Master: Crimson Page 6

  With a silent scream, Gabriel stumbled forward and hit the dusty carpet face-first, choking on a mouthful of grunge. The shape underneath the chair slithered. Sobbing in fright, he pivoted his body in the opposite direction, hooking his hands into claws as he fought to drag himself across the moldering carpet.

  “It’s no use,” an unearthly voice whispered from behind him, no more than two feet away. Gabriel was horrified to discover that yet again, he couldn’t move. Only this time, both his hands and feet refused to cooperate. Slumping to the floor, he began to weep as the presence behind him approached. A hand colder than death caressed his back softly; possessively. Gabriel’s body tried to split itself down the middle, one half resisting the touch, the other half longing to lean into it. The light strokes on his back were like melting snowflakes, chilling and inflaming his skin with sub-zero heat as they slid lower, lower. Lower.

  “I made you,” the creature mouthed against his ear, sending heated tremors through his spine and stomach. Gabriel bit his lower lip hard to prevent any sound from escaping. The hand inflicting such tortuous pleasure upon his back moved upward, calloused fingers catching in his tousled hair. As the grip on his scalp tightened, Gabriel was stuck with a strong sense of déjà-vu. He bit his lip even harder, teeth crafting deep grooves into the satiny skin.

  “If I don’t want to you to escape, you won’t. You’re mine now. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  A burst of adrenaline spiked with a potent shot of rage snapped him out of his trance. He flipped his body around so quickly, his captor had no time to react. Gabriel propelled his body forward, toppling the figure. Seeing his chance, he used his elbows for leverage and rolled on top of his tormentor, effectively trapping him. Snarling, Gabriel pressed his face against the other’s until they were nose to nose.

  “Nobody owns me.”

  For a moment there was silence; then suddenly, he was flying backward from the impact of a vicious head-butt. He landed on his back with a bone-shattering thump and lay motionless, the collision rendering him senseless. Looking up, he stared in horrified fascination as he finally recognized the other’s face. He was not surprised to see familiar features. Raiden’s slender form slowly insinuated itself upon him until they were once again nose to nose, sharing a stream of air. Only this time, Gabriel was on the bottom. Unable to move, he could only stare into those never-ending pools of ochre as they coolly regarded him.

  “You’re bleeding,” the vampire breathed, deliberately dragging his tongue along the indentations in Gabriel’s lower lip. Pressure started to build in his abdomen, radiating from center of his body to the roof of his mouth as Raiden continued to lick the wounds.

  “You’ll want this. You’ll want this soon enough. Just wait.”

  Raiden flicked his tongue inside Gabriel’s mouth to share the taste. At once, the room’s filmy lighting darkened, its walls seeming to pulse with seamy desire. Gabriel moaned, his teeth aching to sink into that soft, slithering, blood-soaked muscle. Before he could manage, however, Raiden pulled away and sat up. A small drop of scarlet dribbled from the corner of his mouth. Before it could fall, the vampire caught it with the very tip of his tongue, closing his eyes briefly to savor the morsel. Gabriel was suddenly ravenous.

  “I hope you see crimson tonight,” Raiden stated. He uttered a dark laugh as the room began to spin faster and faster, a merciless merry-go-round with no intent of stopping. The vampire’s eyes burned through him in the blur, staking their claim with a single look. Then Gabriel was falling, Raiden’s last words echoing in his head like a guilty verdict.

  * * * *

  Gabriel awoke with a start, momentarily unable to recognize his surroundings. Out of the corner of an eye, he saw shining chocolate skin and worried eyes. “Joe!”

  The frightened actor clutched at Joe’s sleeve as remnants of the nightmare clouded his vision a murky red. Joe immediately gripped his shoulder, closing the distance between them as the limo came to a halt.

  “What’s wrong, boss? You look terrible.”

  “I…I just—thought…tonight…” Gabriel stammered, unable to continue. He couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t tell anyone. Though it defied all logic and reasoning to keep the incident at Raiden’s a secret, the actor instinctively knew that he would never tell Joe what had happened. That’s right, he pictured Raiden whispering, face close to his own like in the dream. You’ll never tell him. You’ll never tell anyone, because then you’ll have to face the truth. You’ll have to face what you‘ve become. You’re not going to that doctor in the morning, either. No tests, no examinations. Because then they’d know what you are—

  “Gabriel!” Joe cried urgently, shaking his shoulders a little. Gabriel snapped out of his daze to find Joe’s eyes riveted to the mark on his neck. Without thinking, he covered up the bite with his hand, immediately regretting the action. Well, that was obvious. Joe fixed him with a look so intense, Gabriel winced.

  “Gabriel…boss, if someone hurt you—if—if Raiden—”

  “I don’t want to talk about Rai—about him. Just do me a favor and don’t mention his name again, okay?”

  He wrenched the door open to flee the suspicious expression on his bodyguard’s face. Joe sighed heavily and stared at him for a moment longer. Gabriel held his gaze, blessing the years of practicing facial composure to which he had subjected himself. At length, Joe‘s shoulders gave way to the weight of defeat. Then, he exited the vehicle, breaking their eye contact.

  “Anything you say.”

  Once inside his bedroom, Gabriel tore off his borrowed clothes and buried himself beneath the comforter. He tried to sleep, but every time he started to drift off, more disturbing images would assault him. Even worse, various sounds kept distracting him. Water dripped noisily from the kitchen faucet, hitting the sink with clanging clinks. The light snores of his staff assaulted his ears with their varying frequencies. All the clocks in the house with their individual tick-tocks pounded in time with the pulse in his veins. As dawn crept stealthily around the corner, Gabriel tore the comforter away from his body with a gasp, mapping out each major artery and vein beneath his naked flesh.

  Every part he touched possessed a different pitch. The ones farthest away from his heart had the highest, faintest tones, while the ones closest to it boasted strong, baritone voices. Underlying all this was the beating of his heart, a steady, deep bass line leading the pulse. The new vampire sat in the same position for hours, unable to come to terms with his acutely altered hearing. You know what this means. He imagined Raiden‘s laughter, the smile never touching his eyes. You know exactly what it means. And there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

  Silencing the voice in the only way he knew how, Gabriel crushed his skull into the headboard, effectively knocking himself out for a few minutes until the stirrings of the cat across the street awoke him.

  * * * *

  Three fucking days and not one fucking word. Raiden wasn’t accustomed to worrying about anyone other than himself. The only person he would really bother to occasionally fret over was Taro. Since his best friend’s biggest problems were usually along the lines of deciding which concealer to use on the bags under his eyes, the vampire spent most of his time wallowing in narcissism. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, of course, but one of the main reasons he could never sustain a relationship was because he was totally stuck on himself.

  For the past three days, however, he had done little else besides worry about Gabriel. Normally, Raiden was a firm believer in the laissez-faire philosophy, which, according to his definition, meant “let the chips fall where they may and to hell with the consequences“. The damage was already done—there was no way to undo it—so he might as well sit back and watch the events unfold. It was out of his hands. Easy enough.

  Except…he had never turned anyone before. In fact, he had never started something he couldn’t finish. All this time, he had never needed to worry about anyone, because he had never been responsible for anyone o
ther than himself. That had all changed, however, the moment he had offered his blood for the sake of creation. He hadn’t saved Gabriel’s life: he had given him a new one. The burden of this realization had yet to make its full impact, but when it did, Raiden knew the blow would smart.

  Granted, he was much more concerned about what would happen to his career than how he would deal with any future guilt-trips if Gabriel decided to reveal any details from their last disastrous encounter. Rumors spread more quickly than a cheap whore’s legs, and if Gabriel were vengeful enough, he might decide to plant the seeds of gossip. Raiden had no doubt the tabloids would love to smear his previously unblemished name in the mud for a while and then paint their faces with the aftermath. The singer could just imagine the headlines: “NOSFERATU: GABRIEL COLIN’S NEAR-DEATH ENCOUNTER WITH JAPANESE VAMPIRE ROCK STAR!” “BLOODSUCKING CELEBRITIES!” “RAIDEN RAPED MY NECK!”

  Okay, maybe that last one was a little out there, but still…The tabloids would stop at nothing to make a buck. One of the only important things in Raiden’s life was his music, so the thought of losing his credibility sent tremors of real fear down his spine. He mentally kicked himself for losing control that night, for turning Gabriel, for vainly thinking that he could actually convince him of the truth. Maybe someone else had better luck. Raiden’s thoughts turned to the threats the actor had made before he left. He wondered if Gabriel had gone to the doctor yet. Vampires and humans were different breeds; any tests performed on Gabriel would doubtless display blatant abnormalities.

  So either he went, got the tests, and is about to burst through my door any second with the entire army… or he never went. Raiden didn’t bother to entertain the notion that Gabriel hadn’t received his test results yet. From what he had seen, the arrogant actor was textbook-OCD. This guy is so ritualistic, he probably deep-conditions his pubic hair every other day at the exact same time. If he even has any. Gabriel’s health would doubtless take precedence over all others, for he would without question utilize his status and wealth to buy special favors. After all, the superstar was a highly valued commodity, and if anything threatened to taint his supposed perfection, Raiden knew every specialist in the country would fight to sully their greedy gloves with his precious blood.

  Really, all things considered, there was only one probable outcome: Gabriel hadn’t seen a doctor, and he hadn’t told anyone about what had happened. As Raiden realized this, a selfish surge of relief crashed through his noisy thoughts, for once drowning out the screams. This rare moment of peace, however, was fleeting. His unease returned with full force as an entirely more unwelcome thought rudely shoved its way inside his head. Not for the first time, he wondered how long it would take for the new vampire to find his first victim.

  Though Raiden had learned to suppress his guilt over having become a mindless killer, he could never entirely forget it. After all, he had existed as a human until five years ago, so he found it difficult to let go of the man he had once been. Part of him still couldn’t break his link to humanity. Over time, Raiden had grown to understand both the sanctity of life and the necessity to take it. Since he had become a vampire, his self-obsession had developed at an alarming rate. Having withdrawn from virtually all human contact save for the required band meetings, practices, and social events, Raiden had fallen into a complicated love/hate relationship with himself. His human and vampire natures were in constant conflict with each other, thus preventing him from finding any sort of peace or middle ground in which the two of them could coexist. Since his instinct to survive always won over any lingering issues of morality, vampirism always triumphed over humanity. He found it impossible to care about the safety of others when everyone he met was a potential victim. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

  Glancing out the window, Raiden noticed the sun was setting. The death of another day. He wondered who Gabriel’s first would be. It’s out of my hands. He only hoped that Gabriel had sense enough to call him after the feed.

  Chapter 5

  The Virgin

  Let craving cover the light’s dry gaze.

  As you slip into that wet darkness,

  Remember my name.

  At the studio, he tried to maintain himself as much as possible, but as soon as he walked onstage, Gabriel knew he had made a mistake. About a hundred fans were jumping excitedly up and down, the rhythmic thumping of their combined pulses sending flares of agony to his teeth, their diverse smells shooting squirts of saliva into his mouth, their din deafening in the depths of his ears. After eight minutes onstage, the actor passed out. Some time later, he was on the couch inside his private dressing room. As he drifted back to consciousness, Gabriel heard the host‘s high-pitched voice ranting to Joe in (poorly-pronounced) English about his fainting spell. Gabriel caught snatches of the conversation as his bodyguard tried to force-feed him sips of water.

  “Do you realize…people are going to say…probably drugs…do you even know how much we PAID?”

  “Colin-san works very hard…it’s not as if he’s never fainted before…how dare you insult him in this way…you better pray he doesn’t sue your ass for slander…”

  Gabriel closed his eyes, the sound of his waning heartbeats temporarily blocking out the heated conversation. Yesterday, he had started measuring his BPM, and had discovered something startling. After twenty-four hours, his heart rate had slowed down by ten beats. Now, it was down seventeen more. I’m going to die. The within him prevailed, and he abruptly swooned again. This time, he woke up to Joe’s hand squeezing his own. The host, thankfully, was nowhere in sight.

  “Boss? Boss? I’ve called the paramedics, they’re on their way.”

  Suddenly, Gabriel’s foggy mind cleared. A primal fear frothed inside his churning gut, and he seized Joe’s collar with crushing strength.

  “NO! No paramedics! Just get me the BMW, Joe. I’ll drive myself.”

  “But boss, you’re not so great at driving on the left—”

  “I don’t care! I’ll manage. Just call Shugo and get a ride with him. I’m not going to the fucking hospital, do you hear me? DO YOU?!”

  For a long moment, Joe simply stared at him, the hurt and bewilderment in his eyes nearly causing Gabriel to change his mind. The second before he did, however, Joe briskly detached himself from Gabriel’s grasp and walked out the door, never once looking back. Gabriel heard him speaking on his cell, and then after a few tense minutes, he reentered the room.

  “It’s all taken care of, boss. I’ll pull your car around in about a half hour. We just have to make sure all the fans are out of the studio and that no one’s lurking in the parking lot. Then you‘ll be good to go.”

  With that, Joe turned on his heel and left. For the next thirty minutes, Gabriel stared blankly at the wall in front of him, trying to make something that resembled sense out of the last few days. The fact that the talk show had dissolved in disaster was the least of his troubles, but Gabriel supposed that he could have prevented this mess. In any case, Joe had tried to convince him not to do it, but Gabriel had insisted. After all, he was nothing without his career. He was already losing his mind. It couldn’t hurt to immerse himself in the joy of having an audience. Besides, his fans would have been disappointed if he cancelled. He had tried to explain this to Joe a little while ago.

  “Don’t you see, Joe? Disappointed fans equal an even more disappointed bank account. And we can’t have that.”

  Joe desperately argued that Gabriel had a serious problem; that he really needed to see a doctor; that he had put off his health issues for far too long. In the end, of course, Gabriel got his way.

  “Joe, I hate to say this to you, but you’re my employee. You’re like part of my family, but at the end of the day, you still answer to me. So please do as I ask and tell Shugo to pull the car around in fifteen minutes. I made a commitment to do this gig weeks ago, so a little indisposition won‘t deter me.”

  Joe did as he requested, but with a decidedly sulky expression. Gabri
el felt his stare during the car ride to the studio, but refrained from starting a conversation. At this point, he knew something was horribly wrong. Since the night Raiden had attacked him, many of his perceptions had changed. Time seemed equally stretched and shortened. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if three days gone by, or if perhaps a week had passed. He spent much of his day in bed, falling in and out of sleep, always dreaming.

  In those dreams, often nightmares, Raiden was there, always present in one form or another. Raiden was there, naked, stroking himself in time with the jets of blood spurting from Gabriel’s heart. Raiden was there; whispering instructions in Gabriel’s ear as he carefully dissected a cat. Raiden was there, anointing Gabriel’s forehead with semen as he dressed himself all in white and knelt to say a prayer. More than once, Gabriel had heard the words that he both dreaded and longed to hear: “I hope you see crimson tonight.” When he finally awoke, drenched in freezing sweat, gasping for breath, his mouth hurt so badly that the pain sent him dry-heaving over the side of the bed.

  The sounds of his retching were amplified, his ears having apparently acquired an oversized set of speakers. Not to mention, his sense of smell had tripled. When putrid odors from his empty stomach wafted from his mouth to his nose, he would start a fresh round of gagging. At times like this, Gabriel almost thought it was a blessing he couldn’t keep any food down. He regurgitated everything; a day ago, he had simply stopped trying to eat. The pangs of hunger had ceased to attack his stomach; instead, they waged a mutiny on his gums and stabbed at the roots of his teeth, especially around his incisors. It was like someone had pulled them without Novocain; then replaced them. Or perhaps, his mind had dared to suggest, you’re growing new ones.