This chapter is dedicated to pridefulrose, because every time I post a chapter, I wait eagerly for your reviews. They never fail to make me smile and laugh, and they inspire me to keep on writing this story, no matter how many times I get stuck. Thank you!
Chapter Eleven: My Eternal Night
Shoulder leaned against the frame, Seto stood in the doorway of the lounge. He shook his head.
Yami was sprawled across a settee, fast asleep, an open book on his chest.
Seto quietly approached. He picked up the heavy tome, closed it, and set it on the end table. He gently slipped one arm under Yami's shoulders, the other under his knees. Rock and incense inundated his senses. Yami's head lolled against his shoulder, bared his slender throat.
Seto stared.
It'd been more than a week since last he fed from the other vampire. Seto, in his tired, sleepy state, could readily admit to himself that he missed it. The ease, the intimacy. He had little reason to get this close to his sire anymore.
It was with tender care that he carried Yami from the lounge. Thankfully, Yami now kept his bedroom door unlocked, so Seto easily nudged it open and crossed the threshold. Before he laid Yami on the bed, he relished the weight in his arms.
Yami felt so small in Seto's embrace.
Seto tucked the other man into bed. And he paused again to let his eyes linger on the smooth planes of Yami's face, on the pristine expanse of his pale throat. One hand caressed the side of his neck. The skin was so smooth. He leaned down, and with closed eyes, pressed his lips to the corner of jaw and neck, where Yami's carotid artery lie dormant.
He stood, face flushed cold, but couldn't seem to move. He went to walk from the room, but ended up on the other side of the bed. He climbed on top of the blankets and exhaustion overtook him.
He'd get up before Yami awoke, he promised himself.
He drifted off to sleep.
The hot desert air was filled with the clashing of metal and the tearing of flesh. The air smelt of hot sand and sweat and blood.
He dislodged his spear from his enemy, and whirled just in time to catch a blade against his bronze shield. He jabbed the spear under, impaled his assailant through the chest. With a roar of exertion, he surged forward, charged his opponent to the ground. His heart thumped too hard for him to feel the pain or notice his own blood slicking his leather armor to his skin.
He yanked the spear back again. He gouged the sky with its tip, arm held high.
"For the gods! For Khemet!" he bellowed.
His troops cried back, an ocean of frenzied voices, "For the gods! For Khemet!"
Violet eyes blinked open wearily. He felt oddly cozy, and he realized he somehow ended up in bed. He sighed through his nose and shifted a bit, rubbed his cheek on his pillow. His toes curled under the blankets. The slight, comforting pressure of weight banded across his waist. An arm.
Seto.
Slowly and carefully, he rolled over.
Seto slept on top of the covers, nearly snuggled into Yami's back.
Yami smiled, gently petted the soft brown hair and the smooth pale cheeks. He had wondered just how well Seto was taking the sudden distance. Even Yami had some trouble reading the stony, no-nonsense exterior. But it seemed Seto missed the physical intimacy of feeding, too.
Yami pressed his lips to the cool forehead. He slithered from the sheets. Seto shifted in his sleep, and nuzzled into a pillow.
Yami silently opened a drawer and picked up some loose linen pants.
He stretched, peeled off his shirt on the way to the en suite bathroom. His numerous scars ached and tingled, though they'd been fully healed for thousands of years. He grimaced, rubbed one curling over his ribs and onto his back. He closed the bathroom door, stripped down fully and stepped into the shower.
The water was cool at first. He sighed, hummed with pleasure as the temperature steadily increased. The warmth percolated through his cold body. He allowed the hot rain to fall directly on his face, before he slowly moved his head back for the stream to wash down his neck. The water heater was the greatest human invention to date, he was sure.
He cleansed his entire body with a ritualistic precision. Before long, he was stepping out and patted himself dry with a towel. He pulled on the dark linen pants and tugged the drawstring tight. He opened the door. Steam curled and billowed out into the bedroom like a great breath in the cold. Seto was still fast asleep on the bed, though now he had nearly burrowed himself into the sheets that Yami formerly occupied.
Yami walked to the hallway, quietly closed the door behind him. His bare feet padded softly on the cold stone floor. His temple was dark and smelled faintly of wax and burnt wicks. The fading scent of incense easily overpowered it all. One-by-one, he lit the candles with a single finger. The soft, chanting words of an ancient tongue lilted and swayed on the air, his lips moving in but a murmur. The yellow and orange glow built into a soft, tender luminescence that embraced the dwindling shadows of the room.
With but a touch, he ignited the incense in the bowls to a smolder. He knelt on the cushion and gazed up to the statues lining the altar.
The candlelight danced along the feathers of the winged woman standing center. Her unmoving, colorless eyes seemed fixed to the man kneeling before her. Yami's eyes closed in a slow blink, and her afterimage lingered in purples and greens in the darkness behind his eyelids. A steady inhale, his cold lungs expanded with air scented by candles and incense. A slow exhale.
He could sense them all, shifting, readying themselves for the oncoming night. He felt, too, the shadows draping all things in their dark half-embrace. They fluttered and stirred beneath his attention, but deeper still he dove. He reached for the warmth at the core, so enveloped by all else that he could barely graze the surface. It recoiled from his touch. He reached again. The strain was so familiar to his soul that it fell over him like an old jacket.
Before his closed eyes, the image emerged as if from the murky depths of an abyss. A golden throne twinkled in the sunlight cast upon it in a brilliant halo. A white bird perched at its shoulder. A kite, in all its lithe, predatory glory. The unwavering orange eyes gazed down upon him. It's talons gripped hard at the throne, made little scratches into the gold surface. He reached in supplication, bowing his head.
Feathers fluttered.
He looked up.
The grayscale wings unfurled and flashed, and the bright sunlight pouring into the room reflected in a dazzling display. Up, it soared away, into an opening in the stone ceiling, into the glaring sunlight. Its mournful cry echoed faintly. Darkness descended, washing away all traces of brilliant gold until he had nothing but the memory of dazzling white.
His eyes opened to the harsh glow of the candles. He breathed raggedly, face twisting, eyes stinging as he stared at the emotionless statue. A blink, and cold red twined down his pale cheek.
He slumped forward, on his hands and knees, chest heaving. A drop of red splashed onto the stone. He looked back up at the statue.
"Why do you spurn me?" his voice wavered, broke. He jolted back up. He barely felt the rim of an incense bowl digging into his fingers before he was throwing it. "Why?" The fragile ceramic immediately shattered when it collided with the stone wall. Shards of porcelain and flecks of ash scattered about violently. More and more red trekked down his face, onto his chest and the floor. With a stricken roar, he lunged at a tall candelabra, grabbed it by its brassy staff, and hurled it to the ground. It clattered metallically across the stone, and the candles popped off. The flowing wax smothered the small flames.
He sobbed, an ululating cry, and the flames of the candles surged higher. He collapsed to his knees, held his face in shaking hands. When his palms dampened he looked down.
Blood on his hands.
There was always blood on his hands. No amount of cleansing could erase that.
Eternity could not make these stains fade.
Seto jolted to wakefulness when he heard the commotion. A heart-wrenching sob seemed to shake even the very foundation of the church. He scrambled up.
Yami.
He whipped the bedroom door open and rushed into the hallway. Yami stumbled from another doorway, and caught himself heavily on the wall with one hand.
The coppery, dark scent of blood.
Seto could hardly speak, could only watch those shoulders shake. He inhaled heavily, and Yami's head snapped toward him.
Dark, blackish red stained his face in wet tracks. Some places were smeared heavily.
Yami was… crying.
Seto's lips parted, but the edges of Yami's form wavered, and he faded into the shadows. His roiling, unsteady presence rushed past Seto with enough force to make him stumble. Yami's bedroom door slammed, and the lock turned with an audible click.
Seto blinked. On the wall, a bloody handprint marked the stone were Yami had touched it. He approached cautiously. He glanced into the room. His lips parted again. One of the incense bowls was clearly smashed, its pieces scattered across the stone floor. A candelabra was knocked over, and with enough force to bend one of the arms and send the candles attached rolling all over the place. All of the candles were still lit.
He stepped inside, decided to blow them all out one-by-one, if he had to. There were visible scorch marks near each one. They must have flared up strongly enough to leave ash on the stone walls. When he made it to the candles on the altar, he stared at the statuettes.
What could have affected Yami so? Stoic, patient Yami.
Seto sighed, blew out the last of the candles. He set the lid for the remaining incense bowl on it to smother the last of the smolder.
Something in Seto's chest ached and burned. He let Yami see him on the edge of emotional breakdown, but it seemed Yami wouldn't allow the same situation to be reversed.
Something acidic stung the back of his throat, but he could sympathize all too much.
He shook his head. When he stepped back into the hallway, his acute hearing picked up the sound of water rushing through the pipes.
He paused in front of Yami's door, but ultimately decided to keep walking.
Seto was reading in the lounge when Yami finally emerged. His ears all but pricked up, he looked at the doorway over the edge of his book. Yami, in the flesh, stormed down the hall. Seto's brows furrowed tight. He'd never seen such a pace from the rather languid man.
He set his book down and hurried to follow. A door at the end of the corridor swung on its hinges. Feet clattered up metal stairs. Seto peered up. A spiral staircase, and he could see Yami's silhouette ascending higher and higher. Seto raced up after him. "Where the hell are you going?" he called.
"Out," Yami replied. He didn't slow his breakneck pace up the stairwell.
"From the roof?" he said, and then remembered the heron. "Nevermind." A tear-stained face lurked behind his eyelids. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"I must do something," Yami said.
Seto wasn't sure how to interpret that. There was something Yami had to do? Or did he have to do something, anything? Maybe it was both. Either way, he finally caught up to his sire, and he had the sneaking suspicion that Yami was letting himself get caught.
He reached out, gently gripped Yami's forearm, stopped him in his tracks.
"Let me go with you," Seto said quietly to Yami's back.
A slight turn of that pointed chin, and Seto could could see a quarter-angle of a solemn face. "Where I am going, you should not follow."
"Why the hell not?" Seto said, and as rough as he wished it would come out, it was gentle.
Yami shrugged off his hand. "Only I can atone for my sins."
"What are you talking about?"
But Yami was already back to storming up the steps. He burst through the door at the top. Seto was just a few steps behind.
A belfry, minus the bell it once housed.
Yami was crouched on the low railing. Seto reached out, but before his very eyes, flesh melted into shadow, molded into feathers. Wings spread into the sable night. Feathers caressed the chilled air with the softest of flutters. He was soaring off, away, into the dark.
Seto's hands clenched around the railing, and he watched until his keen eyes could no longer see the fading silhouette of the forlorn bird.
He rubbed his face.
The man lowered his binoculars. "He just flew away." He grimaced. The position they were in definitely allowed them to see the Pharaoh depart, but it didn't allow them to see the belfry itself. The thick railing was at an awkward angle, and a stupid cross-topped spire was in the way. "You picked a terrible spot, Alister."
The other man scoffed at him. "It was the safest place. If we got too close, he'd sense us, just like he did Rex."
The third man, towering and broad, shook his head at the two. "It doesn't matter. He's gone now. We'll wait a little longer before we enter. The Pharaoh needs to get out of range." His dark eyes narrowed upon the solemn church. "We'll find the Millenium Pendant. It has to be in there somewhere."
Yami landed, crouched upon the roof.
He could sense them.
The aftermath of PaniK's scourge.
Suppressing his power to avoid detection, he slunk along the rusty metal roof of the abandoned warehouse. He snarled silently. His fangs glinted silver in the moonlight. He reached out, traced their essences. Yes, they were all here.
A Strigoi's hivemind mentality made it easy to slaughter them all in one fell swoop.
He easily crawled over the edge of the roof, onto the wall. He moved to a window, nothing but shards of glass in a wooden frame. He glanced within. The figures all stood relatively still. They'd dragged their enthralled prey to their den.
And they were drinking them to death.
Yami's breath hissed out from elongated fangs. What abuse. But this was the last group, the last remnants of PaniK's unchecked bloodlust.
Flesh faded into shadow, and he slipped through the broken glass like a slithering black snake. He crept along the ceiling. Darkness fluttered out, shadows unfurling like great wings across the corrugated metal. Red eyes glowed.
And he let is power ooze from him, untamed and unleashed.
The vermin below paused like startled deer. Stinger-tongues undulated in the air.
Then he descended, an enraged beast on sinister wings.
They hissed and shrieked, animalized like the mindless drones they were. Black blood splashed and slashed onto the walls and floors. Nothing could escape the gruesome spatter. Yami caught a tongue in his clawed fist, and with but the slightest twist and pull, he ripped it clean from the parasite's skull. Viscera spilled across the ground when he raked his claws across another's abdomen in a bestial fury.
The blood they spilled would no longer stain his hands.
Blue eyes stared through the text. The words simply didn't register in his fumbing mind, though he instinctively turned the page when he reached its end. His thumb ran continuously over the edges of the pages. Their numerous ridges brought a tingling numbness to the pad of his thumb after some time.
That desolate sob echoed through his mind, a phantom in his ears. His unbeating heart clenched and his stomach turned. He shifted restlessly.
He suddenly looked up. A growing sense of trepidation and alarm fluttered inside him.
Run. Run.
He gulped thickly, reminded of that breathless terror that first time Yami accosted him in the guise of that shadow beast. And realization struck him.
Vampires. Powerful ones. They made Weevil and his goons seem like ants.
He trembled in instinctual fear, but managed to slow his breathing just enough to concentrate. Three… There were three of them. They were approaching the church.
While the fear remained, he felt his hackles raise in territorial anger.
Even from there, he could hear them jiggling the knob on the doors to the chapel. Low voices, but he couldn't quite make out what they were saying. Then the resounding crack of wood. They'd broken the door down.
He set his book to the side, hand trembling. What the fuck was he supposed to do?
Yami picked a bad night to throw a hissy fit.
Seto gritted his teeth. Jesus, he sounded so fucking dependent, reliant.
I am Seto fucking Kaiba and I can take care of myself.
He stood, strode to the door. Down one hallway, another, and he was pushing open the door to the nave. The huge stained glass windows dappled the chapel in colored moonlight, caught on the dust motes floating through the huge, abandoned space.
The tryad all turned at the sound of the door opening.
A man with wild brown hair tsked. "I told you I fucking sensed someone else here."
Kaiba remained resolute, confident, and he cocked an eyebrow. "The real question is what the hell you are doing here."
A huge, brawny blond narrowed his eyes. "We're here for the Pendant. If you show us where it is, we won't have to kill you."
Internally, Kaiba could admit that he was incredibly intimidated not only by the man's sheer size, but also by the aura of fatality that emanated from his stacked frame. "I don't know that the fuck you're talking about." The Pendant? Yeah, no fucking clue.
The third man, his dark red hair stained different colors by the windows, sneered. "Do you really expect us to believe you?"
Kaiba snarled, fangs extending. "Why would I lie?"
The blond man blinked. "I can feel it. You're the Pharaoh's spawn. Pegasus really did mess up, didn't he?" He cocked an eyebrow. "Of course, you would lie for your master."
The Pharaoh? Kaiba hissed. "He's no master of mine."
"He picked quite the insolent one to give his blood to," the blond man replied. "You'd think he'd at least find someone who would show him a little respect."
"You don't have any idea what the fuck you're talking about, either, apparently."
The red-haired man curled his nose with disdain. "Rafael, we should just kill him. He's only going to get in the way." Fangs glinted in the dappled light. "If he shares the Pharaoh's blood, he should go down with him."
Kaiba's spine stiffened.
Dark eyes narrowed. "You make an excellent point, Alister."
Kaiba growled. "What about your precious Pendant?"
The one with the wild hair shrugged. "We didn't plan on you being here, so we obviously don't need you to be able to find it."
Suddenly, the blond was before Kaiba. "Either way, we need to finish this quickly. There's no telling when the Pharaoh will return."
Before he knew it, his fist was curling up, and he was swinging at the other man with all his might.
His hand was caught in a huge, cold, meaty palm. Dark eyes flashed, skin flushed a deep purple. "Rafael" twisted his arm. A sickening crack split the air.
Kaiba's breath hissed through his teeth, even as the gut-wrenching pain emanated up his arm, now twisted behind his back. A knee shoved itself into his spine, and his face met dusty stone floor. A surge of power bursted through him, and he managed to wrangle his arm from the other man's grip. On instinct, he straightened it. He cried out in pain, and the broken bone slotted back together.
He could feel it heal immediately.
"You truly have potential," the man said, and he stomped his foot hard into Kaiba's back to pin him to the ground. "I suppose that's what happens when you drink straight from the immortal font."
Kaiba snarled, clawed at the stone floor. Pinned like a fucking insect. Teeth gritted with effort, he rolled heavily to the side and managed to wrench himself from the other man's hold. He rolled into a crouch, growled up at his assailant.
He could sense it. He wouldn't be able to kill this man, not in this state.
But if he could only hold him off until Yami returned… he might live to see the next night.
Yami hefted the last body onto the roof of the warehouse. When the sun rose, they'd be but ash in the wind. Just where they belonged.
Yami sat, for a moment, drenched in blood, and stared up at the sky. In this area of the city, there were less lights, and the stars were just barely visible beyond the halo of the metropolis' glow. His eyelids fluttered close, and he thought of deep blue.
He took a breath of night air.
He'd tell Seto. Seto… deserved to know.
He reached out, traced his own essence back to his fledgling.
And all he could feel was pain.
Violet eyes snapped open wide, and immediately he burst into the night, wings snapping open hard, blackened feathers falling down.
Kaiba gritted his teeth so hard, he thought his jaw would snap in two. He barely breathed, and each inhale tasted like blood.
"So the healing slows down as you lose blood? Fascinating," Rafael said, lifting Seto up by a fist at his bloodied collar. He jabbed two fingers into the weeping gash on Kaiba's side.
Kaiba bared his teeth, and then spat onto Rafael's face. The dark, frothy saliva spattered onto his hard expression.
Rafael's stony countenance did not shift, save for his nostrils flaring. HIs eyes narrowed. "I can smell it," he rumbled. "You're the closest one can get to drinking from the Pharaoh himself." HIs fingers withdrew from Kaiba's wound. He lifted the bloodied fingers to his face. He licked them slowly, contemplatively. "I wonder how much of his power I will get if I drain you dry."
Kaiba weakly clawed at Rafael's wrist. Black and green spots clouded the edge of his vision.
Rafael's skin flushed dark purple, eyes flashing red, fangs extending from his upper jaw. He pulled Kaiba close, and Kaiba scrambled to push the bigger man away, but his hands only weakly slipped on his chest.
Cold breath fanned Kaiba's neck.
Kaiba squeezed his eyes shut. He was going to die.
Glass shattered in a burst. Rafael dove to the side, and Kaiba crumpled to the floor without the support.
Black wings pumped powerfully, stirring winds to rival a tempest. Crimson eyes burned. The beast hovered in the air, the fury of the night itself.
Seto blinked up hazily. Yami.
"You dare invade my home! You dare lay a hand upon my chosen!" The thunderous roar rattled the windows in their frames. The shadows flared and fluttered and stirred tumultuously.
Rafael scrambled back, purple-hued claws curled into a pew, which shivered in the strong gust.
The shadow beast dove down, smashed through the pew like an armor-piercing bullet. Wooden splinters showered the surrounding area. Rafael jumped back just in time to avoid certain death. Yami roared again, tearing through the pews, upending them, shattering some beyond repair.
The door to the abbey burst open, and the two other intruders came rushing in.
"Rafael!" the ginger called. He launched himself upon the enraged beast. He landed on its back, nails scoring the back of its neck and shoulders. Yami shook him off like a dog shook off water. Black wings pumped powerfully with stoked rage.
Sable claws wrapped into the man's collar, and, with a mighty toss, Yami sent him flying through a stain glass window.
The third bellowed a warcry, but he met a similar fate; he crashed into a stone wall and fell into a broken, crumpled heat. Rafael rushed to his side, slung him over his shoulder, and easily scaled the wall to escape through a broken window.
Yami surged after them, a tidal wave of furious shadow, but paused upon the sill when he heard a pained groan.
Seto.
Shadows melted away, and he knelt at Seto's side. His fledgling was wilted, slicked in his own blood, shivering with shock. He was dying.
Yami cradled him in his arms, cupped the bruised and bloodied face. "Seto, forgive me," he choked.
Blue eyes blinked, hazy. "... Yami…"
"Drink of my blood," Yami said breathlessly, cradled Seto's head to his neck. "Drink."
The slight sting of fangs breaking his flesh, and then Seto was weakly drawing from his life fluids.
Yami petted the brown hair, lips chanting, "Forgive me, Seto, forgive me."
When Seto came back to, his whole body ached. He weakly lifted his head. He was in a bathtub, shirtless. A warm cloth laved over his body. He blinked. Yami.
That sharp face was tilted down. Blond bangs obscured his eyes.
"How are you feeling?" Yami asked softly.
Seto laid his head back, enjoyed the warmth of the cloth, even if it was wiping up his blood. "Fucking sore."
Yami stood, walked to the sink. Water rushed through the faucet. The cloth remained under the water until it ran clear.
"What the fuck happened?" Seto asked quietly. He didn't know what he was exactly referring to; Yami's breakdown, the attack on the church, Yami's return. He didn't know, but he sure as hell wanted some answers.
"Paradius," Yami replied gravely.
Seto groaned. Yami had mentioned them before, and it completely slipped Seto's mind to ask about it. "The… real estate empire?"
"That is simply a front, a facade," Yami said. "They are a coalition of vampires who convene in secret."
"Not too secret if you know about it," Seto muttered.
Yami snorted. "The Underworld is my realm. One cannot so much as sneeze without my knowing about it."
"What the hell do they want?" Seto murmured. "They mentioned some stupid… pendant or whatever."
Yami returned, the cloth hot. It made Seto jump when it touched his chest. "At first, they were content with simply establishing vampiric safe houses all around the globe. That, I did not have a problem with. But their covens became greedy, feeding upon the mortals around them without mercy." Yami gently drew the cloth along Seto's jaw. Seto found himself reflexively tilting his head back. "I exterminated them."
Seto's eyes widened, his throat bobbing under the cloth. "... Exterminated…?"
Yami hummed. "Yes." He stood up to rinse the cloth off again.
Seto stared at his back. His shirt was shredded around the neck and shoulders, though the entire thing was soaked with blood. Black blood.
"They weren't the only ones you exterminated," Seto muttered.
Yami came back with the cloth.
His eyes seemed sunken, exhausted.
"That is true," he said. He met Seto's eyes. "This world would be awash in mortal blood if that of the rabid undead is not spilt." He hesitantly sat on the edge of the tub. "I know I have not been forthcoming. About my past, my activities, or even the complexity of this world into which you have unwillingly joined." His cold fingers brushed Seto's chin. Those violet eyes gleamed, beseeching. "Please let me explain."
Seto's own voice was rough. "I didn't exactly bother asking you anything."
Yami smiled faintly. "It is only in your nature."
Seto watched the cloth swipe in tight circles on his chest. He raised his eyes back up. "... Explain away."
Yami bobbed his head. "As I said, I exterminated the problem groups. Which, honestly, was a vast majority of them. Paradius was infuriated. No longer did they seek simply to establish societies. They desired to put me to death, and, in the process, subjugate the entire human population to spite me. To make a vampiric 'paradise,' where they knew no limits, no fears." Yami's lips curled into a snarl. "No laws, no consequences." His eyebrow winged up. "Of course, it wouldn't last even if they did manage it. They would drain away the mortals. All would either die or become the thirsty undead. And the vampires reigning the world would be forced to feed upon animals and each other. Neither of which are sustainable."
Seto blinked. The more he thought about it, the more he realized Yami was right. The vampires would eventually kill all drinkable animals. Then, they would be forced to feed on one another. Even if they had the sense to leave one another alive, it would create an endless cycle of growing thirst as one vampire fed at the expense of another.
"It might work if they had self-restraint, but they do not," Yami continued. "It is what makes them so incredibly dangerous."
Seto's eyes followed him when he stood again. He was almost tempted to tell Yami to hand over the cloth and just stop; he was more than capable of bathing himself now. But he didn't say anything about it.
"Those vampires, the ones that attacked…" Seto began, eyes glazed and staring far off. "They were… very powerful. I could sense it."
Yami nodded, lips set into a grim line. His hands were on the basin of the sink. "They were. They may be young undead, but they are second generation. Inherently powerful."
Seto's eyebrows scrunched up. "Second generation?"
"Two generations away from the first vampire. Their master was turned by the first vampire."
Something about Yami's tone made Seto's breath still. "What am I?"
Yami slowly turned his head, purple eyes dark. "You are first generation."
Seto flushed cold everywhere, and he shuddered, eyes wide. "That makes you…"
An incline of that sharp chin. "Generation zero. I was the first vampire."
END PART
Whaaaaaat?! :O
See ya next time!