by Gavin Green
Ignoring the giant cockroach on the pipe above me, I changed channels until I came across a 'Dirty Jobs' marathon. I eventually dozed off convinced that the host of that show was some Deviant's minion.
INFLICTION
Even though the recliner didn't stretch out like a bed, I woke up feeling good. Wait, change that to great. Strong, alert, fluid in my movements - my new vitality was looking for an outlet. I wasn't going to beat the shit out of the chair, so I calmed myself with a kata. I still felt like a live wire afterwards, but I gained composure and control over my body.
Three minutes later, that composure and control were gone.
The pain started in my stomach. It settled in my bowels and gathered strength, causing me to flinch and grunt from cramps. The king of all shits was on its way. When Viggo walked in, I yelled, "Toilet, NOW!"
He put his arm around me. We void-walked and came out in another stone room. I really didn't notice anything else except for the toilet in the far corner. I didn't care that there was no privacy. Viggo told me to flush often, and then stepped out of the room. Holy shit, it was like I overdosed on that stuff you're supposed to drink before a colonoscopy. Someone thankfully thought ahead; there was a new six-pack of toilet paper on the floor next to me.
It must've been twenty minutes of grunting, groaning and constant crapping. I put my face in my hands, noticing that I wasn't sweating like I would've expected to be after shooting out ten pounds of shit. Oh, sorry, was that too graphic? Deal with it. I did.
I cleaned up (which took a few more flushes) and looked around. The room was carved out of solid stone, about twenty feet square and without much in it. There was a rusty shower pipe and drain in the corner across from the toilet, a cot against a wall, a low ceiling with one overhead bulb, and an iron door in the far corner. That door had one of those slide slots for looking in. It also had locks that prevented me from getting out.
I started with a patient knock that quickly escalated into cussing in rhythm to my fist hammering on the door. I stopped when I saw the dents I was leaving in it. A while later, Viggo and Barnabus opened the door and came in carrying large cardboard boxes. Viggo set his box on the floor, pulled an apple out of his coat pocket and tossed it to me. "Take a bite," he requested. I did, and it went down fine. About ten seconds later, it came right back up. I didn't quite make it to the toilet. "You do not have Harlan's ability to ingest food," he stated conversationally. "No more steak or cheeseburgers for you, Leo."
"Yeah, thanks," I said as I glared at him. To be fair, though, there wasn't any other way to find out. The apple also helped to drive home the point that I wasn't human anymore.
"The emptying of your bowels signals the beginning of the infliction," Viggo said with some compassion. "You will remain in this room until it is over. We have brought you some items for your stay."
I wiped my mouth and fought back the despair of being imprisoned again. "Okay, thanks."
Barnabus set his box on my cot. "I have selected a number of fine reading materials for you, Leo," he said, trying to sound upbeat. "With any luck, you'll be able to focus on the well-crafted literary prose instead of, well, anything else. And do not become disheartened if you unintentionally damage any; I happen to own more copies of each of these works."
Reaching into another coat pocket, Viggo pulled out two rubber balls. He was about to toss them to me when I had sudden, painful spasms in my hands. Viggo waited while I tried to get my fingers to uncurl. He set the balls next to me and said, "These are for simple entertainment, and to grip when more pain comes." He turned back to his box and tipped it over. The flaps opened, allowing a shitload of rats to come scrambling out. "These are meant for sustenance should you expend excess energy during your stay. I do ask that at least one is spared so you may continue your practice of the Gift of Fauna."
"You may find," Barnabus added, "that success will come sooner for you now."
"What about -" An unexpected, stabbing pain in my spine interrupted me. "What about my cat?"
"Clara now has a spare key to your abode, and will look after your pet," Viggo answered. "I have your phone, keys, wallet, and gun. Nothing was lost. I will soon return them to you."
"Okay, okay," I stammered as my teeth began to ache. "My friends - they're going to worry."
"One thing at a time, Leo," Barnabus calmly said. "You can decide how to handle those matters once this is over. Your sire has expressed to me that two of his minions have been told of the situation, so don't needlessly concern yourself with them for now."
"Alright, thanks," I said, forcing out the words. "I appreciate all this, but maybe -" I flinched when my dick started burning - "maybe you should both leave now."
They turned and exited without a word. Soon after the echo of the shutting door faded away, all of my nerve endings screamed at me. I screamed back. The pain had just begun.
I've felt my share of pain before, and I've seen braver men than me endure more than I have. But none of that compared to the infliction. Torturing my body was not enough - it attacked my mind as well, challenging my sanity and twisting my memories into nightmares. I won't try to explain the excruciating agony I went through; I don't have the words, and you couldn't imagine it if I did. I wouldn't want you to.
The pain seemed endless, although there were a few merciful breathers. I tried reading Barnabus' extra copy of Paradise Lost a couple times, but waves of searing pain made more than a few pages impossible. The balls were never used for fun; I never had the chance to be bored. I squeezed the balls to toughen my will when the infliction tried to trick me, break me. Some of the rats were used as food, but as few as possible. I raged a few times, and blacked out more than I care to admit. Time had no meaning.
The infliction's last assault was the worst. When it was finally over, and before I lost consciousness for the last time, I knew who I was. I woke up sometime later on the floor, with my head on someone's lap. I looked up and saw Neva smiling at me as she brushed my hair with her fingers.
When I was human, Neva's 'taint of horror' truly freaked me out. But just then, as she held me, it wasn't so bad. Once I was past that, her porcelain skin and blue veins were almost exotic. Her milky white hair almost glowed. If her looks weren't so alien, she would've been beautiful. I fell back to sleep knowing I was safe, and that all of my memories were intact.
I woke again when the door shut; Neva was gone. With nothing better to do, I picked up a rat and gave the Gift of Fauna another shot. Within seconds, I was smiling.
I was on the cot when Viggo slid the door slot open to check on me. I had a nice little surprise for him. On the floor in the center of the room, I had the surviving rats gathered. I'd told each of them to move to a certain spot and stay there. When Viggo looked in, he saw 'IM OK' spelled out with wiggling vermin. Sorry, the apostrophe was dinner.
APPEARANCES
Viggo stepped in and looked at my side of the iron door, which I'd put a huge dent into at some point. He turned to me and said, "We should talk."
"Yeah, uh . . ." I stopped for a second, realizing that my voice sounded lower and scratchy. "I'm not sure when I did that. I kinda lost it a few times. Don't worry, I'll pay for it."
"A door is not my concern," he replied as he walked over to me. "As the rats suggest, you are mentally sound, yes?"
"It sure as hell feels like it. There was once or twice I had a tough time with reality, but I'm good."
"From casual observation, I tend to disagree." Before I could argue with Viggo's opinion, he said, "Have you taken a good look at your hands, Leo?"
"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I have." I held my hands up. They looked like desert stone; splotchy beige skin, rough and dense. They had sharper angles, minor pits and imperfections, and hairline cracks. They were larger, too, but still as flexible as they used to be. "Accepting these was one of those tough times I was talking about. The new look of my junk was the other tough time, but I'm not gonna go there."
"Ah, good," Viggo said, obv
iously relieved. "I assumed that your mind forced you to ignore your new appearance. It has happened to others in the past, and their denial bloomed into greater neuroses. I would say that you have adjusted quite well, although you have not yet looked upon your own face. Confidentially, I find your visage much less disconcerting than your brother Aldo's."
Coming from the hemo with a face like Death Valley, that didn't mean much. Still, I took it for how it was intended: a left-handed compliment. And . . . crap, Aldo the asshole was my brother now.
"To be truthful," Viggo said, patting my shoulder, "I have been quite concerned for the last five nights. You were very vocal at certain times, and worryingly quiet at others. I am happy to find you in such good condition, Leo."
"Five nights, are you shitting me? I would've guessed half that!"
He replied with a shrug. "The infliction has been known to take up to eight nights to run its course. But let us not linger on it; you are intact, and we can venture forward. Now, of course, more immediate matters shall be seen to, but there are also many other topics to discuss."
"Alright . . . Other than coming to terms with this whole numen thing, getting used to the new me, and hopefully not drinking rats by the bushel for the next thousand years, what else is there?"
Viggo stepped back as he said, "There is the issue of setting your financial base, if you allow me to assist in that regard. There are also subjects such as stalking prey, and if you choose to be formally introduced into our society. For now, though," he took another step toward the door, "let us leave this chamber of pain and see to more pressing concerns."
"Whoa, wait - what was that thing about a financial base?"
"I will say this for now," Viggo said with a frown. "ShadoWorks employees must be available for daytime tasks, as you well know. Unfortunately, you are now excluded from that. You were a fine worker."
"What, I'm fired?"
"Leo, you no longer meet the criteria," he answered with a shrug. "Consider it an opportunity for greater prospects. As I have done with my other scions, you will be offered a type of inheritance. From what I gave to Aldo, he has built a small but powerful European corporation. However, if you would rather turn to a criminal enterprise - which I will condemn - or perhaps find a third shift 'work-from-home' position, that is your choice . . ."
"Uh, no, no, your offer is very generous. I just didn't know what you meant."
"As I said, we will discuss it later. Come with me," Viggo said as he turned toward the door. I was led in a different direction through a short zigzag of tunnels, up a flight of stairs, and into a dusty section of a steam tunnel. Not far from the door we came through was an old, forgotten city worker's break room. A kitchenette, card table with folding chairs, and narrow bathroom door made for a cramped little room. Viggo opened that narrow door and stepped out of the way.
I stepped into the tiny bathroom and hesitated when I reached for the overhead light's pull chain. I was afraid of what waited for me in the dirty mirror over the sink. I'd made peace with my new hands, but hoped in vain after the infliction was over that my face was the same, scars and all. I mean, Clara, Skin and Michael looked pretty damn normal. Why not me? I'd already felt my face, though, and knew I was out of luck.
I clicked on the light, faced the mirror, and did my best not to freak out. I was too stunned to cuss.
To begin with, my shoulders were wider, and the fun that the infliction had with my spine made my posture slightly hunched. Through my tattered clothes I could tell that my chest was a bit broader, but the overall shape of my frame hadn't been affected much. I leaned in for a closer inspection . . .
My hair, still intact, was coarser and darker brown. My face had the same stone complexion and rough texture as my hands. My brows had become thick; one was set lower than the other, giving me a perpetual scowl. The blue eyes I inherited from my mom were darker and set back into the sockets. My facial creases were deeper, more pronounced. The scars on my cheek, jaw and neck had turned into roughly chiseled grooves. My ears hadn't changed shape, but they had hairline cracks like the rest of my face. I looked like an angry sculpture, carved by a demented artist.
I came out of the bathroom pissed off, and a little hysterical. I bellowed at my calm sire, "What the hell did you do to me! I look like the statue of a fucking monster!"
Taking my outburst in stride, Viggo said, "Some general traits of my line are passed along with my potent blood. I daresay you should have expected it. As deformities go, yours could have been much worse. Would you rather look like Roach or Mr. Merritt?"
"I'd rather look fucking normal, like Clara does. This whole crusty skin thing sure as hell didn't get passed along to her! How the hell did that happen?"
"Hmm, the smooth chocolate skin, the large doe eyes. Did you think that is Clara's true appearance?" He shook his head. "She keeps her Deviant form constantly hidden. The façade rarely slips, even while she slumbers. That concealed aspect whispers to her, offering random insights. Clara has given it the name of her long-lost twin: Vivian. Your sister carries the traits of my line, but she hides them."
My sister . . . Something about that concept appealed to me. Just for a minute, I forgot about my own new, horrific looks and thought about what Clara went through every damn night of her Deviant life. I still had room to bitch about my own situation, but I didn't feel the need to dwell on it as much.
LEARNING
The next number of nights was sort of chaotic, but I learned a lot of shit. Mostly, I got an idea of what it meant to be a hemo. I also learned about myself, and all of the simple habits I had to break. At times, I felt like I was in field training, but that's where the comparison ended.
I still had the same thoughts and opinions as before, but the ancient blood coursing through me formed an underlying . . . current, I guess, that affected my emotions. Intensity, passion, aggression - maybe it was all of those together. Viggo called it the 'dark ardor', and warned me about controlling it. I guess it could be described as having a shorter temper, and then apply it to every emotion.
Viggo left me alone for the rest of that first night to let me stare at myself. I guess he figured one night was enough, because the next night he brought me to a junk yard. I was put through a few tests to find out if I had potential in a few hemo Gifts. Viggo was persistent with the pressure of getting my best efforts, but not like a drill instructor. He was both stern and encouraging. It helped.
The first thing I learned was that I didn't have any further ability with the Gift of Fauna. I could give simple instructions to an animal, but that was it. To be honest, I didn't expect much else. Viggo didn't seem deterred. Changing gears, he then told me to study my own moonlit shadow stretching across a dented car hood. As I watched my silhouette, he whacked me across the back with a car antenna. I barely felt it. When he did the same with the bumper of an F150, though . . . that I felt, big time.
Further back in the big junkyard were rows of wrecked motorcycles. He chose one at random and told me to pick it up. When I hesitated, he stepped close and said I could achieve the feat simply by urging the potency of my blood. Any strength I'd gained through a physical Gift would only make it easier. Holy shit, he was right. Not only did I pick up that rice-burner, I also threw it twenty feet.
Viggo used his Fauna Gift and called some stray dogs to us. The three mutts that showed up looked pretty damn pathetic. I thought my sire kinda dropped the ball until he explained that his call was only for sick or injured dogs. He wanted me to 'refill my tank' after exerting myself, and I could mercifully end their suffering in the process. My mind flashed back to Ragna, a vacant lot, and an injured pooch. I used her example and gave each mutt a happy thought before I drained them.
While we were out there, I noticed a few other little things. I didn't need to catch my breath after doing something strenuous. My muscles didn't ache. I never came close to sweating, even with the muggy night air. No yawning, no coughing, no sneezing, no booger build-up in my nose, no need to str
etch my muscles. Mosquitoes couldn't get through my thick skin. Even with the moon out, I knew I could see better in the dark than I ever could before. Everything was subtly different.
We left the junkyard and drove to a familiar midtown area. Viggo made a few calls on the way, and then told me park behind a specific building. It turned out to be the one where I'd first met the hot derelict, Audra. The backdoor was already unlocked, so we went on in. The centuries-old minion named Runa was inside, setting up camping chairs near the back wall of the large open room. Those five chairs were set up in a fairly tight circle; I had no idea what Viggo had in mind.
Runa studied me for a minute, and then respectfully bowed her head to me. I felt pretty awkward. There I was, the Veleti's newest minion brought into the night, while she'd been his servant for longer than I could imagine. I wondered if she hated me for it, and discreetly asked Viggo about it. He said that Runa was a dichotomy in that regard; she had no problem spilling blood, but she would drink no more than necessary to prolong her life. Runa had no interest in becoming a hemo. I envied her a little.
Viggo sent her off on some errand to go find some guy named Mr. Lucida. The way he phrased the task made it sound like a bitch of a mission. When Runa left, Viggo told me that his guests would soon be arriving. He wanted to see if I could keep myself 'ignored', even while moving around. It sounded like a pretty big challenge, but I was ready to try.
Gwen showed up first, followed by Traeg. Then a third person showed up - a tall, thin blonde guy who wore a polo shirt, khaki pants and loafers. He looked like a lawyer on vacation. As it turned out, I wasn't far off the mark.
None of them noticed me when they came in. Viggo introduced the guy to them only as Mr. Staalsen, a minion visiting from Europe. When they all sat, the discussion was about me. Viggo had already told them I'd been brought into the night, but he evidently didn't give any details then. Staalsen just sat and listened while the other two asked questions. Traeg, reserved as always, only wanted to know how the infliction went and if I was okay. Gwen, obviously tense, had more than that on her mind.