Entering the Darkness
by Soledad
A "Pathways in the Dark" story
Part 21 of "The Toreador Chronicles". Follows "Submission".
For disclaimer and background information see the Introduction.
Rating: Adults only, please!
Author's note: The creation of a ghoul is mostly the product of my imagination. I know it contradicts White Wolfe canon in several points, but since this is a crossover and an AU anyway, I didn't really care. The whole thing seemed more logical to me this way, and I stick to it. ;o))
This is a sanitized version of the chapter. If you're an adult, you can read the unedited version on hiddenrealms.
Summary: Michael makes the all-deciding step.
Part Two
If the first, tiny taste of Alain's Vitae had been painful, swallowing an entire mouthful of it was pure agony. Every nerve ending in Michael's body was on fire, and the gut-wrenching pain was tearing him apart. From far, far away he could hear Brian's voice, murmuring encouragements, promising that he wouldn't leave, not until Michael has gone through the transformation, nor afterwards. Never. The only thing grounding him was Brian's voice and Brian's strong, almost desperate grip on his hand – until everything went mercifully black, and he passed out.
When he came to, the pain was still bad, but reduced to a bearable level. On the other hand, the house seemed to have become… noisier somehow, the colours brighter, and the familiar scent of Brian's otherwise so decent cologne almost painfully intense.
He blinked, looking up into the face of his best friend/lover/blood brother… whatever they were supposed to be for each other now.
"Has… has it worked?" he asked, wincing from the volume of his own voice, although he'd thought he'd speak quietly. Brian nodded, relief clearly written into his face.
"Careful," he said in a low voice. "Your senses have been sharpened due to the transformation; you'll need time to adjust."
"Was it bad for you, too?" Michael asked, realizing at the same moment what a stupid question it was. Of course it had been bad for Brian! He was a real, honest, down-to-earth vampire now. The Change must have been even more painful.
"Oh, yes!" Brian answered with feeling. "I had the mother of all raging headaches for a week or so. It's even worse for vampires, as we change a great deal more, you know. On the other hand, of course, the transition would be a lot easier for you, should you ever decide to accept the Embrace."
"Don't accept any bets on that," Michael warned him. Slowly, step by step, he became more aware of his surroundings, and realized that he was lying in the familiar bed of Brian's guest room. "How long have I been asleep?"
"Four days," Brian replied, At Michael's baffled look, he shrugged. "They had to put you under. The first days of the transformation were almost as brutal as during a regular Embrace. Alain didn't want you to suffer unnecessarily."
Michael could appreciate that. Still…
"They drugged me?" he asked. That would explain the strange feeling in his head – as if it had been stuffed with cotton wool. But Brian shook his head.
"Nah," he said. "Sarina put some vampire mojo on you. She can make people fall asleep within seconds… a talent that has surfaced by her shortly after she was done with Becoming."
"It must have been a fucking strong thing, whatever she did," Michael rubbed his temples. "Do all vamps develop superhero abilities?"
"I haven't discovered any by myself, so far," Brian replied with a shrug, "but apparently, in most cases it comes with age and exercise."
"Well, that sucks," Michael groused. "I thought now that you've become Dracula junior, you finally can take me flying. Like Superman."
"I thought you didn't want to be Lois Lane anymore," Brian teased, then gently kissed Michael's forehead. "Are you still hurting, Mikey?"
Michael shrugged – and regretted it immediately, as the sudden gesture caused blinding pain to shoot through his skull. He groaned pitifully.
"Right," Brian said. "Forget it. It was a stupid question. What I actually wanted to ask: could you go on without me for an hour or two? I won't go far, just down to the atelier to go through the new campaign with Diego. Deadline is tomorrow, and…"
"Bri," Michael interrupted, "go! It's okay!"
"Sarina offered to stay with you until Alain is done with today's class," Brian assured him. "She'll call me, should you need my help with anything."
"If you can help me to go to the bathroom now, I won't," Michael said, refusing to even consider how that particular problem had been solved in the four days while he'd been asleep.
"Sure," the familiar, lewd grin appeared on Brian's face. "Shall I hold it for you, or do you manage to take a leak alone?"
Michael rolled his eyes good-naturedly. It was like old times all over again – like when they'd been both fourteen. He actually enjoyed the immature bickering.
"Just take me to the head," he said in almost-convincing annoyance. "Unlike some people, I can keep my own dick under control."
Brian laughed and scooped him up from the bed as if he'd been a child. Or a rag doll. That simple fact made him understand how much Brian had changed indeed. He could lift him, with some effort, before – but never like this.
Michael really felt like Lois Lane.
"Am I gonna turn into superhero material when I've gotten through the transformation?" he asked.
Brian carried him to the bathroom and placed him before the toilet.
"You won't be as strong as a vampire, most likely," he replied, "but yeah, you're gonna grow stronger than the average mortal. Stronger, faster, more resilient – and with advanced healing abilities, too."
"Which means bye-bye, asthma spray," Michael said. "That's a relief anyway."
"Oh, come on, Mikey, you haven't used that shit in what? A decade?"
"I know. But there was always the chance that it would come back." Michael made vague shooing gestures. "Now, get out and let me piss in peace. I'll call you when I'm done."
The short trip to the bathroom proved to be more strain on his weakened body than he'd have thought, bringing back the pain full force. So in the next hour or so he lay in the bed, moving as little as possible, suffering quietly, and tried to believe it when they told him, that the worse part was already behind him.
Sarina came in right after Brian had left, as promised, bringing with her the provisional script of Rage II – The Black Widow. Now that she'd nailed the starring role, she was most anxious to do a decent job with it.
"I thought we could discuss the character a little, if you don't mind," she said, almost apologetically. "This is my first real chance to make the big breakthrough, you know, I don't want to screw it up."
Michael didn't mind it at all. On the contrary, it served as a welcome distraction from the pain. So they discussed the actions and the possible background of the character, and why she would be hostile towards Rage to begin with, and before Michael would notice, almost an hour had gone by, and the pain had receded a little.
"May I ask you something personal?" he asked.
Sarina gave him a wary look. "Define personal," she said.
"Oh, not that kind of personal," Michael clarified. "I just wanted to know how you ended up as Alain's foster Childe did."
She shrugged elegantly, her jade earrings clinking from the gesture. "Oh, that? It's not exactly a secret, and besides, you're family now. But it's not a story for the faint of heart."
"Tell me anyway," Michael said. "It helps to think of other things, even if they are unpleasant. Please."
"Okay," Sarina said with another shrug. "Well, I always wanted to be an actress, but it's not easy if you don't have connections. Connections are the most important thing in the movie business when you're new. So Cordelia, Emily and I – two girls I knew from the scene – used to go to each and every party we could get an invitation to, if we knew that some movie people could be there. On one of those parties, we met this Wilson Christopher character and his two friends. They seemed nice enough, and Wilson was a photographer, which meant we could have a presentation file made for very little money. So we went with the guys from bar to bar, and ended up in bed with them."
"And they turned out to be vampires?" Michael asked, believing to know the rest of the story already. But Sarina shook her head.
"Nah, actually, it was worse than that," she said. "In the next morning, when we woke up, they were gone, and we discovered that we were pregnant."
"All three of you?" Michael asked, a little shocked.
Sarina nodded. "All three of us. And we weren't simply pregnant – it seemed as if we were in the night month already, and – according to the ultrasound – there were seven babies in every single one of us."
"Speak about fast-forwarding the process," Michael murmured. "I suppose those babies weren't exactly human, were they?"
"No," Sarina replied grimly. "They were the Spawn of a Haxil Beast: a demon promising money, fame and success to young guys, so that they would impregnate as many women with its spawn as they could."
"A… demon," Michael repeated slowly.
Sarina nodded. "A huge one, actually. According to our Nosferatu scholars, it could reach anywhere from thirty to fifty-plus feet tall, and neither fire nor decapitation will kill it… or its spawn. I know. I've tried. I've tried to poison the little buggers with alcohol, drinking like a fish all the time; or with nicotine, picking up smoking. Nothing helped. They can't be harmed so easily. In the last phase, they took us over, controlling us though some sort of telepathic umbilical, so that we would protect them at any costs."
"Would you have been able to give birth to the things at all?" Michael asked in morbid fascination. Serena shook her head.
"Of course not," she said dryly. "We'd have all died. When the time came, the demon called us all to an old rafinery, fronting the cave in which it resided. We had to climb into a waist-deep pool of some stinking, opaque liquid and stand in a circle, waiting for it to deliver its spawn. I never had the courage to ask our scholars how that would have happened, but I doubt that much of us would have been left."
"How did you escape, in the end?" Michael asked.
"We've been very fortunate that Cordelia was a friend of Angel's," Sarina replied. "Without him, we'd be history."
"You mean the prince?" Michael tried to clarify. Somehow he could well imagine the undead ruler of LA fighting thirty-foot-large demons.
"He wasn't the Prince yet, not back then," Sarina said, "just a vampire PI, trying to protect the innocent. And Cordelia was her secretary and her seer. He came with Wesley – you know, the cute English guy who's now the Precept of the Luna Foundation House – and between the two of them and Cordelia, they killed the demon."
"But how if it couldn't be killed by traditional methods?" Michael asked.
Sarina grinned. "They froze it with liquid nitrogen, and Cordelia tackled it with a huge concrete block hanging from a chain, rendering it to smithereens. Once it was dad, its spawn turned to water and left our bodies."
"That must have been… traumatic," Michael said uncertainly, not wanting to sound like an idiot but not really knowing what else to say.
"You're a master of understatement," Sarina answered with a grimace. "I couldn't even look at a guy afterwards, not to mention sleep with one, in the whole time until my Embrace."
"Speaking of which," Michael said, "all this that you've told me so far still doesn't explain how you ended up with Alain as your Daddy. Did you stay with the Prince… with Angel after the demon event?"
Sarina shook her head. "Oh, no, we didn't really have anything to do with each other, and even Cordelia, Emily and I kinda drifted apart afterwards. I guess neither of us wanted to be reminded of… of what'd happened. I kept hanging out around the studios, trying to nail small roles… and so it was that I met Rebecca Lowell. You know her?"
"The star of Raven? Of course!" Michael exclaimed. "I was a huge fan of hers."
"Well, she was a sinking star already, and she let herself be Embraced, so that she could remain at least young and pretty forever," Sarina said. "Although still a fledgling herself, she filled my head with the stupid idea of not getting older and having the best chances to make a shining future and all that – and I, stupid thing, having no clue what it truly meant, let her talk me into accepting the Embrace from her. Only that she got bored right after that and left me in the middle of Becoming."
Knowing what that must have meant, Michael shuddered in sympathy.
"You must have extraordinary strength to survive that," she said.
"Oh, I didn't survive on my own," Sarina replied. "Some studio people found me, recognized the Clan – there are always lots of Toreadors around the studios, you know – and brought me to Victor. He helped me to go through Becoming, but the Conclave wasn't happy with the whole situation. It reflected badly on them all when mere fledglings started to make progeny left and right, without permission. Some demanded that I'd be destroyed as a failure."
"But it wasn't your fault!" Michael protested in shock.
"At least not entirely," Sarina agreed, "although I had been stupid enough to consent. But Kindred law is harsh. They'd have the right to order my destruction. Luckily for me, Angel had just been elected as the Prince of the City, and he saw things a little differently. Plus, he recognized me. So Rebecca was stripped of any rights regarding me, and Alain was selected to foster me. He's old, strong, experienced, and he didn't have any Childer back then."
That piece of information surprised Michael. "He didn't? I thought…"
"No, Pierre and Oliver came after me; that is, Oliver came first, since he was the actual target," Sarina explained. "Alain only Embraced Pierre for his sake; and only after Oliver had gone through Becoming safely."
"Why?" Michael asked. "Wouldn't it be simpler and faster if…"
"Embracing and guiding a fledgling through Becoming puts considerable strain on the Sire," Sarina interrupted him. "In the first time – and it's individual how long it takes – the fledglings very dependant on his or her Sire. Only Sire blood can help you through the worst patches of Becoming, although you can't feed on your sire exclusively, or you'll get enthralled – and not in a good way. Weak, dependant vampires don't survive very long in the Dark. Ash Rivers is the only on I know of, and even with him, it's uncertain how long he will last. Our kind doesn't tolerate weakness."
"Are we talking about the 'we're the predators and you're prey part of undead existence?" Michael asked, with notable sarcasm in his voice.
Sarina nodded. "Don't feel slighted," she replied. "That's the truth about it, and whether we like it or not won't change the facts."
"Do you like being a predator?" Michael asked quietly.
Sarina shrugged. "I prefer it to being the prey; been there, done that, still have the nightmares. And being part of Alain's family is not bad, as you'll see for yourself. He gives us much leeway – more than most family heads would, in fact – as long as we obey him in certain things."
"Like doing the horizontal mambo with him?" Michael commented wryly.
"For my part, I do that voluntarily," Sarina answered with a shrug. "After the… the experience with demon spawn I thought I'd swear off guys entirely, but after the Embrace… Kindred have stronger, more urgent needs than mortals do. You won't find any celibate vampires, no matter how hard you're looking – well, except Drusilla, of course, but she's a special case in many ways. But the rest of us crave sex almost as much as we crave blood. And Alain is a skilled and considerate lover. I've been very fortunate that I was given into his care. Other foster Sires would have been a lot less… understanding."
"What about Oliver and Pierre?" Michael asked. "Do they have to put up their asses for him, too?"
"Oh, no!" Sarina laughed. "They take care of each other well enough – they'd been an exclusive couple in their mortal days for six years or so already – and besides, theirs was an Embrace out of convenience. Alain hasn't even Claimed them."
"He hasn't… what?" Michael repeated with a frown. "You're losing me here."
"Claiming a Childe means sexually dominating them right after the Embrace," Sarina explained. "It isn't a necessary part of the process and is usually done to express the Sire's personal interest in the Childe." Seeing Michael's confused expression, she laughed again. "There are more Childer Embraced out of convenience – or necessity – than you'd think. It doesn't always mean their Sire would be interested in them as bed partners."
"Did…" Michael hesitated for a moment, then decided to ask it anyway. "Did Alain Claim you?"
Serina nodded, without the slightest sign of embarrassment. Michael had already realized that vampires weren't exactly shy when discussing their affairs.
"In my case it was actually necessary," she said, "as he hadn't been the one to Embrace me. Claiming is the way to adopt someone into a Kindred family; that and extensive blood-sharing, that is. But you'll see it for yourself."
"What?" Michael bolted upright in shock… and groaned as the pain shot through his entire body again.
"Carefully!" Sarina warned him. "You're still not done changing. But yes, once you're done, Alain will Claim you; and the rest of the family is gonna witness."
"Michael gave her a bewildered look. "You're kidding, right?"
"Not at all," Sarina replied calmly. "It will be done in your best interest."
"Yeah, right…"
"No, I mean it! You see, most ghouls don't have a very high status within a Kindred family. As a rule, they're business employees, like the Goldfarbs for Salvador Garcia, cannon fodder like the ones of Louis Fortier, or simply doormats or food sources. Only a Prince's personal ghouls are highly respected by anyone – and within a family those who've been Claimed by the family head, in the presence of the rest of the family. Being Claimed gives them nearly the same status as Childer; it's up to them to rise in the hierarchy later, then."
"Oh, great! Just great!" Michael groaned. "So you guys will sit there and what Alain fucking my brains out?"
"Basically… yes," Sarina answered bluntly. "it's a ritual to establish your status within the family, for your own protection. You don't have anything to fear from us, of course, we like you well enough as you are. But Alain may make other Childer later who could be more… problematic. You need to have sufficient status for them to treat you with respect."
"You guys sure as hell have an interesting concept about respect," Michael groused.
Sarina have him an exasperated look.
"And that from a man who's been going in and out of the back rooms in gay clubs all his life," she said. "With your history, you shouldn't be so queasy about the whole thing. You might even enjoy it."
Personally, Michael doubted that very much. Unlike Brian, he didn't have exhibitionistic tendencies, and his goings in and out of back rooms had usually served the purpose to drag a stoned or drunk Brian out of there and take him home.
One aspect of the whole embarrassing concept did attract him, however. Such a semi-public act would also serve to stake his own claim on Alain… and the rest of the family would have to accept. As Sarina had said, it was a ritual, and vampires were great on rituals, after all.
Yes, that was the only part of the whole thing that did have its appeal. Still, who knew… Sarina might even be right. He might enjoy the… erm… unusual attention. As he was looking forward to a very long life now, who said that he needed to remain shy for the whole ride?
As expected, it took Michael another week to go through the transformation. After the first pain-filled days, the rest actually wasn't so bad. Brian barely left his side, which was nice… just like in old times, when they had been kids. They were clowning around, watching movies – mostly old favourites where they could quote the dialogue by heart – and talking about nonsense. Just like in old times, Michael repeated in thought. It was… nice. Yeah, it was nice.
Alain, too, visited him twice a day to check on his progress, and on each day, he fed Michael a very small amount of his Vitae to help the transformation along. That was every bit as disgusting and unpleasant as at the first time, but Michael had to admit that it did help. As an additional bonus, their mental connection of which he'd gotten a glimpse at that first time, had now established itself firmly, although Alain warned him that it would gradually lessen between feedings.
Finally, almost two weeks after Michael had been made, as ghouling was officially termed, Dr. Gloria Martinez, the pretty Kindred doctor from the Barofsky Institute of Haematology, gave him a thorough examination and declared him fully healed and the transformation complete.
"You'll require taking a small amount of your Domitor's Vitae once a month," she reminded him, "but as long as you do that, you'll be all right. Congratulations. You can start your new life as a creature of the twilight any time you want now."
Michael thanked her, albeit a little nervously, because he had no illusions about the exact nature of that start. And indeed, Alain didn't waste any time. He called a family gathering to witness Michael's Claiming for the next night. The sooner it's done the better, he declared, not really asking what Michael thought about the whole issue. He didn't need to. It was within his rights.
Michael still wasn't entirely thrilled by the semi-public nature of the ritual, although Brian's ill-veiled jealousy amused him a little. Still, he was near to panic when Sarina came to escort him to the red salon, which, once again, had been selected as the location of the event.
"Don't fret," Sarina said, leading him to the small, adjoining wardrobe first. "It's not something you wouldn't have done before."
"Right; but never with audience," Michael muttered darkly.
Sarina grinned. "There's a first time for everything," she said. "Now get naked. You're supposed to leave your clothes here."
"What?" Michael startled.
"It's required by custom," she replied. Then, with a slow, sensuous grin, she added. "Do you need help with undressing? I'm willing to assist you."
"Thanks, but I'll manage," Michael answered hastily and began to take off his clothes, folding each piece carefully and placing it onto the sideboard, just to put off the inevitable for a little longer.
When he was bare-assed naked like on the day he was born, Sarina brought forth a little velvet box and opened it. On a small silk cushion, there was a silver cock ring in the box, with a simple yet elegant design decorating it.
"Put this on," she said. "This is a ritual of dominance; you're not supposed to get off on it. In fact, it would be considered as a serious break of etiquette."
Michael stared first at her, then at the rather… unusual piece of jewellery… and then he began laughing hysterically.
"I'm… I'm sorry…" he said, gasping for air, "but the whole… the whole thing just reminds me too much of a frigging wedding!"
"In a sense, it is," she replied calmly. "This is a ceremony that will change your life forever – in ways you've never expected. Now go on; it's not wise to make your Domitor wait."
Gulping nervously, Michael entered the red salon through the hidden side door. The room didn't look any different than ever, save from the slight rearrangement of the red sofas: one was now standing alone, opposite the stained glass windows, fully illuminated by the colourful evening light, while the others were arranged in a wide semi-circle in front of the same windows, so that the ones sitting there would have undisturbed view.
For a family as small as theirs, it was an impressive gathering. Pierre and Oliver were there, of course, the former one impeccably elegant and worldly as always, while Oliver seemed at least as nervous as Michael felt. Apparently, this was the first time he witnessed something like this. Peppone sat a little further away; while he wasn't exactly blood, he'd been a friend and associate of Alain's for almost two hundred years, so he counted as family, too – more so than any of the fledglings, actually.
Serina slipped into the salon behind Michael, closed the door noiselessly and joined Peppone on the sofa. She, too, had the right to witness, but moved away from the actual Childer and closer to Peppone; the status of these two was a high but unusual one within Alain's family.
Finally, Brian sat on the third sofa on the right, alone, with a grim, closed expression on his face. Michael could almost physically feel the look of those hazel eyes on his naked body, and to his slight mortification, he felt himself harden. The whole situation was embarrassing enough without admitting that yes, the thought of being fucked before the eyes of all – and most above all before the eyes of Brian – did, indeed, turn him on, big time. That was something he hadn't really expected, despite Sarina's jokes. Suddenly he was very grateful for the provided cock ring, or else he'd embarrass himself beyond endurance within moments.
Now another side door opened silently, and Alain walked in, wearing nothing but a deep red silk dressing gown. His lean, slender body was pale like alabaster, his eyes burned silver. The gown was open in the front, leaving no doubt about the fact that he was very much aroused and ready to go on with the ritual.
"Ghoul of my Blood," he said in a low, silky voice, laying a proprietary hand upon Michael's shoulder, "are you ready to accept my dominance over you?"
Michael was so nervous that he could barely swallow. Speaking was even harder (ha! ha!) but he knew what he was supposed to answer. Peppone had instructed him on the details of the ritual thoroughly.
"I am ready, my Regnant," he said in as steady a voice as he could manage.
To his surprise, however, Alain broke the ritual by shaking his head. "No, little one. You're not my thrall and I'm not your regnant. I'm your maker, and – hopefully – I'll be your Sire one day, should you choose so. But in this house, in this family you'll never be just a slave. You're Blood, and you'll be treated the same way as my Childer are."
The others exchanged surprised looks, only Sarina smiled quietly. She'd realized Alain's fondness for the young man long ago and had expected something… unusual. As for Michael, he was touched beyond expectations. He couldn't say anything, just dipped his head in gratitude.
"Well then," Alain added, smiling, "shall we begin?"
When it was over, Michael collapsed on the sofa, sore and aching hard but strangely sated. Lifting his leaden eyelids he could see that the others were gone. He was alone with Alain, whom he now belonged completely and irreversibly, body, heart and soul. Alain sat down next to him, closing a cool hand around his hot and straining dick.
"We ought to do something about this," he said, "but I'd rather not soil the room any more. Can you bear it as long as we get to the bathroom? There is one on the ground floor, too."
Michael nodded drowsily. Alain's hand felt so pleasantly cool on his hot flesh, and the promise of a hot shower to ease his aches was sounded even better.
"Whatever you want," he murmured, the devotion he felt for his master echoing through their link and was met with a similar emotion from Alain's side. He barely registered Alain lifting him from the sofa and carrying him through the little wardrobe into an equally small bathroom. The soreness of his ass, the strain their violent coupling had put on his thighs, the throbbing his still unreleased dick all seemed to be somewhere far away.
What mattered was that he'd found his place in this world of twilight. After a long time, after much searching and wandering around, he was finally home.
~The End – for now~