by Danika Kane
The gleam in Tor’s eyes enraged him. He used what little control he had left to touch the side of Tor’s face, brushing his thumb back and forth across his mouth as the boy stirred. “As you said, perhaps the curse isn’t real.” Sakima glanced down at the boy before locking eyes with Tor. “Take care my friend. You never know what creatures go bump in the night.”
He watched as Tor processed exactly what he was saying before walking out the door. Now he was going to have to deal with the issue but not until after the fight. Would Caldre show up or would the stories and accusations push him into a fog? Caldre was indeed losing his fight and his hunger was increasing. He sensed if he arrived at the competition he was going to have to be controlled. This situation was getting sticky. He allowed himself to think about becoming human again, something he’d longed for over the centuries. He’d also longed to share passion and perhaps love. What if? The thought was too daunting, especially right now.
Finishing his drink, he realized he hadn’t been able to read enough of what Tor was thinking. The man had been able to mask enough thoughts, or perhaps his abilities were being challenged. Greed did indeed have an interesting way of changing people, driving them to do things they wouldn’t ordinarily do. He had to make certain he was right about Tor before making choices that could prove to be deadly. After the match.
Sakima wasn’t surprised how crowded the facility was at all. Given the latest press coverage, the event was certain to be nothing more than a circus, taking away from the fights. He hated this, having worked far too long legitimizing what had once been questionable at best; running gambling events around major boxing events and footballs teams, basketball and even hockey in the later years. He’d grown weary of staying one step in front of the law and since nineteen eighty-five his businesses had been completely on the up and up. Now the entire dynasty he’d created might be ripped from under him.
He eased into the small area he’d been given next to where the fighters would change and mentally prepare and dropped his things. Lowering his head, he thought about Tor again, wondering if his friend had truly sold him out. This was a moneymaking operation and Tor had his share of needs like anyone else. What exactly was William trying to accomplish? The pieces of the puzzle would come together. When they did, he feared the consequences.
“Just what the hell are you?”
He didn’t have to turn around to know Caldre was pissed. “What am I? As in should you believe the accusations from the overbearing press?”
“No, I mean what the fucking hell kind of creature are you and what the hell did you do to me the other night other than fuck me?”
The nasty words caught him off guard. The moment he turned around he could see a photograph in Caldre’s hand. Even the quick flash was enough to tell him it was from decades before. He stole a look at the open door. “Close the door, Caldre. I don’t honestly think you want the rest of the team to know what I’m about to say. Do you?”
Caldre hesitated as if going to argue. He closed the door then walked closer, his eyes full of uncertainty. “Tell me. You did fuck me, didn’t you?”
“You mean the passion we shared? Yes, we had sex, but I assure you the heated event was mutual.”
“Oh, really. You call drugging a man and seducing him mutual? Where the fuck are you from?”
Sakima realized how on edge Caldre was and the intense connections between them were allowing him to feel exactly every hunger pang, every raw emotion. He was going to have to figure out how to keep the fighter safe. “You asked what kind of a creature I am, but you already know. Don’t you? Your hunger is growing. Your need building.”
“What in the hell are you talking about?”
There was a waver in Caldre’s voice, a tremor of anguish. He took the photograph from Caldre’s hand and brushed his fingers back and forth across the slick paper. Memories of the time were bitter sweet. The time had been a learning experience for him with various lovers, men of distinction who in the end betrayed him. “I loved the sixties. There were such interesting people then, some who honestly allowed me to be a real man. The music was incredible, the woman and men free with their sexuality and the business damn good.”
“I didn’t come here to get an up close and personal view of living in the nineteen sixties. I came here to find out why you’ve lived so fucking long. Now tell me what the fuck you are?” Slamming his hand down on top of the small desk, his eyes remained full of rage.
Sakima leaned over, allowing his chilled breath to cascade down from Caldre’s face to his neck. “Do you really want or need me to answer that question?”
“I do.”
“But you already know, don’t you?”
Caldre snarled. “Fucking tell me.”
“I am the monster all men and women fear, the one they speak of during dark nights where fear is prevalent. I’m the creation of Satan himself, an offspring of such tremendous evil that my entire tribe was cast into the Hell fires nearly ending our kind. If it had not been for the cunning curse of the Devil, allowing us to live and thrive among humans, we would be extinct.” He wanted the words to register and when they did, he could see nothing but amusement in Caldre’s eyes.
He reared back, bursting into laugher. “I guess you have to believe your own hype.”
“Hype? You’ve seen the picture.”
“Pictures can be doctored.”
“Yes, they can, but somehow you know better. Don’t you? You heard my single call as you always have. You’ve known you were much more than just a human male.” Inching around the desk, he took two long strides toward Caldre, sensing fear but also a heightened level of excitement. When Caldre remained silent he continued. “You’ve had dreams your entire life, something that has haunted you, but also a knowing that you were meant to be with our kind.”
“With?” His voice was barely audible. Looking away, he clenched his fist.
“Yes, you are my mate.” He moved within a few inches of Caldre and knew instantly there was a hint of understanding, recognition in his soul. “There are many things we need to talk about and you’re very hungry. You’re becoming ill.”
“What did you do to me?”
“I did nothing to you. You’re in need of my blood.”
Sputtering, Caldre took a step back and within a split second attempted to cold cock Sakima. His hand was yanked back, squeezed with enough pressure he groaned.
“You know I speak the truth.”
“Truth, what about needing blood? What the hell?”
“You feel a desire unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. The hunger is building and soon you won’t be able to control your actions.”
“Jesus Christ, you fucker!”
Snapping his hand over Caldre’s fist, he twisted Caldre’s wrist until the man winced. “You can’t best me. You know that instinctively so don’t bother to try. I know you’re confused. After the fight, we’re going to talk.”
“Talk? There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing. After this fight I’m going back to my original coach and you can take your team as well as your freak show somewhere else. Stash is much more your type.” He jerked away from Sakima’s hold. Spit erupting from his mouth, he pointed his finger as he tumbled backward. “Just stay away from me.”
“You need blood to survive. If you ingest mine you can last until this fight is over. If you don’t, the blood lust is going to consume you.”
“Blood? What the fuck is going on? I’m supposed to be some Goddamn vampire? Are you fucking out of your mind? I don’t know if this bullshit works on the boys you seduce, but it ain’t working on me. Got it, freak? Not on me!” He slapped his hand on the doorknob and groaned. “Stay away from me.”
As Caldre stormed out, he inhaled what was the light stench of the man and knew Caldre wasn’t going to last long. The scheduled fight wasn’t until the middle of the entire group. By then he could snap Stash’s arm or leg, crush his windpipe or other afflictions to acquire what he hungered for desperat
ely. Not only was Caldre famished, bloodthirsty unlike few he’d seen, but he was also enraged. The combination was far too dangerous.
Caldre remained on edge, his heart racing every second since he’d left Sakima’s presence. He felt dirty. Used. But there was something very wrong with him. He was unable to concentrate, think about the fight clearly. All he could hone in on was how thirsty he was. Water and Gatorade had only proven to nauseate him and by the second round of the fights he’d thrown up twice. The call? Fuck. The man had called him, like what, he was his slave? Jesus. Okay, so the day of the fire at the warehouse he’d sensed the guy in the Ferrari had been calling to him, but what the hell?
Nerves. That’s all it was. Nerves. He stood pacing the very back of the forum, as far away from everyone as he could get. He didn’t need prying eyes following him or the press hounding him. They’d nabbed him the second he’d climbed out of his truck, accosting him with questions and bombarding him with innuendoes. He was longing for peace of any and every kind. Wringing his hands, he paced the auditorium, keenly aware of his heart thumping in his chest, terrified of the words Sakima had told him. The worst part was he had a horrible feeling he was dying—at least dying in the sense of what he knew.
God, how in the hell could he contemplate believing something like this? There was no way the weirdo could be telling the truth. Then there was the picture. Damning evidence. He continued pacing, so unsure of anything except for the fact he was sick as a dog. Sweat was pouring off every inch of skin, soaking his already damp clothes. If he got through this night it would be a miracle.
Leaning against the cinder block wall, he folded his arms and closed his eyes. Suddenly Michael’s face appeared, the beautiful man smiling. He could almost swear he was here, standing and waiting for his lover like the old days. He allowed his mind to think about the past, the times they’d shared together. Meeting Michael had seemed so surreal.
“You do realize you have a destiny, don’t you?”
Caldre looked at Michael and shook his head. “You’re such a dreamer.”
“That’s what you’ve always told me. I’m here to care for you, protect you.”
“Protect me? You make this sound like you have a job to do.”
“In a way, I do.” Michael looked away as he walked toward the window. Palming the glass, he gazed out at the flashing lights of the cityscape and sighed.
“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” Always the cryptic shit. Michael could never simply talk about anything in a normal grouping of words. Everything was always so mysterious. After at least a full minute he grew frustrated.
“Things aren’t always what they seem. We live in a world where we believe ourselves to be the only intelligent creatures. Even animals we consider to be lowly beings when studies have proven they are sometimes superlative to our intelligence. How sad we simply can’t understand there is life that has nothing to do with being human. Fire tends to right the world.”
Caldre moved closer, a combination of anger and frustration raising his hackles. “Fire? What are you talking about? Why do you always do this? Why do you say shit that has no meaning for anyone? Are you on drugs?” The question seemed to hang in the air.
“You’re going to be challenged in your life but you have a destiny, a path forged in fire. Unfortunately, I can’t protect you any longer. I can’t provide the gift that you need. But I’ll always be watching.”
“You’re scaring the fuck out of me. What in the hell is going on?”
Very slowly Michael turned his head. “Just remember I love you. I truly fell in love with you, but you must accept what you are. You have to or you’re going to be killed.”
His mouth gaped open as he stared into the luminescent pools that were Michael’s eyes. And he knew there was no way they could be human.
Caldre shivered. Two nights after the bizarre conversation, Michael had been murdered. What he’d refused to allow himself to understand was the odd circumstances of Michael’s death. His lover had been crucified, his entire body drained of blood and all his vital organs ripped out of his body. He was shocked he’d allowed himself to go down the wretched memory path again. He kept his eyes closed praying for salvation.
“Well, well, the little prodigal faggot hiding from the rest of the world.”
The sound of Stash’s voice did nothing but fill his mouth with bile.
“Cat got your ugly, shit eating tongue?”
“Let it go, you jerk,” Caldre whispered.
“Jerk? I guess we’ll see in the ring. If I can’t beat a card-carrying faggot then I need to retire.”
The dark laughter floated into the dense space around them. Caldre swallowed hard, doing everything he could to remain calm. One fight and after that he was going to re-evaluate everything he knew about his life in general. Pushing off the wall with his foot, he moved quickly past Stash.
Snap!
Jerking his arm, Stash yanked Caldre to his side, blowing a swath of hot air across his face. “You’re such a fucking pussy. I can’t wait to get you in the ring and beat your ass to a pulp. Just like all good faggots deserve.”
Crunch! Boom!
Caldre hadn’t been prepared for the vehemence of his actions, the quickness of his step. When he looked around, the sight of Stash’s dazed body across the room on the floor was shocking. Yet, the more incredible aspect was that he knew all he had to do was wrap his hand around Stash’s throat, twist and the man would be dead. “See you in the ring. Come prepared to die, mother fucker.”
Whoosh! Bam!
“Yes!” The crowd was on their feet.
His adrenaline kicking in, Caldre beckoned Stash with one hand, an evil grin on his face. He’d never felt this damn powerful in the ring before and the crowd was loving it. He glanced over his shoulder and in truth was shocked to see a solid half dozen of his fellow firefighters in the audience. They’d come after the ugliness at the firehouse. He was honored and determined to show them what he could do, the fighter he’d become. “Come on mother fucker. Bring it on.”
“Fuck you, asshole. Be prepared to go down!” Stash hissed, his face contorting from rage as well as anguish.
The fight had been brutal so far, yet neither man was willing to give up. Caldre knew what he had to do and could tell Sakima was waiting anxiously on the side. A combination of wrath and adrenaline was fueling every move. He was on fire and loving every second. Taking several giant strides around his opponent, he preened for the cheering crowd as the lights swept across the ring. Heat was building to an almost intolerable level and he was having difficulty breathing. He watched as Stash calculated his next move, waiting as patiently as he could.
Stash lunged forward, his face contorting as he jumped in mid-air. “Yes!”
The screech was met with a raucous round of applause and without breaking a sweat, Caldre twisted his body, leaping a solid four feet into the air and catching Stash in the stomach with both feet.
Thud! Boom!
“Oh! Kill him!”
“Take him down!”
“Ground and pound!”
“Go, Caldre!”
There was no mistaking Draper’s voice. Caldre shot him a quick look and smiled.
“You can do it!” Captain Wilson’s voice boomed from the crowd.
Grunting, Caldre dropped on top of Stash, rolling him and in the next few seconds the sound of his heart thumping hard against his chest was a distraction. His adrenaline soared as blood and saliva erupted from Stash’s mouth. Sucking in his breath, he was so drawn to the crimson strings he licked his lips. He hadn’t realized his movements had ceased until he heard a combination of the now jeering men and women crowding closer and closer.
“Take him down! Jesus, move buddy!”
“Go, Caldre!”
Bam!
Caldre was pitched backward with enough force he was momentarily out of breath. Scrambling to his feet, he rushed forward and stumbled as a wave of nausea swept through him like a series of
bottle rockets. Blinking furiously, he held his stomach as he tried to take a few more steps. This can’t be happening. Not now. Get your ass moving. Even saying the words in his mind were painful as the dull echoes from claps and shouts had turned into pure white-hot anguish. Spots appeared in front of his eyes and he wasn’t certain he could go on any longer.
Caldre, you can do this. Breathe in and concentrate and I’ll help you later. Do this.
The words weren’t said out loud yet Caldre heard them clearly. He turned his head toward Sakima and the look became an instant tethering. He could clearly see what Sakima was thinking as his hunger increased along with Caldre’s.
“Die you fucker!” Stash slammed into Caldre, knocking him onto the mat and instantly placing him in a submission hold. As Stash’s arm crushed his neck, Caldre gasped and wrangled to try and get out from under him. Fuck, the man was strong.
“You’re such a looser,” Stash hissed. “Time to end your career, faggot.” He smiled a split second before he maneuvered his body, grabbing Caldre’s arm and yanking it back, using every bit of his upper body strength.
“Fuck!” Caldre instantly heard the noise from the wrenching injury to his rotator cup and stars floated in front of his eyes.
“Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill!”
“Ah!” Stash twisted Caldre’s arm again and he shoved his body around in a semi-circle.
Caldre moaned and gritted his teeth. A combination of nausea and almost desperate hunger was driving him mad. All he could think about was how thirsty he was, how much he wanted to hurt Stash, kill him. He wanted nothing more than to crush every bone in his body.
Break the hold. Break it now!
The subtle yet pointed command from Sakima was just what he needed. Sucking in his breath, he used the last of his strength in his legs and arms and pushed out, breaking the tight hold. In an undetectable move, he switched positions and as he twisted Stash’s arm in an almost one hundred and eighty degree arc, he slammed down on top of Stash’s body.
Boom! Crack!
“Fuck!” Stash’s scream was one of pure agony. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as his body started shaking involuntarily.