PART THE EIGHTH
Gunpowder, Hearts, and Other Explosive Things
"There's someone watching you outside, Jack," hissed the woman. They were inside a strip club, which was currently empty.
"I know," he said evenly. "I'm not here to talk to you. I'm here to talk to Adonis."
The woman sighed, letting go of his hair. "If this is a set-up..." she warned, heading towards the stairs in the back. Jack rolled his eyes and set the suitcase down, looking out the window and into the alley across the boulevard. The sniper made a signal with his hand, which Jack returned. The sniper dropped his gun.
"Thanks, Nico," he said under his breath, glad to have skilled backup in case things went sour. He didn't like dealing with vampires. He was fairly sure vampires didn't like dealing with him.
"Ah, little Jack," oozed Adonis's satin voice. He descended the stairs gracefully, as if muscles were moving under his perfect skin that weren't really there. His silver hair shone in the light, and shimmered like silk when it moved. His greek god face shone brightly with a smile that hid his fangs. He was staring at Jack as if he was debating if screwing him or eating him would be more entertaining. Jack stared at the vampire's shoes, refusing to meet his face. Looking at that gorgeous face meant Jack would be attracted to another man, and there was no way in hell that he was going to let this pretty undead sonofabitch take his masculinity away from him.
"Count Adonis," he acknowledged uneasily, staring intently downwards. His neck was twitching, and the annoying voice in the back of his mind was screaming, I want to look at him! I want to gawk at how gorgeous he is!
Jack wouldn't give it the satisfaction. Those are some nice shoes...
"I assume you've brought what I've asked for, hmm?" Those are some tight pants...
"Er... Yeah." Jack was struggling. Face... want... to see... sexy... face...
"Would you mind giving it to me, then?" Something in the vampire's smooth voice was irritated. Jack found it difficult to move. His pants are really tight...
"Yes." said Jack.
"Yes?" asked Adonis, a little taken aback. "Why?"
"Um... I... I can't move?" Jack was speaking through clenched teeth, trying to keep just an ounce of self control. I bet his lips are really soft... "Shut up!"
"Excuse me?" gasped Adonis.
"Wasn't... wasn't talking to you..." I just want to run my fingers through his shiny hair... "It's. It's in the suitcase. Don't make me look at you."
Adonis paused for a moment, then laughed, the sound feeling like warm water running down Jack's spine. He cringed. "Ah, I did not realize! If my appearance makes you so uncomfortable, why did you agree to meet me face-to-face?" He was leaning down to open the suitcase, and Jack was practically sweating from the effort of looking away. Just one peek at his ass, c'mon!
Jack coughed nervously, his voice cracking. "Things are less... complicated... this way."
"Indeed," said Adonis, removing a container from the case. It's label read the contents as silver bullets. "These are genuine, I presume?"
"Er." said Jack, now transfixed by the vampire's legs. His eyes were traveling upwards.
"Jack?" he called hopefully, trying to redirect his attention to the conversation. "GUNS."
Jack's eyes cleared and he snapped away, the mention of his true love bringing him back to a safer state. He still avoided looking at the vampire, but at least now he was facing the opposite direction. He found talking to the wall much more pleasant.
"Yes, sir, sterling silver. Unfortunately, silver ain't the best metal for bullets, so you won't get the straightest shot outta these, but they'll for sure burn holes through any werewolves you might be shooting." Guns, he reminded himself. Sleek uzis, with rapid fire, ooh yes, and Glocks with High-Explosive Incendiary rounds, you know, the kinds that set vampires on fire...
"Excellent," purred Adonis, sounding genuinely pleased. He turned towards Jackson's back, setting the box of rounds on the bar and putting his hands on his hips. "So, what is the Giovanni ghoul doing across the street with the sniper rifle, boy?" His voice had lost it's velvet quality, instead becoming very cold. Very dead.
"Er," said Jack, no longer wanting to turn around. He stumbled forward until his nose was touching the wall. "Um."
Adonis pressed up against him, and Jack wanted to cry. He was certain this qualified as sexual harassment. "Go on, you can tell me." His lithe fingers were brushing against Jack's cheek, gently pulling the hair out of his eyes.
"Can you, um, please back off, please? Um." Sweat ran down Jack's bare chest, and Adonis's hands felt that, too. They felt a lot more than Jack wanted them to.
Adonis's soothing voice came back full force, like silk bed sheets against his skin, enveloping him in that smooth texture. "You weren't trying to destroy me, were you? You naughty little boy."
"No!" squealed Jack, tears running from his eyes. Adonis's tongue ran over his neck, his sculpted nose pressing against his flesh, drawing out the scent of the hot blood pumping unusually fast through the ghoul's jugular. "Safety," he hissed, feeling Adonis press him harder against the wall. "It's not safe to go alone."
Adonis backed away, Jack still clinging desperately to the wall. He wanted to run, now. He wanted to run back to his apartment and vomit, and cry. Adonis had only just sidled against his back, just ran his hands over his chest. He felt as if he'd been brutally raped. He slid to the floor, huddled into a ball, shaking and sobbing.
"You thought I would hurt you?" the vampire asked, voice hesitant and inquisitive.
"You're a vampire," breathed Jack, the air never quite filling up his lungs. His heart was pounding way too fast, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His tears seemed much hotter than they should have been.
Adonis looked out the window and saw the sniper, aiming the cross-hair perfectly over his heart. "Your friend is a careful shot," he observed. "How are you acquainted with the Giovanni family?"
Jack steadied his breathing, to the point where he could speak somewhat evenly. He was still scared. No. Embarrassed, more than anything. He felt violated. "I work in contraband and weapons. The Giovanni think I'm a useful asset."
"The Giovanni are vampires."
"Not all of 'em. And They aren't Cammies, like you." Jack regretted saying that.
"Ah. You disagree with the Camarilla."
Jack stayed silent, almost crawling to get his suitcase. He snapped it shut, still avoiding the vampire's gaze, and used the wall to help him stand. He started to head towards the door.
"Send the Giovanni my regards," said Adonis, stopping Jack in his tracks. Jack paused for a moment.
"They don't like you," he said quietly.
"I know."
Jack walked back out of the club, his legs not as sturdy as he wanted them to be. Nico ran out to meet him, rifle in hand.
"You okay, Jack? I was gettin' worried, there." His hair was greased back in a slick way, his face looking very Mediterranean. He helped the ghoul stand.
"I hate that bastard!" he swore. "I'd kill him if I could!"
"What's stopping you?" Nico asked, getting in the passenger's side of the car.
"Rules," mumbled Jack, sliding into the driver's seat.
"You were never one to follow rules," he pointed out flatly.
"Yeah," sighed Jack. "But that's the trouble with rules, Nico. They have a way of coming back and slapping you in the face when you least expect them to."
"What the hell was that fruitcake doing to you in there, anyway? Looked like you two were gettin' it on." Nico lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. Jack stayed silent. "Hey, if you swing that way, cool, I didn't mean to-"
"I'm not fucking gay, alright?" growled Jack, screeching onto the strip and driving with a vengeance. "He's a sick bastard who was tryin' to freak me out."
"Judgin' by how pale your face is, it looks like he did a damn fine job of it."
"Shut the fuck up, Giovanni," snarled Jack. He took a deep, shaking breath, inhaling some of the smoke by accident. He coughed.
"I could roll down the window if you want," Nico offered.
"Fuck you and your windows."
"Are you doin' okay?"
Jack's face contorted as he drove, streetlights streaming past them. He didn't answer for a while.
"I'll be fine once I see A again."
"When was the last time you tapped her?" Jack shrugged.
"Last night. She feeds me every night."
"Spoiled," chuckled the Giovanni. "My aunt only lets me tap her when I do shit for her. So, yeah, about once a week."
"Is your aunt a good lay?"
"Yeah," sighed Nico. "But she fucks me way less than she feeds me."
Jack smiled at this. "I bet if A wasn't with that sonofabitch werewolf, she'd fuck me as much as I wanted."
"You just keep thinking that, Jack," chuckled Nico. "You just keep thinking that."
"I bet!" whined Jack, pulling into a narrow side street in the Hills. "I mean, the way she looks at me sometimes... And Trent's totally jealous of me."
"Is that the shifter's name?" asked Nico absentmindedly. "I always thought werewolves had bad ass names like 'He Who Walks In Shadows' or 'Darkstalker' or some shit like that."
"Adam's a werewolf. And his name's Adam."
"Yeah, but Adam's bad ass enough to not need a bad ass name. You heard he did to that hunter who was after Marie?"
"No," said Jack, driving up the winding driveway to the Giovanni mansion. "What'd he do?"
"He tore out his ribcage with his fuckin' teeth! It was like a fuckin' horror movie!"
Jack stopped the car and stared hard at the Giovanni.
"Adam." he said.
"Yeah."
"Adam. You mean the Adam we eat lunch with? At the diner?"
"Yeah."
"The 'My-Life-Is-So-Miserable-I'm-In-Love-With-A-Girl-Half-My-Age' Adam?"
"Yeah."
Jack narrowed his eyes. "Bullshit. Adam's a pussy. No way he'd have the guts to tear out someone's ribcage."
"He's only a pussy 'cuz Marie's whipping him. But I'm not shittin' you, man. He seriously chomped the ribcage out of some stupid vampire hunter. He was in, like, wolf-man form or somethin'."
"'S called 'Gauru' form, Grease," said Jack mildly. "Now get the fuck out of my car, you dirty Italian, before you leave an oil slick on my leather interior."
Nico chuckled and opened the car door, sliding out and slamming it shut. As Jack backed out, Nico flipped him off, tossing his cigarette into the giant fountain his family's mansion sported in the driveway.
Jack drove the L.A. streets peacefully, hoping that Abstract Addy wouldn't be with Trent. He didn't like it when other guys were in there apartment. Call it a territorial thing, but hell, he paid the rent.
By the time he reached the complex, it was nearing midnight. He was a little late getting back, but he blamed Adonis for that entirely. He was anxious to get to his room.
He was anxious to get fed.
He was bringing home four hundred bucks today. "She better be fuckin' happy," Jack grumbled, walking into the lobby. The desk attendant winked at him.
"Hey, handsome!"
"Hi Cherry," he said flatly, heading towards the elevator.
"Your girlfriend left two hours ago with the punk guy, whatever his name is-"
"Trent." said Jack, gritting his teeth. "And she's not my girlfriend."
"Oh."
"See you 'round," he mumbled, escaping quickly into the elevator. Sleeping with Cherry had definitely been a mistake. He'd been a little desperate, sure, but now she seemed to think that he was in to her. Women, he thought to himself, shaking his head. He pressed the floor five button. They're so fucking stupid.
He waited solemnly for his floor, and got out unceremoniously, heading right. The hall stretched on before him, but his room wasn't too far. Some idiot was having very loud sex in the shower next door, and Jack was thinking of all the possible things he could do to ruin the loser's night. He pulled his key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, letting himself inside the studio. Shutting the door with his foot, he hit the light switch and plopped down on the couch, turning on the playstation and grabbing the controller. He was near the end of Castlevania: Symphony of the Night, and it was getting pretty good. He loaded his save and went on slicing zombies in Dracula's castle, eventually becoming oblivious to Mr. Obnoxiously Loud Shower Sex next door.
He almost didn't hear the door open. Abstract Addy crashed through the door laughing, followed by a muscular man in a white tank top and tight black jeans. His hair was bleached blonde and layered, and his eyes were a clear blue. He grabbed her around the waist and kissed her passionately, apparently unaware of Jack's presence. Irked, and definitely jealous, Jack focused his attention back to Richter Belmont and his vampire-slaying whip of doom. He mashed buttons with a vengeance.
"Let's get it on, babe," growled Trent, his voice husky. Jack turned the volume up on the TV.
"Not tonight, dearest," the Malkavian giggled, pushing him back out the door. Jack's hands were twitching, making the zombies on the screen harder to kill than they should have been.
"C'mon, babe, you know you want to-"
"Later." She shut the door and locked it, sliding against the wood. Jack ignored her. "Hi, Jack!"
Jack stared intently at the screen, his face a scowl. Trent was knocking on the door.
"Go away!" she shouted at the door. Eventually, the knocking stopped, and Abstract Addy sat on the couch next to her ghoul. "I said, 'Hi, Ja-"
"I heard you," he growled. Richter Belmont had just burst into Dracula's room, ready to confront the Lord of Darkness once and for all. Jack skipped the dialogue and went straight to the fight.
"What are you playing?" asked Abstract Addy innocently.
"Castlevania: Symphony of Night."
"What's it about?"
Jack never took his eyes off the screen. "Jesus, you fucking prick! Fireballs aren't fair! Goddamn sonofabitch piece of shit cunt rag shit face!"
Abstract Addy sighed, adjusting herself so that she was sitting on her feet. "What is it about?" she repeated.
"There's this family - the Belmonts, and they're vampire hunters, and Dracula and his castle, called 'Castlevania', appears every century. I'm the blue guy with the whip - that's Richter Belmont, and he's kind of a fag, GOD DAMN YOU, YOU SONOFABITCH! But anyways, you're supposed to go kill Dracula. And Dracula has this half-vampire son called Alucard who hates him and who's even more of a fag than Richter, and you play him, too."
"It's set in Romania?"
"Yeah. That's where you came from, right?"
Abstract Addy nodded as Richter Belmont hurled his poorly animated whip at the poorly animated Dracula. She bit her lip to keep from laughing as Dracula threw poorly animated fireballs at the poorly animated Richter, and poorly animated Richter died a poorly animated death.
"FUCK!" screamed Jack, throwing the controller at the carpet. "Dracula's such a fucking grue!"
"You were eaten by him?" questioned the Malkavian, wondering why the Zork reference came up.
"A, can you be honest with me for a second?" he asked, turning towards her.
"I'm always honest with you, Jack! You're my dearest friend!"
Jack cringed slightly at the last word, but continued. "Um..." He could feel blood rising up to his face, making his cheeks blush. He stared at the carpet as he spoke. "Do... Do you love Trent?"
"Of course I do," she said, a little confused. Jack bit his lip and nodded. There was a long silence.
"I got us four hundred, A." He pulled out his wallet and removed the money from it, putting the bills on the coffee table. "I actually made five hundred, but I... I shot Raz's window, so I had to pay for it. Sorry." He looked back up at her face, waiting for some kind of approval. She stared blankly at the money. "A?"
Her mismatched eyes looked glassy. Jack poked her on the shoulder, which evoked no response. "A? We ran out of Jack Daniel's. Well, I guess I ran out of Jack Daniel's, but I gotta get some more."
Still no response.
Jack sighed, getting up and turning off the TV and Playstation. He figured he could go one night without her vitae... it's not like he used any of it that day. He sulked off to the closet, grabbing a pair of flannel pajama pants and headed into the bathroom to change. When he came back out into the main space, Abstract Addy was still staring at the coffee table.
"A? A, I'm gonna need to sleep there," he said quietly. "Can you move, please?"
Silence. Jack gave an exasperated moan and picked her up off the couch, struggling, to carry her to the bedroom. He dropped her on the bed and started back out, but paused in the doorway. "You alright, A?" he asked. She looked up at him, her eyes clearing somewhat, and nodded slowly. "I'm gonna shut the door, alright?"
"Wait..." she half-whispered, motioning him over to her. He obliged cautiously, kneeling by the bedside.
"What's up?"
She bit deep into her wrist, willing her blood to flow. Vampiric vitae oozed up over her skin, and Jack's eyes widened. He could feel himself salivate, his muscles tensing. Immediately, he grabbed her arm and closed his lips over the wound, drinking in the succulent taste, feeling her run throughout him like fire, her very essence igniting his soul. He felt his heart beat like a drum, her blood oozing through his system and wearing him like a glove. He felt her pain at that moment, but also her burning love. He felt her shudder in his grip, felt her sigh as blood ran down the corner of his mouth. The skin knitted below his tongue, and he anxiously licked every last drop, not wanting to waste any of her precious vitae. He felt lightheaded, like he'd just had an orgasm while roaringly drunk, and rocked back on his knees, feeling that cool warmth heat up his chest and stream through his body. He stared into her mismatched eyes, and thought, this is love. This is what love feels like. He would kill for her. Hell, he'd die for her. He'd do anything for her.
He reached out. He wanted to touch her, wanted to wrap his arms around her and pull her into a tight embrace and never let go.
Then he remembered Trent.
His eyes burned a little as they started to well up with tears, and he looked away, not wanting to cry in front of his Domitor. Instead, he rose to his feet and stumbled out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
He fell onto the couch and stared at the ceiling, wishing that Trent were dead. He felt jealousy and spite rise up in his like bile, leaving an acidic taste on his tongue. What made Trent so special? He didn't know her like he did, didn't know the taste of her, the feel of her soul rimming the insides of his skin and warming him from the inside out. He didn't share the blood bond that Jack and she shared. It ran deeper than love. It had to.
Didn't it?
Jack tried to push the self-doubt away, but it crashed in on him like a tidal wave, swallowing him in despair. He didn't deserve A. He owed her his life - he owed her his very fucking soul.
Trent didn't owe her anything.
Was that why? Jack was a debt. Trent was a gift.
A/N: Ooh! Anti-vamp drama (Adonis is totally bisexual, for those of you who haven't guessed), fun with Castlevania, and jealousy! Next up: the Prince calls on Jack's "little debt"…
