The vampire on the concourse at San Francisco International smiled at Rayne pleasantly as he approached. He did a very fine job of feigning cool nonchalance but he couldn't do anything about the aura of nervous fear he gave off. Rayne could taste it and his fangs extended automatically. The strange vamp waited until Rayne was just within striking distance before speaking.
"Mr. Lagrado wishes you farewell and safe journey, Mr. Wylde," he declared, moments before the small, angry Englishman's left hand wrapped itself around the trailing ends of the scarf tied loosely at his throat and yanked his head down to shoulder height. At the same time Rayne Wylde's right knee came up hard and connected with the softer tissues of the tall blond vampire's groin.
"Suck my dick, you cold-blooded bastard!" Rayne hissed at him as he went to his knees with an astonished groan that told the smaller Vampire that no one had treated him with quite such blatant disregard in a very long time.
Once upon a time, Rayne might have worried about that. This was no Ancient but he was older, and probably stronger. The element of surprise would not last forever so he needed to capitalise whilst his opponent was still distracted by the pain coursing through his mangled genitalia.
He crouched automatically, putting on a show of mock-concern.
"Oh my god! I am so sorry! Did I hurt you?" he exclaimed in a stagey tone designed to carry and put other passengers at their ease. He was already projecting; his thoughts telling anyone close enough to have witnessed the assault that this was really nothing for them to worry about and it would all be taken care of. Passengers bustled on around him, seemingly unconcerned that he had just attempted a non-surgical castration on the man kneeling before him. In a lower register for his victim's ears alone Rayne growled; "Where is he? Tell me now and maybe I won't strap you to the wheel of a 747 and leave you for the fuckin' carrion chasers!"
The urge - no, the all-consuming compulsion - to grab the smaller vampire and pummel him into a unrecognisable pulp was so strong that Lagrado's creature almost couldn't control it in time. He could not create that kind of spectacle in such a public place or Cole Lagrado would have his head, literally.
"Concern? How touching!" he wheezed through gritted teeth. When he moved, it was with that blinding speed all but the weakest of them were capable of, turning at the same time so the scarf came off and Rayne was left holding it, a puzzled expression briefly gracing his handsome face. Prowling around behind him the older Vampire growled softly and impatiently.
"You cross into an Ancient's territory, uninvited and unannounced. You not only hunt without permission but you mark your mate. Then you abandon your marked human in our city. You offer insult after insult and expect no retaliation?" He snorted, a very human gesture, belying that he was perhaps not all that old after all. "Be grateful Cole Lagrado's only punishment is to take the boy."
Rayne half turned, tracking him purely by the feelings of anger and frustration he emitted. His fingers remained curled around the delicate wisp of emerald and gold, still rich with the scent of Xavier's skin, his blood. Were it not for that he could have left it; if this creep had not so casually referred to Xavier like some kind of offering. He had seen too many innocents go down that route with the Old Ones and it never ended well. Soft, pale lips drew back from his extending fangs in a slight, warning snarl like a dog whose boundaries have been violated.
"I've told your boss and now I'm telling his trained monkey, I don't ask anyone's permission for anything," Rayne hissed softly. "Now if any of you creeps have hurt so much as a hair on that boy's head, I am going to break some bones. Punish me if that's what gets you hard, but leave him out of it. It's not his fault."
He shivered all the same. There was no expression on the blond's face but something in his manner, in the way he felt... it sent chills through him. Rayne was a good judge of his own kind, generally. He had a feel for the ages and skills of his fellow Undead that even his Sire, Jabez openly admired. But he had no time for them, to his Ancient Mentor's eternal frustration. It was true that Jabez also shunned most of Vampire-kind but he was over three and half thousand centuries old and it did not pay to provoke him. Plus, his mortal bodyguard Mersen was almost as lethal as a whole cadre of Undead. Any Vamp that got within a hand's distance of the Everman was doing well. Doing well, that is until Jabez Everman got hold of him!
In London these days Rayne's blood ties to the semi-mythical Everman protected him from all but the most lethal opponents. After they had combined to teach Everman's own Demonic Sire, Kal Zelarin a lesson he would spend the remainder of his Unlife regretting, they discovered they had earned a massive quotient of kudos among the British Vampire coteries. Here things were a little different. He wished now that he had paid more attention to the stuff Jabez and his human ally Dominic Warren tried to teach him about Vampires and their ways and the whole complex pecking order. It was so boring though. The Vamp politics just sent him to sleep. It was like the Royal Family only ten times more insular and with even more archaic regulations. Of course the Royals probably wouldn't rip out your lungs and eat them if you crossed them (with just one notable exception, that he knew of!)
This cocksucker at the airport had talked about him marking Xavier and he supposed that was right. It was unusual for him to leave visible bite marks on a lover and he certainly had not done so on purpose but Xavier seemed to have no problems with it. And the boy's increased sensitivity to his touch had been immensely rewarding in bed, he had to admit. It was almost as if they moved with one accord. Actually, when he thought about it like that, it was a bit creepy. He pushed the idea away and focused on Blondie, who still had not tried to rip him to quivering pieces.
Interesting.
"I don't do gratitude," he sneered at the glowering Vamp now, tempering his sharp tongue slightly. "But I'll make a tiny little allowance because I hate to put anyone's nose out of joint and I certainly wouldn't go out of my way to do that on purpose, all right? I'm a dozy Brit, we have different rules where I come from. I didn't think I was robbing from anyone's table. So I'd be very grateful if you guys would let the boy go. Okay?"
He held his hands out to his sides in an open, placatory gesture that was probably not the best defensive posture under the circumstances. But hey, he was standing in the middle of one of the world's busiest airports. This cold-blood was hardly going to eviscerate him here with so many witnesses.
"Okay?" he invited again when the other Vampire seemed to be having difficulty controlling his breathing.
The vampire's expression changed ever so slightly. As if he had been trying to peer into Rayne and now had what he wanted, but what he saw wasn't what he'd expected to see.
"You can not be that naïve," he muttered. Then he heaved a small, completely unnecessary sigh. Old habits died hard, especially for those not yet a few centuries old. "Even if it were up to me, which it's not, he can't just be let go. You marked him…"
When he saw that Rayne's expression did not change he rolled his eyes. "Don't you know anything?"
He laughed because it really was rather ironic. The huge insult Cole Lagrado had dealt this small vamp, that was barely more then a fledgling, didn't even ping his radar as an insult because he had no clue what he'd done. He was simply concerned his lover should not be hurt.
"The mark…it's a blood bond. Like saying this is mine, tagging him as your human servant or a favourite. It tells other vampires he's under your protection and not to feed from or harm him. That Lagrado has done so, and has since made him Steffen's pet, says you're no threat, your mark means nothing." He paused and chuckled humourlessly again.
Explaining the insult was just so ridiculous. The very reason he was sent, with that scarf as a message, was so that Wylde would know of the retaliation. He had no hope of winning if he challenged Lagrado, so he was supposed to get on the plane with his tail between his legs knowing he'd been effectively bitch-slapped for his insolence. Having to tell him all this took the sting out of it. Cole would be all sorts of put out if he knew.
He should stop here, the message had been delivered, and made abundantly clear. His job was done. But he couldn't resist adding; "You only have two choices, Wylde. Get on the plane and it's a draw. Or try and negotiate for your boy." With that the blond vampire moved away, leaving Rayne standing there speechless and very, very pissed off.
Rayne quivered almost imperceptibly as the words sank in. The milling airport crowds melted into mindless background noise, as irritating as the drone of insects but of no more consequence. He had eyes only for this smug, slightly incredulous creature standing in front of him, laughing at him. Fucking well laughing at him!
He could, and had, put up with a lot of shit but he saw no reason to take that one lying down. Lagrado was a serious motherfucker but this one? The singer doubted he was more than bait. Cole Lagrado wasn't going to waste serious Vamp-power just to send a message. And he'd been brought up to always reply to messages. It was only polite, after all.
"Oi, Mr Know It All!" he said coldly as the blond turned to walk off.
For a second the tall, fair-haired, show-off hesitated, and then he turned. The pause was his undoing.
Rayne was not where the messenger had left him. As he turned back again to face in the direction he had been headed, the singer appeared in front of him. He was like a wraith, moving so fast that his opponent only had the sense to take a single step back before the sharp point of the oriental ceremonial knife Rayne Wylde had been admiring when he first became aware of his shadow punched through his heart and out through his back.
It made one hell of a mess of his nice suit.
As the blond went down with a grunt of pain and surprise, Rayne Wylde said; "Tell your boss, that's just a little warning, in case I find out you've damaged what's mine. If you survive that long, anyway. If not, I'm sure he'll get the message."
He was gone before the blond could get a hand to the hilt of the katana in his chest. By the time the mesmerised travellers realised what had happened and started screaming that there was a wounded man lying on the ground in their midst, Rayne Wylde was in a taxi heading back into the city.
Dark Paths (copyright 2008: Sadie Rose Bermingham & Bellora Quinn)
To be continued... on SadieRose's page at Literotica-dot-com