Chapter 22: A Hollow Victory
Eric Langhorne had disliked Phil Cohen for as long as he could remember. Back in college, when he was a senior and Frank was a junior, he'd tolerated Phil.
"He's one of my dearest friends, Eric. I wish you would try to get along with him." Dearest friend, not good friend like Tony, best friend like his schoolmate Biff, or oldest friend like Chet, but dearest, meaning he held their friendship closer to his heart more so than the others.
He had to give Phil credit. Phil was the one who Frank had leaned on when he first came out. He gave Frank more guidance and support than any of Eric's childhood friends had given him. Eric wished he could have had a friend like Phil when he'd made his true self known to the world.
Emphasis on a friend like Phil. The boy himself still rubbed Eric the wrong way. It was bad enough he had to deal with the pushy and nosey little brother Joe who was almost always underfoot when he wasn't with his girlfriend. But whenever Phil was around, he gave Eric that look, the "I'm waiting for you to screw up" look, and that chafed Eric to no end. Even worse were the looks Phil gave Frank when he wasn't looking. Looks of longing and adoration… even when he was dating other men.
And Eric was not blind to the way Frank's face lit up when the dark haired boy entered the room. Dearest friend? His face didn't light up like that when Biff, Chet, Tony or his own brother came near. Frank didn't smile like that for Eric. Never did in the nearly two years they dated.
Then the ultimate assault to Eric's heart… Frank had given his heart and his body to Phil in a way he had never allowed himself to with Eric. And after just a few short months! What did Eric not do or say to Frank in two years that Phil managed in such a short amount of time? Those questions fueled the fire of Eric's growing dislike and eventual hatred for Phil, a hatred that grew strong enough to want to see the man dead.
Wish granted.
But it was a hollow victory. Even as the man now lay dead on the floor, it gave him no joy. Frank was moments away from being turned over to some stranger as a slave, a sex slave at that. Eric was powerless to do a thing about. He'd made a deal with a devil so to speak, and now he wished more than anything he had read the fine print before entering into such a binding and absolute contract with Emile Louvel.
Emile had brought Frank to Eric, and by upholding his end of the magical contract that strengthened the power he had over Eric. Before, when Emile would ask Eric to do something, Eric could still feel as if he had some control over his own actions. But when Frank appeared in the basement and had approached Eric, Emile's commands became more overpowering, more consuming. Any willful resistance was painful. But that pain was nothing compared to the pain he felt now. The love of his life was being ripped away from him again.
But something was changing inside of Eric as he watched Frank mourn his lover on that cold cement floor. He loved Frank, and he could not bear to see Frank in pain. He wanted to go to Frank, to soothe him, to do anything to make things right for him again. To do anything to take the pain away, even if it meant bringing Phil back to life.
And it finally clicked. He had been a selfish bastard. He'd never put what Frank wanted or needed ahead of his own needs. And because of his childishness, Eric was bound to a greedy werewolf, a shameful thing for a vampire, and Frank, who was innocent in all of this, was being sent away to a life of torture and humiliation. Eric might as well have signed Frank's death certificate, because with Phil gone what hope did Frank have to cling to in order to survive a life of slavery? It was for Phil and his family that he'd submitted to Eric's will this past winter.
"This is all my fault." Eric said quietly to himself. He stood and approached Frank, and sank down behind him. "I'm sorry Frank." He whispered. Frank's sobs and shaking didn't stop. Eric gently put his hand on Frank's shoulder. He'd expected Frank to shake him off, maybe nearly break his other hand lashing out at him. He didn't. Frank simply ignored him.
Emile walked back down the stairs. When had he gone up? He held a paper grocery bag in his hand and met Eric's eyes.
"We've wasted enough time here. Eric, put the body on the bed, and then see to it that both of you are showered." Emile tossed the paper bag and a square wrapped in wax paper onto Frank's bed. "A change of clothes for you, mon ami, and both of you use that soap." Scent covering soap. Eric recognized the bar from on similar to it in Emile's bathroom.
"Now Eric." Emile growled. Eric could feel the hot grip of pain in his head as he tried to delay the inevitable.
"What about Frank's shirt? He can't put it on with the shackles…"
"I'll help you with that when I return." Emile said smoothly. He turned around and headed back up the stairs.
Eric scooped the lifeless body of Phil Cohen in his arms and gently laid him on his bed. Frank was right beside him. He took the rumpled towel lying at the foot of his own bed and draped it over Phil up to his torn neck. Frank sat on the edge of the bed by Phil. Eric reached behind Phil's head to tear away the gag.
"Frank, turn your head a minute." Frank obeyed, and Eric removed the gag and as gently as he could, closed Phil's mouth. He didn't want to add more to Frank's trauma by seeing his fiancée's lifeless mouth agape. He undid Phil's bonds and brought his arms around to the front, resting them on his chest.
"Okay Frank." Eric whispered. Frank looked at Eric's work and the tears began anew.
"Frank, we've…"
"I know." Frank croaked. He kissed Phil's forehead and the backs of his hands and tucked them under the towel. He leant down to Phil's ear and although he was barely whispering, Eric's sharp ears picked up on the private words of undying love, and the last ones that confirmed the damage Eric knew he was his own doing.
"I'll be with you soon."
…
Emile buttoned the front of Frank's white silk pajama top. He stepped back to examine his handiwork.
"There now, might I say Monsieur Hardy that you look good enough to eat, or to be ravished on a bed of rose petals." Frank only cast his brown eyes downward. He had not met the older man's eyes since he had slit Phil's throat. Had Emile finally broken the defiant boy? Pity, he was sure Delebon would have thrilled at accomplishing that task himself. But there was so much more of this young man to be enjoyed that Delebon could hardly be disappointed for long.
Emile looked over to Eric who had donned the jeans and shoes that he had brought down for him. He hadn't bothered with a shirt for the vampire. He enjoyed looking over the muscled and rock hard lines of his chest and back.
"Eric, maybe when we are done with this transaction, I will take you somewhere nice to ravish you on a bed of petals. Oui?"
"What about Mozelle?"
"Ah, Mozelle! Our partnership has met its natural end and I have cut her loose." Emile gave Eric a smile that did not quite meet his eyes. He walked over to Eric with a small key in his hand.
"I am about to release you from your bonds. You are not to raise a hand to me. You are not to harm my physical being in any way. You are to obey every command I give you. Do you understand Eric?" Eric winced as the orders rang is his head like a clanging church bell.
"Yes! Yes, I understand Emile."
"Très bien." Emile unlocked the silver chain from the studded dog collar and stepped back quickly.
"Escort Monsieur Hardy to the car waiting outside and get behind the wheel, I will follow you in a moment. You are not to leave without me." Eric nodded mutely and held Frank by the arm to escort the docile young man up the stairs.
…..
Bobbi Lee's feet ached as she made her way to the Pontalba buildings near at Jackson Square. Just make it to the shop, make it to the shop, she kept telling herself. Maybe the shop would still be open and she could get Mozelle to mix up some of the miraculously soothing bath salts that drew the aches and pains out of her sore feet, legs and back. After a nights of dancing and entertaining the masses, a nice soak in the salts made her feel like a new woman.
She smiled to herself despite the pain. New woman. After years of trying finding her way in this crazy world she finally had the confidence to call herself a woman. She owned it. The shy and gangly Robert Lee Shackleford was long gone. Bobbi Lee now liked what she saw in the mirror these days. When she had saved up enough money, she could finally take the final step in her transformation.
As she passed by a lingerie store her mind drifted to the anticipated joy of finally buying pretty and comfortable underthings. Her happy thoughts were interrupted by a familiar reflection in shop window. She turned to see a young brunette man in a white shirt and pants escorted into a car by a tall ginger in jeans and a dog collar.
Cutie Pie! No, what was his real name? Frank?
"Frank? Frank!" The brunette looked out of the car's window to the woman hollering across the street. His face did not register recognition, but something else. He looked sad, resigned. He raised his hands and pressed a finger to his lips to silence her. Bobbi Lee looked at the savage glare on the redhead's face and Bobbi Lee shrunk into the shadows. Then she saw the heavy cuffs on the boy's wrists. What the…? Oh shit! The kid was in trouble!
She saw another man come out of the building, Mozelle's boss, and got into the front passenger seat of the car. The ginger got behind the wheel and the car took off eastbound on Chartres Street. Bobbi Lee scrambled for her purse and wrote the license plate number down on the back of the business card that Hardy man had given her. She flipped the card over and started dialing Mr. Hardy's number on her cell phone. The world suddenly shook underneath her feet, bringing her screaming to her knees as shop windows burst and glass came cascading down around her.
…..
The explosion could be felt all the way to police station at Royal Street and beyond. The French Quarter was instantly in an uproar. Fenton Hardy felt his cell phone vibrate as soon as the world stopped shaking. He didn't recognize the number, but he answered it nonetheless.
"Yes?"
"Mr. Hardy! It's Bobbi Lee!" A voice yelled over the phone.
"Who?"
"The lady you met at the station this morning. You gave me your card!"
"I'm sorry Miss Lee, but right now is not a good…"
"Mr. Hardy, I just saw your son! He's been taken away in a black Mercedes, I got the number just before the shop blew up!"
"Where are you? We're on our way!"
…..
Biff saw the smoke rising from blocks away.
"That is the PontalbaBuilding." Amy said.
"The same building where the perfume shop Phil and I investigated is located." His phone rang and his fear was confirmed.
"A witness saw Frank being escorted out of the store and into a car that went up Chartres Street, eastbound." Biff could hardly hear Fenton over the claxon of sirens that rang out throughout the city and the noise in the background where Fenton was down in Jackson Square. Amy could hear Fenton's loud voice from where she stood near Biff.
"They could be anywhere by now." Amy fretted. But what she heard next floored her.
"The witness said she saw Frank get into a car with an older man and a tall redheaded man wearing a dog collar…"
Amy sank to her knees. A dog collar? A silver-studded dog collar if she had to guess. Eric had indentured himself to be someone's slave? Someone's drudge? Had he learned nothing from her life's story? Didn't he realize once he was enslaved he would be subject to the will of his master in all matters? His life was no longer his own. If his master commanded that Eric walk outside and meet the sun he was bound to do it.
"Amy?"
"The fool." Her voice shook. "The stupid fool! Eric has become that man's slave."
"Amy, come on now. We've got to stay focused. You need to call Minnie and Johan and get them to spread out the search." Amy handed Biff her cell phone.
"I need a moment." She stood and walked to the eastern end of the rooftop. Biff made the necessary calls and returned her phone.
"I can't get Johan."
The streets below were chaos with tourists and locals alike flowing in two opposing directions. There were those who wanted to get the hell out of there and there were those too drunk or too stupid to get out and were trying to make their way to Jackson Square to see what happened. Police cars from other stations were slowly making their way through the pedestrian traffic. Fire engines were having just as difficult a time reaching ground zero. Ambulance lights flickered a few blocks away, stopping to aid those who had been injured by the shattered glass and general confusion.
Amy's phone chimed this time, Biff answered it for her.
"Johan? Thanks for calling back…" Amy tuned out of the conversation as she fumed and worried over the unimaginable decision her child had made. She was vaguely aware of Biff ending the call and handing her phone back to her.
"They found Phil."