Chapter 2

Crimson

"He was like a God, an ancient, forgotten creature that had descended from its throne to torment my poor, weak self. It goes without saying that I immediately felt myself drawn to him, that I could not resist him, although I knew I was bound to get damned."-E.B.


The figure was about 1.75 metres tall, wind ruffled his locks and his long coat. He was carrying a gun in his left hand,a gun he immediately pointed at the bartender. Smoke dissipated in the air, allowing me to catch a glimpse of the intruder. His skin was as white as paper, smooth, without wrinkles. Hair strawberry blond, shoulder length, framed his handsome face. His nose was delicate and his lips were rich and pink, but not a faint pink. His eyebrows were black, roofing big round crimson red eyes. Yes, his eyes, were like the colour of a dark red rose, of dripping blood, of the flames of hell. His features were soft, childish and, dare I say, beautiful, but his eyes were so deep, so cruel and so dangerous I immediately looked elsewhere. They did not suit him, they were far too piercing for his childish features. Even his long eyelashes seemed unreal, guarding his red pupils that seemed to hold a great amount of dark, blood stained secrets. I shivered.

"Daniel," the man said, his voice dead serious and the bartender placed the glass he was washing on the counter along with the white towel.

Said Daniel was probably the same height as the other man, but I couldn't be sure since they were parted by three or four metres. He wore a white shirt and black trousers and he was thin. His hair was brown, tied in a short ponytail, while his eyes were green. He reminded me of someone whose name I could recall at that time.

"Dog," Daniel almost spitted the word as he was walking towards the intruder. The blond's grip tensed on the gun and I found myself flinching at his movement. Daniel's hand slowly reached for his pocket, though I wondered what he could possibly hide in the dark cloth. A gun?

"I should be the one saying that," the other retorted, grimacing at him, his rather long, slim fingers tightening around the metallic object. That's when my body instantly stood up and crossed the room to stop between the two of them. In a split of a second I saw his demonic eyes widen, his lips part slightly, before my hand automatically reached for his face, slapping his soft cheek hard. He dropped his gun automatically, the object hit the wooden floor the next second with a loud POCK! while his hand retreated near his body. I'd never been violent until that moment, I could barely kill a fly, but he triggered something inside myself that made me slap him.

"Idiot!" I shouted at the frozen man who did nothing but stare at me for a couple of minutes. A loud laughter left his throat, shaking his body vigorously, making him bend and hold his stomach with both of his arms. I stared at him confused. What was there to laugh? He was going to shoot a man so I slapped him. Was he mentally ill? I was strongly believing he was.

"You're amazing!" he said after he pulled himself together. His statement only caused my glare to deepen. Yes, he was totally insane. His cold hands grabbed the hand that had just slapped him and his gaze was no longer dangerous, feral, but childish and I swear I could spot sparkles in his eyes.

"Huuuh?" was all I could say.

"Daniel, let's forget it. I've found something more interesting!" he said, totally ignoring my completely lost stare. How could he go from all dangerous and predator to childish, cheerful, loud and dumb? Showing Daniel the happy finger, he grabbed my hand and dragged me outside. He hadn't even picked up his fucking gun! I immediately hitched my hand from his. He turned around raising an eyebrow.

"Are you insane?!" I shouted causing the people that passed by to stare at us. He just smiled at me strangely.

"Why?" Was he serious or was he making fun of my poor self? "I might be, you know," he added wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at me. I pushed his chest slightly.

"Go away," my voice bitter and filled with repugnance.

"Don't want to," he simply stated and grabbed my hand once again. "Now behave and follow me, mister stranger!"

"Don't call me mister stranger. Damn it! At least ask for my name, you idiot!" I snapped. "What are you, twelve?" He laughed again while dragging me through cold rain. I forgot my trench coat at that cafe, but at that time I didn't care. Soon we found ourselves in a bar. The room was poorly lit and and crowded, only one table was free in the corner of the room. Cigarette smoke made the air impossible to be inhaled, but somehow we sailed through it.

"Sorry. My name is Vladimir Lupei. And you must be...?" he offered me his hand and I looked at him...

"Aleksander Balakov." I almost whispered feeling my neck going dry all of sudden. His lips curled in a slight grin and a rather violent shudder ran down my spine. Again, his gaze held something uncanny within it, it was only natural for me to feel afraid, right? I took his hand, still unsure if I were doing the right thing. We shook them, our gaze never breaking.

"So," he paused to order a bottle of red wine,"would you like some wine as well? Or do you prefer cigarettes?" His finger reached for the pocket of his black coat and for a second he made me think of some 19th century gentleman with his silver cigarette case and massive old ring. I shook my head.

"I do not drink, nor do I smoke," I said looking at the wooden walls, but I could still feel his gaze fixed on me, boring holes through my wet head. I could hear my heart beat uncontrollably fast in my chest, threatening to break me. I wondered if he heard it too. Of course not. Pfft. But still, I felt so nervous, my palms were sweating and I suddenly wanted to disappear. This was something I wasn't used to. The whole situation was confusing and I couldn't stop from thinking if I shouldn't have bolted out the room before I got murdered or at least robbed of any pride I still had. But I never stood up to leave.

"Then it's time you started."

"Well, I guess a glass of wine won't kill me.." I sighed. I wasn't really in the mood for drinking, but I didn't really want to be sober either.

"That's my boy!" he patted my shoulder and I flinched at his touch. I wasn't really a 'touchy' person, in fact I liked having personal space, thank you very much. If he saw, he chose to ignore it. The waitress brought us a bottle of wine and I hesitantly took my drink and brought it to my lips. Even without looking at him, I could tell he was registering my very movement and that only made me feel uneasier, if possible.


Four bottles of wine later...

Beside the fact that my head was lighter than a fucking feather and that some words seemed stuck in my throat, I was doing well. Everything was fan-fucking-tastic! I only wished that Claude had been there so I could give him a piece of my mind. I mean, honestly, what had I done so wrong that he had to replace me with that fucking chick? Uggh, this is annoying.

"Say, Aleksander, you've got something on your mind, right?" You don't say. "I don't mean to barge or anything..." Oh, you fucking mean to barge, don't play innocent. I ain't stupid, you know.

"Well, yeah.." I started and took a sip of the dark coloured liquid. "But I don't see how any of that is your business, gun boy." I muttered quite annoyed and took another sip of my crimson poison. He snickered, obviously amused by my tone and that only made me glare at him.

"Come on, don't be so stiff. It's not good for your health. You need to talk about your problems to somebody!" he said. "I mean, don't you have friends or something? What were you doing in that bar all by yourself?" Now, there it was, the Spanish Inquisition. I rolled my eyes obviously not amused. Why did he even bother? Did he have nothing gossip-worth and he decided that intruding in my life was a good idea? Well, sorry, boy with peculiar eyes, I am not interested. "Well?"

"Again, none of your business," I muttered.

"Fine, no need to be so defensive. Good God, can't anyone be the good Samaritan and help his own kind?" If you asked me, he was more talking to himself, but his remark still angered me, so I didn't hold back my reply.

"And a good Samaritan is usually pointing guns at strangers in a public place in the middle of the day, right? Then said good person is kind of kidnapping another stranger and trying to get him drunk." I retorted tapping my fingers on the massive wooden table. "But, to your disappointment, I can't really get drunk. Even if the room is spinning, my mind is functioning even better than before, so don't think you can try anything funny, mister!" I warned him. Despite being the average man, I had an unusual resistance when it came to alcohol.

"Chill, amice, no one said anything about that. I know that our first meeting wasn't really pleasant, bu-"

"But? Look, pal, I am not the kind who trusts random guys pointing guns at people. I'm sure that there is another way to solve your little misunderstanding with the bartender. But don't get me involved in your problems. I have enough to deal with at the moment, honestly." I interrupted him.

"Oh, sure, Aleksander," I scowled at him for calling me by my firstname. "You're not upset that I am calling you Aleksander, are you?" he asked slightly concerned. Now I was concerned too. Was I that obvious and if so, what else did he know or was he, in some impossible way, reading my mind? I suddenly felt self-conscious and I certainly did not like it. Kind of 'mind-naked' too.

"No, it's ok," I replied and the next second I wanted to slap my self hard. I was supposed to tell him yes, it bothers me, now bugger off! not be all friendly and the sort. Well, it must have been the alcohol. Maybe it finally reached my brain. His pink lips curled in a slight grin. He felt pleased by my answer and he wasn't really trying to hide it either. Smug bastard.

"So...why were you lonely in a bar?" he pushed it further and I sighed. He was like a brat, curious and intrusive. And I wasn't sure whether to like that or not.

"I...well, my boss fired me this morning. Let's say it wasn't really nice of him. I've been working there for years..." my words trailed off and my gaze lowered fixing the half empty glass of ruby wine.

"What an ass," he said suddenly and I immediately raised my gaze to look at him rather astonished. "What? It's true. You don't seem the type who'd slack at work or be rude with the others. He had no real reason to fire you, I'm sure, even if I don't know anything about you. That is, sure, if you aren't a psychotic killer under that polite and gentle mask," he smiled by the end of his last sentence, but his eyes did not. Again, those uncanny eyes of his; they can't seem to cut me some slack. I frowned.

"You really are in no position to ask me that, you know," I pointed out the obvious, but he said nothing. He just stood there, on the other side of the table and stared at me shamelessly, the grin never leaving his lips.

"I know. That's why I am doing it, Aleksander."