DISCLAIMERS: Don't own, don't sue.
++
Flik inhaled deeply as he awoke, staring blindly into the cold, empty sky. The stars winked merrily, but their beauty was lost on him. It couldn't have been three hours since he'd fallen asleep, exhausted after a day of endless walking. And he wasn't just physically tired, either; coming face to face with Viktor's past had drained him mentally and emotionally as well.
The other man had fallen asleep before Flik, actually. He'd felt Viktor's breathing slow and even long before his own body complied with his needs. Flik kept seeing it in his head--Wil, or what might've been him, once, ugly and yet beautiful and yet...
Flik shook his head. Whatever it was, it was seven years dead, now. Why was he still thinking about him? He'd never seen an honest ghost before, though he'd known they walked the earth just as surely as he did. Flik hadn't expected them to be so...alluring.
It hurt Viktor to see his brother in such a way--alive and breathing and bitter--but from the look of him earlier he was already trying to convince himself that what he saw had never been and Wil was still resting in peace below the town.
The worst of it all was that Flik could not do or say anything to make it better. Hell, he'd been fourteen when North Window was attacked, and Flik had been ready to go to the demon today! He'd been nothing but a liability to Viktor. Useless...
Flik groaned, feeling a small rock gouge into his thigh for the first time. He sat up, letting Viktor fall to the ground unceremoniously. Although it was a bit warm outside, Flik liked having Viktor close to him. Viktor was one of those people that needed physical contact to be comforted, and, honestly, Flik needed to feel the other man's presence as well. What had happened today...what could have happened...
When Flik had finally given into Viktor nine months ago, he'd been sure that nothing could come between them. Now, the way Flik had been so ready to go to the demon unnerved him. He told himself that it had just been the creature's charm, that it meant nothing. Still, a small seed of doubt had been planted.
Viktor muttered something incomprehensible in his sleep, causing Flik's frown to deepen. How much would he forgive? Where, exactly, was Viktor's limit? Flik thought maybe he should apologize, but he wasn't quite sure how. What could he say? "I'm sorry for being attracted to your dead brother?"
Dark brows drew together and Viktor woke up as Flik studied him.
"What's wrong?" Viktor grumbled, his voice roughened by sleep. Flik looked down at the large man, feeling, for the first time in his life, a little intimidated. It was too much, his presence; Flik needed to get away.
With ease that he didn't really feel, Flik stood up. "Nothing," he said, "I'll be right back." He sauntered off, letting Viktor draw his own conclusions. Flik heard the other man fall back and sigh, and was glad. If Viktor asked him why he was going, Flik doubted he would have been able to lie to him. All he wanted was a few moments alone, to sort through his thoughts. Once Flik had a handle on things he'd come back.
With no moon and only the stars to guide him, it wasn't surprising that Flik had some problems navigating over the unfamiliar terrain. Twice he almost crashed to his knees, narrowly avoiding a sprained ankle as his foot fell into some rodent's hole.
The third time he lost his footing Flik didn't bother putting his hands out to save himself. Here was as good as any place to think, he mused, thankful of the dry dead grass to cushion his fall.
Now that he was alone, Flik was having trouble concentrating on any one thing. In fact, he was having trouble thinking of anything at all. The stars--different from the ones he was used to--seemed to dance before him, a lulling, comforting display. Flik was reminded that he was very tired. Only the sound of his own heart alleviated the silence of the night; Flik felt truly alone under the midnight sky.
It was like he was a child again. How many nights had he spent just like this? Thinking of nothing, of everything, or just sleeping... But once he'd met Odessa, time alone hadn't seemed so important anymore. Flik hadn't even realized that he'd missed it.
Flik's eyelids drooped, stars forgotten.
"It's an easy enough thing to reclaim," a laughing voice whispered deliciously in his ear. Flik sprang forward and rolled, landing in a half-crouch a yard away. He groped for a sword that wasn't there, fighting off a feeling of powerlessness. But when no immediate attack came, Flik became confused.
The owner of the voice separated himself from the darkness, wearing the same easy smile he had been when Flik had seen him earlier in that day. Wil. The...boy held himself erect--apparently amused to no end to find Flik kneeling before him.
Flik rose swiftly to his feet, taking a few steps back as he did so. But if anything, Wil's smile grew wider with Flik's increased wariness, and he edged closer.
"We were never properly introduced," began Wil. His voice, though loud in the quiet meadow, didn't seem out of place at all--like it had been assimilated with the other night sounds. Flik felt the sound wash over him like the insistent current of a river.
Flik bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, refusing to let himself get caught up in the creature a second time. He'd be damned if Viktor would need to bail him out again.
"Why are you here?" Flik ground out, more than a bit desperate for a weapon. Anything would do...a stick, for instance. But there was nothing, not even a heavy rock was in sight. Damn. Wil edged closer, making Flik feel cornered despite his open surroundings. For a bare second he thought of calling Viktor, but rejected the idea just as quickly as it came to him. He could handle this on his own--Wil was just a ghost, after all, just a bit of cold air.
"I'm here because my over-bearing older brother didn't introduce me to his handsome companion," breathed Wil, suddenly appearing so close that Flik could smell him: the sickeningly sweet smell of decay, like rotting meat or...
...or blood.
"The scent betrays my creature; I'm afraid, young man. Flik, isn't it?"
As soon the new, deep voice spoke, a Wil's strong hands seized him about the neck, strangling him even as he was lifted several inches off the ground. His feet fought to gain purchase and failed, he hung uselessly as the breath was squeezed from him.
Wil stared up at Flik, all the bitter laughter gone from his pointy face. The thing's expression was blank--dead, really, as he held Flik with a strength that was truly unnatural. Divots of cold flesh were lodged underneath Flik's fingernails as he clawed at the hands that held him. But Wil's vice-like grip didn't loosen, even as a large patch of skin was torn from the back of his hand, exposing muscle and bone.
"He won't stop until I tell him to--you see, he's quite dead," the voice mused from the impenetrable dark, sounding as close as Wil to Flik, yet far away, like he was speaking from a distant tree-top.
No command that Flik heard was issued in the dark meadow, but Wil suddenly dropped him in a gasping heap upon the ground. Flik looked up, massaging his bruised throat, only to be rendered breathless once again.
No. No, he's dead!
Neclord rose out of the ground; it shimmered around him like so much parting water. His pupil-less eyes narrowed in what could have been a number of emotions--if the vampire did indeed possess them--and he crossed the short distance to Flik and Wil with an air of nobility that not even the Emperor had possessed.
With the wave of a long-nailed hand that was merely a twitch, Neclord released whatever spell he held over Wil. Flik bit off a scream as the thing collapsed on top of him, the magic that had glamoured his appearance dispersed as well. For a long moment Flik was frozen, horrified by Wil's true appearance. Gaping patches of skin hung loose or missing, the edges decaying and black. An eye was gone from its socket, the putrid organ dangled from a single nerve to touch and play on those lips that Flik had found so alluring only hours before. As Flik scrambled to be away from the no longer living corpse, something broke inside of it. Flik struggled trying to contain his heaving stomach as the corpse's viscera oozed onto the dead grass, filling the air with its overpowering stench.
Flik staggered to his feet, trying to ignore what lie just at his feet. Neclord smiled almost fondly at Wil before nudging him aside and continuing on his stately way. He stopped barely a handbreadth's away, smiling wickedly into Flik's pensive but determined face.
"You're dead," Flik said defiantly. "We killed--"
"--my shadow. It was of little consequence to me," the vampire interrupted. "What are you doing away from your camp, boy? Don't you realize it's dangerous out here?"
Flik had no answer and so did not supply one. Everything inside was clamoring for him to escape, to defend himself, if nothing, but he couldn't. The part of his brain that was still rational knew it was futile--he wasn't going to make it through this in one piece.
"Nothing to say, then, boy?" Neclord's grin suddenly widened. "Surely you aren't stalling so that your friend has time to save you!" A dry chuckle, like the whispering of mummified flesh being torn apart, chilled Flik to the bone.
"You must realize that a bumbling fool such as Viktor would never be able to rescue you--he's so inept at caring for those he loves." The vampire leaned in even closer, studying the planes and hollows of Flik's face speculatively. "And he does love you, doesn't he?"
Flik refused to meet the demon's eyes, and shied away from Neclord's close proximity. The vampire put out a hand to stop him, his long, sharpened nails digging into the already tortured flesh of Flik's neck. "Don't," he said, with so much warning packed into the single syllable that Flik became entirely still. However, he dragged his gaze over Neclord, over the pale gray skin and clothes fit only for a corpse, until their eyes met.
Neclord backed away, just the slightest bit, a pleased expression spreading over his horrific features. His hand migrated from Flik's neck to his chin; he studied Flik as he turned his face this way and that.
"You are all he has," he said slowly. "I wonder how much it would hurt him to see you dead. Enough to break, do you think?"
Flik stiffened.
"Relax, boy. I'm not going to kill you until Viktor is here to see it." The vampire released him, walking a short distance away. Given space, Flik suddenly felt empowered enough to speak.
"Why...does Viktor matter so much?" He choked out. Flik's body felt like it was burning, the demon's dangerous presence had flooded his senses--he was just becoming aware of it.
"Matter? Viktor doesn't matter. I just don't like him." Neclord twitched his cape into place around him, correcting an error only he could see. "I want to take him and everything that he's ever come into contact with and kill it," the vampire explained simply, with no hint of malice in his voice at all. Flik was taken aback by Neclord's easy tone and manner--like doing all this meant nothing at all to him, another amusing game to play to pass the time.
It made him sick. He killed a whole town full of people, just because he had nothing better to do at the time. And now, it was very possible that Flik and Viktor were going to die, too, because one had dared to live through the massacre. Viktor had lost his family because...
Flik spared a glance down at what used to be Wil, and his nausea was reinforced. He hoped Viktor would never see it. He'd already seen so much...and if Neclord had his way, he would be in for a whole lot more. It was stupid to pray that Viktor would just stay asleep and never come looking for him. Even if Flik had been given the chance to tell Viktor to stay away, he would not have listened.
"But these are such dull surroundings," Neclord said, interrupting Flik's fevered thoughts. "Let's go and wait somewhere more familiar."
The ground underneath Flik's feet suddenly became unsubstantial, as if it was a bog or quicksand. He watched in fascinated horror as his feet slowly disappeared into the hard-packed dirt, then his shins and knees. Flik was held immobile--though if that was the effect of the magic or his own fear, he never found out. Once he was in to his upper thighs the ground seemed to swallow him all at once, and Flik was faced with the sensation of being buried alive. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't hear or see; it was like he was nothing, no where.
And then suddenly he was. His feet hit a hardwood floor before he could even recognize it or know it was there. Flik gasped as if his lungs had been starved for oxygen, which he found as he hit the air, that they were not. A second later and Neclord was with him again, materializing out of the floor as he had done out in the meadow. His back was pointedly turned towards the window.
Flik quickly scanned the room, looking for weapons. He saw several possibilities lying about the small, dark space: bits of broken furniture, even the assorted pipe. But how much good would these things do against a vampire? Did he dare take a chance, and attack when it was almost guaranteed to backfire on him?
Anything was better than dying without a fight, Flik decided. Even without a chance...
He took a few steps backward into the corner. There was a the remnants of a chair lying in pieces on the floor there, and if he could just get to it without being noticed... Flik made sure to keep his head down as he moved--let Neclord think what he would--and slowly knelt, picking up a chunk of wood without really seeing it.
"Don't make a fool out of yourself by trying, boy," the vampire growled, half-turning. "If your team of six couldn't defeat me without magical aide, do you think you even have a chance?" Neclord crossed the room in a few long strides, his polished boots sounding especially loud on the rotting wooden floor. He stopped when he was perhaps a yard away from Flik.
"You're not going to make this difficult for me, are you?" Though Neclord stood at about Flik's height, he suddenly seemed much taller, like his presence had expanded to fill the dank little room. Flik wanted to take a step back, but even if he had been willing to give up face, the wall was right behind him. The vampire had effectively cornered him--Flik wasn't going anywhere.
"Am I supposed to make it easy for you to kill me?" Flik asked, bluffing confidence. His insides were screaming--telling him to get away when there was no rational way to do so. The current outlook on the situation was more than a little bleak. If something didn't happen he'd be just another casualty of the North Window incident--albeit a bit of a delayed one. Flik swallowed the dread that threatened to overtake him.
Neclord said nothing in reply, just stared at the young man with an expression of disgust before turning his back once again. As he was returning to the window, he muttered, "Just stay quiet until I have a use for you."
Flik didn't even have the time to let the vampire's words register before his frantic thoughts were seized and stilled, and everything fell into inky darkness.
++
Viktor was cold. That alone should have told him something was very wrong. With Flik beside him, he rarely ever had the chance to feel the unpleasant weather. The fact that all his extremities were stiffened by cold told him that one of two things had happened: one, Flik was dead, or two, Flik was gone. Viktor preferred to believe the latter.
Sitting up confirmed his suspicions, but did not alleviate his worries. Flik was no where to be seen, though his personal effects lay scattered where he'd left them a few hours before. Common sense told Viktor that Flik was probably away answering nature's call, but the knot of uneasiness in his stomach said otherwise. The night was too dark, and the spot where Flik should have been lying was already cold. Something wasn't right... Where and why would Flik have run off? Especially this close to North Window...
But if he did get up and go looking for Flik, and the younger man really was all right, than Viktor would be in trouble. Flik hated feeling like he was being checked up on, or babied. Viktor frowned; picturing the man's peeved face.
"I can take care of myself," he'd say. "Just because you're bigger than I am doesn't mean that you have to take care of me!" And if Flik thought he was being especially pompous, he'd probably hit him.
But Viktor couldn't ignore the bad feeling he had. There were creatures just waiting for the chance to get revenge on Viktor, and hurting Flik would be an excellent way to accomplish that. And if Flik were ever injured because of something Viktor had done--even indirectly--he would never be able to forgive himself.
If it were any other place, Viktor would have simply laid back down and went back to sleep, but this was North Window, and he couldn't take the risk of Flik being in danger. Mad or not, Viktor would feel better if Flik were near him. Grabbing his boots and sword from near the fire--and noting that Flik's were still there, too, along with his cape--Viktor set out to look for the younger man. Even if Viktor had to drag him by the tails of his bandanna, Flik was coming back to the campsite with him.
Viktor had no idea which way Flik might have headed; it was dark, and one way looked much like the other. He had nothing with which to make a torch, and the only light was being filtered down from the stars. The stillness of the night was broken by Viktor's loud curses as he fought to contain his rising panic.
"If Mother could hear you talking like that, she'd have your tongue."
Viktor abruptly stopped muttering to himself, though he did not need to turn around to guess the voice's origin. He had jumped to the conclusion that Wil was simply a wayward spirit too easily, it seemed. Readying his weapon, Viktor silently chided himself. He really should have known better than to take the demon's words as truth.
Wil stood just behind him as expected; though his appearance was much changed. Instead of the attractive boy Viktor had seen earlier that day, Wil appeared as he should be--that was, a walking corpse. And he was in bad shape, as well; Wil looked like he'd been torn apart and then hastily put back together by an extremely careless hand. He was hunched over, cradling what was left of his midsection with arms that were nothing more than bones. Wil glared up at him with one glassy eye that was sunk so far into his skull that Viktor couldn't believe that it still could see.
"Where's Flik?" Viktor growled, the zombie's sudden appearance removing all doubt that Flik was not in danger. His sword rang as he pulled it free of his scabbard.
"Oh, Brother, Brother! You do have such a hard time keeping the things you care for safe, don't you? What's your excuse this time?" Wil spoke with vocal chords that could not have possibly produced sound. The effect was revolting.
"Tell me where he is!" Viktor raised his weapon, though it was nothing more than a formality--he doubted that Wil could cross the short distance to him without falling completely apart.
"You should know where he is, Viktor. After all, that place holds so many memories for you and me. I'm hurt that you've forgotten!"
Viktor closed his eyes for a brief moment. Flik was in North Window, more likely than not at his old house. But, if Wil hadn't taken him, who had?
The answer to the question caused Viktor's heart to fall to the bottom of his stomach. Neclord. Neclord had taken him. That was as plain to see as the thing that used to be his brother standing in front of him. For a long while coherent thoughts couldn't form through Viktor's dread.
"What's the matter, Brother? Are all your inadequacies finally becoming apparent to you?" Wil's words were acid, scathing and harsh. Viktor opened his eyes and saw no hint of anything that had used to be his family. Wil truly was dead.
"Wil, I killed you once because I couldn't stand to see you suffer, but I guess I failed you. So this time, for your sake, I hope you stay dead."
Viktor felt no remorse, anguish, or anything that could even vaguely be construed as sadness as he removed Wil's head cleanly from his drooping neck. It was no harder than removing a flower's blossom from its stem.
He turned from Wil, silently promising to give him another burial as soon as he was able. With a sigh that could have been determined or panicked, or perhaps a mixture of both, Viktor sheathed his sword and turned, once again, towards North Window.
There was a single light burning in one of the houses. From this distance, it could have been a lonely traveler's lantern, or perhaps even a star. What was happening in that room? Did he want to know?
Viktor took off running before his mind could formulate any possible ideas.
++
Neclord looked down at the crumpled human with a sneer, delivering a sharp kick before he even knew he wanted to. There were very few reasons why he would deign to be around humans--to eat them was one, and to kill them, another--and this particular one was being to try him. It wasn't so much that he was loud or even overly aggressive, it was just that he was related in some way to Viktor.
He despised that man. For a long while it was simply because he was "the one that got away," as humans so aptly put it, but after Viktor and his troop of idiots had almost defeated him--in his own castle! --Neclord began thinking of ways to seriously hurt him. The death of Viktor's family and everything he held dear wasn't enough to break him, but it had come so tantalizingly close! Neclord decided to see just how much Viktor could stand.
The opportunity, the timing, the very instance; all had been perfect. At first, Neclord had only wished to taunt Viktor with the images of his family, alive and whole. However, when he'd seen the other, younger man Viktor was traveling with through Wil's eyes, he'd known he had the chance to make this more than a cruel trick.
Who would have thought that the hulking oaf of a man was that way? A ghastly smile grew on Neclord's ugly face. Who would have thought that he was foolish enough to ever bring something he cared about back here? Viktor deserved whatever was coming to him.
Neclord turned back into the room, facing Viktor's slumbering man. He was half-lying, half-sitting in the corner; his face set in a ferocious scowl despite the entrancing sleep Neclord had trapped him in. He'd seen when he looked at...Flik, he guessed his name was, just how deep the feeling ran between them. Neclord was assured a grand show when he killed Flik, to say the least.
But was there something more he could do, just to make it that much sweeter? Maiming him, for instance? Surely, marring the young man's beauty would have a disastrous effect on both the man and Viktor. Neclord bent down to look at Flik more closely. A finger, a toe? Or perhaps, the nose? Possibilities flooded the vampire's mind.
As quickly as the idea came Neclord discarded it. To feel the full effects of losing a limb, he'd have to leave both of them alive, and that certainly wouldn't do. He needed something sudden and horrible and so utterly damning that neither man would have the will to keep on living. Something to break them emotionally and mentally before Neclord crushed them physically.
Neclord gazed at the young man as he pondered. He was restless in his sleep, fighting Neclord's command even while incapacitated. The vampire snorted, finding the man's endless resistance and stupidity a bore. He was a perfect match for Viktor...
That was it. Neclord almost laughed aloud when it occurred to him.
Betrayal.
If Flik thought that he'd betrayed Viktor and if Viktor thought Flik had betrayed him, it would ruin both of them. It was perfect, and he knew just the way to pull it off. After all, it was only a matter of illusions. Granted, maintaining the illusions for both Viktor and Flik could take up a great deal of the rune's energy, but the result would be worth it.
The first thing he had to do was discover what would hit Flik the hardest. This involved a simple delving into his mind--a trick anyone with a True Rune could manage--and a quick look around. Ignoring the barrage of "get OUT, get OUT, GET OUT!!" that assailed him the moment he entered, Neclord began searching for any dark guilt or desire the young man might have.
There were none. Neclord wondered how this could be. Everyone, every human, had some dark secret that they kept hidden--explored only on the darkest of nights. But this one had nothing. He loved Viktor, and before that, some chit of a girl. The man truly was useless. His mind was as open and guileless like nothing he'd ever seen before.
Neclord probed deeper. Something from his past, his childhood, perhaps? But that didn't yield any results either. At this point, he would have been willing just to take a wealth of shame!
The vampire was just about ready to give up--perhaps maiming actually was the way to go--when he happened upon an object of considerable interest.
Oh, my. How interesting.
Neclord decided that it would do nicely for what he had in mind.