"I still can't believe you fainted." Josef lay on his back on the floor; Mick stretched out alongside, and shook his head as he stared up at the ceiling above.
"I know, Josef," Mick tutted in pretend sympathy, his forehead buried against Josef's shoulder, "it's only been, what, four years?"
Four years, time spent rebuilding a shared eternity. Mick caressed a hand down the length of Josef's naked form. Despite his show of scoffed indignation, and the sharpness of the banter that passed between them, Mick no longer took anything for granted. Vampire or not, the time Mick had spent watching Josef crashing about in the lost wilds of his own mind, had proven one thing. Eternity could still be fleeting.
Outside a lone wolf howled at the nighttime sky, prompting Josef to trail a mock extravagant hand through the air, and remark, "Listen to them, the children of the night, what sweet music they make."
"You idiot." Mick snorted a quick laugh, and shook his head.
"What?" Josef turned his head towards Mick, brow arched, and a teasing grin on his face, "You're the one who decided we should set up home in Chateau Dracula."
"Well it just seemed fitting at the time." Mick propped himself up on one shoulder, and shot Josef a locked lip smirk of faux annoyance.
"Suitably maudlin for you, was it?" Josef continued his line of good natured teasing, one finger tapped pointedly against the side of Mick's face.
"Oh shut up," Mick rolled his eyes, and bent his head to silence any further remarks with his mouth pressed firmly against Josef's own.
"Now who's being an idiot, Mick," Josef managed to mumble, through a coordinated attack of lips, and fangs.
And then, in one fluid, inhuman rush of movement, Josef suddenly shifted the weight of his body to lie over Mick. And pressed his lips to Mick's ear to whisper three simple words,
"I love you."
"Say that again." Mick's words came out as a half hissed groan, hips arching upwards as Josef began to move against him,
"I love you." Josef repeated the words as he pushed Mick's legs back against his chest, the head of his cock pressing against Mick's passage. And then he was thrusting the length of himself into Mick's body, and pulling Mick up into a seated position, all in the same practiced move. Penetration made easy by the sticky mess of fluids already accumulated from their most recent coupling.
Arms drawn tight around Mick's neck, Josef buried his face against the side of Mick's neck, and whisper hissed a single, passion filled command,
"Ride me."
Mick wasted no time obeying Josef's direction. Heels dug into the floor behind for leverage, Mick drove himself hard onto Josef's cock. Hips grinding back and forth, the pace of his movements becoming increasingly frantic, he clung to Josef's back. Whimpering and moaning his way through his own heated declarations of love, and devotion. Head thrown back; and eyes closed in rapture.
Mick's vocalisations became increasingly inhuman, fangs bared in a grimace of pleasure. Josef took a moment to revel in Mick's display, pausing to brush away damp strands of hair plastered to Mick's sweat slicked brow.
Josef watched as Mick's equilibrium seemed to shatter. Mick's body arched upwards, drawn by an invisible string stretched tight above. And then he was sailing over the edge, and falling into an abyss of pleasure, fangs sunk deep into the side of Josef's neck. Moments later, Josef gave a single, sharp cry of release, and fell into his own climax.; biting into the flesh of his own wrist as he growled, and bucked his way through the rhythm of his own release.
"Happy Anniversary." Josef trailed kisses along the line of Mick's jaw, and ran his fingers up and down the length of Mick's back when they were both spent.
"Mm," Mick mumbled a noncommittal reply, his body still humming with pleasure, "how long has it been now, eighty years?"
"Too long," Josef placed another series of kisses across Mick's face, and neck, "we should separate."
"Yeah, we should." Mick snorted a quick laugh, and shook his head at Josef's teasing, "How about we fuck some more first though."
"Now see, that's how I know we've been together far too long," Josef leant back, and shot Mick an arched brow grin.
"Oh really, and how do you figure that, Josef?" Mick rolled his eyes in response, and then drew Josef back closer, mouth seeking heated contact with Josef's own.
"You've started to read my mind." Another teasing edged laugh, and then Josef's tone shifted salacious. "Get on your hands and knees. I want to take you from behind this time."
Just as they had both managed to scramble into position, proceedings were bought to a halt by the sound of someone rapping sharply at the front door.
Suddenly they were both on full alert. Apart from the local Gypsies, paying superstitious tribute, and hawking their wares, no one ever came by. Not at night, especially, and not at this late hour.
"I'll…"
"…No, I'll get it."
Mick grabbed a robe from the back of the couch to wrap around his naked form, and made his way to the door, movements fine honed, and senses sharpened with wary precision
"This had better be…"
Mick's planned pre-emptive warning to their mysterious night time visitor was halted in its tracks as he opened the door. And found him self confronted by the image of a familiar girl child, now grown into a striking young woman.
And then the image spoke.
"Hello, Uncle Mick."
Roisin.
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Mick's initial shock having subsided, Roisin found herself being grabbed roughly by the arm, and quickly manhandled back up the winding path she had just come down. Out of ear shot, and away from Josef.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Well gee it's nice to see you after all this time too, Uncle Mick," Roisin shook Mick off, and turned to face him. Arms folded across her chest, and a distinct note of challenge creeping into her voice.
"Fourteen years, Roisin," Mick ignored Roisin's defiant stance, "Fourteen years, and we hear absolutely nothing from you, and now you turn up here, unannounced, and expect…"
"…I don't expect anything," Roisin intercepted Mick's speech with a hurried protest, "and it's not like you exactly tried looking for me, or contacting me in any way."
"Maybe I had other things to think about at the time." A hastily muttered reply, eyes quickly averted. And then Mick found his thoughts snapping back to the past, a series of fleeting images conjured up.
A mother begging, pleading for assistance, nights spent trawling the streets for any sign of her daughter. And he incapable, powerless, rejecting her cries for help. Repeating words, no time to consider anything else, "Josef is my only concern now, Katherine."
"Uncle Mick?"
Roisin's voice pulled Mick from his private reverie. Tone and expression laced with contrition, Roisin continued,
"I'm sorry, ok. I shouldn't have just come barging in like this. I know how difficult things have been for you and Uncle Josef…"
"…How could you, you haven't been anywhere near us for more than a decade." Mick's voice brimmed with accusation.
"We've kept watch over you, the both of you. It's how I knew Uncle Josef had gone…" Roisin hesitated to use the word 'insane', "it's how I know Uncle Josef wasn't in his right state of mind for all those years."
Cautiously, Roisin took a step towards her Uncle, and reached out to place a sympathetic hand on his arm. Mick would have none of it.
"Not in his right state of mind, yeah I suppose that's one way of describing someone who communicates in nothing but shrieks and howls for almost a decade." Mick snorted an incredulous laugh, and brushed Roisin's hand aside, disapproval evident in his tone of voice, "And what do you mean 'we', Roisin? The Legion, you've had those mortals keeping track of us?"
"No, not…" Roisin broke off mid sentence, eyes darting across her Uncle's face, studying the expression found there, "You blame me, don't you?"
"Well, do you see anyone else around here I can blame." Mick threw Roisin a pointed look, arms folded across his chest, and jaw set in a determined line.
"Uncle Mick, that isn't fair." It was clear from the expression on Roisin's face that she hadn't been expecting to face accusations of this nature, let alone take responsibility.
"No, Roisin," Mick took an abrupt step towards his niece, voice tense, and expression seething, "I'll tell you what isn't fair. Having to sit by and watch someone you love crashing about in the depths of insanity isn't fair. No communication, no reasoning, having to chase after them night after night, seeing them standing outside baying at the moon like an animal, trying to get by on the smallest glimmer of hope that they're still in there somewhere. Christ, there's not anywhere near enough blame for what you did to us."
"I'm sorry I didn't…" For a moment Roisin struggled to speak, swallowing back repeated lumps that rose in her throat, and threatened to wet her cheeks with tears. And then the words seemed to pour out of her, vowels and consonants rushing forth in a defensive stream. "If it wasn't my leaving that pushed Uncle Josef over the edge, it would have been something else. You tried to keep stuff hidden from me back then, but I wasn't stupid, I could still see what was going on. I did what I thought was best for everyone at the time. You can't fault me for that, Uncle Mick. And you can't blame me for what happened to Uncle Josef either."
"No," Mick averted his eyes, and let out a reluctant sigh of agreement, "I don't suppose I can."
"Then, can I just come inside," Roisin pleaded, "Please, it's freezing out here, and I am still mortal, and I have missed you, and Uncle Josef so much over the years…"
"…Alright," Mick abruptly relented, and gestured a thumb towards the modest, stone brick house he now shared with Josef, "come on."
Without waiting to hear anymore from his niece, Mick turned heel and strode off.
Roisin thought about saying something else then, and quickly dismissed the idea, falling into silent line with her Uncle instead.
"Wait here," Mick instructed when they reached the front door, "I want to have a word with him first."
"Sure, I understand." Roisin swallowed back more lumps risen in her throat, and quickly nodded her agreement. Her voice cracking, and eyes watery with the threat of tears.
Seeing the emotion etched on his niece's face, Mick softened his harsh stance towards her.
"Look," Roisin heard Mick say to her then, emphasising his point with a series of hand gestures "I'm sorry, ok? I didn't mean to be so angry with you back there. It's just…I've been through a lot with your Uncle Josef since you left, it was hard at times, you know. And now you, turning up here out of the blue like this…this isn't easy for me, Roisin."
"…Yeah," voice still cracking with emotion, Roisin wiped the back of a hand over her eyes, and forced a smile, "I know, I can imagine it wouldn't be."
Roisin also imagined that her Uncle's use of the term 'hard at times', was nothing other than a euphemistic understatement. Even so she didn't press any further. She already knew most of the details, having read the Order's security reports that had been passed on in secret to her.
They both fell into a rhythm of awkward silence then, the air around them growing heavy with choked back emotion. Until Mick broke through the disquiet with a hastily muttered, "I'll be back soon," and disappeared inside.
"Ah, you're back," Josef greeted the sight of Mick walking towards him with casual breeze. One eyebrow cocked, and a wine glass held loosely between index and middle fingers, "I was beginning to think our Gypsy friends had spirited you off somewhere."
"No," Mick gave a brief laugh, and walked over to where Josef sat. Legs outstretched and back leant against the sofa behind him. His own silken robe pulled loosely around his naked form, "I'm still here."
"Ok," Josef's brow furrowed with puzzlement as Mick sat astride his lap, foreheads rested together, and arms drawn tight around Josef's neck, "mind telling me who that was at the door then?"
For a moment Mick was tempted to say 'no one', leaving Roisin to stand there outside in the cold, with Josef none the wiser to her presence.
"Someone from the past caught up with us," Mick answered with instead, brushing the back of a hand down the side of Josef's face, "I just wanted to make sure you were ok before I let them in."
"Well that's very kind of you, dearest," Stifling a quick laugh, Josef held Mick at arms length, and took a moment to study the expression on Mick's face. Attempts at sounding matter of fact belied by the unabashed grin that crept over his features, "but I wasn't really planning on having another breakdown quite as spectacular as the last one anytime soon. Besides, I think one bout of insanity every couple of hundred years is more than enough, don't you?"
"Yeah," Mick offered a quick laugh of his own, and placed a kiss on Josef's mouth, "I'd better go let our guest inside then, before she freezes to death out there."
Mick returned moments later with a familiar face alongside. The last time Josef laid eyes on Roisin she was all cropped hair, and heavy black lined eyes. Now here she was standing before him. Long blonde hair pulled up into a loose bun, and complexion scrubbed fresh. Layers of puppy fat having long since melted away, replaced by a well honed musculature that gave her somewhat of an athletic appearance.
Even without the layers of paint and powder she was so fond of as a teenager; Roisin's face was recognisable to Josef in an instant,
"Jesus." Josef clapped a hand over his mouth and somehow managed to look shocked, amazed, surprised, and perturbed all in the same expression.
"No," Roisin took a tentative step towards her Uncle, her face an open book; easily read, "it's just me. Were you expecting the messiah were you?"
"Still little Miss smart mouth then, I see." Josef acid tongue witted, and raised an eyebrow at his niece.
For a few moments nobody else spoke, each caught up in their own memories, and emotions. And then Roisin broke the ice. Her next words already formed on her lips.
"I imagine you probably have a few questions to ask me."
"Well that's one way of putting it, I suppose." Josef quipped with trademark style, and raised the glass dangling from his fingers in a toasting gesture.
"First things first," Mick cut into the conversation then, addressing his niece direct, "You said someone's been following us these past years, if not the Legion, then who?"
"Those whom I have been working for," Roisin replied, nonchalant. "The Order of Dracul."
Mick exchanged a quick glance with Josef. Judging by their sharp intakes of breath, and slack jawed expressions, it was apparent that neither of them expected the answer they'd just been given.
"Look," Roisin tried to keep an open stance as she took another step forward, her hands held out in front of her, gesturing for placation, "I know my being here has probably come as a bit of a surprise..."
"…Well that's what you call an understatement." Josef interrupted, and threw Roisin a pointed smile.
Roisin purposefully ignored her Uncle's remark, and reached into her Jacket pocket to draw out a folded slip of paper. "It's an invitation," she offered by way of explanation, as she held out the note for Josef to take, "for you, and Uncle Mick, tomorrow night. Auguste wants to speak to the both of you. He's booked out the Corinthia Grande's top floor conference rooms especially for the occasion. Everything's arranged…transport, accommodation, fresh catered supplies of blood. We've been planning on making contact with the both of you for months now."
Roisin let her voice trail off, realising she was on the verge of rambling.
At the mention of Auguste Vasilescu's name, Mick had quickly moved to sit by Josef's side. A steadying arm drawn around Josef's waist, and hand rested lightly against Josef's hip.
"Who's we, Roisin?" Still seated next to Josef, one hand tracing worried circles over Josef's back, Mick challenged Roisin point blank then.
"I think you already know the answer to that question, Uncle Mick," Roisin replied with a steady voice, "just not in the way you might be thinking. Auguste has been a mentor to me over the years."
"I bet he has," Josef remarked under his breath as he reached for the decanter on the table in front, and poured himself another generous serve of Scotch.
"I probably should be getting back to the Hotel," Roisin directed to no one in particular. Punctuating the awkward silence with the words she spoke, "Auguste must be looking for me by now."
Offering her goodbyes, Roisin gave one last nervous smile, and began to take leave.
"Wait," Josef called after her.
Roisin stopped in her tracks, and slowly turned back to face her Uncle. His expression couched with hope, and despair, Josef's unspoken question was still easy to read.
"We lost track of her about a year ago. Last we heard she was in Africa somewhere."
"Keeping the natives restless no doubt," Josef interjected with an arched brow grin.
"Yeah, something along those lines," Roisin managed to raise a genuine laugh at her Uncle's off the cuff humour. "Did you know she married Pierre Lamont?" She asked then, her tone of voice shifting to an easier level."
"No we didn't," Josef and Mick both seemed taken aback with this latest revelation, "When?"
"Three years ago, just before she stopped looking for me." Roisin replied, still trying to maintain a relaxed note of conversation, in spite of the emotional turmoil etched across her face. "You grew your hair long as well,"
Feeling the need to shift the conversation to simpler matters then, Roisin gestured towards Josef's now shoulder length strands, and offered her compliments.
"Thanks," Josef raised a genuine smile, and then tossed a thumb in Mick's direction, his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. "It's his fault."
"What am I getting the blame for now?" Mick piped up.
"Nothing, my beloved." Josef prodded Mick's ribcage with a finger, "I was just telling Roisin my new hair length is entirely your fault."
"Oh yeah," Mick shot Josef a puzzled look, "How do you figure that then?"
"Well you're the one who only managed to cut my hair three times a year, Mick." Josef parried with casual breeze.
"Mainly because I got sick of you embedding the scissors in my neck," Mick rolled his eyes, and huffed with pretend indignation.
"Well it doesn't matter now," Josef waved a dismissive hand, mischief still lurking beneath the polite smile on his face, "I've managed to get over the shock of looking like the modern day Vampire's equivalent to a Hippy."
Caught up in the comforting familiarity of their back and forth banter, neither of them noticed Roisin quietly slip away, until she was gone.
Later that evening Mick sat on the couch, legs either side of Josef seated on the floor in front, and ran a brush through Josef's hair. Pausing every so often to plait strands, and twist tendrils around his fingers.
"What the hell are you doing back there?" Josef looked over his shoulder, and demanded to know.
"Nothing," Mick offered a distracted shrug, and continued twirling Josef's tresses around his fingers.
"Well whatever nothing is, Mick," Josef stretched for a moment, and then leant his head back against Mick's lap, "stop it, it's annoying. It feels like you're doing some kind of weird ass origami."
"My deepest apologies, your Lordship," Mick rolled his eyes, and tried to act steadfast, the corners of his mouth drawn into the start of a grin, "I had no idea me brushing your hair was such an ordeal."
"Oh shut up," Josef rallied back with good natured humour.
"So, what did you think of our surprise guest earlier?" Mick draped his arms around Josef's chest and asked matter of fact then. Taking care to keep his tone as even as possible.
"Give me another ten years to process it, and I'll get back to you." Josef snorted a laugh, and reached for the bottle of Scotch on the floor next to him.
"Yeah, I know what you mean," Mick raised his eyes skyward, and nodded his understanding, "I think I need shock absorbers for a moment like that."
"Will this do?" Josef arched an eyebrow, and grinned as he handed Mick a freshly poured measure of Scotch.
"For now," Mick pretended to sigh reluctantly, as he accepted the drink from Josef's hand.
And then Mick was on his feet, and draining the contents of his glass in two quick gulps. Before reaching down and pulling Josef up alongside him.
"Come on," Mick tugged impatiently at the sleeve of Josef's shirt, "we're going to bed. You need something to take your mind off things, and I'm still horny, so…"
Mick completed the sentence with a trailing hand gesture.
"Good thinking," Josef pretended to weigh up Mick's suggestion, and tapped a thoughtful finger against his lips for a moment, "I'll meet you in the bedroom."
And then Josef took of with Mick following close behind, dive tackling him onto the bed. As far as they were both concerned matters were closed, for the time being at least.
------------------------------------------------------------
"We don't have to do this you know." Mick absentmindedly adjust Josef's collar, and for the umpteenth time that evening, repeated that which Josef himself was already well aware.
"I know, Mick," Josef indulged Mick a quick smile, and nodded his gratitude at Mick's obvious concern, "It's ok. I want to hear what Auguste has to say for himself."
Josef's voice bristled with determination, his contempt for Auguste evident in the darkened expression that had fallen across his features.
"Yeah, ok," Mick drew his arms around Josef's shoulders, and leant back, "just don't go throwing your weight around."
"Moi?" Josef grinned, and arched an eyebrow at Mick, "I wouldn't dream of it. I shall be the very epitome of grace and decorum."
Josef completed his words with a flourishing hand, and the offering of another raised eyebrow. And then he was instructing Mick to, 'go and bring the car around, I'll meet you out the front', and moving off to finish preparing for the evening ahead.
"Josef, wait." Mick snatched Josef's arm as he went to leave, "are you sure you're ok with this?"
"Mick," Josef took a step towards Mick, and brushed the line of Mick's jaw with the back of his hand, "I'm fine, ok? Stop fussing."
"Yeah, I know. It's just…" Mick's voice trailed off, brow furrowed with frustration. He didn't think he was ever going to be able to adequately express how difficult those wilderness years had been.
Mick wondered then if he would ever stop fearing a return to those dark days. Josef's reemergence from the depths of insanity had been just as sudden as his descent into it. A shifting of neurons, a reconnecting of synapses and Josef had returned to Mick just as easily as he had gone. Mick figured it would be just as easy for Josef to slip back into the depths. The thought of that terrified him far more than he cared to admit.
"I know, Mick." Josef acknowledged Mick's worry with the stroke of a hand down Mick's arm, "Look, I'm sorry, ok, for everything. For what you had to go through, for all the crap you had to put up, for all the years that were lost…"
Josef scrubbed frustrated hands over his face, his expression darkening with a mixture of anger, and disgust. At least he had the luxury of being out of his mind and blissfully unaware. Mick was the one who had borne the brunt of those unhappy times.
"Hey," Mick shifted into Josef's space, "for better or worse, remember."
"I thought it was for eternity?" Josef tossed Mick an arched brow grin, his quick witted attempt belied by the tender note in his voice.
"Yeah, that too." Mick pretended to roll his eyes with mock exasperation. And then he was reaching for Josef's hand, pressing pads of fingers against tender lips, and drawing Josef into an embrace. Needing to feel the reassurance of Josef's solidity pressed against his own.
Josef yielded to Mick's attentions, arms drawn tight around Mick's waist, and body molding with his. In the relative quiet of the room Josef listened to Mick's heart as it beat out an uncertain rhythm, Mick's pulse all together far too weak, and thready.
"Come on," Josef reluctantly disengaged himself from Mick's arms, "we really should get going. You haven't fed properly, and I'm assuming this little get together of Auguste's will be catered for. Besides that if we stand here and act any sappier, one of us is likely to break into a Barry Manilow song."
Josef took another step back then, head cocked, and brow raised in a quip pointed expression, his added indignant eye roll informing Mick exactly what he thought of the prospect of that particular scenario.
Mick snorted a laugh, and for a moment was sorely tempted to tease Josef for his singing abilities, or lack thereof. Too late Josef had already turned heel and started to saunter away. Tossing Mick another quick instruction over his shoulder to fetch the car, and meet him out front.
Outside Mick was greeted by the familiar site of an old woman standing vigilant watch at the end of the path leading up to their residence. One of the Cigány, the local population of Gypsies in Hungary, dressed in traditional costume. Puffed sleeve blouse, and bright coloured skirt adorned with a jangling array of gold coins. A green scarf tied around her head, covering what remained of her steel wool hair. Twisted and gnarled body bent over a walking stick, and hooded eyes peering out from beneath a mask of deep etched wrinkles.
The figure spoke, and Mick found himself having to stammer out an awkward reply, trying to explain yet again that he couldn't understand the language she spoke.
"My grandmother, she asks if the other one he is still well again." A young girl, accompanying the old woman quickly translated. No more than fifteen years of age, with dark hair pulled into a loose pony tail, and body clad in more modern garb of jeans and roll neck sweater, a heavy woollen coat pulled tight around her thin frame, she cast a diminutive form.
"Tell your grandmother, thank you, and he's fine." Mick smiled, and reached into his pocket to draw a handful of crumpled Euros from his wallet, pressing the money into the girl's hand.
A brief hesitation, followed by another exchange of romantic sounding words with her grandmother, and Mick's offering was accepted with quiet gratitude.
"My brother, he reaches eighteen in a month from now," the girl informed Mick then, barely able to suppress the grin that formed over her features, pressing her fist against her mouth to stifle a girlish laugh. "Our cousin, Dimitri, is jealous that it will not be him who gets to come to you first. They are fighting about it all the time."
Mick stifled a laugh of his own. Eighteen was the age when local gypsies would offer themselves as willing freshies. It had become a real point of honour amongst the gypsy youth to be chosen for such a role. Jealousy and arguments abounded between those who had reached the required age, and those for whom their eighteenth year seemed a distant prospect.
It had not always been that way. Mick remembered back to his first encounter with the Cigány. He had awoken one evening, to the sound of hysterical sobbing coming from a young gypsy girl tied to one of the trees that surrounded the house. Her tear stained face and terrified struggle clear indications that she had not been placed there of her own accord.
The local Gypsy population had found themselves taken by complete surprise when the girl was released, and returned to them completely unharmed. Not one drop of her blood having been spilt. A delegation of Cigány elders had been dispatched, post haste, to enquire as to the exact nature of this rejection, was the girl not pleasing enough, should they perhaps have offered a male victim instead.
Mick had been taken aback by the Gypsies almost fervent insistence that he accept one of their own as a sacrificial victim, explaining as best he could with the language barrier, that he had absolutely no interest in killing anyone; especially not an innocent.
Through a series of charades and thickly accented, broken English, the Cigány had explained to Mick that this was the way it had always been for them. It was an expected part of their life. They had always served whatever Vampires had lived amidst them; offering up live blood in exchange for security, and protection from others who weren't so enamoured with the Gypsies existence.
Mick understood then. Brokering a deal, and explaining the concept of freshies, those who offered themselves to Vampires as willing blood donors. In return he would take care of any troubles they were having. Turning up when required, and flashing a show of fangs whenever local landowners decided to drive the Cigány off their claimed property with threats of fire, and violence. Or the local constabulary tried to shake down the Gypsy youth in the form of exorbitant fines for made up infractions.
The arrangement was entirely too clichéd for Mick's liking. Mick thinking at times that it felt as if he'd become trapped in a b grade horror novel. Nevertheless he was grateful for the steady supply of blood delivered to his doorstep. It meant he no longer needed to travel to the city of Bratislava to collect blood from the local morgues, and hospitals. Josef was in no condition to accompany Mick on these journeys, and leaving Josef home alone wasn't always a good idea. The last time he had done that, Mick had returned to find Josef pouring gasoline around the perimeter of the house, seemingly intent on burning their residence to the ground. With no apparent understanding as to why that might not be the absolute best thing for him to do.
Things didn't always go according to plan. Mick quickly realising that presenting a deranged Vampire with live nourishment, willing or otherwise, did not always result in a happy meal. After Josef had clawed a hapless girl's eyes out, and then proceeded to tear her throat open. His mistake promptly noted, guilt ridden apologies, and offerings of compensation made to the girl's family, Mick took to transfusing blood into bottles for Josef to drink rather than risk anymore unnecessary bloodshed.
Mick offered the young gypsy girl his congratulations, asking her to pass on his best wishes to her brother on the occasion of his eighteenth celebrations. Josef appeared alongside Mick then. His tailored suit, and hair tied back with a length of red velvet, an elegant contrast to Mick's own dressed down sweater and jeans appearance.
"You look nice." Mick cast an appreciate smile over Josef's attire, and then cheekily began singing a throwback to the previous century. "Stand and deliver, your money or your life…"
"…I'm cutting my hair tomorrow." Josef shot back defensively.
"Oh come on, Josef." Mick looked wounded at Josef's lack of humour, and quickly moved to try and remedy the situation, "don't be like that. I'm only joking with you. You know I like your hair the length it is now."
"Yes, I know, Mick." Josef drew the line of his mouth into a disarming smile, "and if you ever pull my hair into pigtails, and rev me like a motorcycle again, I may very well have to consider beheading you on the spot."
Before Mick had a chance to reply, the young gypsy girl stepped forward. Hand outstretched, waiting for an introduction.
"This is the other one?" She asked Mick. "He is your…"
"His prize breeding bull, yes," Josef raised an eyebrow and grinned at Mick, then stepped forward and accepted the girl's proffered hand, "Josef Kostan, nice to meet you."
"Nadya Dolinski," the girl tentatively shook Josef's hand, looking confused at his previous strange reply to her question regarding the exact status of his relationship with Mick, "my Grandmother's name is Simza."
"I know," Josef smiled politely then, turning on the Kostan charm for the girl's benefit, "Mick's told me. My compliments on some particularly fine home brew…"
Mick hadn't said anything to anyone, but he often thought the strange tasting bottles of distilled herbs, with enough alcohol content in them to get a small army rolling drunk, might have played a part in Josef's seemingly miraculous return to sanity. Either that or it was nothing more than a strange coincidence that the bottles had begun arriving on their doorstep three months before Josef regained his senses. Mick didn't believe in strange coincidences, not always. Still, he kept such esoteric flights of fancy to himself. Not wanting to face potential ridicule.
"…and yes, Mick is my husband." Josef added a quick explanation regarding his tongue in cheek use of the term 'prize breeding bull', and then exchanged a few words in Romany with the girl's grandmother, before finishing up the conversation.
"You'll have to teach me the language some time." Mick watched as the two Gypsy women said their goodbyes, and began to walk off; laughing to one another about the Vampires, and their curious sense of humour, still within earshot.
"I'm sure Auguste Vasilescu speaks Romany," Josef deadpanned, "perhaps I can teach you how to say, 'fuck off, you pompous arrogant jerk'."
At the sound of Auguste's name, Nadya and her Grandmother Simza stopped in their tracks. Turning back to face Mick and Josef with heads bowed in reverence.
"Wait," Mick called out to them, "you know this guy?"
Nadya hesitated for a moment, uncertain how she should reply, and then nodded her head, "Yes, he is the one who sent us to you. He is most revered because you are good to us, and we are happy."
"Ok, thanks." Mick forced a smile, and waved another goodbye.
"Fuck," Josef growled under his breath, "why do I suddenly feel like a puppet on a string."
"Josef, please don't start anything tonight," Mick pleaded with his husband once again, "I'll be the one who's likely to come off second best."
"Mick," Josef rolled his eyes, and then leant in to place a quick, placating kiss on the side of Mick's face, "stop worrying. The epitome of grace and decorum, remember?"
"Yeah I remember," Mick laughed and returned Josef's eye rolling expression, "I'm not entirely sure I trust you, but I remember."
And then they were both heading to the car, and preparing for the journey head. With Josef mentally adding the subject of Gypsies to his already long checklist of 'things Auguste Vasilescu better have an answer for'.
-----------------------------------------------1
"I believe congratulations are in order?" Auguste Vasilescu sat across the table from Josef and Mick, a glass of Blood Wine in his hand tilted toward them in a general toast. "Your recent anniversary," he quickly clarified when he saw the puzzled looks on their faces, "How long as it been now, eighty years?"
"Yes, eighty years," Josef offered a gracious smile and took a sip of crimson fluid from his own glass, "and thank you for your most appreciated well wishes, on what was a very happy occasion for the both of us."
Mick shot Josef a sideways glance. True to his word, apart from a brief moment of unsteadiness when he first laid eyes on Auguste; Josef was certainly acting the very epitome of grace and decorum. Mick had to admit, he half suspected that if Josef laid on the syrupy charm any thicker, they might all soon find themselves drowning in molasses.
"Well," Auguste returned Josef's charm, and raised another toast, "such a momentous occasion deserves all the congratulations it receives. And I must say the Vampire nation was very relieved to hear of your recovery, after such a long and difficult tribulation."
"My thanks to you again." This time Josef's smile appeared more as a forced grimace. He was starting to find it difficult to keep up the charade.
"We certainly owe you some thanks of our own." Mick stepped in then, relieving Josef of the burden of conversation. "Those Gypsies you sent us certainly made life easier, although you could've pointed them our way a little sooner. Assuming you knew where we were living right from the start?"
"I wanted to make sure you were well settled, before I foisted a band of cutthroats and thieves upon you." Auguste offered an indifferent shrug, and ignored Mick's last question.
"Actually I've found them to be very trustworthy, and honest people." Mick's tone was matter of fact, his gaze locked steady with Auguste's.
"Then you don't know them as well as I do. You see, I used to be one of them, before I was turned." Auguste offered a polite nod, but refrained from revealing any further information regarding his past. "I must say though," he added then, arching an eyebrow in Mick's direction, "they are rather adept at brewing up batches of home remedy cure alls."
"Hah! I knew it." Mick snapped his fingers, and then halted, realising the ramifications of what Auguste had just told him. "Hold on a minute, if you knew the Gypsies had the power to cure Josef all along, why did it take almost ten years for it to be offered to us?"
Mick's tone and expression were an open challenge.
"Simple," Auguste gave another shrug of indifference, and relaxed back into his chair, "until the plans I had set in motion with Roisin were complete, I couldn't risk having Josef restored to sanity, and potentially upsetting what we were working to achieve."
"So you just let him suffer?" Mick's words came out as a low growl, half rising from his seat, his expression turning to pure hatred. As if he wanted to leap across the table at that very moment and kill Auguste with his bare hands.
Josef quickly grabbed Mick by the arm, and pulled him back down, shooting him a warning look at the same time.
For his own part Auguste smiled in tired amusement at Mick's antics.
"Mick, please understand," Auguste leant forward, elbows rested on the table in front of him, his fingers tented in a gesture of imploration then, "I am responsible for the entire Vampire Nation. My duty is to all Vampires, not to you alone, or to your husband. I did all I could to accommodate the both of you as best I could at the time."
"Oh yeah," Mick made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat, and rolled his eyes, "like what?"
"Well, like your current residence," Auguste smiled politely, and raised another eyebrow at Mick, "Perfect wasn't it? Right price, right location, just what you were looking for at the time?"
"You arranged that for us?" Mick looked taken aback. "What, all of it? The advert where I'd see it, the house itself…?"
Mick's voice trailed off, uncertain whether he should feel grateful, or highly disturbed. Oscillating between the two emotions, as Auguste nodded his affirmation.
"Tell me more about these plans of yours," Josef interjected then, "I assume they have something to do with finally putting The Legion back in their place? How exactly do you intend to go about it? It's not like they're just going to sit there smiling prettily while we slaughter them…"
"…Yeah, and what about Roisin? What does she have to do with any of this, why her?"
"Actually, Mick," Auguste paused, and pretended to inspect his nails. Flicking each one in turn, before continuing on, "it was something you said. I told you once I respected you for the wisdom you carry, far beyond your Vampire years. You were the one who reminded us to stop thinking as Elders, and start thinking more like the humans we were planning to go up against."
"So everything that's happened," Mick furrowed his brow, and made an encompassing hand gesture, "Roisin leaving, Josef's breakdown. You're saying all of that is my fault?"
Josef groaned audibly and buried his face in the palm of his hand.
"If you wish to see it that way, I suppose." Auguste absentmindedly stroked his chin, and once again looked wearily amused at Mick's display.
"Alright, enough." Josef bought a halt to proceedings, just as Mick was opening his mouth to respond. "I want to hear more about these plans of yours," Josef addressed Auguste point blank then, repeating his previous line of questioning, "and exactly how my niece fits in with them."
"It's really quite simple," Auguste reached for the decanter of Blood Wine in front of him, and poured each of them another glass, "Roisin was recruited by me, willingly I might add, to be The Order's eyes and ears within the Legion itself. For over a decade now, she has worked at gaining their trust, and their secrets. She has pinpointed both their strengths, and their weaknesses. All of which she has passed on to The Order, under my protection and command, in preparation for eventual all out war. Just as you wanted, Josef…"
"…I never asked for Roisin to become a pawn in my own battles." Josef interrupted; his tone razor sharp.
"But this isn't just your battle." Auguste replied matter of fact, "Not anymore. You were right when you once said The Legion cannot be allowed to continue unchecked. It's time the Vampire Nation took those," a momentary tittering of pre-amusement and Auguse continued, "Pissant fucks down a peg or two. As a matter of fact, I intend to wipe them off the face of the earth almost entirely. And thanks to the valiant efforts of your niece, that scenario is now within our reach."
"How…" Mick cut in
"…And why Roisin, why not some other mortal to do your dirty work?" Josef added with rising contempt.
So much for molasses and the epitome of decorum.
Mick sensed the shift in his husband's demeanour, reaching under the table and squeezing Josef's hand in a quick gesture of reassurance. If Mick was completely honest, he was surprised Josef had managed to keep up appearances for as long as he had. He was the one who had lost his cool. Mick took a moment to silently berate himself for that fact.
"The how," Mick heard Auguste addressing him "isn't important at this time. I've arranged for a meeting to be held in a month's time. Matters will be discussed at length then. And yes you will both be expected to attend."
That last part he directed to Josef. Auguste Vasilescu's memory was long; he hadn't forgotten Josef's previous displays of loyalty to Mick.
"As for Roisin," Auguste spoke again, still addressing his words to Josef, "let's just say she was the most valuable bargaining chip we had. You have a reputation, Josef Kostan. The Legion considers you to be quite the prize…"
"…Lucky me." Josef quipped with the arch of an eyebrow, and a facetious look.
"Indeed," Auguste paused to raise a mock toast, "it must feel wonderful to be so popular…"
Again Mick reached for Josef's hand under the table, this time offering pre-emptive placation. Although judging by the way Mick's nails were digging into the flesh of his palm, Josef had to wonder if it was placation he was offering, or requesting for himself.
The exchange did not pass unnoticed. Again, Auguste chose to ignore it, and continued on. Addressing the both of them equally now.
"As I was saying, Josef is of some interest to the Legion. Outside those of us within The Order itself, he is arguably one of the most powerful Vampires still walking this earth. Or at least that is how the Legion views him. The removal of a human charge from Josef's care," Auguste phrased the word 'care' in inverted commas, giving indication of the Legion's own feelings towards the matter, "they considered something of a not so minor victory. At the very least it prevented the siring of another Vampire…"
"…I would never have sired Roisin," Josef responded with unbridled indignation. His expression set firm.
Auguste gave a deferential nod. The gesture of a hand indicating that certainly wasn't how the Legion viewed things. After all, Josef had already sired Roisin's Mother.
And then Auguste was getting to his feet, and bringing an end to matters for the evening. Gesturing towards a door on the far side of the room they were in, and instructing Mick and Josef they could wait for Roisin in there, after Josef had queried her whereabouts. Before taking his final leave, and with it, a myriad of questions still left unanswered.
"Well this was a complete waste of our time." His dissatisfaction evident, Josef slumped further into the cushions of the lounge he was seated on. Legs kicked out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, and arms folded tight across his chest.
Mick snorted a quick laugh at Josef's petulance, and then sat down beside him. One arm drawn around Josef's waist, the other rested lightly in Josef's lap.
"Yeah, he certainly seems to be playing his cards close to his chest." Mick started to say, only to find his words swallowed by Josef's own voice rising sharp over them.
"As for you," Josef turned to face Mick direct then, his face a mask of accusation. "What the hell was that back there, Mick?"
"I know. I'm sorry, I just…"
Mick's attempt at an apology was briskly pushed aside, as Josef continued to rail. Head cocked, and voice impertinent.
"Don't go throwing your weight around, you told me. Please don't start anything tonight, you said."
"Josef," Mick cut in, his own voice edged with guilt, "I said, I was sorry."
"You're damn lucky our heads are still attached to our necks." Josef stopped, and scrubbed frustrated hands over his face. He'd admonished Mick enough.
The next few moments were spent in awkward silence. Each one fidgeting in turn as they waited for the other to take up the burden of conversation.
"Hey," Josef spoke first. A sheepish elbow prodded into the side of Mick's ribcage, "I'm sorry, okay?"
"No, you were right," Mick let out a reluctant sigh of admittance, and shifted closer. Fingers entwined, and head resting on Josef's shoulder, "I shouldn't have lost my cool the way I did."
Josef was poised ready to tell Mick he couldn't really blame him. Auguste Vasilescu had a way of getting underneath a person's skin. Before he had a chance to speak, they were interrupted by the appearance of a familiar figure, standing in front of them.
"Should I come back?" Roisin raised an eyebrow at her Uncles, and affected a look of momentary innocence, "You seem preoccupied."
Judging by the startled looks they had given her, it was clear to Roisin that neither of them had picked up on her approach. She tried not to smile too obviously. There would be time enough for that.
"No," Josef was on his feet then, shifting towards his niece. His initial hesitation giving way to warmth, and open arms, "No, that won't be necessary. Your Uncle Mick and I were just having a moment together. You must have caught us unaware."
"Just having a moment together, really?" Roisin raised eyebrows and grinned, the melody of an unsuppressed laugh issuing forth, "I seem to recall something about being owed a few rounds of therapy for at least some of those moments you used to have with Uncle Mick."
"Would you settle for a stiff drink instead?" Josef reached for the decanter of fine Malt Whiskey on the table in front of him, and poured a generous measure into one of the tumblers alongside. "You weren't old enough to drink Whiskey back then," he said, as he handed the glass to Roisin. His voice and expression couched in poignancy.
"No, I wasn't," Roisin accepted the drink from Josef's proffered hand, and took a few, quick mouthfuls of the smoky amber fluid. "I wasn't old enough for a lot of things that happened back then, Uncle Josef."
"Mick," Josef turned to Mick then. Mick hovered in the background. Teeth edging a pattern on the pad of his thumb as he chewed distractedly, and watched the scenes in front of him unfold with a wary eye. "Could you leave us for a moment please? I'd like to have a word with Roisin alone."
Despite Josef's best efforts, Mick still baulked at the initial request. Opening his mouth to deliver a ready formed protest, until he saw the imploring look Josef was giving him.
"I'll just be outside if you need me." Mick forced a smile, and offered his reassurances. A few perfunctory words of greeting exchanged with Roisin, before he reluctantly took leave.
"Uncle Mick's really not too fond of me anymore, is he?" Roisin seemed saddened by that thought.
"He'll come around," Josef retook his position on the couch, and gestured for Roisin to sit next to him, "He just needs some more time."
Neither of them spoke after that. Awkward seconds extending into drawn out, and hesitant minutes. In the silence of the room, Josef cocked his head and listened to the faint echo of a rhythm.
"Wait, you're Pregnant." All other plans of conversation dissolved then in the certainty of that statement.
"Yes." Roisin instinctively withdrew, an arm covering her stomach protectively as her Uncle shifted closer.
Josef pretended not to notice. "How far…"
"…twelve weeks."
Josef nodded a distracted understanding, Brow furrowed, and lips pursed, as his mind processed this latest of revelations.
"And who's the Father?"
"Ask me anything, Uncle Josef," Roisin thought, "ask me how I kept from throwing up every time he came near me, ask me why I still feel the need to scrub myself raw in the shower at least six times a day. Just please don't ask me that."
"A man whose name I don't care to mention."
Josef understood then, or at least he thought he did. Roisin's brisk toned reply had made it clear she wouldn't abide any further probing on the matter. At least for the time being
Stopping to pour himself a generous measure of Whiskey, Josef drank down three quarters of the glass in a few quick gulps, and waited for the buzzing in his head to stop.
"Right, well that's settled then," his equilibrium settled, Josef drained the remaining dregs in his glass, and set the tumbler back down on the table in front of him, "you're moving back in with us."
"Uncle Mick won't…"
"…I'll take care of Uncle Mick." Josef trailed a dismissive hand through the air, his mind having already formulated a plan of action.
And then he was listening to the faint echo of a rhythm in the stillness of the room once more. A hand placed carefully over Roisin's stomach, sensing the background pulsations of life.