Jack woke to darkness.
He was naked, sprawled across the smooth cotton sheets of a very soft bed. The room around him was pitch black, cave darkness unrelieved by any hint of light.
He lay motionless for a long moment, trying to connect the dots that had led him here. His last memory was of dancing, trying to entice some stranger at the Suede Tangerine. He didn't remember leaving, getting here (wherever here was), or anything else besides that last dance. He wasn't sure where the memories had gone; he didn't remember drinking more than a sip or two, and there was no tell-tale hangover headache or taste of alcohol on his breath. Had he been drugged?
Ah well. It wouldn't be the first time.
Jack sat up slowly, bracing himself for the nasty after-effects that usually accompanied knock-out drugs. He felt no dizziness or nausea as he rose, which probably meant he'd been out for a while. Jack knew more than your average man about the chemical manipulation of the body, and the effects of most drugs lasted for hours. So . . . logically, it should be day by now. The pitch blackness meant he'd either been out for a really long time, or he was in somebody's basement.
You know, he thought, if I were anyone else, I'd be pretty damn scared right now.
Jack felt his way to the edge of the bed and put one tentative foot down on the floor, deciding he might as well gather clues as to his whereabouts. The floor was smooth, bare stone, pleasantly cool under his feet. He stood up and shuffled slowly forward, hoping he wouldn't bump into anything in the dark. His feet found nothing and he stretched out his hands, certain he was about to hit a wall. His hands found nothing but air, and Jack began moving carefully forward again.
He was just thinking that this had to be a dream, that he had walked too far through the darkness and no basement could be this big, when his grasping fingers brushed something silky. He yelped and jumped back, imagination providing him with a hundred terrible pictures of what could be hanging here in the dark.
Dead person's hair, his terrified mind gibbered. Dead, hanging person's hair.
Oh, shut up, he told himself. When have I actually gone home with someone crazy enough to have bodies in the basement?
Three times.
Oh, right. Shit.
Jack squashed the urge to run back to the bed and hide under it. If there was a body over here, there might be one under there too. Instead, he stretched his hands out and firmly grasped the unknown object. It didn't feel like hair; it felt like fabric, kind of like . . .
"Curtains. I nearly peed myself over fucking curtains? I have got to get a grip."
Disgusted with himself, Jack found the edge of the curtains and started feeling behind them for a window, hoping to get a look outside. Instead of glass he found unbroken stone and stopped, puzzled. So . . . the curtains were just covering the wall, then? This was definitely a basement.
Behind him, someone laughed.
Jack spun, heart racing, peering uselessly into the darkness.
"Would you like a little light, Jack?"
It was the voice of the man from the club, the one Jack had danced for, and he didn't wait for an answer. There was a scrape of stone on stone and suddenly moonlight came flooding in through a rapidly widening space in the wall, filling the room with a soft, silvery glow. Jack saw the spacious room with its vaulted ceiling, the swaths of fabric hanging from the walls, and the huge canopied bed that dominated the room. But what held his attention was the man standing at the foot of the bed, eyes shining like a cat's in the moonlight. He must be wearing some kind of contacts, Jack thought, because human eyes just didn't do that. His long, dark hair blended into the deep shadows in the room, as did the black robe that he wore. The only thing that stood out was his teeth, unusually sharp and bright as he smiled in the dim light.
Okay, so this was all pretty creepy, but Jack was not unduly worried. The posh digs suggested that the man might just be an eccentric rich guy. Plus, it was part of what made the game exciting, knowing that he might end up with a normal guy out for a bit of fun or a psycho who kept his skinning knife and his condoms in the same drawer. Either way, this guy would no longer be a problem in the morning.
Chase was impressed. Jack was showing more initiative than most of his victims did. A thousand years ago, he had expected his prey to be lively. The people of that time had lived in fear of ghosts and demons, and some had recognized him for what he was. Others he told, for his own amusement. Some would attempt to run or fight him; others would fall down in worship or command him to begone in the name of one god or another.
The people of this day and age had some instincts left, but those foolish enough to come home with him rarely noticed anything wrong. Those he told his story to now usually thought he was crazy or attempting to role-play. Once, a blue-haired goth with mystic ambitions had divulged that she was a witch after he explained his draconic nature.
Chase had been rather disappointed after he ate her. She had tasted predictably human.
He decided to tell Jack what he was, if the opportunity presented itself. The reaction was sure to be interesting, and it had been quite some time since he had done so.
"You may look out the window, if you like," he told Jack, gesturing towards the gap he had opened in the wall.
"Thanks a bunch," the boy murmured, obviously fighting hard not to sound sarcastic. Nonetheless, he walked past Chase and peered out the window.
The first thing Jack noticed was that the "window" was simply of a hole in the stone. There was no glass set in the space, just a sudden absence of wall leading out into the night. Then Jack looked out, and the weirdness of the window faded into unimportance.
His breath caught as he looked down. And down, and down, and down. Far below him stretched a vast expanse of empty countryside. Closer, but still below him, wisps of cloud floated. The moon was huge, a shining silver disc so close he could almost touch it.
"Toto," he breathed "we are not in Kansas anymore."
"We weren't in Kansas to begin with."
Mr. Eccentric and Very Rich was standing right behind him, eyes still shining like a feline caught in the headlights, and Jack suppressed a shiver at the nearness of his body.
"Very true. And I'm guessing we aren't in Oz now either?"
Jack could tell the man wasn't getting the reference, but he wasn't particularly inclined to care.
"We're in China. Inside Huo Long Mountain, to be exact."
Jack mulled this over for a moment and decided the stranger was simply trying to mess with him. It was possible, though unlikely, that he'd been out long enough to make it from L.A. to China, but most airlines had policies against dragging unconscious people onto international flights. It might not be the best idea to share his disbelief with his host, however, so Jack picked something else to focus on.
"I see. We're inside a mountain? But . . . that's a window."
Jack turned away from the window in question, leaning against the wall as he waited for an explanation.
"This is a volcano, which means that it is hollow. The shell is quite thick, but this room is near the outermost edge, and I am willing to expand some effort to bring light into my room."
"Oh. That makes- wait. You live in a volcano? Who lives in a volcano? Are you some kind of supervilian?"
Jack's pretense at calm acceptance cracked a bit. This guy was pretty, but he was odd. A volcano lair in China? How stupid does he think I am?
"Not quite. I'm what you might call an 'evil sorcerer'. The term is not an exact fit, but it implies a certain level of powerful magic, which I posses."
Ah. Not lying, just crazy. It was probably best to play along.
"Gotcha. What exactly does being an evil sorcerer entail?"
"At the moment, very little. I oppose the Xiaolin, the side of good, in all things and keep them from gathering shen-gong-wu. The shen-gong-wu are magical items scattered across the earth, and some of them can provide great advantages in battle or other aid to their wielders."
Jack nodded as though he was fascinated and let his gaze rove over the man's chest, partially revealed by the loosely tied robe, and the strong legs not completely covered by the short garment. He was very conscious of the fact that he was naked, and the "evil sorcerer" was only a hair's breadth away.
"I also spend much of my time hunting. I sold my soul to a demon some time ago in return for eternal youth, and I was given the second form of a dragon, along with a dragon's immortality. I must replenish my second form form by drinking soup made with the flesh of a dragon, and I must also eat the flesh of a human in order to keep from losing my humanity completely. Finding prey is time-consuming; there are few dragons left, and few humans fit to be my meal."
Jack was actually listening now, completely entranced. This guy was either nutty as a squirrel or he had a very odd sense of humor. He was absolutely gorgeous, though. His hair was a river of shadow framing his handsome, exotic face, and Jack could feel those eyes on his skin.
Enough talk, Jack decided. Let's get the cuckoo out of his clothes. He can tell me he's the King of Prussia as long as I get to look at him naked while he does it.
"Are you going to eat me?" Jack asked with a flirtatious smile. "It seems like such a waste of my talents."
"What talents are those?"
"Why don't I show you instead of telling you? That way you'll know I'm not just boasting to save my life."
"An admirable suggestion."
Chase was mildly amused by Jack's sudden change in demeanor. Revealing his true nature actually seemed to make Jack horny, or perhaps he had merely grown impatient with talking. Either way, Chase was more than ready to sample the delights that the young man was so freely displaying. He moved back towards the bed, slowly untying his robe and dropping it to the floor as he did so. Jack followed, outlined with a faint halo by the moonlight behind him, his expression gratifyingly lustful and his eyes roamed over Chase's body.
Chase reached for him, intending to draw him onto the bed, but Jack forestalled the attempt by dropping to his knees and running one pale hand up Chase's thigh. He looked up, red eyes gleaming, as he stretched out his tongue to give Chase a soft, teasing lick.
Chase had a moment to reflect on how glad he was he had not killed this one right away. Then Jack's mouth descended, and the thought was washed away by rising bliss.
