What Evils Lurk in the Hearts of Men DNS

by Black, Mychael

“The last batch is ready for your inspection, mein Herr.”

  Despite his loyalty to the man, Wulf kept his distance.

  Karl wasn't a vampire, and therefore only human in speed. His cruelty, however, far surpassed any others.

  “Very good,” Karl said, his attention on a sheet of paper on his highly polished desk. “There is more.”

  Wulf swallowed. Karl spooked him with what could only be dubbed “mindreading”. “Ja. “He cleared his throat. “Our mission in the States has been--”

  “Cut abruptly short,” Karl interrupted, looking up just enough to fix an unnerving gaze on Wulf. “Yes, I know.”

  Unsure whether he should be worried that Karl knew, Wulf pressed cautiously forward. “There is rumor that the United States government is behind it.”

  “I don't want rumors, Wulf.” Karl slid the paper across the desk, leaving Wulf no choice but to move closer in order to read it. “I received word this morning.

  According to our sources there, our primary concern lies with Arcanum.”

  “Arcanum?”

  Karl stood and, for the briefest moment, Wulf forgot his station and looked his fill. Movement jerked him back to the matter at hand. “Arcanum is the United States government's answer to our own pariah:

  Forschungszentrum für metaphysische und üernatürliche Phänomene.”

  Wulf groaned. The Zentrum, for short, was touted to be Europe's biggest--and best--paranormal research center. For Karl Jerrik, the bastards only qualified as potential cattle. Wulf didn't necessarily fear them, but they had a bad habit of getting in the way. Karl's patience had begun to wear thin several months ago, and now they had the possibility of U.S. involvement to deal with.

  “I want facts, not rumors, Wulf.” Karl closed the distance between them and Wulf went absolutely still.

  He treasured his balls and his head too much to give into the lure this evil man presented. “I trust only you to do this.”

  “Ja, mein Herr,” Wulf murmured. Unable to help himself, he let his gaze slip to briefly drink in the wickedly sweet curve of Karl's lips.

  “Don't fail me.” Karl's fingertip beneath Wulf's chin was all it took to bring Wulf back around to reality.

  “Victory leads to...rewards.” He released Wulf and went back to his desk. “Failure,” he said as he sat down, “leads to pain.”

  Pain.

  Wulf knew about pain. He'd watched friends and family succumb to the Black Death, but his own death had come about much differently. How he had ended up in his current arrangement, he no longer remembered.

  Anyone else would've asked what Karl Jerrik knew of pain, but Wulf was no fool. He'd seen the scars covering Karl's body, adding to the mortal's otherworldly beauty.

  “Torture the flesh, settle the mind,” Karl had once said.

  The intricate pale lines bore testament to the truth of those words.

  ***

  The compound covered a vast swath of land and included development and research buildings, housing for the mortals, separate spaces for the “guests”, and even a small airport. It was the perfect state-of-the-art research institute. It also made the perfect front for what really went on below.

  Several miles beneath the surface, far from prying eyes and the danger of sunlight, the vampires slept, fed, worked, and played. Karl had built them a world of their own, in exchange for a tiny fee upfront. He took a vial of blood from each and every vampire and tested it in a lab. He knew the sequence to look for, but every vampire he'd tested came up negative--not even the tiniest hint of the daywalker gene. He couldn't make it from scratch, but he could make it synthetically if he had even a minute bit of blood.

  Research, however, required funding. That came in the form of the blood farms--a network of purification vats that cleansed the blood of “guests” and any other unfortunate souls who crossed Karl's path. The pure blood then entered the black markets of the world, fetching high prices.

  So far, no one had batted an eyelash. Wulf knew the authorities wondered why Karl opened his facilities to people needing shelter, but Karl made absolutely certain that those he bled wouldn't be missed. Finding them was Wulf's primary job. He combed the streets of Berlin and places as far away as the States, looking for the right ones, the ones who needed a hand in life. Then he brought them back to Jerrik, vulnerable and ripe for picking.

  Wulf shivered. Karl Jerrik made him ache every time he neared the man. Something about the mortal ate away at Wulf's sense of self-preservation. He often wondered what it would feel like to sink his cock into the man's body, to feel those smooth, toned muscles ripple around him. Then again, he had the distinct feeling that Karl Jerrik did not bottom much, if at all. Hell, to get his hands on that body, Wulf would gladly offer up his own ass.

  He shoved such thoughts away and continued on to his quarters down the hall from Jerrik's office. He had to find out what Arcanum knew, and that meant setting up surveillance for the head of the Zentrum, Erich Killian.

  The vampire had been in charge of the Zentrum since its opening day. If the men from Arcanum paid the agency a visit, that's who they'd see. Wulf couldn't stand Killian, though. Something about the vampire made him uneasy.

  Killian was older, his background sketchy. No one knew for sure who he'd been in life; most just accepted that he had only grown in power since his mortal death sometime in the twelfth century.

  Either way, Wulf had a job to do. Maybe one day, Karl's subtle advances would finally break down Wulf's resolve. Until then, Wulf figured fantasies were much safer.

  Chapter Three

  Riley woke to the smell of food. While his brain certainly remembered the love of eating, his stomach rebelled at the mere thought. He groaned and got up. In vampire years, he was an infant at only ten years since his turning, but he'd learned enough from Lane Wallace in the past several months to know that his uniqueness made for some interesting effects. He greatly differed from regular vampires, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the guys at Arcanum started noticing it.

  Robe on and tied at the waist, he wandered down the hall and into the kitchen. Standing in nothing but black uniform pants, Jonah made the most delectable feast on the menu. Riley forced himself to sit down at the bar, however, instead of sating his hunger on his brother.

  “Hey,” Jonah said, flashing him a smile over one shoulder.

  “What time is it?” Riley tugged over a coffee cup and poured it full of freshly-brewed coffee. Food, he couldn't do; liquid, only in small amounts.

  “Seven in the morning.” Jonah finished cooking and plated his breakfast before sitting across from Riley at the bar. “Weird not cooking for you anymore.”

  Riley chuckled. Before his death and subsequent turning, Jonah had loved cooking for them both. Riley missed the ability to eat. “Believe me, it's weird not being able to join you.”

  “You awake enough for work-talk?” Jonah asked between bites of eggs and bacon.

  “Yeah. What's up?”

  Jonah shifted to get something out of his pocket. He placed the flat, round disc on the countertop and pushed it toward Riley. “Any ideas? Was on our catch last night.”

  Riley picked up the trinket and studied it. “Huh.

  Odd.”

  “What?”

  “I swear I've seen it--or something similar--before, but I don't remember when or where.” He turned the piece over and over, hoping to find some kind of marking to give away a name or place of origin. “What did Lane say?”

  “He said it's not old--definitely not his era,” Jonah said. “But it's not brand-new either. He suggested it might be tribal, but that doesn't really mesh with vampires, does it?”

  Riley smirked. “It does with daywalkers.” He sighed and set the thing back on the counter. “Did some research after you left.” At Jonah's raised eyebrow, Riley laughed a bit. “You'd be amazed how much information on daywalker history there is online.

  Although all sources claim daywalkers no longer exist, there's a good bit
of detail on our origins.”

  Jonah pushed his emptied plate away and sipped his coffee. “Do tell.”

  “Apparently, we're the result of a blood mutation--”

  “We already know that,” Jonah interrupted.

  “I know, but there's more.” Riley continued. “The first daywalkers... weren't human, Jonah.”

  “Huh?”

  “They were hybrids of two now-extinct species: dragon and fae.”

  Jonah stared at Riley, and Riley couldn't really blame his brother for the disbelief. “So... they were half-dragon, half-fairy?”

  “Kind of.”

  “But dragons don't exist,” Jonah pointed out.

  Riley sat back, arms crossed. “Since becoming involved with Arcanum, you acknowledge there is much in this world we don't understand--and that science has yet to discover--correct?” Jonah nodded, skepticism clear in his expression. Riley pressed on. “Many species of creatures--some humanoid, some not--have lived and gone extinct on this planet. Two of those are the fae--a darker version of your typical children's story fairy--and the dragons. I'm not talking about the behemoths you see in movies. I'm talking about human-ish, bipedal, fire-loving creatures that had scales all over their bodies, and might even have lived somewhat like we do.”

  “Okay. Suppose this history is true. How did these two unbelievably different beings merge to create daywalker vampires?”

  “The fae hated the light because it burned them. They lived beneath the ground, and their worship involved blood. They believed if they drank the blood of their enemies, they would gain power.”

  Jonah nodded as he refilled both of their cups. “Not unusual in some ancient cultures.”

  “Right. The dragons were just one group of such enemies. According to various sources, their blood, instead of being absorbed into the faes', actually mutated it. The fae began to realize they could venture out in the sun without incident. So they started capturing drakelings to bleed them, using the blood to transform themselves into an entirely new species of creature.”

  “Jesus. Couldn't you have picked a less... morbid lineage to get involved with?”

  Riley rolled his eyes. “Not anymore than I could've picked a sister over a brother.”

  Jonah grunted something that sounded vaguely like “fuck you” and finished his coffee. While he put the dishes in the sink, Riley looked at the medallion again.

  He'd seen it--or at least the runic symbol on the front-- before. From his earlier research, he knew it had something to do with daywalker society.

  “Clans,” he muttered.

  “What?” The dishes clanked in the sink as Jonah filled it with soap and water. Riley made a note to get a dishwasher at some point.

  “Daywalker society was set up in clans, not covens like regular vampires. Each clan traced its bloodline back to its fae progenitor. The clans used runic symbols like this one to distinguish between one another.”

  “Why did a regular vampire have that on him, though?”

  Riley shrugged. “Better question is: how did he get it in the first place?” He rubbed his thumb over the incised rune. “Think we need to talk to Lane.”

  “He didn't know much about it.”

  “No, but he may know someone else who does.”

  Jonah finished the few dishes and dried his hands. “I need to do some paperwork, but Lane should be there tonight.”

  “I'll go see him then. I know he has contacts that we don't know about.”

  “The man is virtually ancient.”

  Riley laughed. “I wouldn't say ancient, but yeah, he's a hell of a lot older than me.”

  Jonah rounded the counter and kissed him. “I need a shower. Wanna join me?”

  “Mmm...” Hands on his brother's hips, Riley turned until Jonah stood between his legs. “That's a very tempting offer, Detective.”

  Jonah untied the belt of Riley's robe and parted the soft material. “God, you're gorgeous...”

  “All yours.” Riley ran his hands up Jonah's sides, pulling him closer. Jonah went right for the sensitive spot where Riley's neck met his shoulder. Riley groaned, cock filling. “What happened to the shower?”

  Heated kisses moved down his neck, then back up to his lips. Jonah had an uncanny knack for making Riley forget about everything else. Those talented fingers drifted along the inside of Riley's left thigh. He parted his legs, but Jonah ignored his cock entirely.

  “Jonah,” Riley muttered, “Either fuck me now, or fuck me in the shower, but for God's sake, do it.”

  Jonah chuckled and took one of Riley's hands. “Come on.”

  By the time they got to the bathroom, Riley's cock stood out, begging for attention. He leaned back against the door frame and watched Jonah start the water. The uniform pants fit Jonah like a glove, with just enough give to make field work a bit easier. Riley's own uniform pants fit like a second skin, but then he was the one who always blended into shadows. He needed tight, black clothing to remain unseen. Or so everyone else thought. He let them believe it.

  Jonah stripped off the black pants and set them on the toilet lid. Then he stepped into the shower and grinned.

  Riley didn't need an invitation. His robe hit the floor and he got in, pulling the curtain behind him. Hot water and even hotter skin greeted him. Jonah turned them, pinning Riley against the tiled wall.

  Riley groaned, every inch of his body surging to meet his brother's. “Jonah...”

  “Turn around.”

  Soon as he faced the wall, Riley pressed his palms to the tile. Jonah spread him open and gave his hole a long, slow lick. Riley pushed back, bending at the waist.

  Jonah's hands on his hips, Riley moaned the moment his brother's tongue pierced his body.

  “God. Jonah, please.” Riley dropped one hand to his cock, stroking it nice and easy.

  Jonah rose and the wet tip of his prick rubbed Riley's ass. Riley rocked back just as Jonah thrust in. “Fuck,” Jonah hissed, both hands gripping Riley's hips tight.

  Riley panted and stopped stroking his own cock. He wanted to hold off coming for as long as possible. Jonah withdrew until just the head remained, then he switched his angle and plunged back inside. Riley shouted and rode his lover's cock hard, rhythm going from gentle to almost-brutal within seconds. Jonah's fingers dug into his hipbones, tugging him back onto the man's thick cock.

  “Don't stop,” Riley gasped, pumping himself once more. “Jonah. Oh, fuck!”

  The second Riley came, Jonah bit his shoulder, heat flooding his body. He shuddered, loving the way Jonah's cock pulsed deep inside him. A few minutes later, their breathing evened out and Jonah withdrew slowly.

  “Love you,” Jonah whispered in Riley's ear.

  Riley caught his brother's hand and kissed Jonah's knuckles. “I love you, too.”

  ***

  “Any thoughts?”

  Lane sat back in his chair, feet propped on the corner of the desk, and examined the medallion. “Like I told Jonah, it's not readily familiar to me. It does somewhat resemble a clan rune, but not one I've ever seen.”

  “You think there might be a newly-formed clan?”

  Riley asked.

  “I hope not,” Lane sighed. “The clans dissolved when we realized we'd be harder to find if we split up.”

  “So... you're one of the original survivors from the last clans?”

  “Yes. My clan broke up when the others in it discovered I had been intimate with a human.”

  “Oh.”

  Lane dropped his feet to the floor and opened a drawer in his desk. “You're going to meet him, so I might as well be open about it.” He set a faded, delicate-looking slip of paper on the desktop. “It was the last letter he wrote me.”

  Riley picked up the letter carefully, almost afraid to even blink wrong at it. The ink had significantly faded over the centuries, but he managed to make out a few words. Most importantly, he could read the name at the bottom: Erich.

  “Erich. Killian?” He looked up just as Lan
e nodded.

  “Wow. What happened?”

  “His family found out. He fled out of fear of death, despite my protests and promises to keep him safe. I trust him with my life, but my heart and soul will never again be his.”

  “How did he become a vampire, then?”

  Lane replaced the letter in the drawer. “That, I do not know.”

  “Wait. I thought you said you weren't gay.”

  “Erich was the first, and the last. I swore off relationships of any type for a long time. Over the past few decades, I've been with women, but not another man--never again.”

  Riley left Lane's office with more questions than answers. Why would someone create a daywalker clan if the others had disbanded for safety? And what the hell was a regular vampire doing with a daywalker rune in the first place? Riley hoped to God that Lane's former flame had some ideas because he sure as fuck didn't.

  “Any luck?” Jonah asked when Riley walked into the office they shared.

  “Lane suggested we contact a guy named Erich Killian in Germany.”

  “He's the one who runs the paranormal research center, isn't he?”

  “Yeah.” Riley dropped into his chair and tossed Jonah the medallion. “You've heard of him?”

  Jonah caught it and put it in the box he kept on his desk. “Only in connection with the center. Why?

  Anything we need to be wary of?”

  “He and Lane share a... past,” Riley answered, pausing a second when another detective walked by the open door.

  “Huh?” Jonah took the hint, got up, and shut the door to give them some privacy. “He's not gay.”

  “Apparently it was a one-time thing. A serious one that didn't end so well.” Riley cracked a smile when his brother locked their office door. “What are you doing?”

  Jonah turned the chair so Riley faced him, then went down to his knees. “Nothing. Why?” Warmth seeped through Riley's jeans as Jonah's palms inched up his thighs.

  “Thought we agreed...” Riley held back a groan as exploring fingers stroked his denim-covered balls, “...no fucking here.”