by Eldon Murphy
Imastious pulled the wires away from Geoffrey. "Very good, I'm happy to see that you've rejoined us on schedule."
Geoffrey tried to speak, but the gag stuffed into his mouth prevented anything recognizable from making it out of his throat.
"If only you were equally compliant and dependable in other things as well, we wouldn't be forced to continually experience these kinds of unpleasant episodes."
Geoffrey thought that someone was standing at the head of the bed, but couldn't turn his head far enough to verify the fact.
"Now, now. Venice is indeed beautiful, but you should be contemplating your situation, pondering your sins if you will, rather than trying to sneak a peek."
Confident that he had Geoffrey's full attention, Imastious set down the wires, and then turned back to Geoffrey. "The first thing you need to understand is that trying to run or hide is futile. I've told you before that my resources are sufficient to know exactly what you do and where you go. We gave you several days in which to choose your hiding place, and then came and collected you."
Shaking his head at Geoffrey's lack of response, Imastious picked up the wires once again, and returned to the bed. "You will learn eventually. You'll learn to obey me and complete the simple tasks that you're given. Of that I have complete confidence. You learned during our last visit that there are things worse than dying. Today you learned that you cannot escape me. Before I leave you tonight you'll learn that you are not important enough to my plans to merit any further indulgence."
Before Geoffrey could fully process Imastious' words, the older man touched the wires to each of Geoffrey's wrists, causing him to convulse and scream as well as he could past the gag.
No matter how Geoffrey struggled and fought, he couldn't free himself. He was forced to endure shock after shock as punctuation of Imastious' determination to see his spirit broken.
Any thoughts that what he was experiencing was induced by drugs fled within the first few minutes. He still couldn't explain how he could have possibly recovered from earlier sessions so quickly, but he was finally sure that what he was experiencing was real.
At some point Geoffrey started expecting to pass into unconsciousness, but his body proved tougher than he'd expected. That toughness, combined with the careful breaks Imastious provided, kept him coherent for what must have been hours.
Geoffrey never felt the slickness of blood that would have indicated Imastious had started using his knife again, but Geoffrey eventually lost track of what was being done to his abused body. Pain simply moved from one part of his being to another at irregular intervals, leaving him shaking and ever weaker.
The torture had stopped for several minutes before Geoffrey finally felt Imastious pat his cheek to capture his attention. "I hope you are starting to understand just how badly you can be hurt. I stopped just now not because I couldn't continue hurting you. I have other ways of inflicting even greater pain than what you experienced tonight, but I think my point has finally been made."
Geoffrey wished that he could dispute the point, but Imastious had just shown him that things could always get worse, that there were levels of suffering that he hadn't even believed were possible. It had just been starkly illustrated in blood and pain that there would always be a greater punishment waiting in the wings if Geoffrey didn't behave.
"Do you understand, my son?"
A part of Geoffrey knew that answering Imastious represented the first step towards compliance and cooperation, but the thought of what Imastious could do to him drove a response from him almost before he was able to think, and he nodded violently in affirmation.
Imastious patted Geoffrey once more on the cheek. "You must understand and promise to do better. I do not wish to do this to you. I truly do care for you. It's only your disobedience that makes me treat you so."
As Imastious left the room, Geoffrey idly wondered what Venice was going to do now that her master had left, but the cumulative effects of the last few hours were just too much. He passed out before he could string any more lucid thoughts together.
**
Geoffrey woke to a fresh set of clothing and new sheets. The batteries and wires were all gone, and other than some slight soreness, there wasn't any real evidence that he'd been tortured for hours the night before.
The sound of someone shifting slightly should have made Geoffrey nervous, but he'd somehow known that Venice would still be there.
"Welcome back, love."
After everything that had happened, a certain amount of caution was probably called for, but Geoffrey opened his mouth and responded with the first thing he thought of. "Don't call me that."
Venice shook her head and flashed him a smile that seemed to invite him to laugh at some secret joke, one that was shared only between the two of them. "Angry I didn't interfere last night?"
Geoffrey nodded slowly. He knew she wasn't going to be honest with him, but he didn't see any reason not to tell her the truth. It wasn't like he knew anything valuable that she could trick out of him.
Venice smoothly rose from the chair where she'd sat both times she'd visited. Geoffrey absently realized that, consciously or not, Venice was staking out her territory, and not just with his furniture.
Smoothing the loose, black pants she was wearing, the blonde gave Geoffrey an appraising look. "I told you. I can't afford to incur too much of Imastious' displeasure. He is more powerful than you understand--maybe stronger than you can imagine in your current state--and my life is only of slightly more worth to him than yours."
Walking over to the bed, Venice continued. "At one point you had an incredibly logical and powerful mind, but apparently no more. The real question we should be examining is why you bloody well seem to want me to intercede on your behalf, while simultaneously denying the kind of attachments which would make me inclined to do so."
Taking in the smooth expanse of shoulder that Venice's tank top revealed, Geoffrey realized that he was more uncomfortable than the sight of so much perfect skin could account for.
What had happened to him? Had he really been the cold-blooded killer that she made him out to be? If so, why was he now so reluctant to kill again?
Venice seemed to mistake Geoffrey's silence for agreement. "That's what I thought. Honestly, you need to start thinking rationally before you force Imastious to kill you and save himself the aggravation you're causing him right now."
Geoffrey wanted to respond, but there were just too many things he didn't know. "What am I?"
Venice smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I was wondering how long it would take you to ask that question. It was inevitable, unless you just decided that you were losing your mind."
Even though Geoffrey was aware that nothing Venice was about to tell him would necessarily be the truth, a tiny surge of hope washed through him at the prospect of finally understanding some of what was happening.
"Understand that there are a lot of subjects I can't talk about. Imastious would be very displeased to learn that I'd told you anything he didn't want you to know. There are a few things I can tell you though, things that I think will help you transition back to being a functional member of the team."
A cynical part of Geoffrey was pretty sure that the things she was about to tell him were the kinds of things that he would have figured out on his own eventually. She would be very careful to ensure that she could still throw him to the wolves later on if circumstances required it.
Venice sat down on the bed facing Geoffrey and leaned against his outstretched legs. "I'm kind of surprised that you haven't figured out some of it, especially with all the hints I've been dropping. The cravings for blood must have given you some idea that the myths and legends were based on something real."
She didn't have to actually say the word. If it hadn't been so impossible, he would have already admitted to himself that it was the only explanation for so many of the things he was going through. Vampires.
"I'm told that our condition is caused by a
virus of some kind, one so targeted that it can't survive in most hosts, and which hasn't mutated appreciably in the last several thousand years."
Geoffrey opened his mouth to protest that he didn't know anything about viruses, but as he thought about the subject he realized that he actually did know all kinds of things about various aspects of biology and pathogens.
"That rot really doesn't matter though. Most people die within a few hours of being exposed, which doesn't happen from just any bite. Those who survive, like us, enjoy a number of incredible benefits. Strength and speed surpassing that of most normal individuals, as well as a greatly slowed aging process. What do you think about eternal youth, love?"
Geoffrey suddenly had visions of unending life, of centuries passing slowly as he remained a slave to Imastious' whims. "You mean we're immortal?"
Venice shook her head with a pout. "Not quite. At least I don't think so. The older vampires like Imastious are obsessive about cloaking themselves in secrecy, so I don't know how old they really are. Probably thousands of years, but there are some indications that the aging process has other effects on the eldest of us that might eventually lead to death either effectively or actually. Not only that, but we can be killed through violence in much the same manner as a normal person."
Geoffrey's head was swimming, he could hear what Venice was saying, but another voice, one only inside his head, was telling him that she was leaving out information--important information.
"You said that we're the base from which the ancient legends sprang, but they aren't entirely accurate?"
Venice reached out and stoked Geoffrey's cheek. "There you go, that beautiful mind is working once again."
Geoffrey waited out the pause that followed, hoping that Venice would elaborate.
"Obviously we don't burst into flame once the sun comes up, but most of us sunburn easily and the older we get the harder it is for our eyes to adjust to full sunlight."
Venice paused again, as if trying to gauge the effect that her little tidbit of information was having on Geoffrey's thinking.
"As you've no doubt noticed, we crave blood. Most use normal food to fulfill their calorie requirements, but it still leaves some kind of dietary deficiency which blood is required to meet."
Geoffrey was desperately sure that she was lying. There had to be a way to survive without drinking blood.
Looking Geoffrey in the eye, Venice continued. "Based on how you've been acting lately, you're probably trying to think of some kind of alternate source for whatever it is we need. You should know that nobody has discovered one yet. Animal blood comes close, but still lacks something. If you go long enough without blood, you'll lose all ability to control yourself: you'll kill and feed again and again until the hunger has been satisfied and you finally regain your senses."
Venice seemed to expect a response, so Geoffrey shrugged.
"You probably don't believe me, but it's true. I'd much rather see you be selective in your choice of victim instead of suddenly snapping and killing the four or five people who happen to be handy. Also, you run the risk of killing yourself if you do that. We need blood, but too much blood at once will make you very sick. A binge like the one you'd probably go on if you were starving yourself could very easily kill you afterwards."
Geoffrey remembered the strange, disconnected way he'd felt in the subway tunnels, and felt the first glimmer of hope. Was it really possible that she was telling the truth? Had he really been unable to control himself? It would mean that the man's death would still be his fault, but it would be because of ignorance rather than an actual murder.
Venice interrupted Geoffrey's train of thought by reaching down to the floor and picking up not one, but two wooden swords. "Enough. Imastious left me with strict instructions and he's right; it's time for you to learn how to use one of these things again."
Despite all of the more weighty things worrying at the edge of Geoffrey's mind, a surge of anticipation swept through him as he accepted the practice katana and rose to his feet.
"You always did enjoy weapon work, but I suspect that it's going to be a while before you regain anything approaching your previous mastery. For now I get to be the teacher."
Geoffrey was still digesting Venice's statement when she drew her weapon and attacked him. It quickly became obvious she was just testing him, attempting to determine how much reflexive muscle memory had survived his amnesia. Despite that, it was all he could do to avoid or block her strikes in the limited space they had to work in. Venice finally cracked him across the chest with a casual blow, and then lowered her weapon.
"You're not very good anymore, obviously, but you seem to remember more than I would have expected. Your blocks and strikes are well executed still, you just don't know how or when to use them."
The next two hours were a bittersweet joy for Geoffrey. There was no denying that he derived great enjoyment from learning everything that Venice deemed him ready to know about fighting. Everything felt incredibly natural. Learning the correct way to hold the weapon, the various ways of executing a strike, it all felt right to him. It really was like he'd known it all before, like his body still remembered all of the things his mind had lost. The satisfaction was tainted by the thought that only a violent murderer would take such joy in learning how to kill and maim.
Once Venice felt that Geoffrey had received sufficient instruction with regards to the blade, she demonstrated a few unarmed techniques, one of which he recognized as the attack that he'd used on the person that had accosted him in the tunnels.
By the time Venice waved Geoffrey over to a chair, they were both soaked in sweat and breathing heavily. Venice waited until Geoffrey had set his practice weapon on the floor, and then sprawled out across his lap.
"You're doing well, love. All that remains is for you to make the kill. Once that happens, Imastious will be pleased enough to more or less leave you alone, except for those times when your special talents are needed."
Geoffrey stiffened, first because Venice had invaded his space, and then again as she calmly suggested that he take another life. The memory of his attacker in the subway dying beneath him terrified Geoffrey, but he knew that Imastious really would torture him if he didn't proceed with the hit. The torture had been bad enough when he'd thought it wasn't real. Now that he knew it wasn't a figment of his imagination he was realizing just what kind of things he was willing to contemplate to avoid having to go through it again.
For several seconds Geoffrey debated responding to Venice, but he had a strong suspicion that arguing with her wouldn't get him anywhere. He was better off just remaining silent.
"What, no denials? You are strangely compliant today, love. I suppose it is to be expected after a session like you had last night, but I must admit I'm surprised. Your general stubbornness should have seen you through another couple like that before you really started cracking."
Leaning her head slightly to the side, Venice looked into Geoffrey's eyes. "I don't suppose that your new attitude extends into other areas?"
Geoffrey felt his face turn to stone and, not trusting his voice, he shook his head.
"Very well. You probably have a few days before Imastious decides that you aren't going to comply with his wishes, and sets about arranging a suitable punishment for you. Since you're no doubt going to ignore my advice, at least enjoy the next couple of days. Whatever he plans for you will be much worse than what happened last night."
Venice rose from the chair and collected her things, leaving Geoffrey with nothing but his thoughts to torment him.
Chapter 6
Geoffrey had somehow hoped putting a night's rest behind him would provide the insights he needed. Unsurprisingly, his situation was no better upon waking.
Part of Geoffrey wanted to disbelieve Venice. He wanted to believe that she had been lying about the disease, about the absolute necessity of blood for his continued survival, but something told him that she was telling the truth. It had almost been as if
he could read her thoughts. She'd been worried that he would disbelieve her, but amused that out of all of the lies she had told him, that this would be the thing he would choose to discount. Still, even over the amusement, Geoffrey had been able to tell that she'd been worried about the ramifications to her personally if he were to kill himself by overdosing on blood.
Getting himself out of bed and out the door was much harder than Geoffrey had expected. Then again, given that all of his options for escape had been cut off, it made sense that he wouldn't feel particularly motivated. Trying to avoid torture might work as a motivation to do things, but he was pretty sure that wouldn't work long term. Human beings needed a purpose, something to live for, to work towards. The real question was whether or not he'd find a worthwhile purpose or if he'd become like Imastious and lose whatever small bits of humanity he still possessed.
As Geoffrey walked down the stairs and exited the building, a simple, even elegant, solution presented itself to him. He could always take himself out of the equation and just end everything.
Geoffrey dismissed the idea immediately, only to then pause and wonder why it was so repulsive to him. He thought it was because giving up ran counter to his nature, but he couldn't rule out the possibility that he was just too frightened to do it.
Once again, Geoffrey found himself aimlessly wandering the shadowed, crowded streets as the sun made its tired way down behind the skyline. Several miles later, he realized that he'd stumbled into an area that looked very familiar. He'd returned to the area where he'd attended the funeral.
As Geoffrey slipped through the dwindling crowds, he felt a sudden need to talk to the priest again. If anyone would understand what he was going through it would be the priest.
Arriving at the door, Geoffrey felt a premonition of doom. Everyone he'd had even the briefest of contact with had died. If Imastious was as all-knowing as he kept claiming, then Geoffrey was putting the priest in danger by going inside. The risk was just too great.
Geoffrey turned to walk away, but before he could complete the motion, the battered, black door before him opened to reveal a familiar, smiling face.
