Walking in Shadows

by Soledad

A "Pathways in the Dark" story

Part 22 of "The Toreador Chronicles". Follows "Entering the Darkness".

For disclaimer and background information see the Introduction.

Rating: Adults only, please!

Author's note: This chapter is a tie-in to my other story, "The Sacrifice", featuring predominantly Owen Thurman. Alice Babylon and Mariel St. John are canon RPG-characters – with my own twist on them, as always. This chapter is seriously edited - in fact, it misses almost a third of the original content. Adult readers can find the unedited version at the hiddenrealms LJ community, locked for members only, as always.

WARNING: Serious kink and high squick factor in this one!

Summary: Michael is getting used to his life as a ghoul. It's not always without problems.

Dedication: Again, for stormcrystal from LJ.

Michael had just a very short time to adjust to his new life as a ghoul, as only a week after his status had been established in Alain's undead household, the first Rage movie finally hit the theatres. It started off simultaneously all over LA and in most of the largest cities of the States. The Toreadors had contacts, after all, and as several other Clans were involved, too, the ad campaign had been forcefully supplied from several sides.

The resulting success surprised even such old Hollywood veterans as Isaac Abrams or Edward and Vera Vignes. While it was true that Brett Keller hadn't produced anything but blockbusters in the recent years, this time the topic was a bit… sensitive, and the heroes… unusual, to say the least. Brett had skilfully played down the fact that all main characters were gay, focusing on the mystery and action part of the movie; nonetheless, the message was unmistakable, and that could have caused quite the uproar in fundamentalist circles.

Fortunately for them, fundamentalists usually don't watch action movies, and so the scandals were rare and mostly locally dealt with. As everyone knows in the movie industry, small, well-controlled scandals, in fact, provide good publicity, and in the end, none of Brett's former movies could be compared with Rage's success. The interest was simply overwhelming.

Not only – not even predominantly – from the gay community, which was vocally disappointed with the understated way the sexual orientation of the heroes was presented. The majority of the movie-goers came from the steadily widening base of Rage fans, but – surprisingly enough – the fans of "On Your Own", the big fantasy/horror series of Rebecca Lowell that had run nine and a half years, also came in great numbers to watch the latest work of Dawn Cavanaugh, who had been responsible for the Raven show's haunting visuals. Nine and a half years can produce a large and devoted fanbase, and with no more Raven to watch, a great percentage of the Raven fans turned to Rage, hungry for something new.

It was whispered that Rebecca Lowell literally Frenzied when she heard that. But the triumph of Rage was unstoppable. After weeks, the theatres were still crowded, merchandise sold like crazy, the older comic issues that had been out of print for a year or so had to be reprinted… and, of course, the creative minds behind the franchise became quite flush.

Michael could still barely believe it, which didn't hinder him to enjoy his well-earned success, though. He sent a suitable amount of money – not to mention matching Rage T-shirts – his mother and to the bank account of his daughter; mostly to make Debbie and the munchers eat their words, as he admitted to Brian, for all the belittling he'd had to suffer from them over his "childish" hobby, but he still had more than he could spend, even if he lived a hundred years.

"You know, Mikey, you actually have the chance to live long enough even to get rid of your indecent wealth," Brian commented. "A hundred years, two hundred years… does it truly matter? You won't be getting any older now."

Which was true, of course. Michael just still had a hard time to realize it. Not that he wanted to waste his money, though; like most people who'd grown up knowing financial problems, he'd learned to deal with his money, now that he had it, wisely. Fortunately for him, Phillipe Navital could help him with the right – not to mention safe – investitions, so, for the first time in his life, he enjoyed the fact that he could afford to work for the pure joy of it, not because he had to.

And work there was aplenty. When it became obvious that the movie would be a big success, Vera Vignes finally gave green light for the sequel. Many of the scenes had already been shot, back-to-back with the first movie, to spare money and utilize the already existing sets and costumes, but those scenes were merely footage, meant to insert into the second movie in post-production. The real work was just about to get started… simultaneously with the Dragonfly movie that had been developed for the Japanese market.

As if that hadn't been enough, Vera Vignes had accepted the book of Owen Thurman as the basis for a third Rage movie, employing Michael to turn it into a screenplay. So Michael was now spending a lot of time with Owen (and Brian, who seemed to have a vested interest in the guy, although Owen turned a deliberately blind eye on his advances) to figure out between them what from the book would work on the big screen and what wouldn't. It wasn't an easy thing, as the book was written from an interesting third person perspective that still made the impression that the reader would see everything through the hero's – or victim's – eyes. It made a great effect in written form but was practically impossible to translate for a visual medium.

Fortunately for Michael, Owen, who was an English major and made extensive studies into the topic of occult sects, cults and human sacrifices, turned out to be a great help with that. He also turned out to be a very nice guy; it was hard to imagine that he belonged to the Prince's notoriously vicious bloodline (no matter how much reformed they were now), although those were the facts. Due to his studies, he also knew a great deal about occult symbols and teachings, and gave valuable advice which to use and which not to use, so that they wouldn't make an enemy of any of the really existing cults and sects. That wouldn't have been wise.

With Owen's help, it only took Michael six weeks to finish the first, provisional script and to present it to Vera Vignes. She suggested a few changes, mostly in small details, then handed over the script to Brett Keller and Edward Blount who, just like with the first two movies, was foreseen as the executive producer of Rage III – The Return of Shadow… right when several TV-studios signalled their interest in an eventual Rage TV-series.

"It's a good thing that most of the creative staff are Kindred," Michael commented to the director and the executive producer when they met to watch the dailies of Rage II and to discuss possible casting choices for Rage III. "For this workload one really needs vampire stamina."

"True; but you have to hammer the iron as long as it's glowing," Brett replied, quoting the favourite saying of his late Hungarian grandfather. "Fannish interests are capricious; we need to get out as much of the franchise as possible while the interest is still there."

"It's not about money for me, Brett," Michael said, a little indignantly.

The Brujah nodded. "I know, Michael, and that wasn't what I meant. But if you want to do anything else with Rage in this human lifetime, it has to be done now. After this wave ebbed down, you'll have to wait for the remake in fifty years or so."

"Luckily for me, I now can do that, too," Michael grinned, starting to see the advantages of his new status. Then he looked at Edward Blount. "So, have you guys given the casting any thought yet? We'll need someone for the part of the cult priestess who's sexy and creepy at the same time."

"What about Alice Babylon?" Edward Blount suggested. "Granted, she isn't a big name actress, but a good one. And she's a Toreador. She'd do a good job."

Brett shook his head. "She's also a member of Rebecca's family. No, that's a bad idea. I'd suggest Rebecca herself, but with her behaviour in the recent years… besides, her face has been identified with Raven too strongly to be accepted as a different character. That will need decades. But what about Mariel St. John?"

Edward Blount pulled a face. "She's Sabbat, Brett."

"She's Antitribu," Brett corrected. "But first and foremost, she's a moderately successful model who'd die – pardon the pun – for a good role. For the chance of a big breakthrough, she'd kiss the Prince's ring publicly, if she had to."

"I wonder how Phillipe Navital will react to an unexpected reunion with his errant Childe," Edward said dryly. "Their break-up was rather… spectacular. Small wonder, if you imagine that Phillipe has always been a stout supporter of the Camarilla. For his only Childe to run off on him and join the Sabbat…"

"I'm not sure she actually has," Brett said.

Edward Blount rolled his eyes. "Brett, she's Antitribu!"

"Sure she is," Brett shrugged, "but that doesn't necessarily make her a Sabbat monster. Many of the younger ones rebelled against the strict rules of the Camarilla, without going on a killing spree or turning to the black arts. She's not a lost case yet, I think. She just felt too confined and wanted her freedom. The Nosferatu have no reports of her actually running with any of the Sabbat packs… or taking part in any known Sabbat activities."

"Just because we have no knowledge..." Edward Blount began, but Brett interrupted him.

"I know, I know… still why not give her a chance? I'm not trying to lure her back to the Camarilla – that's her decision and Phillipe's concern – but keeping her close might help her to find back on her own. Then Phillipe would owe us a debt, and that's always worth collecting. Besides, she'd be excellent for the part."

It took Brett some more persuasion, but finally Edward Blount agreed to invite Mariel St. John to the casting, and she accepted without a moment of hesitation. Michael, who'd been a little wary knowing her background, was truly impressed by her.

She was an Afro-American woman of very light colouring, seemingly in her late twenties – it was hard to imagine that she'd been born in 1903 and Embraced in 1930, although that was the truth – petite, deceivingly fragile-looking but harder than steel, with an oval face of somewhat tragic beauty, large, jewelled dark eyes and a thick mane of long, dark curls that gave her a vaguely leonine appearance. She moved with the grace of a ballet-dancer and the controlled strength of a trained athlete. She also had an aura of dark radiance about her, which Michael couldn't see, of course, but which registered with his emphatic gift on a semi-conscious level.

"If she's half as talented as she's beautiful, she'll be perfect for the part," he said to Brett. "Ye gods, but she has a presence!"

The Brujah director grinned at him. "Good, good! We'll make a ladies' men out of you yet!"

"Ewww!" Michael grimaced. "Do you want me to lose my breakfast? I don't look at women that way, thank you very much."

"Not yet anyway," Brett laughed. "But you haven't spent much time in the twilight yet. There are few of us who don't walk both sides of the street."

"Brian doesn't," Michael pointed out, "and neither do I."

"That's where you're wrong," Brett replied. "I don't know your Brian well, but I've seen him looking at women with interest. He definitely does have a bi streak in him… probably deeply hidden, but I think the Embrace has made it resurface, like by the most of us."

"Terrific!" Michael commented sourly. "Now I'll have to share him with women as well."

"Are you sure this is a completely new development?" Brett asked, suddenly very serious again. "It has been my experience that more people have that bi streak in their system than would admit. Especially those who make a great issue about being exclusively straight… or gay. Think about it."

Michael shook his head. "Nah, Brian never would…" but he trailed off, remembering Lindsay and her ambivalent relationship with Brian; one he'd never been entirely comfortable with.

The two had a child together, for fuck's sake… and despite the lack of mechanics involved, it was a very different case than Michael fathering Melanie's baby. Brian and Lindz had always had a deeper connection; a bond that went beyond friendship. Plus, to Michael's knowledge – and he knew more about Brian's sex life than he'd be comfortable with – Lindsay was the only woman Brian had ever actually slept with. Granted, it had been at their college time, in a phase of experimenting. But that didn't change the fact that Lindsay had had Brian twenty-some years before Michael would get his chance.

Interpreting his silence the only logical way, Brett Keller nodded knowingly… even with a little compassion, which was rather unusual for him.

"Things are never that simple," he said. "Never just black or white, straight or queer. You'll learn that about yourself, too, eventually. Now, what do you think about giving Mariel that chance we were speaking of?"

They did so, and Mariel St. John proved surprisingly good; convincing in a way the standard Hollywood beauties usually weren't. Of course, being a vampire probably does give a certain depth to an evil character, Michael thought. In any case, she nailed the role within half an hour, and the casting could go on.

The greatest challenge remained to find someone who'd play the victim, as the character would be based on Owen, who'd been a complex personality already back in his mortal days. At one point Brian suggested to bring back JT, instead of killing him at the end of Rage II, and after a great deal of consideration, Brett, Edward Blount and Michael decided that it was a good idea indeed. Fans liked their characters returning in the sequels, even the stupid, immature, whiny ones. Bringing JT back would shift back the focus of the movie to Rage and Zephyr, instead of centering it around a new, original character, which was probably better so. The fans came for their objects of obsession, not for the guest stars, no matter how excellent those might be.

Decision made, the rest of the casting went quickly. The followers of the cult were easily found; for one of them Alexis Goldfarb got cast, the permanently-sixteen-year-old-looking, beautiful ghoul boy of Salvador Garcia. With his youthful appearance and the experiences of a pogrom survived, he brought an unexpected depth to the supporting cast.

Ash Rivers, of course, was all too eager to pick up his role from the first movie again. The success of Rage had pushed him back right into the spotlight, and he seemed to awake from his customary apathy a little. He showed some interest in the new script already, and even discussed possibilities with Michael at some point. He was happier than for a long time, and that made Isaac Abrams, his Sire and Regnant, supremely content… which meant that the upcoming movie would have his full support. And Isaac Abrams' support counted as one of the most important factors in Tinsel Town.

After the casting was done, the search for the right location started. Owen showed them the abandoned nunnery, in which the original Setite Temple would have been founded, but Dawn Cavanaugh, who had, once again, been chosen as director of photography, adamantly opposed to shooting the movie – or even parts of it – there.

"This place is still in need of a long and thorough cleansing," she stated. "I don't mind haunted places, but if we spent too much time here, many of the younger and weaker ones would turn mad. The very stones here are impregnated with evil, starting with the day where Angelus, back at his still-evil times, massacred the nuns who used to live here. There was a reason why the Clan chose it for the site of the new Temple in the first place. Besides, they wouldn't tolerate us to work here."

"I thought there's no significant Setite presence in LA," Brett said.

Dawn shrugged. "There are few who dwell here now, but those few are very powerful. And they are drawn here. The consecration of the Temple had nearly been finished… those Coptic nuns will have to perform several cleansing rituals before the place would be safe again."

"Too bad," commented Brett. "The place is suitably creepy. It would look great on film. Well, it can't be helped. Do you have an alternate suggestion?"

"The crematorium," Dawn replied promptly. "It has great, empty halls with very tall pylons… an eerie look."

"But would we be allowed to shoot there?" Edward Blount asked worriedly.

Dawn shrugged again. "It's owned by the Nosferatu. There will be a way. Also, there are great arched chambers in the waterworks, under the city – controlled by the Nosferatu, too. We should be able to use them at some point. The rest we can build up in the Studios… which will be better for the light effects anyway. I'm sure Isaac would rather infuse more cash into the movie than let Ash even come here. That boy is unstable enough as he is."

With that, the question of locations was decided, and Michael could return to finishing the script. Things slowed down a little, despite the shooting of Rage II, and after all the hectic activity of the recent weeks, Michael welcomed the change. Especially as it meant he could finally spend more time with Brian – something they both wanted very much, now that the obstacles had been removed from their shared way. Although Michael kept his apartment, even returned there from time to time to see Emmett, or when he needed to be alone for a while, mostly he stayed in Alain's house, in the guest room of Brian's apartment.

Also, staying in Alain's house most of the time proved useful when it came to the strengthening of his bond with his Master. They had their bonding sessions once a month, which was the absolute minimum for a ghoul to still go on. Keeping them so far apart was not entirely without risk, but Alain wanted to keep Michael in his Warm state as long as possible. Feeding him his Vitae more often might have awakened a dangerous hunger in Michael, craving it worse the more of it he had received and ending up in an inevitable Embrace – or madness and a painful death on Michael's side. This particular danger was the graver for a ghoul the more powerful his Master was, and Alain's Vitae, despite him being of unknown generation, was very powerful. Age, too, was a deciding factor in that matter.

Usually, they had these sessions in Alain's private haven, because this was a very… intimate act between Master and ghoul, even without the sex part of it. Sexually dominating a ghoul wasn't necessarily part of the package, of course; in Michael's case, however, his natural born submission was one of the aspects that had piqued Alain's interest for him in the first place.

As Alain had to wait for several important messages faxed to his office on this particular day, they had their session in his house… in the evening, when the students had long left, and Brian had gone clubbing. Brian had actually wanted to stay – he was always jealous of their private sessions – but Alain had told him in no uncertain terms that in this case he would only be a distraction and was therefore unwanted. So Brian had left, silently fuming, but not daring to protest because he knew that would earn him severe punishment. Alain was fairly lenient towards him compared with other Sires, but he didn't tolerate his authority to be questioned, and whenever it happened, it always had dire consequences for the one crossing the border.

So they had the house for them alone, save for Sarina who was eminently discrete. Alain led Michael to his office, as he needed to keep half an eye on the fax machine and looked around, working out the logistics in his head before they would start anything. His glance fell on the round table of dark, polished wood that stood in the mostly unused half of the room, half-forgotten. It was a sturdy one and reasonably low, too.

"Yes, that would do," he decided. "Clean the table, Michael, and get naked!"

Michael stared at him with wide, shocked eyes. "I should do what?"

Alain shrugged. "You've heard me. I'm feeling like executing my ownership aforehead tonight."

Michael felt the heat of excitement pooling in his belly, seeing that Alain's eyes had already turned silver. When Alain was in this mood, it always meant great, hard sex; a session that left him sore for days afterwards, despite the enhanced healing abilities he now possessed as a ghoul. He'd come to value those occasions, even more than the other times when they had more casual sex, because they clearly showed Alain's need for him, and being desired so much by his Master was a heady feeling – well worth the little pain it went with.

He shed his clothes with trembling hands, deliberately letting the odd piece fall to the floor, which – as expected and intended – earned him a few hard slaps on his already bare bottom. He yelped, more for fun than anything else, as it stung rather than hurt; Alain knew as much as he did that it was just a game and was more than willing to play. The quickly fading red prints of his hand on Michael's lily white buttocks always turned him on, big time.

"Get onto the table, on your back," he ordered in that authoritive tone that always made Michael harden instantly. "Hands under your head – I don't want to give you a concussion. Legs wide open, kneecaps over the edge of the table. Now!" he added, slapping Michael's ass really hard, as a warning that he should not tarry.

Michael hurriedly obeyed. The urgency in Alain's tone indicated that he'd probably not be able to sit down properly for a week after this, and if he made his Master wait, Alain could get carried away more than he might have wanted. This was a somewhat… risky relationship between the two of them, and the thrill of danger it included kept Michael on razor's edge during their bonding sessions.

For his part, Alain enjoyed greatly to conquer Michael's body and soul during these sessions. Sure, they did have casual sex frequently, but executing his dominance was such a heady feeling that even he, after half a millennium in the Dark, got drunk from it. He stroked the soft inside of Michael's thigh as it hung limply from the table, then brought him to climax with a few expert strokes; Michael had been very close already but knew he was not allowed to come without his Master's permission. Now he came with a vengeance. Alain watched the smooth, slim body convulse in ecstasy, then he let go of his own control, allowing Michael's clenching ass to bring him over the brink.

He rode out his climax, murmuring sweet, dirty things in French during it (only Michael made him revert to his mother tongue during sex), then he opened the vein in his wrist and held it out for Michael.

"Here, little one. Take your reward."

Michael hesitated a little. Taking Alain's Vitae while they were kissing was one thing – this way it seemed a little too… vampire-like for his comfort.

"I… I don't think I can do it," he said apologetically.

"Nonsense," Alain replied. "If you can suck my cock – and we both know you can do that very well – you can suck my Vitae as well."

"I'm… I'm really not sure," Michael hesitated.

Alain gave him an icy, silver look that went directly to his groin, make his cock stir again, even though it had perhaps more to do with sudden fear than with desire at the moment.

"Do I need to make it an order, mon petit?" the vampire asked in a silky-dangerous voice, and Michael gulped nervously, because his Master seemed genuinely angered by his reluctance.

"N-no, Master," he replied meekly, taking the proffered arm and pressing his mouth to the small wound. Despite everything – even the morbid craving he seemed to have developed for Alain's Vitae – the actual process of drinking blood still grossed him out, big time, and it seemed to be a stubborn obstacle to overcome.

"You're not drinking," Alain said, now with a clear warning in his voice, and Michael understood that this time his Master would not allow him to chicken out. He gulped again, hoping by Caine (and not even realizing he was already thinking in Kindred terms) that he wouldn't throw up into his Master's face, and made a half-hearted try to suck.

The oily substance of Alain's Vitae filled his mouth, almost made him gag. Kindred Vitae was thicker than human blood and had a much stronger coppery aftertaste – or, at least, that was what Brian and Emmett said. It really wasn't all that pleasant… unless you were a vampire, of course. But it had to be done. He'd agreed to do this and couldn't back off now.

Seeing Alain throw back his head in ecstasy from the pleasure of being fed from did help a little. And, fortunately, he only needed to get down a small amount of the stuff – which was already bad enough. He seriously doubted he'd manage any more.

Due to all that practice during the last couple of months, he was prepared now for the scorching heat and the pain that went with it. Unlike the first times, he now endured the first agonizing moments calmly, waiting for his mental bond with Alain to re-establish itself. After three weeks of abstinence, it had been considerably weakened, and in the last couple of days he couldn't even reach his Master anymore. He'd missed that special closeness in those days, despite the unpleasantness of the bonding itself.

But when the secret inner world of Alain opened for him again, he realized with a sinking feeling that Alain was disappointed with him… even displeased.

"Master…" he said in concern. "What have I done?"

"You've disobeyed me, mon petit," Alain replied quietly. "I hate to do this to you, but I can't tolerate such behaviour, not from you. You know that. I'll have to punish you."

Michael found that thought more than merely disturbing – he found it downright frightening. Alain had never raised a hand against him so far – well, save from the one or other nice erotic spanking, but that had been a different matter, and Michael knew that. He'd seen Brian's ass having turned black and blue after a serious disciplinary session with his Sire, despite advanced vampire healing.

"Are you gonna beat me as you sometimes do with Bri?" he asked, unable to conceal the fear in his own voice and hating it. At least Brian was man enough to take it, whenever Alain got fed up with his trespassing.

To his shameful relief, though, Alain shook his head thoughtfully.

"Non, mon amant," he said. "You'd get nothing out of that, only pain and resentment. You don't need a lesson in pain; although, apparently, you need a lesson in obedience. That's why I'm giving you an enema."

Michael was shocked. He hated enemas – hadn't had one since the age of twelve or so and hadn't planned to have one today… or any other day, to be honest.

"I'd rather have that beating," he murmured, tears of shame threatening to break free.

"I can understand that," Alain replied. "Unfortunately for you, it's not your decision to make. I've chosen to give you an enema, and you're not allowed to let go of the water until I tell you so. Am I understood?"

"Y-yes," Michael whispered. That earned him a really hard slap on his exposed buttocks.

"Yes what?" Alain asked icily.

"Yes, Master," Michael replied glumly. He knew some gay men loved enemas, in fact, couldn't get enough of them – however, he was not one of those people.

"I hope so," he could feel Alain's genuine regret . "Go and clean up in Brian's bathroom. I'll do the same in mine. Be here again in ten minutes, showered and naked as you are… and don't make me wait for you," he added, slapping Michael's ass again, hard. "Move it!"

"You're a sadistic bastard," Michael said through gritted teeth. Fuck, this was humiliating beyond belief! In his misery, he almost missed the flash of anger in Alain's silver eyes. Almost but not quite.

"No," Alain said in a quiet, forcibly collected voice. "I'm teaching you a lesson… for your own good. You think this is bad? This is just a physical reaction of your bowels. But if you don't listen to me, if you don't drink from me when I tell you to do so, how bad, do you think, will it get when you succumb to the blood lust and lose control over your mind? If you go on a rampant killing spree, just because you're too queasy to take a little of my Vitae?"

Michael couldn't deny that his Master did have a point. He still couldn't believe, though, that Alain would deliberately make him soil himself, just to bring said point over with proper emphasis.

Yet that was, exactly, what Alain was going to do. And if nothing else, that humiliating incident was good for one thing: he never questioned Alain's authority again when it came to the intricacies of unlife. Which, as every vampire could have told him, was the best – or, to be more accurate, the only – way to survive in the twilight.

He was settling into his new existence, realizing the opportunities now lying open for him. All he needed were time and patience. And, thank Alain, time was something he now had enough.

"Yes, you do," Alain said, snapping up his unshielded thoughts easily. "And I hope there will be no need to repeat today's lesson."

"No, Master," Michael replied, still in deeply submissive mode; now that he'd let go of his anger and resentment, he actually felt very much at peace.

"Good," Alain said,. "Now, get into the shower, then put on something presentable. As soon as the fax I'm waiting for has arrived, we'll go out."

"We do?" Michael was surprised; this had never happened before. "Is Bri coming, too?"

"No," Alain replied, "today, it will be only you and me. This is our night, and I don't want anyone else to be part of it. Not even Brian."

"Where are we going?" Michael inquired, hesitating between regret that he wouldn't be seeing Brian and almost childish pride over his cherished status.

Alain looked at him with a weird, almost paternal fondness, which, considering what they'd been doing just an hour before was a bit… well, freaky.

"I thought you'd want to see this new superhero movie," he said. "Granted, it's Japanese, but you might like it."

"Yippee!" Michael squealed in delight and dashed off to the bathroom.

~The End – for now~