tolerate Sharyn, and she was more than just his lieutenant; she was his friend, despite the fact that she looked no more than sixteen years old.
Half an hour later he was still standing there, watching without really seeing, listening to conversations taking place throughout the club. His office was soundproofed against the keen hearing of other vampires, but his highly sensitive ears were not deterred by such a barrier. Only Sharyn, currently walking the perimeter with an eye out for trouble, knew he could hear everything out in the club from here, and that's the way he wanted to keep things. It was extraordinarily useful to be able to eavesdrop on your employees.
He heard it, then. Just a mortal heartbeat, one of many, but it made his body twitch as if remembering what it was to gasp for a breath that was no longer needed. More than just the rhythmic pumping of blood, it was like a particularly well-rendered guitar riff. He wanted to hear more, so he opened his hearing even further. The voice that belonged to the heartbeat was speaking, and it was a male voice. Deep and pleasant to listen to, and he found himself doing just that without actually hearing a single word the man was saying.
"Boss?" Kyle stuck his head back in the door; he never knocked. "Got a guy out here asking for an audience with you."
"What does he want?"
"He's writing a book. Said he had some questions for you."
Jim sighed. Someone was always writing a book, as if there could possibly be more to say on the subject of vampires. It was tiresome. Still, that heartbeat intrigued him.
"I'll see him." He remained standing, arms crossed in front of his chest. He had little patience for the writers of vampire books, be they fact or lurid fiction. He expected the author to be another slick, Goth-wannabe; he was pleasantly surprised.
The man Kyle showed into the office was short and lean, with a mass of curly brown hair and eyes such a deep, clear blue that Jim wondered if they were colored contacts; his enhanced vision told him they were not. He wore a pair of faded jeans with holes in the knee and a white thermal long-sleeved shirt under a black leather jacket. Jim sniffed the air unobtrusively, scenting the stranger that now stood in front of him. Sweat, herbal shampoo, cucumber body wash, and underlying all that the smell of living flesh with blood thrumming close to the surface, metallic and delicious.
"Hey…uh…should I bow or something?" he asked, shifting from foot to foot.
"That won't be necessary."
"Oh, well, good. Blair Sandburg." The curly-headed author stuck out his hand. Jim regarded it for a moment, amused, and then shook it. He could feel the heat pouring off his skin, that one touch so full of life it was staggering. This was no mere mortal, and his curiosity was definitely aroused.
"Please have a seat." Jim gestured to a grouping of wing back chairs, sinking down into one himself. "What can I do for you?"
Blair sat opposite him, but he seemed unable to keep himself still. His leg jittered and he tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. Jim might have chalked it up to nerves, but the other man was making eye contact with him and that was something most mortals were too afraid to do. Likewise, his heart rate and respirations were slightly elevated but steady.
"So you're Jim Ellison? The Master of the City and all that?"
"Yes."
"You are so not what I was expecting, man." Blair ran a hand through his hair, momentarily pushing the curls away; a glint of silver winked at his wrist. No-one could match a vampire for complete stillness but Jim's eyes couldn't help following that movement.
"Sorry to disappoint," Jim replied dryly.
"No, no! I didn't mean it like that!" Blair held up his hands in a placating gesture. "It's just, the others…they projected the accepted media image of a vampire. Leather, ruffles, that kind of thing."
"Others?" Jim asked, raising one eyebrow.
"Yeah. The other Masters. I've interviewed probably six or so of them. Although, actually, the Master of Memphis had a whole evil Elvis thing going on that was kind of interesting. I mean, sure, it was creepy, but points for originality, right?"
Jim was surprised, and that wasn't something that happened often. This guy – a kid, really, he couldn't be much older than twenty seven or twenty eight – had met with that many Masters and lived to tell about it? He himself had met many of them, and more than a few had been crazy. Or depraved, or both. It was easy to let yourself get twisted up in the dark side of things when you were staring eternity in the face. He'd probably be just like them in another century or two.
"What is your book about?" Jim asked, honestly curious. Especially when he heard Blair's heart rate speed up.
"Well, you know, my focus is on…ah…heightened senses."
There was no reason he should've been nervous about his subject matter, except that it had been covered by other authors in the past. Mortals were so interested in every aspect of being a vampire; he was surprised more of them didn't ask to be turned.
"There's nothing much new to say on that topic, is there?" he asked. Blair leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and studied Jim closely.
"Better eyesight, better hearing, dizzying speed. Glamour. I'm not talking about any of that. Maybe…you've heard of a vamp that has others?"
"Others?" Jim settled back in his chair, amused. "We don't turn into bats or mist. We can't fly; even vampires have to obey the laws of physics. And we're not all sex-craved nymphomaniacs."
Blair laughed, and Jim found himself opening up hearing just a bit so that he could take it in. There was nothing this mortal did that wasn't somehow compelling to him, and he had no idea why; it made him uneasy.
"You've got a pretty good sense of humor, man," the mortal said. "You don't find that too much with other Masters."
"I'm not as old as other Masters."
"Yeah, well, I'm looking for something…different. Heightened senses beyond the vamp norm. Smell, for example. Or taste."
Jim's amusement dried up in an instant and he narrowed his eyes at his guest, listening for signs of a trap. He detected no changes in Blair's physiology that would indicate he was planning something, or trying to catch him out. Still, Sharyn was one of only two vamps alive who knew of his additional gifts and he intended to keep it that way.
"Vampires don't have heightened smell or taste," he said stiffly.
This time Blair studied him, head tipped ever so slightly to the side. "You're lying," he murmured. "And I understand why you have to. But you can trust me."
Jim let some of his power seep out, enough for even a mortal to feel it skipping over his skin, and fixed a steely stare at the would-be author. "This interview is over."
"Jeez, take it easy!" Blair rubbed at his arms, and Jim could see that the fine hairs on them standing up.
Without needing to summon her, Sharyn suddenly appeared at the door. "Your bidding, Master?" She gave him a look and he knew she was wondering why he'd sent his power out into the room.
"Please escort Mr. Sandburg out and assure he gets safely to his vehicle," Jim said, standing.
Sharyn wrapped one slender hand around Blair's bicep and pulled him to his feet. He tried to get his arm loose, but she had a steely grip. "Right this way, Mr. Sandburg."
"No, wait, listen!" Blair continued to struggle as Sharyn pulled him out the door. "This is really important, here!"
Jim closed the door on his protests, leaning his forehead against the cool wood. Part of him hadn't wanted to send Blair away, though instinct told him the man would be back. He wanted something that Jim wasn't prepared to give him, something no other creature, living or dead, could ever know.
The important question was how this young mortal had discovered that Jim was a Sentinel as well as a vampire. He knew there was no written record of it; his Making had been kept a secret from mortals and vamps alike. So why was Blair asking questions? Clearly he was fishing, if he was interviewing other Masters. So he knew the vagaries, perhaps, but had no name to pin on it. It would be the only thing that saved his life. For now.
Jim sat back down, feet propped up on the edge of his desk. He watched the monitors without really seeing them. It had been more years than he could remember since he'd been honestly surprised, and Blair Sandburg seemed like he would be full of surprises. Without realizing he was even doing it, Jim took a deep and completely unnecessary breath, drinking in the faint remnants of cucumbers and mortal musk that lingered in the air. And smiled.
AN: Smiles2Go is completely responsible for this fic. She brought vamps into the conversation, made me think about them, and BAM! Another dang bunny bites me on the leg. Pretty sure it was Bunnicula, too. ::grins::
This was going to just be a shortish songfic, but I gave in to peer pressure and broke it out into its own fic. Which turned out to be good, because now I can expand things a bit more without having to worry about length.
Many sources have probably influenced this songfic. Including the Anita Blake Vampire Hunter novels by Laurell K. Hamilton (supernatural porn at it's best, by the way), the Sookie Stackhouse novels by Charlaine Harris, Moonlight starring the ever adorable Alex O'Loughlin, and possibly even Lost Boys, my fave vamp movie of all time. Rest assured, though, that Vampire Jim will NOT sparkle. LOL!
This fic will be my first that is posted concurrently here and over at Archive of our Own. If things turn explicit at any time during this fic, and I don't know for sure yet if they will, all the good parts will be posted on Archive and will be edited out for responsible FF posting. ::insert sarcasm here:: But I'll let you know if or when that happens.