Chapter 7:

Love's Rejects

Heat. So much heat. It was too much, trapping him. He was like a fly caught in a web, cocooned and unable to move. Suffocating. He tried to move, hoping that the spider's venom had worn off. Hoping he could escape. He felt his arms stir, felt his hands creeping along the cottony insides of the cocoon. Yes, he thought, I am finally moving. Still, it was hot. So, so hot. He tried to move his lips, his mouth. Tried to speak. He was rewarded by the slurred sound of a single, solitary word:

"Hot."

The cocoon shook in its web. There was another sound, at first too low to understand, but then slowly increasing in volume:

"Yu? Yu, did you finally say something? Please, Yu…"

He knew that voice. It sounded so far away, so distant. He had to get out of here, had to escape from this cocoon. He tried his voice again. This time he managed a second word:

"Too...hot." He flailed at the cotton and felt it suddenly give, felt it lifted off and away. He opened his eyes to a world filled with sunlight. So much light. He couldn't see. Everything was a blur. Including the face leaning over him.

"Thank god, Yu! You're finally awake!"

"Yoichi?" Yu blinked over and over, and Yoichi's face slowly came into focus, like the flipping, fluttering frames of a moving picture show. He swallowed, his throat as dry as parchment. His voice came out in a low, unrecognizable rasp. "What happened?"

Yoichi's eyes threatened tears. He wiped at them with a stubborn hand. "God, we were so scared, Yu. So scared you wouldn't wake up. You were beaten so badly, but the doctor said all we could do is wait…"

Memory returned, creeping up on the shores of his mind like a subtle surf, the waves barely touching his bruised psyche. "Wait, I…" he began, but broke off. He remembered going to Bathory's house, remembered confronting him. Remembered the riding crop coming down over and over. The screams. The pain. How dare you how dare you how dare you! Yoichi looked concerned as Yu's eyes appeared to drift off and away. The younger boy reached over and took his hand. "Are you alright? Is there anything I can get you?" Yoichi asked in a solicitous voice.

"Water," Yu croaked.

Yoichi jumped up and went to a sideboard where a large pitcher sat. Yu looked around, recognizing the familiar contents of his own room: bed, desk, fireplace, wardrobe. Yoichi spoke as he poured:

"You have to tell us what happened, Yu. A man driving a cart found you at the gates of Lafayette Cemetery, lying face down in the rain. When they brought you here, you looked dead. I was so afraid." Yoichi turned back to the bed, holding out the glass of water.

Yu held it with trembling hands, drinking greedily. Yoichi continued to talk, sitting on the edge of Yu's bed. "And then you wouldn't wake up. You took a really bad blow to the head. And that cut on your forehead will probably scar."

Yu reached up and gingerly touched the bandage wound around his head. "So...how long have I been out?"

"Three days," confirmed Yoichi.

Yu's eyes widened in horror. Memory crashed over the ravaged shore of his brain with the force of a tidal wave. How dare you threaten me! You and that no good quarter slut will both pay for this! Panic overtook his muscles and Yu started to scramble out of his bed. His uncooperative legs promptly gave out beneath him and Yoichi had to grab onto him to keep him from falling to the floor. "Yu? What's the matter? You're far too sick to get up," said Yoichi.

"Mika! I have to go…" said Yu, fear tremoring the syllables of his words. Yoichi pushed him back down on the pillows, an unusual anger flowing from the other boy. "No, Yu. I'm not letting you out of this bed. You almost died. Those people...those people you've been associating with down in the quarter. They're not good people, Yu. I know you think I'm ignorant, but I'm not. I know these two things are connected. Guren doesn't know, but if you insist on this-"

Yu grabbed Yoichi by the shoulders, staring him in the eyes. Desperation propelled his words, "No! Do not tell Guren about this! Please, Yoichi! Please, help me. I need to get to the quarter. I'm afraid…" And here he bowed his head, his words fading into a whisper, "I'm afraid that my actions from the other night may have put...may have put someone I care about in even more danger. Because of me. Because of something stupid I did." Yu refused to look up.

"Yu, you're my family. I won't stand by and watch you-"

"-he's my family, too, Yoichi!" Yu interrupted, raising his head, his eyes hard with determination. "Mika is also my family and I will not stay here while-"

"-do you love him?" Yoichi suddenly asked.

Yu's whole body went still. Moments passed before the inevitable confession passed his lips:

"Yes."

Yoichi looked down, his eyes examining the pattern on Yu's comforter with great interest. "Alright, then," said the other boy in a quiet voice. "I won't stop you."

"Oh, Yoichi!" Yu smiled and lunged forward and threw his arms around the brown haired boy's shoulders, catching him in a smothering hug. "Thank you, Yoichi!"

"Don't thank me," Yoichi mumbled against Yu's nightshirt. "Because I still think you're making a terrible decision…"

It was twilight in the French Quarter and the night sky overhead shimmered like an indigo canopy patterned with a million twinkling stars. The courtyard at the House of the Rising Sun was lit with multiple strings of white paper lanterns, their lights shining like iridescent pearls in the semi-darkness. The sound of a vaudeville piano could be heard tinkling up from the open space, its notes jaunty and lively. The fountain sprayed water in the background and dozens of koi darted through its shallow depths like colorful, rolling pinballs. Laughter echoed from every corner of the house, and bottles of champagne were being liberally passed back and forth, the glasses refilled before they were even emptied. There were people from all walks of life present at this particular party: Storyville prostitutes, their rich Garden District patrons, French Quarter musicians and artists-everyone and anyone who lived in New Orleans was welcome inside on this night. The House's walls were packed to the brim with occupants, all of them coming to pay tribute to the quarter's most powerful and influential madam: Queen Krul Tepes.

"Happy Birthday, Krul!" screamed Chess from the courtyard's balcony. Krul, dressed in an off-the-shoulder black dress trimmed with expensive French lace, circulated amongst her guests, receiving their presents and compliments even as she made sure their glasses were full and their spirits were high. Even though it was the Queen's birthday, no one in the quarter had any idea how old she actually was. Some whispered that she was far older than her youthful appearance suggested, and was practically a dowager. Others whispered she was immortal, impermeable to age, having sold her black soul in a wicked voodoo ceremony held by Marie Laveau herself in St. Louis Cemetery. Still others laughed and said she was a prodigy, and barely past twenty. The truth was, no one really knew for sure.

Tucked away at a small wrought iron table in the courtyard's corner sat Mika, who was currently refilling the champagne glass of the same mustachioed man who had approached him in the Cafe du Monde five days ago. The paper lantern swaying above Mika's head bathed his hair in pure golden light, and the lashes on his wide blue eyes were thick and heavy as he lowered his gaze almost shyly to the ground. The mustachioed man, clearly enamored with Mika, reached across the table and caught one his long, blond tresses in his hand. Mika raised his eyes, catching and holding the man's gaze in their seductive, cerulean depths. The metal chair screamed out in protest as it scraped across the stones, the man eagerly sliding his seat closer to Mika's. The man then leaned over and began nuzzling along Mika's collarbone. Mika rolled his eyes over the man's shoulder at Crowley, who was strolling by with a half empty glass of champagne and a marked sway in his step. Crowley suddenly paused, tilting his head as if remembering something, then turned and said in a slurred voice to Mika:

"Hey, Mika. Whatever happened to that little green eyed school boy you were courting? No one's seen him around here for days."

Mika glared at Crowley over the mustached man's shoulder. The man's head suddenly snapped up and he chimed in, "Oh, you mean that black haired boy who was sitting with you in the Cafe du Monde?" The mustachioed man's beady eyes glittered inquisitively. "I remember him. Nice looking boy with pretty green eyes. What did happen to him?"

Mika composed his face into an inscrutable, emotionless mask. The bitterness, however, made its way out through his voice. "I'm afraid I may have scared him off. I said some...rather unpleasant things to him while being treated with laudanum."

The man shrugged. "Pity. He was very pretty. I would have paid handsomely to have had you both-"

"-I'm sure you would have," said Mika through gritted teeth. His chair scraped back as he promptly stood up. "Excuse me for a moment." Without waiting for a response, Mika turned on his heel and began walking away. He had to maneuver around standing groups of people, who were drinking and chatting in throngs. Mika's head was pounding, a result of too much champagne and his thoughts being unwillingly turned onto the one subject he was trying desperately to forget: Yu.

"Damn you, Crowley," Mika whispered, rubbing his temples with his hands. I'm so sorry, Yu, he thought to himself. I said too much; I asked too much of you. What was I thinking? I was out of my mind when I said those things. Now you'll never come back. Mika's eyes glimmered with the faceted light of multiple unshed tears as he made his way up the crowded steps leading to the courtyard's balcony. Snatches of conversation floated by him as he went:

Have you been to the theater to see that new show...

It was terrible. The last stages of consumption, you know. She was throwing up blood everywhere...

I love the drinks here. I mean, the sex, too. Don't get me wrong. But God, Krul certainly knows her booze…

And Yu still hasn't woken up. Guren is beside himself. Someone beat the poor kid to a pulp and dumped him just outside the gates of Lafayette Cemetery..

Mika's head turned as this last little bit of information caught his attention. That's when he noticed Shinya Hiragi leaning against the rails, carrying on a conversation with Horn, who was nodding her head in mock sympathy. With his heart pounding in his ears like a bass drum, Mika walked up to Hiragi and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, did I just hear you talking about Yuichiro Hyakuya?"

Shinya reluctantly turned his attention away from Horn to look at Mika. "Yes. Why?"

"Did you say something about him not waking up?" Mika prompted.

"Well, yes. It's a terrible thing, really. But there's nothing anyone can do about it. The doctor says he'll have to wake up on his own-"

"-what happened?" Mika interrupted almost rudely.

Shinya, always eager for conversation, began to relate the whole tale from the beginning. "Apparently, Yu just didn't come home one night. No one knows what happened to him. Then a delivery driver found him passed out in the rain in front of Lafayette Cemetery about three or four days ago. Seems someone had beat him up pretty badly, but no one knows who did it. I mean, Guren has lots of enemies, but that would be a low blow, going after one his young wards like that. The doctor says he has blunt force trauma to the head, probably a concussion. Last I heard, he still hadn't woken up."

Horn grabbed onto Shinya's arm, wrapping herself around him like an agreeable python. "Poor Shinya, how dreadful," she cooed as if it was Shinya himself who was suffering. Mika simply turned and numbly walked away, his heart trip hammering in his chest. Suddenly, a loud shot rang out in the night, and the piano banged to an abrupt halt, and people from the front of the house started yelling. Mika looked around him in confusion as several people poured into the courtyard, cursing and screaming as they went. Chaos swept through the party like a rolling fog of panic and people began to flee for the exits. Mika walked over to the railing, leaning over the side. From below, a head of bright silver hair appeared.

"WHERE IS HE? WHERE IS THAT NO GOOD BLOND HAIRED WHORE?" Ferid Bathory appeared in the courtyard underneath the balcony where Mika was standing. He brandished an old-fashioned revolver, waving it recklessly over his head. He moved in a shaky, unsure manner, and Mika was pretty sure he was blind drunk. His words slurred as he continued to yell at the now mostly empty courtyard.

"MI-MI-MIKA! COME OUT, COME OUT, WHEREVER YOU ARE! I KNOW YOU'RE HERE." A piece from the stone fountain flew off as Ferid fired off another shot, waving his gun aimlessly. The few people who were left in the courtyard hid under tables or behind statuary or cringed in terror on the ground. No one dared to make a move. Krul stood upright and rigid in one corner, her eyes lifting up to meet Mika's. With a nod, Mika casually propped his elbows on the railing and called out to the courtyard below:

"I'm right here, Lord Ferid."

Ferid's head swerved drunkenly toward the balcony. An ugly smile split his lips. "Ah, there you are, my little jewel. How I've missed you."

Mika tilted his head questioningly and said, "Have you now?" He started to slowly walk back across the balcony, toward the stairs, and Bathory's head turned and followed him, his greedy eyes tracking his every movement. He lifted the gun and pointed it in Mika's direction.

"Now, now. Don't try to flee, my little jewel. You won't get far."

Mika kept walking as if nothing were amiss. "Do I look like I'm running?" He paused at the head of the stairs. Ferid, like a predator closing in on its prey, stumbled over to the bottom of the steps. From the corner of his eye, Mika saw Krul slip undetected from her corner.

The gun shook wildly in Ferid's grip. Mika's demeanor reflected nothing but utter calm. Ferid, thrown off by this, began to yell up the stairs: "What's wrong with you? Why aren't you begging for your life? Don't you know I could kill you-"

"-so do it," said Mika stonily. He propped his elbow on the bannister, casually cupping his chin in his hand. He looked down at Ferid with flat, emotionless eyes. "Go on, then. Shoot me."

Ferid lifted the revolver, his face grimacing. The whole courtyard had gone preternaturally still and the only sound was the repetitive gurgle of the fountain. Finally, Mika whispered to Ferid in a voice low enough for only him to hear, "The love of my life is in a coma-most likely because of you-and he may never wake up. I don't have anything else to live for." Ferid staggered back as if he had been struck. He fired another random shot into the air, screaming:

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE STILL PINING OVER THAT WORTHLESS PRICK! I'VE GIVEN YOU EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING, I TELL YOU! FOR YEARS AND YEARS! AND YET YOU STILL WON'T-" Ferid's yelling ceased as quickly as it began, his head falling forward like a puppet that had its strings cut. Moments ticked by and he looked up, glaring at Mika. "I would have given you everything, you know," he said in a low, bitter voice. "I would have taken you out of here, installed you in a lavish flat out in the district. You could have had it all. Yet, you always rejected my offers. You rejected me-"

"-of course I rejected you," Mika stated plainly, without emotion. "I despise you. I hate every moment I have to spend in your presence. You make my skin crawl. And for your information, I'd rather stay in the quarter and fuck a dozen different men a day than be your Garden District mistress."

There was a slight gasp from somewhere in the courtyard which seemed to snap Bathory out of his frozen, open mouthed state. Full blown fury burned in his usually cold eyes. "You worthless bitch, I'm going to kill you!" Ferid raised his arm, cocking the gun. And then Krul crept up behind him with a hammer and promptly bashed him over the head with it.

The cheer that went up over the courtyard was deafening as Bathory slumped unconscious to the ground. The revolver fell from his grasp and Krul kicked it away with one delicate, laced up boot. She then turned and addressed the crowd thusly:

"This man is henceforth banned from this establishment! His unpredictable and violent actions have rendered him unfit to socialize with normal human beings." Krul looked down at Bathory with disgust. She snapped her fingers twice.

"Gentlemen, please take out this piece of trash and deposit it on the curb where it belongs…"