Gerald
A/N: I wish you a happy fourth Advent, folks! It was hard enough to finish this chapter in time and I haven't even started writing the epilogue yet, so please don't be disappointed if don't make it till X-mas. As you all very well know, it's a busy time of the year, and working in retails doesn't make things any easier. Sometimes I believe that the madness our our customers increases in direct proportion to the progression of the year, lol. Anyway, I don't really think I'll be able to update on the 24th as it was intended, but maybe I can post something on Christmas Day or the 26th (also a public holiday here in Germany). Hugs!
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"His Excellency, the Neocount of Merentha."
Still racking his brains concerning the identity of Tarrant's love interest, if it could be called thus at all with regard to the adept's demonic nature, and what the hell Narilka Lessing had found so funny about it in spite of her own infatuation with the man, Vryce entered the audience chamber on somewhat wobbly legs. As if time had stood still and their planet hadn't undergone drastic changes due to the taming of the fae, the Hunter was waiting for him right in the centre of the vaulted hall, the flame patterned collar of their Order resting on his strong shoulders and a golden circlet adorning his brow.
His view hit the warrior knight like a blow. In his full Revivalist regalia Gerald was truly a sight to behold, every inch the aristocrat and courtier he had once been in an age long gone from living memory. Nothing was left of the dusty traveller who had ridden and walked hundreds of miles at his side, sometimes possessing no more than the clothes on his back and the iron will to persevere, no matter what. The only memory of their toils and troubles was the puckered scar the Unnamed had graced him with. It would have disfigured any other man, but here it only served to highlight the otherwise ethereal flawlessness of his skin and the perfect proportions of his face.
Joy welled up inside Damien, a tingling warmth that spread from his chest region throughout his entire body, and the strange sensation that he was suddenly whole again after leading a miserable half-life for nigh to six months. Momentarily struck speechless by the sheer force of his feelings, he couldn't force a greeting past the growing lump in his throat, just stood there as if rooted to the spot and gazed his fill, blinking back the tears he couldn't allow himself to cry. Not now, in the presence of a creature who wouldn't shy away from using every weakness against him.
"Vryce. At the beginning of our acquaintance I wouldn't have considered it possible that I'd ever say this, but it's good to see you again."
"I wish I could return the compliment," the former priest groused, masking emotion with anger. "But as matters stand, I'd be much happier about our reunion if you hadn't summoned me here under threat of violence. Just in case you've conveniently forgotten, I'm not a dog, to be dismissed and called back at your every whim."
The Lord of the Forest chuckled. "You'd make a poor lap dog indeed. There isn't a streak of obedience in you, no... submissiveness. I appreciate that. Your unbroken fighting spirit is bound to add some spice to what I've in mind for you."
Alarm bells started to ring in Damien's brain, and his insides twisted into a tight knot of apprehension. The ramblings of the unfortunate girl whose violated soul had taken refugee in madness while running for her life in Tarrant's sinister realm had left no doubt that this wasn't a mere courtesy call, and the hungry glitter in Tarrant's eyes when alluding to his plans for him wasn't exactly helpful to calm his rattled nerves. It didn't bode well, didn't bode well at all, but he refused to let himself be intimidated by it. "It's nice to hear that you're well-pleased with me," he growled, "but you'd better not fool yourself into believing that I'll play the court jester for you."
"Rest assured, Vryce. I found a much better use for you than cracking jokes. You're sense of humour lacks a certain sophistication, anyway. As for my ultimatum, I deemed it wise to give you a little incentive, to allay the clamours of your priestly conscience, so to say. I've never doubted that you'd jump at the idea of saving a bunch of your precious innocents from my clutches."
"Yeah, you read me well. As always. But why the hell didn't you just send me a letter? I would have come to you in any case. You know this, don't you? At least, you needn't have abused that poor girl to make your point. She lost it completely, had to be confined to a mental asylum for her own safety, just in case her fate is of any interest to you. Besides, you very nearly scared the shit out of His Holiness with your performance."
The adept shrugged. "Alastair Temchevar's sensibilities are none of my concern. If everything goes according to plan, and trust me I'm going to make sure it does, he won't be Patriarch much longer. The woman, on the other hand, was an oversight. A regrettable mistake of mine I don't intend to repeat."
"Kindly don't take me for a fool, Gerald! Chasing after your favourite prey for centuries now, staging their deaths down to the very last detail, you aren't exactly a rookie. You sick son of a bitch hunt them for three terrible nights as if they were wild animals, all the while gluttoning yourself on their pain and terror, and then, in the last act of the drama, you take them down, drinking in their hope as it dies. As you told me aboard the Golden Glory, relishing in my abhorrence, my pangs of conscience, you allow some of them to escape on purpose, abstaining from a nice snack so that the others can suffer all the more for your pleasure. But whether they live or die, there isn't a second you aren't the master of the game, so don't expect me to buy that picking her for your menu was a mere error of judgement."
"Of course you're entitled to believe what you want to" the Hunter whispered, "but before you jump to conclusions, you'd better keep in mind that my diet had been somewhat wanting for a long time when our paths parted. A few quick kills and some measly canteens of blood simply couldn't make up for months and months of near starvation. She was my first real meal since I tried to wash away the taint of your human influence with rivers of blood, and I lost control."
"It must have bugged you to no end."
"That goes without saying. From the time when I forsook draining my victims to the last drop in exchange for more subtle delights such a lapse had occurred only once before, and you know what that single moment of weakness cost me. Anyway, overwhelmed by my hunger, I failed to notice that the woman was suffering from a latent psychosis. When I brought her worst fears alive to her, she snapped, and under the given circumstances I had only two options: putting her out of her misery or trying to bring some order to her mind by sharing my thoughts with her. For reasons to be revealed later, I chose the latter. My 'performance', as you please to call it, was no more than a minor side benefit."
"I'm glad you spared her life and that driving her crazy was an accident, but there are still a lot of things I don't understand. Don't get me wrong, but for almost ten centuries you killed without a shred of remorse, promised to execute your prisoners if I didn't play along, after cutting them into bits and pieces, no less. Vulking hell, you even threatened to annihilate the entire city of Jaggonath in case the Patriarch turned me in against my will. And yet you supported you involuntary guests for weeks on end, sent them home not only alive but kitted out like kings and queens, with one of your treasured true horses each and gold in their saddlebags. You even offer compensation for past wrongdoings, something unheard of. It's no secret that you aren't given to doing something on a whim, and so I might be forgiven for wondering about the reasons for your sudden turnaround."
"As you very well know, I don't make a habit of explaining myself. But considering that you'll keep pestering me with questions till doomsday unless I satisfy your curiosity, I'm willing to indulge you. When the Mother of the Iezu resurrected me on Mount Shaitan, she took something away from me, in order to create a new child. For reasons unbeknownst to me, she chose my sadism. My pleasure in the suffering of my prey. You of all people should appreciate this."
"Good riddance, I dare say. But this doesn't account for certain inconsistencies in your behaviour, does it?"
"There you are very much mistaken, Vryce. As I've told you before, my sadistic delight in the suffering of others was an acquired taste. It took me some time to realize that my appetites had changed, to define the parameters of my existence anew and unlearn what I had practised for such a long time. But don't start celebrating just yet. However much I might wish otherwise, I'm still undead, require the vital power of man to stay alive, or what counts for 'alive' in my state."
"I understand, Gerald. In the end, you'll find a way. You always do. Until then, I'm here to... help you out should the need arise. There's just one thing I'd like to know: How does the fate of the last of the Tarrant clan save you conform with your new course? His corpse was a ghastly sight, if rumours are to be believed."
Something had softened in those pale eyes, but now they acquired a steely glint. "Andrys had his chance. I offered him free passage from my domain, but he refused to lay down his arms, called me a monster that had to be wiped off the face of the planet, at whatever cost. Just like the woman whose fate you bemoan, his mind was already seriously imbalanced long before he led an army into the Forest. Impersonating me and thus absorbing something of my malevolent essence in the process only was the last straw. Setting him free in his condition wasn't an option. As deranged as he was by then, he would have represented a danger to every human crossing his path. I couldn't have this, not with so much being at stake."
"What a piece of luck that the continuation of your bloodline was already secured. One way or the other," Damien retorted drily. "I suppose it's safe to assume that Andrys truly is the father of Mes Lessing's child."
"Oh yes, he is. I'm well aware of the ancient legends from Earth, wild tales about creatures born to a mortal woman but sired by a vampire. Dhampir the superstitious multitudes on our mother planet used to call them, day walkers with considerable powers they more often than not employ to hunt down their fathers' hated kind. But although you'll learn soon that more things have changed than my attitude towards unnecessary cruelty, such a feat is still beyond me, I'm afraid. With regard to my plans, it doesn't really matter, anyway."
"I won't pretend that I'm not somewhat relieved to hear this, but I still can't quite fathom why you didn't content yourself with disarming the lad if your 'acquired taste' lost its appeal to you all of a sudden. Why not sending him back to Jaggonath with all the other prisoners?"
"Because he obstinately insisted on putting a bolt through my black heart in an utterly futile last ditch attempt to 'fulfil his holy mission', as he put it. Nonetheless, I would have spared his wretched life regardless of his audacity if nature hadn't decided otherwise. Oblivious to the world, you missed that there was a series of minor quakes, right after I had changed back into my human shape. As the currents were still much too hot to tap into and I wasn't altogether keen on dying once again, I had to fall back on a more mundane weapon in form of the pistol tucked into my belt. But just when I pulled the trigger, the earth shook again, and instead of causing a mere flesh wound as intended I hit his femoral artery. A Healing being out of the question for obvious reasons, this was the end of Andrys, however regrettable that might be from your point of view."
"So you can still Work," the warrior knight said quietly.
"Just so. Remember when I blasted a way out of the caves of the Lost Ones for you, fulfilling my debt of honour to the lady? It wasn't an experience I'd care to relive, but I survived the exposure to the sunlight, if only just. Our enemies weren't so lucky, although luck didn't really have a part in it. As I've pointed out before, they died because they knew of no other option. Then and now, it's all a matter of skill and determination, Vryce. As dying twice is more than enough, as far as I'm concerned, I had to find a way around the restrictions, hadn't I?"
As if Damien could ever forget that particular day. At that time, running for his life with the hordes of hell unleashed hard on their heels, he had put down his fear for the Hunter as natural loyalty towards a brother-in-arms, but now he knew better. Even back then, something had been blooming inside him, the first faint flutters of an emotion that had carried him to hell and his supposed meeting with eternity on Mount Shaitan a few years later, willing to die at Gerald's side if he couldn't save him. Only that, by the grace of God who in His wisdom had granted his fallen Prophet an unbelievable second chance, everything had turned out differently.
"It really shouldn't surprise me," he muttered when he could finally trust his voice again. "Not after witnessing you pulling a last ace from your vulking silk sleeve at the eleventh hour on more occasions than I actually care to count. No matter whether we talk about shape-shifting, something I would have dismissed as outright impossible before meeting you, or cheating death again and again, bowing down to the rules like Joe Public has never been your style."
"I suppose not," the Hunter breathed, the strange gleam in his eyes intensifying until it almost hurt to look at them. "I might be many things, but the ordinary man in the street isn't among them. Except in one regard, maybe, as you'll soon see for yourself. It's the 24th of December, Vryce, the Holy Night when Christ was born for a large part of the believers in the One God on our mother planet, and considering that I've been looking forward to my gift for more than a week now, I'd like to unwrap it at long last. But enough talk. Let's see if can surprise you a bit more tonight."
The Hunter glided closer with the consummate grace of one of the uncats he had bred from the local rodent population in his mortal days, his cloak, richly embroidered with gold threads, sweeping the ground at his feet with a low swish that sent a strange shudder of longing through Damien. Without him ever noticing, the large, vaulted windows had been unshuttered as if by an invisible hand, and Domina's rays flooded the audience chamber, basking everything in an unearthly silvery glow. It lent Tarrant's pale skin an almost translucent sheen and transformed his already striking features into something straight out of the old Earth tales about the Fair People and their hidden lair where no one ever grew old and sickness and death were but distant shadows from the world of the living. Standing regally in the moonlight, the adept could have easily been one of those fairy princes, forever young and beautiful and utterly untouched by the troubles of the mortal world.
Gerald's mien gave nothing away but a hint of sardonic amusement and the long, slender fingers coming to rest on his shoulders were perfectly steady, but hunger burned in those molten pools of silver never leaving his face like a flame. His undead flesh was still cold, radiated cold no less forbidding than the icy breath of the crevasses high up in the Divider Mountains, but very much to the warrior knight's astonishment, he lacked the almost palpable aura of malevolence which used to shroud him like a veil woven of pure evil. It was a miracle he hadn't expected, had only dared to daydream about in the scarce hours of rest towards the end of their shared adventures, but overwhelmed by Tarrant's personal magnetism, he would have felt no fear, anyway.
At the very next moment, his former ally bent down to him ever so slowly, a faint smile on his lips. When their mouths met for the first time, a shock wave of desire raced through Damien's body. Now that's truly quite a surprise. No wonder that the pagan girl had a good laugh at my expense, a small voice piped up at the back of his mind. But then the Prince of Jahanna parted his lips with his tongue and started to grind his hips against him in a slow, hypnotic rhythm, and he stopped thinking altogether.
Quite a while later, the moons had wandered on and an eerie twilight that had no discernible source lay over the audience chamber, Damien heaved a contented sigh. He felt sore in places he couldn't mention and the scratches and bite marks on his chest and shoulders burned like hell, but as he had paid back in kind, the taste of the Hunter's cold, bitter-sweet blood still heavy on his tongue, he wasn't in a position to complain. Not that he would have wanted to. "I'd hate to kill the mood, if you know what I mean, but I can't get what you said about Temchevar out of my mind," he murmured at long last. "You aren't about doing something, well, very stupid, aren't you?"
The adept raised a delicately arched eyebrow. "Like paying him a visit one night? I might, but I don't intend to leave a corpse behind. The world surely wouldn't be poorer without him, but terminating his worthless life isn't on my agenda for the near future. Trust me that I've other ways and means at my disposal to rid the Church I created of a petty-minded, incompetent bureaucrat lacking any religious vision."
"Without question. But why bother, Gerald? A thousand years ago, the authorities came damn close to condemning you outright for the crime of your adeptitude, and it's not so long since the previous Patriarch sicced a full-blown crusade onto you. I know that you've always considered yourself a servant of your most treasured creation, but why the hell can't you let go, allow her to find her own path? Is it your goddamn pride? Vanity?"
"It's nothing of the sort. After centuries of representing the local bogeyman, I deemed it fit to define my role anew. I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all, but I can't help but wondering about the nature of your 'new role'.
"Why, I thought it would be obvious. While those narrow-minded imbeciles congratulate each other on the taming of the fae, our planet rapidly heads towards a second dark age. I lived through one, and could do without repeating the experience. You cannot possibly imagine the living conditions, the atmosphere of fear that fuelled all kinds of superstitious nonsense. Since the fae became unWorkable for everybody else unless one is willing to pay the ultimate price, hundreds of invalids in Jaggonath alone have died of sicknesses you could have cured in a trice. Conventional medicine is still in its infancy on Erna, and will be for long years to come, but much worse is that the quake wards are bound to fail. Soon. And what then, Vryce? Even I can't be everywhere at the same time. But something has to be done about it, and I see no one within the scientific community who could succeed at solving the problem before it's too late."
"No one but you."
"Perhaps. I've something in mind, but as the idea is still somewhat ill-conceived, needs to be revised before I can move on to the experimental stage, it would be senseless to brief you on it now. There's something else I have to tell you, though. A confession to make so that you can fully grasp my motivations. After everything that has come to pass between us, I think you have that right."
"What is it, Gerald? I'm all ears."
Tarrant raised his head from its convenient resting place on his shoulder and looked him square in the face, and the warrior knight was stunned to see that his eyes were brimming with emotion. "It wasn't 'just' immortality the Undying Prince promised me," he whispered. "He suggested that the Prophet of the Law could live again after a decade of careful propaganda, be deified within two. To reclaim the most important part of my mortal life, the very core of my identity, was a hell of a temptation, an even more attractive bait than escaping the clutches of hell for all eternity. When you reminded me one night that I used to strive to better man's lot on Erna, it... hurt to think of the man I was once, and so I fobbed you off with a cynical retort, ascribed everything to my youth and naivety at that time. Nothing could have been further from the truth. However, then as now the people are in dire need of a protector. Considering that I seem to be the only one who can still Work, I'm afraid that I'll have to step into the breach."
"I say amen to that," Vryce choked out, not in the least ashamed of the tears running down his cheeks. Offering a silent prayer of thanks to their God Whose nature seemingly was indeed Mercy and His Word forgiveness just like the Prophet had taught a millennium ago, he pulled his former brother-in-arms into a tight embrace without giving a shit for his goose pimples and burning love marks.
A few minutes ago, getting a snatch of sleep had sounded like a great idea, but very much to his surprise, he found that the feel of the lean frame pressed against his bulk rekindled the flame of his desire he had thought extinguished for the remainder of the night. Drinking in Gerald's unique scent so eeriely reminiscent of a cold, clear winter night did one more thing to set his nerve endings on fire, and his penis came to life again as if the clocks had been turned back all at once and he were eighteen and not thirty-five.
You never fail to amaze me, an amused voice whispered in his mind. For a man pushing his forties, your stamina leaves nothing to be desired. But don't let me stop you. I'm not altogether adverse to an encore.
"That's good to hear. Or whatever. But it's not an exact repetition of our previous activities that I'm craving after. I want you, Gerald. Want to be inside you, fuck us both into oblivion. Is that all right with you?"
Instead of gracing him with a verbal reply, the Hunter just pulled him on top of him. Their first love making hadn't really deserved the name. Tarrant taking him had rather felt like the man staking his claim, marking him as his own. Not that this approach hadn't yielded very pleasant results in the end, but this time, deciding that being hit by the sexual equivalent of an avalanche was quite enough for one day, Damien wanted to take it easy. At least for a while.
The adept's body opened up for him without a whiff of resistance, tight and slippery and utterly irresistible. When he slowly began to move his hips back and forth, carefully watching out for a sign of pain on those delicate features, the friction was so intense that he could barely resist the urge to speed up and to hell with his resolutions. But he managed to hold his horses, kept up the tantalizingly slow rhythm in spite of the perfectly manicured finger nails digging into his buttocks in a desperate attempt to urge him on.
"Vryce?"
The throaty purr of arousal unlike anything the warrior knight had heard Tarrant utter ever before went straight to his cock. "Yes?"
"Your concern is very much appreciated, but I'm not made out of sugar. Truth be told, I like it when you're a bit rough. It turns me on, as foolish as it might sound."
Rapidly approaching the point of no return, he needn't be told twice. At long last he allowed himself to follow his instincts, to thrust as hard and fast as he could until his lover tensed up beneath him. Gerald had to be be close now, very close. The low, half-stifled sounds of pleasure escaping his throat and the frantic, increasingly erratic motions of his pelvis left no doubt about it.
As if to prove him right, the Hunter squeezed his his eyes shut in ecstasy and opened his mouth for a silent scream, his entire body shuddering and jerking in the throes of passion, and the rhythmic pulse of his orgasm all around him was all it took to send Damien over the edge, as well.
"I don't doubt that you'll accomplish everything you want in the end," he mumbled drowsily when his breath had finally evened out, "but it might take a generation or two to change public opinion, make them forget you 'local bogeyman' image. It annoys the hell out of me that, as a mere mortal, I won't be around to witness your triumph."
"Are you sure?" Registering his startled expression, the Lord of the Forest chuckled softly. "You drank my blood, Vryce. Twice. I've never tried to pass on the gift so far, so I don't have any reference values, but if the old tales from Earth are anything to go by, you could very well be in for another surprise when your time comes."
"Please tell me that this is one of your sophisticated jokes!"
"Not in the least. But don't you worry. Unlike me, you won't be all on your own during the blood madness following your transformation. I promise to take care of you, prevent the worst excesses of the unquenchable thirst that would turn you into a mindless monster otherwise."
"How very reassuring!" the warrior knight spluttered, suddenly wide awake. "Honestly, Gerald, I can't help but wondering whether I somehow managed to fuck your brilliant brains out. Holy crap, I don't want to become a vampire! Isn't one of us going on the prowl at night enough? And how the heck do you expect me to meet my food requirements? I won't attack innocents, suck them dry like a vulking leech with fangs!"
"Don't cross your bridges before you come to them, Vryce. Getting all worked up about possible events in the future will only serve to raise your blood pressure. Should you really need blood one day, you'll pay for it in gold. So will I, by the way. My generous offer should get me a steady stream of volunteers. Anyway, my hunger seems to abate lately. Feeding once a month, in small, measured doses, is more than adequate to keep me going."
"You never leave anything to chance, do you?"
"Not if I can help it. And now let me show your quarters. It's already past one o'clock, and you had a taxing evening."
The bedroom alone with its pompous canopy bed, opulent mirrors and heavily carved novebony furniture each and every antique dealer in Jaggonath would commit homicide in order to get his greedy hands on them could have effortlessly housed a numerous peasant family, including a few nugoats and chicken, but by now Damien was so tired that he couldn't really appreciate his surroundings. Still naked as the day he had been born, he flopped down onto the mattress, only marginally aware that the adept reclined at his side. But just when he was about dozing off, a thought crossed his mind, and he opened his eyes again. "Just one more thing. About Niles..."
"And Alannah?" Tarrant smirked sardonically. "It hasn't escaped my notice that they were billing and cooing like two turtle doves during her stay at the keep. I won't stand in their way, and as for her parents, you'll find some convincing arguments. The advocacy of a Knight of the Flame should make a favourable impression on them, all the more so when it's supported by a hefty bridal price. And now sleep well. We can resume our conversation - and everything else - later."
Whether Gerald was tampering with his mind again or exhaustion was taking its toll at long last the warrior knight very likely would never know, but he simply couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. More at peace with himself than he had been in ages, he went off like a light in his lover's arms, a faint smile still on his lips.