Chapter 2

The Oldest Living Vampire

Trowa stood in the darkness for a while, wondering if he'd been tricked into stepping into an ambush. Roddy wasn't with him any longer and the only sound that filled his ears was the painful sound of the beating walls. But they were behind him now, only behind the chamber door that had been closed without even a sound. There were no lights, no red glow; just pure, unjustified darkness. He swallowed deep and started forward, feeling his way through the void.

Step lightly friend. A voice said. It resounded all over the room but he couldn't see anything, not even the glowing yellow lights so common in vampires.

"Where are you vampire?!" Trowa yelled into the night.

I am the air you breathe, the scent you smell, the darkness. I am all around you, yet not. The voice said illuminating his words with actions. Chills ran up and down Trowa's spine as he turned around, feeling the breath of a person behind him, but turning around to pure nothingness.

"Quit playing with me Vampire!" he yelled in frightful anger.

I am not playing with you, mortal. I simply want you to know that I am no one to be toyed with. Now, step forward towards the light. As soon as that was said a small spotlight was placed on what seemed to be an old fashioned elevator. Trowa walked steadily towards the light, pulled open the gate to the elevator and stepped in. As soon as he was in, the elevator door closed on its own and it started to ascend. A small light was present above him so Trowa could see that the elevator wasn't really an elevator, but a crate that was being lifted by some unknown force.

"Haven't you tired of showing me your power, Vampire." Trowa said in a normal tone.

This isn't power, just simple parlor tricks. I am much more powerful than this. You mock me with such a comment, mortal. The voice said as the crate came to a forceful stop at a landing that seemed to come out of nowhere. The stop was so forceful, in fact, that it sent Trowa flying onto the floor landing face first. A chuckle resounded throughout the great hall and Trowa looked up from his stomach and saw that there was a lone spotlight shining on a figure that was lounged over a chair.

Trowa stood quickly and dusted himself off and started forward, the shape becoming larger with every step that he took. Trowa realized that this wasn't just some old, abandoned house, but it was in fact an old abandoned multi-level chapel. He found it ironic that Vampires had set up habitat in a chapel. He was indeed walking down the middle aisle and could even see random, scattered pews on each side. The Vampire was sprawled over a priest chair at the altar and behind him was a life-sized, cobweb-covered, paint-chipped, Crucifix. Trowa wanted to smile.

He's not the authority in this house. I am. The voice said, and Trowa did smile. Moving a bit more, Trowa was finally in direct line of vision with the mysterious voice. Trowa had to admit; the voice didn't fit the description. The voice that had been resounded around him the whole time he'd been in the darkness was commanding and slightly deep but with a tremor of light playfulness. What was before him was a small, lightly fit blonde whose shoulder-length hair and pallid skin contrasted greatly with the tight leather pants and the long, velvet cloak that that he was wearing. He was holding a stone, Communion serving goblet in his left hand, while staring vainly at the long nails of his right. Trowa stopped at the front of the altar, having a little bit more respect for what the building used to be.

You mortals are all alike. It was in this moment that Trowa realized that the voice that he'd heard wasn't resounding and echoing around him in the corridor. The voice was in his mind. He heard the words, but the presumed lips that they were coming from weren't moving.

It took you that whole time to figure that out? Some hunter you are. Is this bothering you that I'm talking inside of your mind? The Vampire taunted. Trowa only smirked and shook his head.

"But I would prefer it if you'd talk to me normally, if you're finished playing games, that is" Trowa answered tartly. The Vampire sighed and with a playful smirk opened his mouth to speak.

"I bet you're wondering why you're here," The blonde vampire started.

"The best adventures in the world start with that sentence," Trowa said under his breath.

"Why a vampire as powerful as I would need your help," The vampire continued seeming to ignore Trowa's earlier comment. In one swoop, the blonde stood, carrying the large and no doubt heavy cloak around him, covering his beautifully pale skin from the spotlight leaving only the blonde hairs to glow.

"You're exactly right," Trowa said, trying not to notice how the blonde of his hair twinkled almost magically against the bright, pale blue light.

"On normal occasions, I wouldn't ask a mere mortal to help me, that is why I asked you, because you aren't a mortal, are you?" the vamp said, and in a moment he was upon Trowa, ripping off the black mesh shirt that Roddy had given him earlier, revealing the most beautiful and intricate tattoo. The tattoo covered the length of his torso and was of a series of heavenly dragons in gold, red, black, and white. The colors were bright and didn't seem to fade. The dragons surrounded a sword as if they were protecting it and at the hilt of the broad sword there was a circle and within the circle was a third-eye triangle that rest in the middle of his chest.

"So, you know what I am?" Trowa asked.

"Yes, and I wonder why you denied your senses, considering that they are sometimes greater than vampires. A Seraph in the presence of a Vampire, I'll bet you're seething with agitation," The vampire smiled, slowly caressing the length of the tattoo on Trowa's chest.

"Be careful," Trowa warned.

"So, this is the mighty sword that killed hundreds of legions of vampires," the blonde said, his nails feeling prickly against Trowa's sensitive tattoo.

"I apologize…"

"No need, you've never killed any of my Order. What's killing them is something much different, and that is why I have called you."

"Those souls?"

"When a vampire is killed it is neither welcomed in heaven nor hell so its damned soul goes back to the master in a special place that only the master decides," the blonde said circling Trowa and stopping to whisper hot, humid breath into his ear. Trowa closed his eyes and surrendered to the sensation.

"What's your point?" Trowa choked out, finally coming to his senses. When he opened his eyes, the blonde was standing directly in front of him so close that their noses could have touched. Without warning, the blonde leaned in on Trowa's right side and whispered in his ear. Trowa could feel the prickly teeth against the back of his lobe and feel the sharp nails trailing a path across his heart.

"Don't fear me, Seraph, pity me. For if you die you will be with your Master and if I die I will be with my legions on that walls of this house, circling for eternity. This is what I fear, so help me. My strength cannot fight this thing that is killing my Order." He moved away and walked back towards his seat. Trowa just stood frozen in the spot.

"Calorgian," Trowa finally found his voice, "the natural vampire, and you're the Master. Who was the Master before you?" Trowa cleared his throat. This caused the blonde vampire to laugh as he plopped down into the priest chair and gracefully pulled the cloak around him as if he were cuddling up for a night's rest.

"I am like your Master, the Alpha and Omega. There was no one before me and if and when I die there will be no one after me. When I die, I take the Order down with me, living and dead. It is my blood and my life that flows through the veins of the Calorgian. I have searched the world for another before me, a mother, a father, a Master, but have found nothing. So, as far as I know, I am the oldest living vampire. De Occulus or Quatre as a nickname. And you are?"

"Danyael but Trowa Barton is my earthly name," Trowa said walking up to the priest chair where the vamp was sitting.

"So, Trowa, do we have an accord?" Quatre said holding out a hand for Trowa to shake. Trowa looked over the vampire skeptically. Seraphs weren't in the company of making deals with vampires, especially vampire leaders.

"Why do you need my help, run out of legions?" Trowa said turning his back boastfully upon the blonde. Quatre frowned and retracted his hand underneath the cloak.

"My legions are all dead. I only have a few left and most of them aren't even vampires."

"And you would send, a simple Seraph, to kill vampire killers?" Trowa asked, walking over to a long-abandoned bookcase and fiddling with the dust-heavy books. Quatre walked up close enough to him that Trowa could smell the blood on his breath. Taking his hand, Quatre rubbed his long fingernail through the dust leaving a pinstripe trail on one of the books that Trowa was previously fiddling with.

"Name your price," Quatre's voice was full of amusement as he felt Trowa's mood shift.

"There is no earthly material that could satiate or compare to the thirst and hunger that I feel for something unworldly," Trowa turned to look into soft aquamarine eyes and whispered the words to the vampire. He then sidestepped and began to walk away back towards the stairs that he saw behind the priest chair. He figured those must be another way to exit the chapel and maybe get himself back home. Before he could even make his way completely past Quatre's body, the vampire grabbed him by the shoulder and wrapped his pale arm around Trowa's torso bringing the taller auburn-haired man into his smaller body. Dropping the cloak, Quatre allowed for Trowa's weight to rest on himself and Trowa could feel that the vampire's naked chest was cold against his lukewarm back. Trowa felt a hand snake underneath his shirt; the feeling of prickly nails tracing his sides and teasing the tops of his hip bones that were fitted neatly under the slope of his black jeans.

"I can offer you whatever you ask," Quatre said seductively into his captive's ear, letting his statement be punctuated by a scrape of his sharp canines against the sensitive flesh of Trowa's right lobe.

"This one request is something that only one being can offer," Trowa stifled out, feeling that the hand had indeed dipped below the waistline of his jeans.

"The attic, you want back in," Quatre reassured and Trowa instantly pushed the vampire away from him

"How did you know that?!" Trowa spat out. Quatre placed his hands on his hips and chuckled. Trowa could see the small droplets of his own blood glistening off Quatre's canines and mixing with the saliva in his mouth. Now that the blonde had shed the velvet cloak, Trowa could see the lean, pale, body and the long legs sheathed in black leather. His human senses were being seduced simply by the vision in front of him, but his Seraph sensibilities couldn't allow it. Trowa stood firm in front of the sinful creature.

"You look so serious, Seraph," still laughing, Quatre walked towards Trowa slow and deliberate, like a predator cat stalking its prey.

"How did you know that I wanted to go back?" Trowa asked again, this time his emotions a bit more capped.

"Getting kicked from heaven is no small feat, anyone would want to go back. Some of us want to go," Quatre smiled ironically.

"I wasn't kicked from heaven like Lucifer, I chose to leave," Trowa resounded though his tone was a bit nostalgic.

"To live as a human. So, the Deity granted you immortality in exchange for your help in fighting off his many mistakes," Quatre's teeth glistened and Trowa now realized that the vampire was again close to him.

"He doesn't make mistakes," Trowa said defiantly.

"What Hebrew king wrote that verse?" Quatre replied mockingly and to Trowa's shock walked past him and back to his priest chair at the front of the chapel. Trowa followed.

"How? How can you get me back up there?" Trowa asked wide-eyed.

"All if have to do is make a deal with the Deity, we owe each other some things, this could be one of his favors to me."

"The bureaucracy of heaven is mystifying," Trowa whispered.

"Ah yes, it is, considering that I am one of his most hated creatures. I should know, I'm not even allowed in either place. Neither place, heaven nor hell, can a vampire lay there head. Only shall they walk the earth for eternity, judgment, or till dead," Quatre quoted with a hint of sadness in his tone.

"You talk to the Deity?"

"Yes, we talk, sometimes. I think your return might be allowed if you harmonize with me," Quatre stuck out his hand again. Trowa forced his hand out quickly and shook the vampire's hand, feeling the cool, clammy flesh.  In all of his centuries walking the earth, he never thought that a vampire would offer him what God had so quickly taken away.