Chapter 21: Until My Dying Day
Before you read: Trigger warning, as the chapter title implies.
Phil was becoming antsy in the crowded police station. The captain had taken Fenton to the back thirty minutes ago to go over the information everyone had collected so far. The air conditioning units were running as hard as they could go, but it was still hot, muggy and smelly in the station. Phil looked out of the window to see an inviting breeze whipping through the fronds of the palm tree in the small courtyard. The sun was going down so perhaps it was cooler outside than in that old station building. And he was right, the breeze felt absolutely delightful compared to the atmosphere inside. He sat on the vacant marble steps and watched the world pass by.
The romance and gaiety of the Crescent City was not lost on Phil. Happy couples rode by on horse drawn carriages. Lovers walked arm in arm down Royal Street peering into shops that were still open, laughter rising up like steam from the day's humidity.
Phil thought of Frank. He thought about how Frank might have enjoyed strolling through the vintage streets, hand in hand in a place where no one would look twice at two gay men wrapped up in each other. He knew Frank was a hopeless romantic on the inside, although sometimes he fumbled when he tried to show it. Phil could just picture them getting their palms read at Jackson Square, or peering down from one of the iron balconies as the parade of nightly revelers went by.
Phil stared off into the distance while he was lost in his daydream. In his periphery he thought he saw a familiar shape. He looked to the left and swore he saw Mozelle Ledet walking down Royal Street. She turned slightly and when Mozelle caught his eye she winked. She proceeded to continue walking and turned her head again, to see if Phil was watching. Phil stood and poked his head in the Police station. Fenton was no where in sight, so he must still be with the captain. Phil could still see the back of her head. Did she mean for Phil to follow her? Maybe she had information about Frank that she could not reveal in front of her boss.
Phil broke into a light jog trying to catch up to the blonde, but she always seemed to be half a block ahead of him. She made a turn onto Bienville Street, then to the busy and hectic Bourbon Street. Phil wanted to holler for her to slow down, but he didn't want to draw attention to himself. He had finally got past a crowd that was spilling out of bar that was blaring "Lady Marmalade" from the live band inside and realized that she was gone. How had he lost her? But he felt a forceful tug on the back of his shirt and Phil found himself on his backside in a dingy, beer and piss drenched alley.
He felt a weight across his lap and then lipstick-slicked lips were suddenly on his.
"What the hell are you doing?" Phil hissed when he forced her face away from his by pushing on her shoulders.
"Awe sugar, you can't blame a girl for being just a little bit curious." She leant down to his ear. "Just wanted to see what Frank enjoyed when he got to kiss those lips of yours." Phil gasped and pushed her off of his body so hard that Mozelle hit the brick wall behind her with a resounding smack. For a heart stopping moment Phil worried that he'd accidentally killed the woman as she crumpled to the pavement. But she gathered herself up and smirked.
"You like it rough? Alright sugar, I can do rough." She launched herself at Phil with an equal amount of force. Phil landed on his backside again and felt his jaw explode in pain as Mozelle decked him.
"Damn it woman..." Phil cursed through clenched teeth, but she smiled, reached around to her back pocket and blew some sort of powdery substance at his face. Phil sneezed and coughed as his world began to spin and tilt.
"Now sugar, if you don't mind, I need to borrow you for a little bit."
…..
When the sun went down, Amy Johnson rose for the night. When she was dressed and prepared for the night ahead she opened the door that adjoined her suite to the others'. Biff was pacing the floor with his phone to his ear. He stopped when he saw her standing in the doorway and nodded to acknowledge her presence.
"Okay Fenton, Amy and I will meet you in front of the station. We'll be there in a few." Biff ended the call and turned to the vampire.
"Phil's gone missing now. He and Fenton went down to the station to talk to the Captain. When Fenton got out Phil was no where to be found. He's not picking up his cell phone either."
"Where is Joseph?" Amy noticed a suitcase was missing from the grouping of luggage near the closet.
"He had to fly back home. They think his wife might be having a miscarriage." Amy's eyes widened and for the first time since he'd met her, Biff thought he could actually see a look of sorrow in her features.
"I pray she and the child will be well."
"We're all hoping for that." They stared at each other for a moment, no words passed between them until Amy shook her head and got back to the matter at hand.
"I will call my friends again. Look through his laundry bag of worn clothes, find something Phil may have sweated in, and meet me on the roof." Biff's upper lip curled at the thought of digging through someone else's dirty laundry, but he knew where Amy was going with it.
Biff arrived on the roof of the hotel minutes later to see Amy surrounded by three of the vampires that had been helping her all week. Minnie was a very pale and petite raven-haired girl, and at the tender age of three hundred years, she didn't look a day over seventeen. By her side with an over protective arm around her was a quiet young man of Native American decent named simply Guy (the "uy" pronounced like "ey" in "key", otherwise the swarthy youth ignored you as if you hadn't addressed him at all). Rounding out the group was a pale man with blonde hair that reminded Biff of Joe. Johan was actually "related" to Amy, via Magnus but had parted company from the Haraldson brood a century before. He never explained to Amy why he'd left until after he received news of Magnus' final death last winter. All three vampires upheld the same ideals that Amy cherished and were more than willing to see a murderous Were go down and find the human friend that had saved their beloved Amy and Ezekiel.
"Ah! The mighty hunter approaches!" Johan teased as Biff made his way past the massive climate control units on the top of the hotel. Biff tossed the shirt to Amy and the three vampires each took a turn collecting Phil's scent.
"Two missing humans in two days? Your friends should be more careful about the company they keep Amy." Commented Minnie, who gave Biff a meaningful glare as she passed the smelly shirt off to Guy.
"Call me if you find anything Minnie. And again, thank you all for your help." Amy said graciously and then the other vampires set off in different directions, bounding from one roof top to the next and then to the streets.
"Allen, are you ready to go?" Amy asked Biff.
"Seriously? You can't call me Biff like everyone else?" He asked.
"Seriously? You let people call you Biff?"
"It's a family name."
"Biff sounds like a brainless muscle head. You are smarter than that. Allen suits you."
"Fair enough."
"So, Allen, are you ready?" Biff took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze.
"Ready as I'll ever be." The pair jumped from the roof of the Ritz Carlton to the one of the building below it, down to an alley perpendicular to Canal Street, and then headed toward the police station.
…..
"So let me get this straight, she can make her appearance turn into that of whomever she touches?" Frank asked.
"Yes, but just temporarily. If she wanted to be able to use your appearance at will in the future, she would have left her hand on you for a lot longer… and it would have killed you." Eric amended.
He was more than happy to talk about anything Frank wanted so long as the brunette kept talking. If Frank was talking, that meant that he wasn't shouting at him about what a selfish bastard he was or giving him the silent treatment altogether. Right now Eric was giving Frank a quick education in shape shifters, or at least sharing what little he knew about the beings.
"Frank?"
"Yeah?"
"I hate to touch on a sore subject, but I want to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what Magnus did to your leg. I'm sorry for getting you mixed up with Emile. And, more than anything, I'm sorry for …"
Eric never got to finish his sentence because the vault door above opened and Emile sauntered down the stairs, brandishing a cane like it was a new toy. Frank recognized it as his cane but decided not to say anything. He'd take his freedom over that stupid thing in a heartbeat. Eric jumped up and approached the werewolf as close as his chains would allow.
"I'm beggig you Emile, please don't do this…"
"Silence, Eric." Eric's voice trailed off even as he continued to move his mouth to protest. If Frank had known about that trick sooner he would have asked Emile to shut Eric up a long time ago.
From where it was tucked under his arm, Emile presented Frank with an elegantly wrapped shirt-sized box.
"A gift," he said, "from your new master, Monsieur Delebon. He wishes you to be showered and dressed for presentation. We leave shortly to meet him." Frank just looked at the box and then back to Emile. He didn't even bother to accept the box, he just sat there staring at Emile hatefully.
"Oh, well I can see how the anticipation of such a fine gift has you so overwhelmed you can hardly move, so I will do the honors then? Oui?" Emile pulled the ribbon on the box and tore away the paper with flourish. Out of the box he pulled a pair of white silk pajamas with ivory colored piping on the sleeves, collar and hem of the pants.
"My! What exquisite tastes your master has." He placed the box of pajamas on the bed and clapped his hands together. "Well now, time to start getting ready! We don't want to keep Monsieur Delebon waiting." Frank didn't budge.
"Of course, I'm sure Monsieur Delebon would gladly accept you in your present state, au naturel, however, I do believe the purpose of the gift from your master is to signify that you are reserved for Monsieur Delebon alone, and therefore not at the mercy of his second-in-command or other members of his traveling party. You do remember his second, Dolon, from this morning, do you not? Or would you prefer to be passed around like a flagon of wine for anyone who wishes a taste?"
Eric was trying to get Frank's attention with his eyes. Silently begging him to please move or do something before Emile lost his patience. Too late. Emile lifted the cane in his right hand struck Frank hard across his cheekbone with the eagle-head handle, sending Frank sprawling to the cement floor. Instinctively Frank raised his already aching hand to his right cheek. He could feel the hot stickiness of blood under his fingertips.
"Now Monsieur Hardy, I do not wish to mark you anymore than I have to before you are turned over to your rightful owner. So, if you will please…"
"Over my dead body!" Frank spat, still shaking from pain and humiliation. Emile looked down on his captive and sniffed.
"Well now, we cannot have that, you're bought and paid for." Emile walked back up the stairs. As soon as he was out of sight Eric found his voice again.
"Frank! Are you okay? Look at me!"
"G-d that hurt like a son of a…" Frank winced as he tested the gash on his cheek with his fingers.
"Come here and I'll heal it."
"You just want a snack."
"Frank!"
"Okay, fine!" Frank shuffled over to Eric and let the vampire seal the wound and clean up the blood on his face. Eric looked at Frank's wrists and ankles while he had the brunette in front of him and noticed the skin under the shackles was raw and chaffed, the skin had broken open and scabbed over in other places.
"Good Lord Frank, look at your skin where the shackles are rubbing you. Do you want me to try and heal that too?"
"It'll be okay, just so long as it's not bleeding anymore. Thanks for taking care of the cut."
"No problem." The door opened again and this time a struggle could be heard. They saw Emile come down the steps, dragging an individual who was clearly trying to get away. Emile used his upper body strength to throw the person down the last couple of steps to the basement. Whoever it was, it was a young man, though his face and head were covered by a hood. Emile dragged the boy to the center of the room and ripped the hood off of his head.
"Phil!" The weight of those iron shackles meant nothing as Frank crossed the room to his fiancée. Phil looked worse for wear. He had a dark bruise on the side of his face where he must have been struck during his capture. He was gagged and his hands were bound behind his back.
"Phil, are you okay? Have they hurt you?" Frank tried to undo the knot in the shorn piece of cloth that served as a gag, but Frank's fingers were too clumsy from nerves and weakness.
Eric watched silently as Frank clung to his lover's shirt, trying to bring the boy's body as close to his as possible. He saw Frank kiss Phil despite the gag, kiss his cheeks, and run his hands over his bruised face. Eric heard Frank tell Phil how much he missed him, how much he loved him… Words Eric had wanted to hear when he was reunited with Frank.
"Eric, grab Frank, do not let him go until I tell you to." Eric put a strong hand around each of Frank's arms and pulled him away from Phil.
"No! Eric let me go! What are you doing! No!" Frank screamed.
Emile stood behind Phil, who was on his knees, and grabbed him by the top of his wavy hair. He withdrew a hunting knife from his pocket and without hesitation he slit Phil's throat.
"No! No Noooooooo!" Frank wailed, struggling for all he was worth to get away from Eric.
"You may release him Eric."
Time stood still when Eric released Frank and Emile let go of Phil's hair. Slowly Phil slumped to the floor. Frank reached him just before Phil's head hit the cold cement. He placed his left hand under Phil's head and covered the laceration with his right in a futile effort to stem the blood flow. But blood was everywhere, gushing out from between Frank's fingers and pooling under Phil. His blood mixing with Frank's dried blood on the hard floor.
"Phil…No honey, st-stay with me…you…you're gonna be alright. Just… Cut this damn gag off of him! Please! Phil…Keep your eyes on me hon…don't…don't close your eyes." Those honey and hazel eyes stared at Frank. They were scared, panicky, and drooping. Phil's body began to shake and Frank held him closer, to offer Phil's body all the warmth his could offer. Frank could hear Phil gurgling and choking behind the gag. Frank stole a look at the laceration under his hand. It was deep, so deep. The color red bloomed under the gag and Phil's eyes began to roll back in his head.
"Phil! Phillip! Phillip no! No." The shaking slowed down and Phil's eyes came back into focus for just a second. "I love you! Do you hear me? I love you. I've always loved you Phillip. I always will…"
Phil was completely still. His eyes were fixed on some point in the distance. A tear had leaked out of the corner of his eye. Frank wiped the tear away with the back of his bloody hand. He wasn't sure at what point he had started crying, but his vision was blurred with tears. Frank ran his fingers through Phil's soft, loosened curls, memorizing their texture. He rested his forehead on Phil's and wept.
Can the human heart actually break in two? It certainly must because Frank felt like his had shattered into pieces. Phil, so full of life, the one who coaxed Frank out of his shell, stood by him through the toughest of times, the one who made Frank's heart hammer when he entered the room…gone. All their dreams, all their plans, any hope that Frank had to get him through whatever the future held…was gone.
Frank ran his hand down Phil's chest. The comforting thump of his heart that Frank loved to feel and listen to when they were curled up in bed was no longer there. Phil's skin was growing cooler by the second. Frank looked at Phil's face, and his lips which were stretched around the gag were turning a purplish blue. His unseeing eyes, oh those eyes that lit up Frank's world, were fixed and still open. Frank used his left hand to gently lower his eyelids.
He wasn't aware of Eric sitting on his bed, watching his world come crashing down around him. He wasn't aware of Emile standing over him. At least, not until he felt the cold handle of the cane pushed into the back of his neck.
"Lesson one of being a slave: Do as you are told when you are told to do it, or your master will destroy everything, and everyone you love."
…
Author's Note:
Don't. Shoot. Me.