Privideniya - Chapter 21

Vamp's belt was slung over the back of the driver's seat. It was a thick leather strap studded with small cross-shaped knives, each one silver and gleaming, new and still untested.

They had stopped a few miles back so Raiden could duck into the bushes to piss. He had only been gone a few minutes, but when he had returned, Vamp had dug the belt out from under the back seat and set it within reach, like it had been there all along.

He had said nothing, but he hadn't let the knives out of his sight since.

Every time the Jeep hit a bump in the road, the little silver hilts knocked restlessly against the console between the seats. The harder Raiden tried to ignore them, the more aware he was of their presence there.

He sighed, and reached down to still them.

"Where are we?"

"In the mountains."

They had crossed the border early that morning, passed through Bucharest around noon, and they had been ascending ever since. Close to the city, there had been a few signs in French or German, but those had phased out as they drifted further into the countryside.

Raiden had watched Vamp's eyes flick over the foreign road signs as they passed them, but when Raiden asked what they said, Vamp only looked away and said he didn't know.

Vamp shrugged. "Check the map."

"Look, if I don't know where we are, I can't figure out where we're going."

"We'll get there," Vamp said. "We're close now."

His voice was tense, and Raiden glanced up. "You know this area?"

Vamp was quiet a moment, then he shook his head. "No. I told you, I don't remember anything about this place."

"Look, I'm not trying to be an asshole or anything…"

"Then what are you trying to do?"

Raiden shrugged."Nothing," he said. "Nothing, I guess. Sorry."

Vamp's jaw tightened. His knuckles were ivory white against the steering wheel.

"Do you want me to drive?" Raiden asked. "You look tired."

"If you like."

"I'd rather get it over with before it gets dark."

Without speaking, Vamp eased the Jeep over to the shoulder.

"Thanks," Raiden said. But Vamp had already climbed out, slamming the door behind him.

Raiden arched his hips and slid over the center console into the driver's seat. When he sat back, he could feel the heavy leather of Vamp's bandolier through his clothes. He could trace the shape of the knives with his skin.

"Let me have that," Vamp said.

Raiden twisted around, lifting the belt and slinging it over his arm. It was heavy. Heavier, even, then he had imagined.

"You hunting rabbits or something?"

Vamp took it from him, folding it neatly in his lap.

"Throw it in the back," Raiden said.

Vamp set a hand over the knives, tracing the curve of one silver hilt with his finger.

"I want it with me."

Raiden shrugged. "Fine. Whatever you say."

He pulled onto the blacktop and drove. The road sloped up sharply now, winding into the higher peaks. Vamp said nothing, but silence suited him. No one else, Raiden thought, could make the whole strong, silent act work for him the way Vamp did. Raiden wasn't really surprised. Anyone who could wear leather pants without a hint of irony must have known something the rest of them didn't.

Raiden had never been very good at fashion. Countless re-runs of cable makeover shows had never been able to help him, and neither had Rose's seasonal expeditions to the mall. Now that she was gone, Raiden's idea of updating his wardrobe was a new pair of black Dickies every time one of the old ones faded to gray, but even he knew that leather pants shouldn't have looked as good as Vamp made them look.

Raiden hugged the center line of the highway. The ground dropped away just beyond the right shoulder of the road, sloping sharply down into the lowlands they had left behind earlier that day.

Before them, the sky was black and uneven. Behind them, it was sickly gray.

"I'm sorry," Raiden said abruptly.

"For what?"

"You're not upset?"

"Why would I be?"

"Good," Raiden said, and he eased the Jeep over onto the side of the road. He tapped the dash, where a red light glared up at them like an angry eye.

"Because I think there's something wrong with the car."

They pulled off, and got out. A cloud of steam escaped into the cold air when they opened the hood.

"What do you know about cars?"

Raiden shrugged, and poked at some of the hoses running from what he was almost sure was the radiator.

"It stinks. Smells like something burning. Maybe we can make it into town?"

"I thought they taught you things like this in the military?"

"What about you? You can fly a jet. Can't you fix this?"

Vamp slammed the hood. "Someone will be along soon, I'm sure. We'll just wait."

"It's getting dark…"

"We have blankets."

Raiden shook his head. "I'm going to walk up the road. Maybe I'll see something."

"You shouldn't," Vamp said. But Raiden didn't reply

He walked along the shoulder of the highway. There were thunderheads on the horizon, scarred intermittently with lightning. At the top of the hill, Raiden looked back. The Jeep had disappeared behind a bend in the road, vanished into the trees. Vamp was nowhere in sight.

The road wound away from him, clinging to the side of the mountain, gliding down into the gray valley below. The air was streaked and hazy; down there, it was already raining. As Raiden watched, a few lights flickered on.

This far from the cities, some of the smaller enclaves didn't have centralized power. Tired of waiting for the government to make good on its promise to bring electricity to the area, the businesses that could afford it bought generators.

Bars, sometimes a small hotel, would rattle to life after dark. Oases of light on dark ghost town streets. That was what Vamp had said, at least.

Raiden asked him how much things had changed since he was a kid, but he hadn't expected a straight answer anyway.

He watched awhile as the lights in the valley below flickered like ghosts in a swamp. He only counted three. Thunder growled overhead. It startled him, but he hardly ever flinched anymore.

Raiden looked up, and it began to rain.

His clothes were soaked through almost before he felt the cold.

He lowered his head, clutching his collar closed at his throat. His hair was already plastered to the side of his face. He didn't run, even when his steps began to sink into the mud collecting on the side of the road. Soon, he was shivering; he kept his eyes lowered to guard them from the rain.

Vamp came up the road to meet him. His coat was off and he had pulled it up over his head, bracing it with his arms. Water sheeted off it, a steady stream splashed around his feet.

"It's freezing," Raiden said as he approached.

Vamp was beside him. He crooked his arm protectively, holding the edge of the coat over Raiden's head. Raiden was wary, but he edged closer. The rain rattled on Vamp's coat like stones on a tin roof.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

He hugged himself, but it didn't make his trembling subside. Vamp braced the edge of the coat on Raiden's shoulder, freeing his hand long enough to steady him.

"There are blankets in the car."

They went back together, boots splashing in the little puddles that formed along the edge of the highway, turning the bottom of Raiden's jeans black with road grime.

Vamp unlocked the Jeep and slid into the back seat.

"Get undressed before you get in here."

"What?"

"You're soaked. It'll be warmer if you get out of those clothes."

He snatched the coat away and tossed it over the seats into the front. When he began to unbutton his shirt, Raiden looked away.

Blushing, staring out into the storm, he peeled off his tee shirt, his boots and his jeans. Vamp was already wrapped in a Gore-Tex blanket by the time Raiden turned back, sliding across the seat and slamming the door against the rain.

"Fucking asshole…"

He made a grab for the edge of the blanket, and Vamp folded it back for him. Raiden pressed against his side, folding his hands into the warm well between their bodies.

Fog covered the windows almost instantly.

Raiden curled his fingers against Vamp's ribs, and when his teeth stopped chattering enough to talk he said, "You'd better not be naked under there."

"Utterly."

"Yeah. Me too."

Vamp laughed quietly, and his arm curled around Raiden's shoulders, holding him close. "How will you survive, Ingenue?"

"Don't be a creep…"

But he didn't try to pull away. His feet and the tips of his fingers were still so cold they stung, but he felt warm now, and his shivers had dissipated. Everything about Vamp was graceful, right down to the way he breathed. He made Raiden's frozen fingers feel swollen and clumsy in comparison. He clenched his hands into fists, pressing them against Vamp's sturdy ribs.

Here, in the claustrophobic darkness, with nothing but the sound of the rain hammering on the outside of the Jeep, Raiden was tempted to let his fingers explore a little. Find out if the map of muscle and bone really beneath Vamp's skin fit together as impeccably as it seemed. But when he dropped his hand lower, to press against Vamp's hip, he was met not with soft skin, but with the unyielding roughness of leather. With the hilt of a small silver knife, pressing into his palm.

Vamp's bandolier, stretched on the seat between them like a sword.

He hooked the tip of his finger beneath the edge of the silver buckle. Tugged lightly, but Vamp would not relinquish his hold.

Raiden sighed softly. "Thanks for coming to get me."

"They say there are phantoms in these woods. You shouldn't walk alone after dark."

"You don't believe that, do you?"

Vamp shifted his grip, fingers moving along Raiden's arm, past the tattoo on his bicep. He might as well have been a ghost himself, for all the ways he knew to make him shiver.

"Relax," Vamp said. "What do you think is going to happen?"

Raiden shook his head. "There's a town you know."

"Oh?"

"Just over the hill. It's pretty small, I think, but we should be able to find someone who can give us a tow."

"Good," Vamp said. But the moment he had taken to compose himself hadn't been enough to hide the tremor in his voice.

"What's wrong?" Raiden asked.

Vamp was quiet for a few seconds, and when he spoke again, his voice was pitched low to match the pounding of the rain.

"I don't believe in ghosts, you know. I've seen a lot of things that don't make any sense, but I've never seen anything like that."

"Neither have I," Raiden said quietly.

"I used to believe in lots of things," Vamp said. "Heaven and Hell and angels. Miracles. It was the way my mother raised us. When I learned to read, it was from the pages of the Bible. Two columns running down each page, side by side. Romanian on the right, and Russian on the left. And I read Job and Abraham. Daniel and Lot…"

He trailed off then, and Raiden was very still, hardly daring to breathe.

"Yeah?" he asked quietly. Vamp liked to talk, but never about himself. Raiden wanted him to go on; he wanted to disassemble him and see him for all his component parts.

"Then," Vamp continued. "Then, for a long time, I didn't believe in anything. I just ate when I was hungry, and slept when I was tired. I killed when I felt threatened, and I fucked when I was lonely. It was uncomplicated. It wasn't a bad way to live, and I wasn't afraid of dying. I was just afraid of suffering. Fear and pain and the shift of broken bones under the skin. Tight, enclosed spaces where your eyes don't adjust to the dark, and all you can feel is your own breath on your face like a vicious animal."

"What happened to you?" Raiden said softly.

"Everything changed after my squadron died. Afterwards, I didn't wash their blood off my clothes for a long time. Fortune… she wouldn't talk to me at first. She liked to be alone a lot back then. But eventually, she took my hand and pulled me aside. She said…"

"What?" Raiden asked.

When Vamp didn't answer right away, he turned his hand, twining their fingers loosely together beneath the blanket. "What was it?"

"She said… 'Don't leave me. Don't ever leave me.' And I told her I wouldn't, even though it was at that moment I realized, when the time came, she would be the one who left."

"I'm sorry." Raiden swallowed hard. "I'm really sorry. I didn't want her to die."

"I know. You're too good for that, Ingenue."

"I'm not that good."

"I was angry for a while," Vamp said, as though he hadn't heard. "But I couldn't stay angry. I thought… I was tired of living in a world where there was no Heaven for people like her. And no Hell for men like Solidus."

"And what about you?"

Vamp laughed. "Oh, I know what'll happen to me when I die, but I'm not worried. I already know what Hell looks like. At least there won't be any surprises."

Raiden sighed. "How can you do that? Just… change your mind about everything? It shouldn't be that easy."

"It's easy," Vamp said. "The spirit is weak. You can twist it, until you get something that fits right."

"Adrian…"

"Are you okay?"

"No. You're kind of freaking me out."

"Sorry," Vamp said. He was smiling, but Raiden didn't tell him that only made things worse.

"I shouldn't have asked."

"No. I don't mind if you know. I don't have anyone else left to tell."

Raiden was quiet for a while. He couldn't hear the rain anymore, but he didn't know whether that was because it had stopped all together, or just turned to snow.

He squeezed Vamp's hand, and then took hold of the belt between them once more.

"There's no such thing as ghosts," he said. And this time Vamp loosened his grip.

Raiden pulled the bandolier away, letting it slither from beneath the blanket and onto the floor.

"Yes," Vamp said. "You're right."

"Maybe we should just get some sleep."

"Are you still cold?"

Raiden shook his head. "Not anymore."

"Good."

Vamp lapsed into silence after that, but Raiden was almost certain he wasn't asleep.