Okay, chapter six. Sorry for the long wait. It really shouldn't have taken so long, but I've been sick, so I haven't been too inspired to work on it. Eh, my apologies. But hey, it's here, and it's the longest chapter yet!
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh. Heck, I don't even own tons of money, so suing me will get you nothing.
Almost the exact moment Bakura could no longer hear the footsteps of the tanned Egyptian hunter leaving he resumed the activity he'd been trying to accomplish before Marik had entered the shack. Which was trying to move his body. No matter how hard he tried, the most he could achieve were small rippled tremors running through his body. It felt as if a tremendous pressure was all around him, forcing him to lie motionless on this table, helpless. It infuriated him to no end. He despised more than anything the horrid sinking feeling of helplessness, and even worse was being left at the mercy of others. A hunter, of all things, had showed pity on him! As if he were some pathetic animal caught in a trap! Well Marik would see soon enough, wouldn't he? What his idiotic show of compassion had gotten him. The very moment Bakura could move he would tear that foolish hunter to pieces with his claws, in his debt or not.
Cursing his blasted luck, Bakura ceased his vain struggle to liberated his unresponsive body from the ailment that rendered it useless (Dead man's blood, he snarled. What a vile idea) and looked around the shack he rested in with furious red eyes.
The small shack was filled to the brim with piles of junk. Books, weapons he couldn't even fathom what use they could be, all items used to aid in the disposal of his kind. Even the makeshift pillow beneath his head was some sort of a trap. He had recognized the ward on its surface when Marik had held it up. Fortunately, it appeared that this family of hunters was ignorant when it came to using most of these devices. Not that it made Bakura hate them any less.
The weapons hanging from the walls or on small open surfaces or even the floor were all different kinds, shapes, and sizes. It was an impressive collection of deadly devices all in one cluttered shack, but Bakura didn't feel very impressed. Not when he was sure that quite a few of these weapons had been used to torture... On many of the surfaces of the various blades there was a crusted reddish-brown substance, sometimes a lot, sometimes just a speck, which Bakura knew was not rust. So not only was this cluttered shack a storage area, but some crude torture chamber? Disgusting.
Bakura crinkled his nose in disgust and snarled to himself. Now that he really took notice of it, the damn shack even smelled like old blood. Some of it was his own from the wound in his leg made by the poison-tipped blade he'd unwittingly triggered, the rest of it was clearly old vampiric blood. He wondered if the rest of Marik's family would torture him if they knew he was here. He wouldn't put it past Malik; crazy psycho that he was would enjoy it no doubt. What about Marik, his supposed savior? Had he tortured any blood-drinkers with those hanging weapons? Would he torture him? Even if the hunter had saved him and said numerous times he wouldn't hurt him, Bakura trusted him about as much as you could trust a fucking snake not to bite you.
He needed to get away from here. He wasn't safe and he knew it. It Marik did prove to be as trustworthy as he thought him to be and turned into some twisted butcher the next time he walked through the door, Bakura would be helpless. Unfortunately, the only one he could count on for help was Ryou, and he was close to useless. He didn't mean to put his brother down, but Ryou didn't exactly fall into the "fighter" category. Hell, he still cried if he accidentally stepped on an ant. Not to mention that his twin had no idea where he'd gone to get his drink. Yes, Bakura's current situation was the very definition of the word screwed.
He took another quick look around the shack, this time not focusing on the bloodied, rusted weapons but the books and manuscripts lying around. Did any of them hold the secret of dead man's blood in their bindings? Could any of them possibly aid him in finding a way to escape this prison and break free from the invisible manacles shackling him to the table in this damn shack? He supposed if any of them did Marik wouldn't have been stupid enough to leave them lying around, but then, did it even matter? Bakura couldn't move even his pinky; much less grab any of the books, even the ones within his reach. It seemed like his fate truly rested in the skillful, bronzed hands of the exotic Egyptian hunter. Of course. Fate always had hated him.
With nothing else to do but lie, Bakura's thought involuntarily strayed to the very hunter that had taken him here as he stared at the ceiling. As much as the vampire would love to believe that those words Marik had spoken of keeping him safe were false, even if it would be at his expense, he doubted it. For some reason unfathomable to his mind, Marik actually had meant what he'd said. And to be brutally honest, that scared Bakura. He expected fighting and bloodshed and death resulting from an encounter with a hunter, but his with Marik had been anything but. For some insane reason the other actually wanted to protect him! Ha! A hunter protecting a vampire. Was he out of his bloody mind?
Marik had nothing to gain from protecting him and everything to lose. If his family ever found out about this situation, unless they were unrealistically forgiving, which Bakura seriously doubted (with the case of Marik as a rare exception, hunters were rumored to be as unforgiving as vampires themselves), then Marik would be seriously punished for his digressions. And even if they never did, the moment this damn concoction flowing in his veins wore off Bakura would kill the brat himself. To him, the concept of owing someone else didn't matter. If Marik's death were required for him and Ryou to be allowed to continue their existence, then Bakura would gladly pay that price.
He had to know that. Bakura didn't think that Marik was stupid, even if recent events suggested otherwise. He had to know that the moment he was free to move, he would be killed. So why then was he doing something so unbelievably dangerous and risky to the health of himself and his siblings by keeping a vampire alive?
It didn't really matter, Bakura decided sternly. What did it matter to him how stupid Marik was behaving? After all, this irrational behavior had saved his hide, and that was the important matter. Everything else was just details. Marik was an idiot, and to make up for that he would pay with his blood. Even if Bakura couldn't drain humans of their precious life force, plenty had fallen under his claws, and Marik would be just another casualty, another body in a tower of nameless corpses that had been slaughtered to keep Ryou and himself safe, to protect their future and clear their path of obstructions.
And yet, Bakura couldn't help but remain curious as to why exactly Marik had decided to help him. The hunter had said he would come back. Until the dead man's blood wore off and Marik's time on this earth had come to an end, Bakura would amuse himself with finding out the reason behind this curious behavior. It was the only thing he could do, other than fantasize over ad over how he would kill the beautiful hunter named Marik who'd been foolish enough to let him live.
00000
What in the name of Ra was he doing? That was the only thought that replayed itself over and over relentlessly in Marik's head from the very moment he had woken up to where he sat now in his classroom. The teacher was saying something, though it may have just as well been gibberish for all Marik was listening. What in the world had he been thinking? Had he even been thinking? Because it seemed highly unlikely.
At this very moment while he was sitting in a classroom at school, there was a freaking vampire in the shack not too far from his house! There were so many things wrong with this situation, so many things that could go wrong! What if Isis or Rishid had needed to go into the shack before heading off to work? What if the dead man's blood had worn off and he and Malik would return home to see their siblings dead on the floor? So many things could go wrong and it was all his fault!
He should have killed him. He should have killed Bakura. Last night he hadn't been thinking clearly. It had shocked Marik greatly to discover that the vampire on their property had been his classmate Bakura, and he hadn't been thinking with the cold level of clarity he should have been. He had thought that maybe he could keep Bakura protected from his family long enough for the dead man's blood to wear off, and then the vampire would leave and everything would be fine. Oh, what an idiot he's been.
Bakura had to die. He couldn't be allowed to survive. Nothing would be solved if he did. Vampires were vicious, single-minded beasts. Bakura had said that if Marik and his family meant trouble for him and Ryou, he would kill them, and Marik didn't doubt that vow in the slightest. Even if he did show compassion to Bakura and let him leave, Bakura wouldn't just leave them alone. No, this couldn't be settled peacefully. One of them would have to be annihilated for the other to live.
Marik had the upper hand. He had Bakura immobilized in the shack. All he needed to do to guarantee the safety of his family and himself was to take his machete from the floor of the shack where he'd left it the night before, being too tired and weary to remember to pick it up, and press it to the slender white neck... One slice, that was all it would take. Just one. And then Bakura would be dead...
"Marik? Did you hear what I said?"
Startled from his thoughts, Marik raised his head from his palm and his troubled expression melted into a sheepish grin.
"Sorry teacher. I wasn't paying attention," He said with a false laugh. The teacher frowned.
Very well. Could someone help him?" The ever-helpful Yuugi raised his hand to dig Marik out of his proverbial hole and Marik's head dropped again into the palm of his head as he returned to his rather morbid thoughts of killing his classmate. He caught his twin looking at him strangely, but he didn't ponder the reason for the look.
Malik would be able to kill Bakura. So would Isis and Rishid. If anyone besides him had found the vampire, he would have been dead by now. Was he weak for not having done it? He supposed he was. The rest of his siblings would have been strong enough. Malik would have killed Bakura without a single hesitation. Now Marik would have to be strong enough to do the same thing. Bakura couldn't live. Not if Marik wanted to protect his family.
00000
"Isis, I'm going out for a while," Marik said. Isis peered over the book she was reading and her blue eyes narrowed.
"What sort of trouble are you planning on getting into?" She questioned wearily. Marik's mouth stretched into a comforting grin and he waved her accusations off.
"None Isis!" Just going out to kill a vampire. "I only wanted to take a walk." Malik happened to be descending the stairs at this moment and he poked his blonde, spiked head into the conversation.
"A walk? Sounds like fun," He grinned evilly as he sauntered across the room to Marik's side. "Think I'll join you brother." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Marik and his pink tongue quickly darted out to moisten his lips. He was insinuating that they go pickpocket someone again.
"Sorry Malik, but I wanted to be by myself for a bit," Marik said apologetically.
"Suit yourself then. I've got better things to do with my time anyways," Malik remarked offhandedly
"Like doing the laundry. The pile's starting to get pretty big," Isis pointed out cheerfully. Malik made a face but sauntered out of the room as easily as he had come in. Marik's show grin faded just a little. How easy it would be to just stay here and join his brother with the laundry and relax in the comfortable atmosphere. He was tempted to do just that, but he had a job to do.
"Going now Isis," He said, renewing his smile.
"Okay. Just don't be out too late Marik. You've still got your homework to finish, and you're still grounded."
"Got it." He left the house and his smile vanished with the first step he took to the shack. His machete would be still lying on the floor of the shack where he'd left it. And Bakura would be lying motionless on the table where he'd left him. Everything was in place. Now he just needed to accomplish the deed.
He walked silently through the woods, being careful to watch his step so he didn't trigger any of the traps set around their property. Normally such a task would be easy to do, but while he'd been at school Rishid and Isis had placed more hidden traps, to be cautious. Better to be safe that sorry seemed to be the motto for the Ishtar's today.
As it was, the extra precaution forced Marik to be extra careful of his steps. The last thing he needed was to trigger a trap, possibly injure himself, and then have to explain the reason for why his walk just happened to bring him in the direction of the woods. Fun as that all seemed, he'd pass on all the commotion. He just wanted to get this over with as quickly and as easily as possible.
He didn't think as he maneuvered through the woods on his way to the shack. He didn't allow himself to think. In a situation like this, any sort of thought was the enemy. Marik knew what he had to do: he had to kill Bakura, because Bakura was a vampire and a danger to his family, and Marik was a hunter and that's what hunters did. Kill. Specifically, vampires. Which Bakura was, one hundred percent. It was simple, and if he thought about it more is would be complicated. Gray instead of black and white. If he thought he would question his every move and in the end might be unable to do what needed to be done. Which was definitely not allowed. So Marik didn't think.
For one moment he hesitated. Right before he opened the door to the shack Marik hesitated. A thought flitted through his mind—Should I really do this?—before it was mercilessly crushed. He opened the door and stepped inside.
He heard Bakura say something to him but he paid it no heed and strode across the small room to pick up his machete from where he had unceremoniously tossed it the night before. Its sharp edge glinted and promised to do its job.
"I'm going to kill you now," Marik said carelessly. His voice betrayed nothing, but almost the moment the sentence was uttered he gripped his head as a sharp pain shot through his skull. All the thoughts he had been painstakingly trying to prevent from entering his head took this moment of weakness to their advantage and bombarded his head, forcing him to grip his head tighter as pain blossomed in the form of a migraine at the base of his skull.
What was he doing? He couldn't just kill Bakura! For Ra's sake, he knew him! Bakura was practically his friend, and now he was going to chop his head off his neck? Would he kill Ryou next? Like the other teenager would even put up a fight! Bakura would, but Bakura was currently immobilized and defenseless on a table. Would he just butcher him and then merrily hop along his way to kill Ryou? He couldn't!
No. He had to! For his family! If he didn't kill Bakura now, when the vampire recovered he would be back, and it wouldn't be to say thank you. The pained snarl faded into a grim expression of calm and Marik slowly lowered his hand and raised his head. The machete was still clutched in his hand. Bakura was a vampire, and like all other vampires, he needed to be exterminated.
Cold purple eyes stared at Bakura as he approached the desk. Marik's head still throbbed painfully, but he was no longer plagued by those pesky thoughts of mercy. Now he was again cold and uncaring, and very sure of what it was he needed to do.
"So vampire, any last words?" Marik questioned casually as he flipped the machete from side to side in his head. Bakura's fanged smirk caught him off guard and his uncaring mask almost slipped for a second time.
"Just to say that I was right," Bakura smirked. He sounded so easygoing. This wasn't right.
"Wh-what?" Marik asked.
"I was right," Bakura repeated. His smirk grew wider. "You're just lying scum like everyone else. Oh, I know that things would end like this, but you were so sure that you'd keep me safe from harm and protect me. But in the end you're a liar just like the rest of us."
"I'm not a liar," Marik said softly. He ceased his flicking the machete around and now it hung listlessly at his side. He... he wasn't a liar. But he had to protect his family and himself. And... Bakura had to die. It was unfortunate, but it had to be done. There were not other solutions.
"Sure! Nope, you didn't lie at all, did you Marik? Oh, you've always been up-front and honest," Bakura replied cheerfully, voice overflowing with thick sarcasm.
"I'm not a liar damn it! If I could just leave you alive I would! Marik yelled. He gripped his machete and swung it at Bakura's neck. He stopped himself when the dangerous blade just barely nicked the creamy skin, bringing a bead of blood to the surface. He glared at Bakura hotly. All he needed to do was push the blade down. Push it down, and end this vampire's pathetic life once and for all.
Bakura didn't say anything to him. His pale face was blank and no longer bore the venomous smirk. With his mouth closed, Marik couldn't see his fangs. He knew they were there still, but in this instant Bakura looked like the teen he had watched intently before the two of them had known each other and Malik had started the fight between them. And his eyes... Instead of the bloody red Marik expected them to be, they were a normal, dull brown. It was unnerving. The vampire had a blade to his throat and was already bleeding, but he did nothing to prevent himself from the fate that was in store for him. Not that he could, due to the dead man's blood, but Marik still expected him to hiss and spit. But Bakura did nothing. He didn't even look like a vampire right now. Instead, he appeared so human that Marik hesitated to push the blade down further.
"I'm not a liar," He repeated quietly. It sounded like he was trying to convince the vampire of something. That there really was nothing else he could do but to kill him. It was the only way to keep his siblings safe, wasn't it?
Bakura said nothing, and it infuriated Marik. He wanted him to say something! Argue some more with him, snarl and hiss, just do something more than to lay there with such an accepting look on his face. This was Bakura! Surely Bakura wouldn't just allow himself to be decapitated, but why then was he not doing anything? Why? Didn't he fear for his lie?
"Say something!" Marik yelled sharply as he pressed the machete once more against pale skin.
"Like what?" Bakura asked finally, voice harsh. "Want me to beg you not to kill me? Do it then mortal," He hissed, revealing a threatening flash of those sharp fangs.
"Fine," Marik said, almost of the verge of giggling. "Fine, I'll do it!" He raised the machete once again He had to do it. Bakura had to die! It was needed, wasn't it? Who cared it he was the closest person to Marik other than his siblings? None of that mattered! None of it was important! None of it...! None of it...
Marik screamed as he brought the machete down. It slammed into the wooden table with a thunk only a centimeter or two away from Bakura's slender, cream neck.
"Damn it!" Marik shouted. He brought one clenched fist down against the table and the other he made connect with the underside of Bakura's jaw. He yelled again and spun away from the table. He kicked at the piles of books on the floors and tore papers and weapons off the walls and threw them to the floor. His head was throbbing to the point where the insistent pain made it hard to concentrate.
Why? Why couldn't he do it? Why was it so hard for him to kill Bakura? He'd never had this problem before! He'd always been able to kill vampires. What made this any different? What, just because he knew Bakura he couldn't kill the other teenager? Oh, if Malik knew how much trouble he was having, how he'd laugh!
Marik ceased his destruction. Malik. Malik would be able to finish the job, wouldn't he? Malik had always had fun killing vampires. If it were Malik, Bakura would be already dead. Why? Why could Malik kill so easily but not Marik? They were twins, so shouldn't they both be able to do the same things? Why couldn't Marik kill him then?
"Damn it. Dammit, dammit, dammit!" Marik swore. What could he do? What could he do if he was unable to kill Bakura? Was there anything? Other than to let the vampire recover and slaughter everybody?
Marik began to pace the small room as he tried to think. He seemed to be going in circles and his migraine didn't help to ease him out of this rut he was stuck in. The only things he knew for sure were that he could not kill Bakura and at the same time he could not allow him to live. But there seemed to be no way to resolve this problem and his frustration made him tired.
He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath of air. Allowing himself to become worked up wasn't solving anything. He released the breath of air and quietly stood still for a moment as he calmed all his thoughts. When he opened his eyes once more his head still ached with pain but he had managed to rid himself of his frustration. Gracefully, he sidestepped the fallen piles of books and the new mess he'd created and sunk down into the chair he'd slide to rest in front of the table Bakura laid on last night. The vampire was strangely quiet, and his expression was guarded. Marik's eyes settled on the inflamed red mark on the underside of Bakura's jaw that had been the result of his fist, and he regretted punching him in the first place. The angry red mark clashed terribly with the other teen's pale white skin, and it seemed wrong.
"Sorry for that," Marik said awkwardly. At the sound of his voice Bakura's eyes swiveled to lock with his own and for a brief second they flashed red.
"'Sorry?' What the hell is wrong with you? One day you say that you'll keep me safe, then the next you're trying to kill me, and now you apologize? What the fuck Marik? Make up your mind already! Just what are you planning on doing with me?" Bakura yelled. His eyes had turned back to their furious red color and his nose wrinkled back as he bared his ferociously long fangs. Marik couldn't help to shudder at the intense hatred reflected at him through those fire-red eyes, and he lost any determination that he'd possessed. What was he going to do?
"I-I don't know," Marik confessed as his voice broke. The weak tone he spoke with disgusted him but he could do nothing about it. He didn't know what to do in this situation, just like he hadn't last night. At school when he'd gotten away from everything he had thought he knew what to do, but now, confronted again with this undesirably complex scenario, he lost face. He needed help. And there was no one that he could turn to. No one that could help without learning the error he'd committed of being incapable of killing a vampire twice now.
"Would you like me to get some ice for your jaw? Or bandage your neck?" Marik asked, head down. He didn't want to look at Bakura and see what he'd done and what he'd been unable to do. He didn't want to face the smoldering volcanic depths of Bakura's eyes. He didn't want Bakura to see in his own eyes how much of a failure he was.
"Why bother?" Bakura replied harshly. "I'm already dead so it doesn't matter if you leave it to heal by itself. How about you instead make yourself useful by explaining to me exactly what it going on inside that psychotic head of yours?"
Marik left his question unanswered. How could he be expected to answer what he himself did not know? So instead, when he was sure that Bakura didn't want anything to soothe his wounds, he left, more confused and conflicted than when he'd come.
00000
The next day Marik's only thoughts were of the vampire in his shack. He was unable to concentrate at all on his schoolwork, just as he feared would happen. He'd begged Isis to let him stay home from school, but his elder sister had been adamant in her unwavering decision to send Marik to school. As it was, his lack of attention in class got him more reprimands than usual and alerted his twin to his strange behavior, who he'd caught eyeing his suspiciously more than once throughout the day. When he'd stolen away to the shack the moment they had arrived home he'd felt Malik's inquisitive deep mauve eyes on his back, though he chose to say nothing. Marik would have to be more careful around his twin.
When he reached the shack the sight of a sleeping Bakura greeted him. Even though the teen was still under the influence of the dead man's blood and was probably anything but, the vampire appeared to comfortable, lying there on the table. His soft white hair was fanned out over the makeshift fabric pillow and his face for once looked peaceful. His eyes were closed and his pale lips were parted slightly. His chest didn't move with the normal rise and fall motion of relaxed breathing, and now Marik had another question -did vampires breath?
Marik couldn't help but remain memorized by the rare sight as he walked slowly closer to the table. Bakura looked so peaceful and innocent while he slept; appearing more like Ryou than the ruthless, intimidating person he was normally. The vampire looked more like an angel than the bloodsucking fiend he really was. The only aspect that disrupted this image of peace and tranquility was the ugly black and blue bruise along the gentle curve of Bakura's jaw and the crusted brownish red blood around his injured neck and staining his shirt.
Without realizing what he was doing, Marik's hand lifted of its own accord and slowly inched toward Bakura's face. He wanted to touch that sleeping face and run his fingers through that long silvery white hair. The traitorous hand was mere centimeters from achieving this fantasy when a voice but through his trance and snapped him from his trance.
"You done ogling me now?" Marik yanked his hand back as it the other were poisonous to the touch quickly before Bakura opened his cold brown eyes.
"I thought you were sleeping." Marik mumbled, averting his gaze from those eyes.
"Only an idiot would sleep in the presence of the person who just tried to kill them," Bakura snorted. Marik sighed heavily and sunk into the chair across from the other teen. He ran a hand through his hair and settled his eyes on Bakura.
"What, you want me to apologize or something?" Marik questioned just as sarcastically, with an added eye roll.
"Not really, but I would like an explanation of exactly what happened yesterday," Bakura said. Marik shook his head.
"I don't really know," He admitted. "I wanted to kill you. But obviously I can't do that. So I don't know what comes next."
"So why are you here then?"
"I wanted to talk to you." Why not talk? He had a vampire trapped in his shack and there were quite a few questions he wanted to ask, so why not take this time to find out the answers to those questions? It really was the only thing they could do now anyways.
"Well ask away then," Bakura replied carelessly, eyes flicking up to the ceiling.
"Why can you go out in the sun? All the vampires I've ever encountered have been burnt by it," Marik said. Bakura's face darkened considerably and for a split second his eyes flashed that fearsome red before reverting back to their normal brown. Marik pondered this reaction. To him, the question seemed like a simple one with probably an equally simple answer. Was there perhaps more to it than that?
"All the ones you've encountered then were probably mere fledglings. Young vampires without any help on how to blend into your human world. It's the reason why there are fewer vampires today then there have been since the first of our kind was created. We keep changing more, but most of us prefer to live solitary lives and the newly changed vampires never learn how to survive. Most of them act too suspicious and you hunters come to investigate, and they of course, die.
"As we grow older we develop an immunity, if you could call it that, to the sun. Its rays still burn our skin, but we become able to go outside in the sunlight without being reduced to ash. Of course, that doesn't mean that it sill can't be fatal. The fledgling vampires never reach the age where they can gain this immunity before they are killed," Bakura explained.
"But that still doesn't make any sense. If the sun still burns you, then why can you and Ryou go outside in the day and look perfectly fine? Shouldn't it hurt?" Marik inquired. Bakura's expression, which had gone back to normal as he talked, now blackened again and the corner of his mouth twitched as if he wanted to snarl.
"Because Ryou and I have overcome that weakness," He spat, "By spending torturous hours in the sunlight, slowly increasing each interval we spend to increase out tolerance to the agony of feeling our skin burn. All so we could try to fit into this world better." Bakura's eyes had changed again to that intimidating red hue, which now Marik understood didn't happen because he was trying to look scary or badass, but they changed naturally when he was feeling strong emotion.
Marik felt his stomach churn. He knew of pain. Not the type Bakura was speaking of, but he knew of pain. But even what he had felt and had known didn't extend for as many hours as both vampire twins would have had to suffer to tolerate the pain of the sun. The sun was supposed to hurt vampires. For one to train himself to endure that pain and be able to live with it... how much time would that have taken? How much agony would have had to been felt? Marik didn't want to know. He didn't even want to think about it. He wished he hadn't asked. Because now he was beginning to feel pity for the vampire lying on the table.
"How old are you? Both when you died and how many years you've lived," Marik asked rapidly, quickly changing the subject. Bakura's burning red eyes had been positively glaring at the ceiling, but now broken of their remembrance they turned to Marik and quickly became brown. Bakura seemed slightly confused at the interruption, and took a minute to compose himself before he continued in a rather bland and uninterested tone.
"I'd just turned eighteen not too long before my life as a human ended. Since then I've been alive for about six hundred and twelve years," He said. Marik's eyes widened. The oldest he'd known a vampire to be was just shy of three hundred. But now he knew of two that were over half a century old! Just to imagine all the things Bakura must have lived through made him excited. Ah, all the questions he could ask now!
"Where did you live? How did you become a vampire?" The Egyptian hunter asked. His excitement made his eyes sparkle like amethysts and gave him the appearance of a child
"We lived in London. Though you'd never know it now. The hunters back home are efficient, much more that the ones here in Japan. Ryou and I were forced to move here about eighty years ago. By now we've lost out accents and sound like any normal Japanese citizen would. And I was turned by a young female who thought I was attractive," Bakura continued boredly. Despite himself and the situation, Marik felt himself smirk.
"Oh? She hot?" He inquired casually. Instead of the reaction he'd expected from Bakura, the vampire glared again at him with red pools of blood. Marik was startled and his smirk disappeared.
"That's not exactly the thought that had been on my mind when I discovered that I had been turned into some kind of fucking monster!" Bakura snarled angrily. Oh. That made sense, didn't it? Of course he probably hadn't wanted to become a vampire.
Marik felt like slapping himself to get some blood flowing to his brain. Did he not think? Every question he's asked so far had brought up some uncomfortable aspect of Bakura's past. If he didn't want to anger the vampire he would have to think carefully about his next questions.
"How did Ryou turn?" He asked carefully. If he'd learned anything so far, it was that Bakura could be very protective of his younger twin. He hoped this question wouldn't anger the vampire, but it if did he would take it.
"I did it," Bakura said stiffly. There was no anger evident in his voice, but his eyes continued to remain their crimson blood-red color. So although he wasn't showing it, Bakura obviously felt some strong emotion on this subject.
"Do you breathe?" Marik asked suddenly changing the subject once again to something that could not at all be uncomfortable.
Bakura raised an eyebrow. "What kind of question is that?" Marik smiled, just a little.
"Well when you were sleeping-"
"I wasn't sleeping," Bakura interjected.
"-it looked like you weren't breathing. So I wanted to know if you did or not," Marik finished.
"Well I'm dead, so I don't really need to breathe. When I'm awake I do it naturally. It's hard to just stop breathing, even if you don't need to. But when I sleep, since there is no reason for me to do it, I don't breathe," The vampire answered. Not breathing? How strange.
"How about you, brave hunter of vampires? How did you become what you are?" Bakura asked, a little sarcastically. Marik's smile wavered. Well this he had not really been expecting. But he had already heard so much of the other's past, so why not answer the question?
"My grandfather's family had been killed my them and he vowed to get revenge. My father followed in his footsteps and I suppose we're following in his," Marik explained simply, shrugging. He hoped Bakura wouldn't make a big deal of it, but the vampire's calculating cold brown eyes zoomed in on him and the corner of his mouth lifted in a wickedly unnerving smirk. And that one visible gleaming fang was not helping the growing feeling that maybe this was a bad idea.
"So the only reason you are a hunter is because of your father?" Bakura questioned just a little too innocently.
"It's... personal as well," Marik said after a brief hesitation. Maybe if he offered a little free information the vampire wouldn't feel the need to pry.
"Oh really? How so?" Bakura prodded eagerly.
"They took something from me, and I'm not telling you anything else so you better shut up," Marik snapped rather testily. He had known it would be better off not to talk about his past. He rarely did even with his siblings, so discussing it with this bloodsucker was out of the question.
"What about your parents? Where are they?" Bakura insisted.
"They're dead if you must know," Marik replied curtly, voice barely containing the emotion he felt. Even though he did this well, he could still hear the slight tremble his voice gained. Bakura must have heard it as well, for his smirk grew larger. And Marik became furious. That bastard was enjoying making him feel uncomfortable! And he's tried to not as hard questions of Bakura!
"Mhmm, too bad I guess. So, since you're Egyptian and certainly colored for long hours in the beating sun, I'm assuming that you had lived in Egypt before coming here. Why'd you leave?" the vampire asked. Marik successfully refrained from shouting, "Whatever gave you that idea?" but couldn't quite reign in the eye roll. He had an idea that the infuriating vampire was acting this way on purpose as some kind of petty revenge for everything that had gone on so far that had evaded his control.
"Leaving Egypt was Isis's idea. Malik and I weren't exactly the best of kids, and we got ourselves into a lot of trouble that Isis didn't appreciate. So when she was offered a job here at the museum she took it and we hopped on a boat to get to Japan," Marik explained shortly. "Are you done asking stupid questions now?"
"Only if you're done asking them of me," Bakura countered.
"Fine. No more stupid questions. Agreed?" Marik asked. When the vampire's smirk didn't fade, instead growing wider, Marik guessed that this preposition was not okay. And that it was probably for a reason he wouldn't like.
"I'm afraid I do have one more request. I need blood," Bakura purred, eyes darkening into a chilling, subtly colored crimson and his fangs extending slowly.
00000
After Bakura had demanded of him his ridiculous request, Marik had left the shack in a disgusted hurry. He'd felt repulsed. It was bad enough that he was sheltering a vampire instead of killing it like he should, but he was not going to stoop so low as to bring him blood. He had to draw the line somewhere.
He had hoped that the other teenager would have gotten it through his skull that there was obviously no way in hell that he would be bringing blood for him to drink, but for all his savvy ways of keeping the hunters off his back, this vampire sure was stupid. The moment Marik entered the shack the next day the very first thing out of the vampire's mouth was another demand for blood, fangs exposed and eyes that creepy dark crimson color again. Marik was almost tempted to just leave the shack again and had started leaving when he heard a strangled cry of "Wait!"
"What?" Marik demanded, lilac eyes flashing angrily as he spun around.
"I need blood!" Bakura said.
"Well maybe you just don't understand. I don't care about what you 'need', I'm not going to feed you like some sort of deranged, evil pet!" Marik yelled, twirling around in anger again.
"If you don't you'll regret it," Bakura said lowly. Marik stopped and slowly turned around again.
"Are you threatening me?" He asked slowly, voice rising at the end of the sentence as a foreboding show of just how angry he was. The vampire was going to dare threaten him? He, the person who had saved Bakura's ass? "Are you forgetting that you can't move?"
"Trust me, that's the one thing I haven't forgotten," Bakura replied dryly. "Look, what was I doing when you caught me?" Marik frowned.
"You said you were hunting," He answered. Bakura smirked.
"Exactly. I never got anything. Your traps caught me before I could feed. So I never got any blood, and I am very hungry," He said, smirking eerily.
"So what? Not like it's going to kill you," Marik scoffed.
"Actually, that's one of the few things that will," Bakura admitted, which surprised Marik. Why tell him one of the few ways that he could be killed? Did Bakura perhaps trust him? "But that doesn't matter. I won't be here ling enough to have to worry about something like that. Actually, I don't need to worry at all. This is a heads up for you and your family." Bakura paused, knowing full well that he had grabbed Marik's attention now. He grinned just slightly when the hunter took a seat across from him.
"As I said, I'm hungry. And a hungry vampire is not something you'd like to have on your ass, little hunter. We vampires have a certain instinct that takes over us when we become hungry, as every living thing does. Nothing ever wants to die," Bakura chuckled. He spoke these words in a strangely bitter, but light-hearted manner. "Unfortunately for you, our instinct is much more vicious than most. When we are in danger of starvation, we become frenzied beats and lose our minds. We'll do whatever it takes to get blood. Right now I'm keeping that instinct at bay, but unless I get food soon I won't be able to. And while your dead man's blood trap may keep me down for a while, the moment it wears off I'll go for the closest meal available."
"My siblings," Marik finished grimly. Bakura nodded. Oh Ra. Well this was certainly troubling, wasn't it?
"You couldn't have told me this earlier?" He asked.
"Tried to. You didn't listen," Bakura said casually. If punching the vampire would solve even one of his problems, Marik wouldn't hesitate to do so.
The Gods, he decided, must hate him. Now he had yet another tough decision to make. If what Bakura had said was true, he needed blood, or the moment the poison in his system ran out he would go after the four Ishtars. Of course, Marik couldn't let that happen, but he couldn't get blood for his captive to drink either. If only he had only been able to kill him.
But then, maybe he could... Hadn't Bakura said that he could die from starvation? If he kept the vampire here by injecting more dead man's blood into his system and just never fed him...
Marik's stomach lurched at the thought. No, he couldn't do that. He'd been unable to behead Bakura, and starving would be by far the worse choice. No, he definitely could not go through with a plan as heartless as this one. But... the only other alternative was to get blood for the vampire to drink. Which really was not something he wanted to do. Protecting him was bad enough, but if his siblings ever found out that on top of that, he'd been feeding the vampire... Not a pleasant thought.
"Isn't there something else I could do?" Marik pleaded desperately.
"I need blood. Unless this concoction of yours wears off soon, then you'll have to get me some. I'd prefer deer. It has a better taste than the blood of livestock. It's... wild. Taste better," Bakura commented nonchalantly. Marik grimaced. How could he just talk about something like that so easily? It was disgusting! And he was expected to just serve him blood like some sort of gruesome waiter? The very idea repulsed him. And he had to actually do this?
"Sorry, but the only thing I hunt is vampires. I'm not exactly qualified to hunt deer. Not am I about to go kill some farmer's livelihood," Marik remarked dryly. He hopped out of his chair and wandered to one of the walls of the shack.
"Then what are you going to do? Or would you prefer that I take a bite out of your psycho brother and your darling sister?" Bakura asked sarcastically. That comment threatened to make Marik explode in a torrent of yelling directed at his unwilling companion for those words against his family, but the thought of what he would have to do steadied him. He closed his eyes for a moment before selecting a shiny blade off the wall. Before he could think about what he was contemplating doing, he had ran the blade across his wrist, wincing from the pain of the fresh cut.
The very moment blood began to well out of the cut Bakura's already dark crimson eyes blackened even more until only the faintest traces of normal red could be seen in his almost completely black, hypnotic glassy orbs. His fangs grew larger than Marik had seen before, to the point where it almost scared him to imagine them piercing his flesh. The vampire's lips quivered, and he couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from the freshly spilt blood.
"What are you doing?" Bakura snarled. His voice sounded hoarse and raspy and... pained?
"You need blood right? Well this is the only blood that I've got, so unfortunately we'll both have to deal with this," Marik snapped, "So hurry up!" He neared Bakura, who hissed at him.
"Not human blood! I can't drink human blood!" He yelled.
"Too bad," Marik replied irritably. His blood was steadily flowing from his slashed wrist down to the crook of his elbow and from then on slowly drip-dripping to the floor. He didn't care if the vampire didn't drink human blood or not, he couldn't move and so he had no say in the matter. Marik couldn't allow him to go after his family, so if this was what needed to be done, then this is what he would do. And he needed to do it fast, before the blood loss began to affect his vision.
Marik held his bleeding wrist over Bakura. The vampire struggled to the best of his ability with the dead man's blood still lacing his bloodstream and making him unable to move, but the moment the first drop of blood fell he watched it with intense darkened eyes and opened his mouth to catch the crimson beads. Marik turned away, disgusted. He felt a wave of nausea hit him and wanted to puke.
How could he do something so humiliating? Letting a vampire feed off his own blood, giving it to him like some sort of pet! The very thought was sickening, and the activity itself was repulsive. He wished to all the gods he knew that he didn't have to do this. Damn vampire. It only he'd been able to kill him!
Marik felt a sharp pain pierce his wrist and a strangled cry escaped his lips. He turned back to look at Bakura and gasped. Bakura was sitting up! He was sitting up! Fear seized him. It was impossible! No! The dead man's blood should have kept him motionless! It wasn't possible! Bakura couldn't move! He couldn't! He-!
"S-Stop it!" Marik cried out, voice panicky. Bakura could move again. Somehow, something had gone wrong. The dead man's blood wasn't working, something was wrong. And now, now he was helpless, trapped in a shack with a vampire who was definitely mobile, and whose fangs were deeply imbedded in his skin. Was his vision already becoming fuzzy now that his blood was leaving his body so much faster? He had to do something.
"Bakura stop it! Get off!" He yelled again. He tried to pull his wrist away from the vampire's grasp, but two pale hands shot out to grab his arm and hold it in place. Marik gasped as those fangs were pulled out of his skin. Bakura raised his dark, dark eyes to glare at him intently, then hissed, fangs fully exposed and still dripping with his own blood before he quickly plunged those deadly ivory weapons back into the wrist of his meal.
All at once Marik felt a fiery pain, but that agony was immediately dulled the moment he felt Bakura's fangs enter his flesh as he sucked greedily. The pain ebbed until it was gone and instead he only felt a strange, almost giddy feeling. He wanted to laugh, but he felt too lightheaded to do so. Marik wobbled unsteadily, and the tightening grasp on his arm stilled him.
For a moment he stood there, feeling a strange pressure at his wrist but not remembering why. He felt woozy and tired, like he wanted to sleep. Something at the back of his mind told him this would not be a good idea. Why? Something to do with... Bakura? Because now he could move...
"Bah... Bakura..." Marik struggled to say. It came out muffled, like his mouth was stuffed with cotton. The world spun and Marik imagined that he had fallen. Somehow the thought made him want to laugh. He wearily looked up, and was barely able to make out the figure of the crouching vampire, still holding his wrist and gazing evenly at him with those near black eyes. White hair... black eyes... A moment ago there was much more white, but now the black seemed to be taking over, until everything was black. Marik passed out.
Okay, end of chapter six. And surprisingly, I really have nothing to say here, other than that I've been getting some really cool ideas recently, so updates might be slower if I decide to write some other stuff. And for anyone who reviews, really harsh constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. It might just be because I'm still sick, but I seem to be thinking that my writing isn't very... realistic? Good? Dramatic? Suspenseful? I'm not quite sure, but I do know that I don't do it as well as I would like for it to be. So yup, tell me how I can improve. Byez, and remember to review!