There is a somewhat bit of lime/lemon in this, you have been warned.

Valentine For A Vampire

Parts VI—XI

Original Written by: Daniel Ransom

KH Redone Version by: Tysonkaiexperiment

VI

For the next two hours they drove through every part of the city imaginable, they'd narrowly missed incoming traffic from the earlier intersection and had gotten away before anyone could point them out. They drove until Riku was nearly out of gas. Past glum slums and palaces; through shopping districts and industrial zones; and along the river where ice shone like glass in moonlight.

Sometimes Sora talked, though little of it made sense, but mostly he alternated between sniffling and sobbing and staring out the window.

Then he slept.

The radio off, the cab gliding along two-lane asphalt, the only manmade object in sight a radio tower with a single red warning line at its top—in this silence his snoring was reassuring because Riku thought, Sora can't be a vampire: vampires don't sleep at night.

Marluxia Katori might have hypnotized him, or voodoo'd him, or drugged him, but he didn't turn Sora into a vampire.

He drove and was hungry suddenly and thought of how good a big slice of double cheese pizza would taste along with a cold mug of beer.

"Have you looked in your rearview mirror yet?" Sora asked, sounding muzzy with sleep.

"Huh?"

"Your mirror. You still don't believe me do you, Riku? So look back at me and then look in your mirror."

So he did. Turned around and saw Sora looking beautiful if slightly mussed in the backseat. Then turned around and looked for his image in the rearview.

And saw nothing.

"My God."

"Pretty crazy, huh?"

"My God." He said again.

"Imagine how I feel." He said, and started sniffling again.

"Then he really did bite you on the—"

"On the arm."

"The arm?"

"It's harder to see the puncture wound on the arm. He laughed about it afterwards. He said the world would know there were vampires if all these women and men walked around with big holes in their necks. Here."

Sora pushed his lovely right arm over the front seat and then pulled up his sleeve and, after pulling up a Band-Aid, showed it to him. By now the teeth marks had scabbed over into what appeared to be a very bad infection of some kind.

"So that." He said, "Was my very special Valentine's gift."

"Why does he do it on Valentine's Day?"

"Because that's when he became a vampire. Four hundred years ago. In London. He's sentimental about that day." He sighed, "I have to admit that part was fascinating."

"What part?"

"Hearing about London four hundred years ago."

"He talked to you?"

"Oh, sure. I mean, after I woke up from the bite—it put me out an hour or so—and after he got me calmed down, we had a pretty regular night. He made me dinner—we had shrimp with black bean sauce; he's a great cook—and then we listened to his big band records and then we talked. Except now he was free to tell the truth about himself, including what London was like in those days." Then suddenly he broke into sobs again.

"Why are you crying? Except for getting turned into a vampire, it sounds like a pretty wonderful night." Riku heard jealousy in his voice.

"Because I haven't told you everything."

"What's everything?"

"That I'm part of his entourage now. Forever."

"His entourage?"

He had to stop crying to tell Riku. Riku took a small box of Kleenex from the front seat and handed it back to Sora. He looked in the rearview again just in case the first time had been a fluke.

It hadn't been.

"He has more than thirty men and women living there at the mansion. They're pretty regular people, for the most part—everything considered, I mean. He keeps them healthy and beautiful and he uses them for sustenance and he uses them for sex and everything's fine as long as he gradually replenishes the supply by adding a new one every Valentine's Day. It's really not a bad life if you like total security—but I hate it, Riku. Already I hate it."

"He has a harem."

"Yes," Sora said, "that's exactly what it is, Riku, a harem. He's the ultimate male chauvinist. He calls the girls vampirettes."

"But I thought vampires—."

"Skulked around alleys? Preyed on young women in the fog? Perched on window ledges disguised as bats?"

"But the night I saw him disappear—."

"It's because you looked in your rearview mirror. The thing about turning yourself into a bat is strictly comic-book stuff. Anyways, he's very squeamish about bugs and rodents and such. Unnaturally so." He paused and stared out the window at the silver hills again.

"I'm going to help you." Riku said.

"Riku, that's so sweet, it really is. But you can't help me."

"There's got to be something—."

"What? Go to the authorities? Even if you did prove to their satisfaction he was a vampire, you'd be dooming me the rest of my life—and it's going to be a long one, Riku, it really is—to be kept in a prison somewhere by the authorities. No. Riku." He leaned up and touched his shoulder, "Please don't do anything. You'd probably only it worse." He paused, "Do you know what time it is?"

"Eight thirty-five."

"Gosh, you'd better get me back to the mansion."

"I thought maybe we could have something to eat. A pizza or something."

"I'd like to but he's very strict about hours."

"Hours?"

"He runs the place like a dorm. We keep all our jobs—sleeping all day is another myth—but we have to be back to the mansion by nine or we get demerits."

"You're kidding."

"No, he's got this big chart in his den. He puts stars by your name—gold if you've been great, blue if you've been good, and black if you've been bad."

"What happens if you get black?"

"I don't know and I'm afraid to find out."

So, not wanting to get Sora a black star, he broke the speed limits getting back to the mansion.

It was 8:57 when he pulled up in front of the iron gates.

He said, "God, Sora, I've got to see you again. I do."

"Even though I'm a vampire?"

"Sora, you could be a werewolf and I wouldn't care. I really wouldn't."

"Oh, Riku." He said, and brought his face to Riku's and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. He felt a few degrees cooler than most human beings, but that was about the only difference.

He looked up at the mansion's spires against the gold disc of the moon.

"Gosh." Sora said, "I wish we could go back to my apartment. We could order in a pizza and snuggle up on the couch and—" He started crying again, "If only I listened to you, Riku."

"You better hurry, Sora," He said, "I don't want you to get a black star."

Miserably, he nodded, "You're right."

As Sora got out of the car and the dome light came on, Riku took his arm and said, "I love you, Sora."

And Sora said what he waited so long to hear in return, "The weird thing is, as soon as I came to last night, the first person I thought about was you, Riku, even before I thought about my parents or my brother or my cats or my lovebirds." He smiled sadly, "I guess that must mean I love you too."

Then he was gone.

VII

The next day Riku called the modeling agency to find out where Sora was working this time, but the woman on the other end said, "Is this her brother again?"

"Uh, yes."

"I checked his files, his brother's not even in the country."

"Oh."

She hung up.

He spent the two hours before work at the library riffling through books on vampires—they had a surprising number of such volumes—but soon discovered that most of them did little more than promote myths. In books, Vampires sulked in alleys, preyed on the fog-enshrouded young women, turned themselves into bats. They didn't—unlike the only vampire Riku knew—cook gourmet meals, play Tommy Dorsey records and give his thirty girlfriends and boyfriends black stars for bad behavior.

He left the library and raced to a pay phone. He got the modeling agency on the phone again—the same woman. As she answered, he slid a handkerchief across the receiver and said, "This is Lieutenant Carstairs from the Fourth Precinct. We need to get in touch with one of your models. A Sir—" He paused, pretending to be looking at a notepad. "A Sir—"

"It's you again, isn't it?"

"Huh?"

"You. The so-called brother. The pest. We've got enough creeps bothering our models. We don't need any more."

She slammed down the receiver.

VIII

That night he sat in front of the mansion, watching the ground fog wrap itself around the turrets and spires of the great stone house, hoping Sora'd try to make some kind of escape and would come rushing out to the gate.

He didn't and Riku just sat there, drinking Diet Pepsis, and then getting out of a cab and taking a pee in thick mulberry bushes where the occupants of passing cars couldn't see him, and then getting back inside the cab for more of his lonely vigil.

Two hours later he ended up on his couch eating Ding-Dongs with skim milk and watching The Tall T with Randolph Scott. He fell asleep with a box of Cracker Jacks on his stomach.

In the morning, exhausted, he put on the only tie he owed and went down to the modeling agency where Sora worked. He also brought a small spiral tablet. A 35-mm. Camera was slung over his tan corduroy jacket.

The woman was about what he expected—short, overly made-up, with a dark-eyed gaze that could melt diamonds. "Yes?" She snapped when he went to take his place at the reception counter.

"I'm Bryant from the Times. I'm supposed to interview one of your models: Sora Kaze."

"The Times? The New York Times?"

He smiled, "I wish my paper was that important. No, I'm afraid I'm with Modeling Times." He hoped that his self-effacing smile would convince her he was telling the truth.

"Never heard of it."

"That's because we haven't published our first issue yet."

Then the woman did something odd. She sat back in her chair, closed her eyes, and put her fingertips to her temples. "Say something."

"What?"

"Say something."

"What do you want me to—"

"It's you!" She said, "The fake brother. The phony cop. Now, you get out of here!" She stood up and pointed to the door, and he had no choice but to comply.

The rest of the day he drove his cab, taking every chance to cruise by the three studios where Sora normally worked, but finding no sign of him. That night he took up his vigil at the mansion again. Around midnight he thought he heard a scream, faint behind the fog, but he couldn't be sure if it was only his imagination and his exhaustion.

On the couch he watched This Island Earth with Jeff Morrow and a woman who'd been a real babe named Faith Domergue, and fell asleep with a box of Screaming Yellow Zonkers on his chest.

He didn't wake till early noon and was therefore in a hurry, shaving while he peed, ironing a shirt while he ate his bran. He was fifteen minutes late starting his shift. The man without the voice box laid some very angry sci-fi effects on him.

There were skinny people, black people, white people, pudgy people, straight people, gay people, nice-looking people, repellent people, pleasant people, surly people—it was one of those inexplicably busy days. He didn't really get an opportunity to buzz past the studios where Sora generally worked and it was nearly eleven o'clock before he got to the mansion where he sat for twenty minutes and dozed off.

The stress of the past three days, plus the late hours, had drained him.

He went home and lay on the couch again, the movie tonight being one of his favorites, D.O.A. with Edmond O'Brien, who'd been the chunkiest leading man Riku had ever seen, but he was asleep even before the doomed Edmond realized he'd been fatally poisoned. A sack of chip-dip-flavored Lay's potato chips next to his head.

The pounding started around 4:00 A.M. At first he thought it was part of a nightmare he couldn't wake up from.

Pounding.

Finally, still thinking he was acting out a role in a nightmare, he got up and stumbled to the door, clumsily taking off the three security locks, and at last seeing who stood there.

Sora.

Tears streaming down the brunette's face.

A small overnight bag in his left hand.

"Riku." He sobbed, "Riku, may I move in with you?"

IX

Two hours later, over a pepperoni pizza delivered steaming hot, Sora said, "I don't blame you if you're scared of me."

"Why would I be scared of you?"

"Well…" He said, and stopped eating.

"Sora—" Riku began, and put his hand out to Sora.

But Sora stopped him, "There's a very good possibility I'm a vampire."

"But you look fine. You look wonderful in fact."

"I'm pale."

"Sure you're pale. But you've also been under a great strain."

"And this pizza is the first thing I've eaten in two days."

"It's just the stress really. I read a magazine article on stress and—."

"I don't want to—."

He stared at him, "To what?"

"To get you involved in this any more than you are already."

"But, Sora, I love you and you love me."

He started sniffling again, "But maybe it's not enough."

Riku sprang to the couch and sat next to him, "I know it isn't much." His hand swept the drag apartment, the dated posters from the seventies, the collection of sci-fi and horror paperbacks in orange crates, and the longbow and it's attendant paraphernalia. "But we'll move. Arizona. New Mexico. Oregon. Someplace, Sora—someplace where we can get started on a new life. And—."

Sora put his head on Riku's shoulder and Riku drew him to himself, "But I'm a vampire."

"Everybody's got things wrong with them, Sora. Everybody."

"But being a vampire is more than just something wrong."

So Riku kissed him because it was the only way to keep Sora quiet. In the course of the kiss, he realized how much he loved him. It was frightening—far more than vampires could ever be.

"I'll go to the bank tomorrow and draw out my saving and then we'll go to the bus depot and we'll leave for New Mexico. He'll never find us there."

Sora sighed, "That's what scares me."

"What?"

"I don't think he'll give up so easily."

"Sora, I promise. He won't even remember you."

"Oh Riku." He said, drawing closer to him for another kiss, "I sure hope you're right."

"I am right, Sora, I promise." Then he paused and gulped and said, "Sora, I—."

Sora smiled at him, "I know. Me too." Then he said, "Do you really think we're going to be together, Riku?"

"Always."

"You're not just saying that?"

"I promise you, Sora, I promise you."

For purposes of lovemaking and sleep, Riku decided to give him the royal treatment. He turned the sofa into a bed and dug out his only set of clean sheets from a cardboard box filled with a reasonably complete collection of Jonah Hex comic books.

The lovemaking was tender but exciting, and immediately afterward, Sora fell asleep in his embrace, there in the long shadows of the tiny apartment, the nimbus of streetlight like faded gold against the cracked west window, traffic sounds faint in the night.

Riku wondered; could this really end happily? This easily? Marluxia Katori just handing Sora over to him?

But eventually, no matter how compelling his doubts, he fell asleep, too, as crazy in love as he'd even been, the man in his arms all the things a man was capable of being—lover, friend, sister, partner, conspirator.

His last waking thought was of how wonderful life could be.

He was asleep maybe twenty minutes before a sound woke him. Through one groggily opened eye, he saw Sora in silhouette at the window; he was putting his clothes on.

"Sora—what's wrong?"

Nothing. He said nothing. Just continued to dress.

"Sora?"

Riku threw the covers back and went over to him. He wore nothing but his jockey shorts.

He got around in front of him and put both his hands on Sora's shoulders and started shaking him. He forced his face up so he could see his expression in the deep night shadows.

Sora's wyes were dark vacuums. All Riku could think of was some kind of hypnosis or mind control or—

Then Riku moved to the window rimed with silver frost around the edges and looked down into the street. A long black limousine sat beneath the streetlight. A tall, slender man dressed in a black topcoat stood outside the limo. He was staring directly up at Riku's apartment.

The man was Marluxia Katori.

"No, Sora!" Riku screamed, "Don't go with him! Don't go with him!"

He dashed to the sink, soaked a towel in cold water, came back to Sora, and pressed the icy cloth against the once-tanned face.

Dimly, he saw recognition in Sora's eyes.

"Sora?"

"Yes." He sounded robotic.

"If you go with him, you'll never be free again. Do you understand, Sora?"

"Yes."

"Then fight back. Resist the thoughts he's sending out." He shook Sora hard, "Fight back, Sora. You want to stay here with me. We'll leave for New Mexico in just a few hours. You'll be safe and happy and loved and—."

And then Sora let out an animal roar that paralyzed Riku.

He could not imagine such a sound coming from this gorgeous boy.

Nor could he imagine a boy—or a man, for that matter—possessing the sheer physical strength Sora displayed: he took Riku by the shoulders and flung him across the room, slamming him into the wall where the longbow hung.

The back of his head cracked against the plaster hard enough that a darkness even deeper than the night began to spread before his eyes and…

Just before tumbling into unconsciousness, he heard the terrible animal roar Sora'd made earlier… and then he heard his apartment door flung back… footsteps down the creaking wooden steps and…

And then despite every effort he felt himself pulled inevitably down into the waiting gloom that was not unlike death.

When he woke, his teeth were chattering from the cold. His head hurt him worse than the worst hangover he'd ever had. The window was purple-gold with dawn glowing through the frost.

The room, always a mess, was now a shamble, evidence of the strength Sora'd suddenly shown.

He needed clothes and he needed coffee and he needed to very carefully think through—

If he hadn't been right next to the fallen longbow, maybe the idea would never have come to him. But as he started to push himself to his feet, his fingers touched the sleek wood, the curving bow, and right then—right there in his jockey shorts and needing very badly to pee—Riku Umino got the idea.

And it was a wonderful idea, and he knew it was a wonderful idea as soon as he had it.

It was the idea that was going to win him Sora back once and for all.

X

"Peace." Xigbar Varhite said when Riku entered his carpentry shop three hours later. Xigbar, a tall skinny man with black-grey hair and an eye patch over one eye, wiped slim fingers on his black overalls and flashed Riku the V sign for peace, the way people used to greet others back in the sixties. He looked as if he hadn't shaved, bathed, or slept for several months.

Riku always thought of Xigbar as the last of the hippies, the one person he knew who would never give up the flower-power era. For instance, now the air was being stirred by the slashing sounds of Jefferson Airplane singing "White Rabbit" on the cassette deck. The shop, which was really a large converted garage that smelled sweetly of wood shavings, was decorated with posters of people such as Ken Kesey, Allen Ginsberg, and Jerry Rubin. Nobody could ever accuse Xigbar Varhite of giving up the faith.

Xigbar picked up a tiny marijuana roach, lit it, toked deep and true, and then offered the clip to Riku.

Riku shook his head, "How's business?"

Xigbar nodded to various pieces of cabinetry in various stages of car piercing or staining. "Enough to last me a couple lifetimes." He smiled with teeth that would require two dentists to clean and then said, "Say—you're goin' to be haulin' me around Saturday night. Big sixties festival down at the Freak."

The Freak was a beer and wine bar near the railroad depot, where once a month they had a sixties night. Xigbar, who didn't want to get busted for drunk driving, always had Riku haul him back and forth in the car. That's how they'd met.

"Be glad to, Xigbar."

Xigbar had another toke, "So what brings you here, man? Especially with the bow. That mother looks fierce!"

"It is fierce, Xigbar. Very fierce. And that's why I need to talk to you. I need to make it even fiercer."

"How you gonna do that?"

"With your help, I'm going to make a very special kind of arrow."

"What kind would that be, Riku?"

"It's got to be a wooden stake that I can notch in my bow and shoot."

"A wooden stake?" Xigbar laughed, taking the final toke, "What you gonna hunt—vampires?"

Riku laughed right along with him, "You think you can do it?"

Xigbar shrugged, "Probably."

"It would have to be able to pierce—armor."

"That's why the English invented the longbow. So it could do just that." He took the bow, examined it. "That shouldn't be any problem."

"How long?"

"How long?"

"Yeah, how long will it take?"

"Well, I'd have to use the lathe and then fire-harden it and—"

"Xigbar, I need this arrow by six o'clock tonight."

"You're kidding."

"I'm not Xigbar."

"God."

"Xigbar, it's life or death."

Xigbar looked him over, "You look real strung out, man."

"I wish I could tell you."

Xigbar looked at him and said, "OK, man. The number of times you've kept me out of the drunk tank, I guess this is the least I can do for you." He nodded to the lathe, "You come back here at six tonight and I'll have it ready for you."

Riku put his hand on Xigbar's shoulder, "I wish there was some way I could repay you."

"There is, man."

"What's that?"

"Tell me the truth about why you want this arrow."

Riku laughed again, though the sound was obviously strained. "Like you said, I'm going to hunt vampires."

But this time Xigbar didn't laugh. "You know, man, I'm beginning to wonder if you're not serious."

XI

Riku spent the afternoon taking care of passengers. It seemed important to him to stay calm. What lay before him tonight required not only skill and luck, but also steady nerves.

Whether talking to the rich dowager who always told him about her son-in-law the songwriter ("Kenny Rogers calls him all the time just to talk.") or taking to Mr. Gunderson to his doctor's appointment ("I'm eighty-two and they want to know why I don't feel good—and that's why I don't feel so good, because I'm eighty-two that's why, the stupid bastids.")—whatever he did, his mind remained on the plan, or, as his mind thought of it. The Plan.

Last night, summoned to the waiting limo by Marluxia Katori, Sora had forgotten his bag in which resided the electronic access card that would let whoever possessed it inside the walled estate.

The card now rested in Riku's shirt pocket.

Four dragged by, five to six crawled: it was time to go to Xigbar's.

This time the cassette machine played Neil Young singing "My Old Man" and Xigbar had himself a much more formidable joint than the little roach he sported before. This one was fat enough to last for a couple hours of watching a light show.

"Here you go." Xigbar said, toking up.

What he handed Riku looked like a small tree that had been shaved down to the size of a baseball bat.

"Sure hope that bow of yours can handle this." Xigbar said.

"No problem." Riku said, holding the huge arrow. The feathers near the end of the nock were bright yellow.

"Thought I'd kind of dress it up." Xigbar said, "What do you think of the point?"

Pure wood, the point pricked Riku's finger at the slightest touch. A drop of blood appeared.

"Kind of heavy duty, wouldn't you say?"

"Riku, if I was into kissing guys, I'd plant a big one on your cheek."

Riku dug into the back pocket for his wallet, "What do I owe you?"

"I already told you."

"The cab ride?"

"Right."

"You got it."

Now so intent on his mission that he even forgot to say good-bye, Riku took the arrow and started to leave the garage.

"Hey." Xigbar said.

Riku turned around, "Oh, yeah, sorry. Shoulda said good-bye."

"No, not that." Xigbar said.

"What then?"

"Put the tip of it up by your nose."

Riku angled the long pointed shaft of fire-hardened wood to his nose.

Immediately, he pulled the arrow away from his nostrils. "Whew. What'd you dip it in, anyway? Sheep dung?"

Xigbar looked very proud of himself, "What else? Garlic."

Tke: Originally I planned for it to be Axel, but I eventually went with Xigbar. He fits the role so much better, the man is pretty amazing. Review please!

Review Replies:

FlamingToxin: I can do it! As long as I don't get anymore hand cramps from writing, hehe.

Moonyasha: I think I've held you long enough, time to let go so you can read!

Sora's Savior: Oh you'll find out why Sora goes back, and much more. Also, yes, vampires rule, they are completely awesome.

StupefiedNarutard: Well you're about to find out your answer here and now. Thank you so much for liking the fact that I've made this into a KH version! I tried to keep it as close as possible to the actual story!

XHisui Yamadax: A pink poodle, oh man, Marluxia, he would so own one! I might add that in another story!

Xxxinsanekadaajixxx: We all know Riku won't go down without a fight, especially for Sora.

Yuki-Hibiki: Glad you think so, I tried to keep it as close to the plot line as I could, so thanks!

Coconut911: Think of it this way, it's about… 14 parts long, so next chapter it'll be done!

Bookworm0492: Well California traffic can be pretty bad, so maybe it was just a bit of a wreck, nothing too bad.

Jenny: Don't worry, I won't abandon it, it'll just take me a while read a line, then type it, then read a line, then type it, etc, etc, etc, and change things to KH setting, so it'll take a while.

Saiki518kuu: Glad you like it, more coming your way!

Wind-master-redmoon: It's not my story, so sorry, can't help ya there. I just write it, that's how it goes.

Darkness x angel: Yes well, poor Sora is also denser than gravity, which explains his hair, so it's gotta give him points.