Discordant Melody
A Kurda Smahlt Story
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Second
Harmony
It's Too Late
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When I woke up on an old mattress that could have passed for a bed, my mouth tasted bitter – a grimy, disgustingly dry feeling that made me want to find a gallon of water and scull the lot. My whole body was throbbing slightly, as if it had been ran over by a steamroller. I opened my eyes blearily, to find that half the vision of my left eye was obscured. I raised my hand to touch it, and winced as soon as my fingers touched the tender flesh.
What the…?
I tried to remember the night before. Had I gotten into a fight at the bar last night? Had someone not liked something I played, or was I hit by a car or something?
And then I remembered.
The alley, Bruiser, the pain, the abuse, the strange, beautiful man named Kurda, being carried back to an old decrepit apartment and vaguely being aware of his fingers brushing my bare skin as he bandaged my ribs…
I bolted upright, and promptly fell back with a loud strangled cry of pain as my ribs screamed in protest of being moved so suddenly. Shutting my eyes against the pain, I gritted my teeth and groaned. In my mind, I went through every cuss I knew, cursing Bruiser and his cronies.
"Are you okay?"
Slowly, I opened my eyes, turning my head to face the source of the voice, and immediately I felt the pain ebb away. Kurda walked into sight, pulling his long dark coat on. His hair was out, no longer in that loose braid, falling free over his shoulders. If it weren't for my broken ribs, I would have jumped up then and there just to run my hands through his hair, intent on remembering the weight and texture of it against my skin.
I smiled crookedly, and winced as the movement pulled my swollen lips taught. Fresh blood began to seep through the cut slowly, and I gingerly raised my arm to wipe away the blood – but he beat me to it, crossing the room quickly and pulling out a handkerchief in one swift, practiced movement. Kneeling next to me, he gently put the cloth to my mouth, letting the white piece of material soak up the blood. I noticed then that he had a set of scars on his left cheek, three, close-set lines that looked a bit like a scar a scratch from a cat would leave.
"That was the only cut I couldn't heal," he said softly, his eyes strangely tender. "I didn't know how you would have reacted if I said I kissed you to heal your lip."
I wouldn't have minded at all, I found myself thinking, and despite my weariness, I somehow managed to stop myself from saying that out loud. Barely. He smiled.
"Do you want anything – say, a drink, or food? I don't have much, but the offer still stands," Kurda said. I started to shake my head slightly, then stopped and blinked, remembering my parched throat.
"Actually," I began, and he pulled away the handkerchief so he could hear me better. I ran my tongue over my parched, swollen lips, and pulled a face slightly as it ran over the cut, allowing me to taste the metallic tang of the blood. "I wouldn't mind a glass of water, please."
"All right, I'll go get it for you – but let me just warn you now, it might be bit warm, the fridge is broken," he said, standing up and heading towards the door. I blinked.
"Isn't warm water supposed to make you go to the toilet?" I called out, my words slightly slurred by the fact that I couldn't move my lips much. He paused at the door, one hand on the doorframe as he looked over his shoulder to smile at me.
"That's just an old wives' tale," he said, still grinning. "However, it's one of the only old wives' tales that's true."
Then he slipped out of the room, leaving me to muse by myself.
I was given time to peer around the room. It was a plain thing, my old mattress being the only piece of furniture, set in the middle, against one of the cracked, caking walls. There was an old window with a seat to my left, no curtains to hide the world outside – which was dark with rain clouds.
It was only then when I realised what he had said earlier –
"That was the only cut I couldn't heal…I didn't know how you would have reacted if I said I kissed you to heal your lip."
What's going on here? I thought. Here he is, a man who appeared out of nowhere and stopped one of Bruiser's finishing slam dunks, snapped said man's arms in half, and carried me halfway across town where he then patched me up.
Pausing, I brought my hand up to touch my eyebrow, where my skin had split open the night before after being kicked in the face. The skin was completely healed over, leaving a small scar.
I blinked.
Superhuman speed, superhuman strength, and the ability to heal people with – I paused. "…kissed you to heal your lip…" was he had said – heal people with his spit? What the hell is he?
Before I had a chance to question myself, Kurda returned, a glass of water in his hand. He gently placed it on the ground as he knelt next to me.
"Do you think you can sit up?" He asked. I nodded, and began trying to pull myself up. He quickly reached forward and helped me – my flesh tingled delightfully when his hands touched my bare skin.
Soon, I was sitting up, using the old wall behind me as a support. Kurda handed me the glass, which wasn't that warm. Quickly, I tipped my head back and emptied the cup in three gulps. Then I set the cup back down again.
Kurda was staring at me, almost in amazement.
"You must have been thirsty," he observed. I smiled.
"Only slightly," I told him. He grinned back at me, taking the glass away and walking it back outside. When he returned, he stood at the doorway, his arms crossed, a small frown on his face.
"You should be able to walk around by yourself in a few hours," he informed me, nodding slightly. "Just don't stress yourself too much and you should be right. I've left you some money on the counter outside, so you can call a cab or something to drive you back home. And I suggest that you stop working down at the docks – those other men won't be happy with you at all. Just lie low – okay?"
Then he turned to leave.
"Wait!" I called. He stopped, looking back at me, an eyebrow quirked in question. I could feel my heart thumping painfully away in my chest at his expression – he was just so… "Are you leaving?"
"Yes, I'm afraid," he said, turning back to me. "My work in this city is done, and I've got somewhere to go to – uh, a flight at six."
"But… you can't leave." I said. Both his eyebrows shot up now.
"Why ever not?"
"Because…" Because I think I'm in love with you. "Because you don't even know my name yet."
He grinned, crossing his arms and leaning on the doorpost.
"Fine then. Tell me your name."
"My… my name is Daegan McCarthy."
He smiled.
"Nice to meet you, Daegan. Goodbye, now." Then he turned to leave again.
"No, wait!" I cried again. Once more he turned around.
"Now what?"
"I… uh… can't stand up without someone's help?" I said unsurely. He looked back at me, his blue eyes seemingly unamused. I grinned sheepishly. "What can I say? I'm hopeless!"
Kurda looked out the window – I followed his gaze, and noticed, far out on the horizon, the clouds had broken slightly to reveal the crepuscular colours of dawn. He sighed, then wandered back over to me and sat down next to the mattress.
"You won, Daegan," he said, shrugging off his coat and grinning. "But honestly, you're going to regret asking me to stay. I'm the most boring person you'll ever meet."
I grinned back at him.
"Somehow, I doubt that." I told him. He rose his eyebrow again, though this time it was a little more comical.
"And why would you suppose that, Mr. McCarthy?" He asked. I blinked, looking away.
"Well… last night. You snapped Bruiser's arms. In half. And the thing with the healing. That's not… normal." I said softly after a pause. Kurda looked away.
"I can't say I'm proud or happy by the way I dealt with that 'Bruiser' last night…" He said, trailing off.
"If that were me, I would've been!"
Kurda looked up sharply.
"It was violent. There are always options other than violence. Always. This whole world doesn't have to revolve around fighting," he said heatedly, sitting up a little bit straighter. I shrank back a little, and he smiled as if in apology, sinking back down again. "But then again, I suppose you have a reason for saying that. I probably would have been the same, had I been in your position."
We sat in silence for a few moments, neither of us knowing what to say. However, there was a question running through my head. One seemingly simple question that wouldn't go away. I couldn't say it out loud though. I was too afraid to. What if I offended him? What if I scared him off?
I don't think I would have been able to stand it if that had happened.
And then, somehow, I managed to gather my strength. I gathered my courage together, and… asked him.
"Kurda…?"
"Yes, Daegan?"
"…What… are you, exactly?"
And don't say beautiful, because I know that already.
Kurda smiled, a small, sad thing, as he sat back and crossed his arms.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
I grinned back at him, folding my own arms.
"I'm a musician. I'm meant to be open-minded. Try me."
"Honestly. I can't tell you."
"What, it's not like you're a blood sucking monster, right?"
Silence.
"…Right?"
His intent look was my answer. I stared.
"Personally, I prefer the term 'vampire'. It's less… hurtful." He said softly, looking at me directly. He wasn't ashamed or afraid of what he was. He was proud of it.
Blankly, I stared at him, unable to comprehend what I had just found out. This man sitting next to me, this beautiful, gentle man, my knight in shining armour was a –
Vampire.
But… Kurda didn't look any different. Except for the ethereal beauty, and his abnormally long-looking nails, Kurda looked like an average man. There was nothing different or strange about him. He seemed completely normal.
Yes, well, I look 'completely normal', and look at what I am, I thought, almost bitterly.
"But… you could have sucked my body dry by now… so that means you're a good vampire, right?" I asked. Kurdra gave me a crooked grin.
"Well, we don't quite 'suck blood out of your body' as many people seem to think… but yes, I am a good vampire, if there are such things." He said. I nodded, settling back against my wall to think again. So what if he was a vampire? He was beautiful, he was nice, and that was all that mattered…
"Okay." I said, nodding happily. Kurda looked confused.
"Okay?"
"Yes, okay."
"Okay what?"
"Okay, you're a vampire. What now?"
"What, you're not… scared of me, or anything?" He asked. I laughed, then winced as I hurt my ribs.
"Hey, it's just the same as me – just because I have a different sexual orientation to other men does not make me a freak or … an alien, even. And just because you have, well, different eating habits to me, does not make you different, either." I said.
"Oh. So you're…" Kurda trailed off, and I nodded, pulling a face. He grinned. "Well then. We make a good pair. A vampire and a homosexual, both social outcasts in a homophobic and God-fearing society."
"Wait… you don't… kill people… when you drink from them… do you?" I asked, eying him warily. He laughed, shaking his head.
"Don't worry, I only take a little bit from different people. I never drain a person. It's against our codes."
"'Our'? 'Codes'? How many vampires are there?"
"Several thousand, I believe. And yes, we even have our own government system, too."
Soon, I was finding out all about vampires and their ways. They healed quicker and lived longer than normal humans, though they could still die from old age, and had superhuman speed and strength. Sunlight eventually killed them. They were not evil, so holy items didn't work against them – any weapon could kill them, if it were strong enough and used in the correct way.
They were a respectful lot, and did not kill those they drank from, though they did enjoy challenges and fighting sports quite a lot. They had generals, who acted as the police, and princes, who ruled over them all, and a basic headquarters known as Vampire Mountain – which I guessed to most likely in some cold Arctic region, since he wouldn't tell me where it was exactly. I even found out Kurda's status in the vampire world – he was a General, a fairly high-ranked one too, though he despised fighting, unlike his brothers and occasional sister. He also had a hobby of cartography – or mapping.
"So, now that you've told me all this," I said when we came to a lull in the conversation. "What are you going to do with me?"
"Kill you, of course," he said, and for a split second, I thought he was telling the truth – but then he grinned, and shook his head. "I don't know actually."
"I have an idea," I said quickly. The idea had popped into my mind a little while ago, and I was eager to voice it. If he agreed to it, it would mean I could stay with him – and maybe he would realise the way I felt. "You said that vampires heal quicker, right?"
"I don't think I like where this is heading," Kurda said, almost warily. I smiled slowly.
"Well… this broken rib of mine is really getting on my nerves…" I trailed off.
"No."
"No?"
"No."
"But…"
"You don't understand what it's like, Daegan. My people, they're a bloodthirsty lot… literally, too. And once you become a full vampire, your life changes completely – you will never see the sun again," Kurda said.
Why would I want the sun if I had you?
"Kurda," I said softly. "Will you make me a vampire?"
Kurda cursed softly under is breath, standing up and running a hand through his hair. My fingers twitched, wanting to do the exact same thing to him.
"Don't you understand what will happen, Daegan? You will drink blood from humans. They will be your prey. Could you stand that, drinking from a human being? Could you stand living your life in darkness? Could you stand not being able to bear children?"
I snorted.
"I'm gay, remember? I never intended to have children in the first place." My dark humour disappeared. "Yes. I am prepared for all of that. I want to become a vampire. I want to be like you." I want to be with you. I didn't add that part, though.
He sank back down next to me, his expression intent.
"Are you sure about this, Daegan? Completely certain?"
I hesitated for a second, thinking. I was just about to become a vampire, just to follow a man I had only met a few hours ago. Was I crazy?
Yes.
And was I in love enough to act this crazy?
Hell yes.
Slowly, I smiled.
"I have nothing to lose."
Kurda shook his head slightly, sighing.
"I have to admit," he said, looking back up, "I wouldn't mind the company. The three others I have blooded are no longer under my care, so it gets a little lonely wandering around the world by myself. And you're an interesting person – I like you.
"Before I do this, though, I have to tell you – you will be a half-vampire first, acting as my guardian during the day. You won't need as much blood as me, you'll still be able to move around in the sun, but you won't be as strong or swift as me. Your spit won't heal, and you won't be able to knock people out just by breathing on them."
I nodded, trying to ignore the fact that my heart was thumping loudly, so loudly that it was painful, and that there was a little voice in the back of my head singing 'He likes me, he likes me!'
"But first -" He reached forward and drew his nail across the top of my hand, creating a small cut. Immediately, he put his mouth to it, and I felt the funny sensation of him sucking at the blood. Then he sat back, rolling the blood around his mouth, as if tasting it. I watched in awe as the cut on my hand started healing itself.
Kurda nodded.
"You have good blood." He said simply. Then, taking hold of my hands, he brought them towards himself, facing the palms upwards. I noticed then the small scars on his fingertips.
"Are you sure about this?" He asked one more time. I nodded, my face set. He sighed. "All right then. Just promise me one thing, one small thing: you will always follow what I say, and never, under any circumstances, spill unnecessary blood. Do you promise?"
"I promise."
He nodded, this time with finality.
"Very well. Remember, you were the one who asked this. If you ever regret this, I have the right to say – 'I told you so!'"
So, on the dawn of some random, cloudy day in the year of 1976, in a dirty old apartment, in a dirty old sea town that has long since run decrepit, I became a half-vampire.
I became Kurda Smahlt's assistant.
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A.N
S-A: Yayness! XD You're always first to review my fics, you realise that? Ehehehe. -glomps you-
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Next Chapter:
Third
Dolce
The Bitter End----
They were the best years of my life, however long they were. It was a thirty-year long summer, filled with laugher, love and fun, warmth and happiness.
But then, like all great things, those years came to an end. What comes up, must come down. That was the rule of the universe: equivalent trade, karma, an eye for an eye, tit for tat – the years I had had to be repaid. That was life, que sera sera, without all the cheerfulness usually associated with that phrase.
My happiness ended on one otherwise normal day.
It was the day he arrived.
Darren Shan.
And with every step that boy took –
Tragedy followed.
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