by Jane Bled
“Gabriel, this is not the time to test my patience. Wipe that shit off, it's disgusting.”
The actor paid him not a whit of attention, and continued his finger-painting with renewed gusto. Raiden scowled.
“You really, really don't want to make me mad while I'm driving.”
“I really, really don't give a damn. Maybe I'll stop doodling if you answer my question,” Gabriel replied, still facing away. The back of someone's head had never seemed so infuriating. He would really look a lot better headless.
“I already answered your question: I am not going to tell you where we're going. We're almost there—will you just kill the curiosity and stop molesting my window?”
Gabriel sighed loudly, pivoting in his seat to stare at the side of Raiden's face.
“Where are we going—?”
“Damnit, Gabriel! Stop fucking ASKING me that! Do you realize how idiotic you sound? Shit, the Botox you’ve obviously been abusing must've really gone to your head!”
Raiden’s patience was threadbare. The TV star had the nerve to look insulted by his comment.
“Don't knock it 'til you try it. In my honest opinion, you could benefit from a few injections yourself. I thought one of the gifts of becoming a vampire was eternal youth. Unfortunately for you, Raiden, that ship has sailed.”
Mother. Fucker. Smarting from the affront, he nearly drove over the median, cursing as the car swerved haphazardly in the left lane. Gabriel snorted. Raiden had to change the subject, before he did something really stupid, like tear out the younger vampire’s tongue and choke him with it.
“Look, smartass, if I tell you where we're going, you'll just try to plan everything out and anticipate your actions according to your surroundings. Part of being a successful vampire is to adapt quickly, regardless of location. You have to learn to improvise, or else you'll never make it. Consider this Lesson Two in your budding education.”
Gabriel gaped at him in disbelief.
“But you have prior knowledge of the location! You know exactly what to expect! That makes you a total hypocrite. How am I supposed to learn from a teacher who can't even practice what he preaches?”
“Unlike you, I have plenty of experience. I've been doing this for over five years, Gabriel. I have skills you don't posses.”
“Well, your so-called 'skills' didn't seem to matter the night you bit me. You didn't even know who you were feeding off until it was too late. That's just sloppy.”
Gabriel’s words were laden with wincing bitterness. Gripping the steering wheel, Raiden tossed his head, flicking too-long blond bangs out of his eyes. No, the sloppy part was that I changed you. The EXTRA sloppy part is that I haven't gotten rid of you yet. He willed the light to change from red to green as his stomach lurched unpleasantly. The nerves were trying to win.
“I didn't say that I never make mistakes! Look, Gabriel...”
He paused for a moment, unsure of how to continue. The actor crossed his arms and waited, brows furrowing together as Raiden tried to regain his composure.
“Okay, it's like this: if you really want me to teach you everything I know so that you can be self-sufficient, you're going to have to—to trust me,” Raiden finished, squinting against the onset of his pupil’s inevitable outburst. Right on cue, Gabriel's faced twisted into a knot of disdain, disbelief, and something Raiden couldn't quite place.
“Trust you? Me, trust you? Did you misplace your brain while you were off gallivanting with Taro these past two days? What, did he suck it out of your dick or something?” Gabriel screeched. Immediately, he looked surprised, as if he hadn't exactly expected those words to come tripping out of his mouth.
“What—what the fuck?” Raiden choked. He nearly missed the left turn he was supposed to make. The tires squealed, protesting, but the wheels straightened out as he bore down on the steering wheel with white-knuckled fingers. Their conversation had veered off into some strange, out-of-the-blue territory, and Raiden didn't quite know what to make of it. Gabriel’s tone reminded him of something like jealousy. Nah, he couldn't be—the older vampire suddenly grinned.
“First of all,” Raiden began, darting his glance to the actor’s face, “We weren't 'gallivanting', we were working our asses off. It's one of the downsides to being the most popular band in Japan. I realize this is something you know nothing about, since to you, working your ass off means dropping your pants and blubbering for the camera, but try to understand.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes, but remained silent.
Raiden continued. “Second of all, what's with the jealous wife routine? I may be your creator and all that shite, but we're not even mates. Hell, we don't even LIKE each other.”
“That's for damn sure,” Gabriel muttered. He slunk down in his seat, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. Aw, look at him, trying not to get all embarrassed. Where's a camera when you need one? Raiden snickered.
“And third of all, who I fuck, who I suck, and who sucks me, is none of your goddamned business.”
He reveled in the slight clench of Gabriel's jaw. I win. With that triumphant thought, he pulled into an inconspicuous parking space and shut off the car. They had arrived. Gabriel started, taking in his surroundings with an increasingly bug-eyed expression. As the fledgling vampire surveyed their stakeout spot, Raiden braced himself for a deluge of questions. Here we go.
On the surface, Mouth Garden was a completely unremarkable park. Flowers were scarce and scant, trees dull and dry, the atmosphere jaded. It had, however, one defining feature—after the sun retired, its frequenters were among the wealthiest in the city. Corrupt cops were paid off to look the other way, so the park was completely unsupervised by the law. At sunset, Nagoya’s damned and doomed gathered to indulge in their vices.
Mouth Garden was a virtual beehive of deviant activity. Here, businessmen would forget their status, abandon thoughts of fidelity, and surrender to voracious sexual craving. Hookers of all shapes, sizes, and gender would take their tricks here for an easy-access, relatively private fuck. This way, their clients wouldn’t have to worry about love hotel bills littering their credit card statements, nosy cops tapping on steamed-up windows, or globs of come staining the expensive interiors of their cars. Raiden came here frequently, because it was hidden, forbidden, and somewhat discreet.
More importantly, there were tons of places to hide bodies. Though it was full dark, the experienced vampire could easily discern each individual parkgoer and size them up in a matter of seconds. Hmm, who's gonna be the lucky victim? A tranny? A sweet young thing? There were plenty of choices; the park was ripe with possibilities. Raiden felt a familiar. raw excitement stirring at base of his spine, spreading upward, downward, outward. Tonight, the scent of blood was particularly heavy, either due to the unseasonably warm weather, or more likely, to the bobbing arousals bursting out of jeans. He inhaled. Damp linen, moist cotton, clinging chiffon, cock, blood, pussy, blood, jizz, blood—
“You can't be serious.”
Gabriel's flat statement interrupted Raiden’s prey-gazing.
“And why not?” Raiden snarled. As usual, the younger vampire had ruined his private moment.
“Because this is a public place. Someone will recognize us.”
“And what, you thought we'd be dining alone? Like how you ate your first meal? I hate to rain on your parade, Gabriel, but there's no room service here.”
The actor seemed utterly baffled. He even tried to laugh. “So you're telling me that we're going to just...walk out of the car, pick a random person, and proceed to demolish said person in the relative proximity of others? And then—and then somehow dispose of the body and walk back to the car all bloody and dirty and—and just—drive away like nothing ever happened?” Gabriel giggled. Raiden was appalled by this unpredictable burst of titters.
“Uh...pretty much, yeah. Of course, it will be a little more complicated than that, but basically, that's the way we're gonna do it.”
Gabriel shook his head, grin fa
ding. “Raiden, this joke might actually be really, really funny if I weren't ravenously hungry, but—”
“If it's not funny, then stop laughing! You're creeping me out. And more importantly, you're wasting time. Did you ever think that maybe I might be hungry, too?”
The older vampire was irritated by his creation’s irrational amusement. He was about to shake some sense into him, but then Gabriel whipped around, his face contorted into an expression that was petulant and alarming and downright monstrous. Bloody hell! Startled to the core, Raiden nearly screamed like a girl. Gabriel leaned closer and pointed a spidery finger at him.
“If you actually think I'm going to risk my reputation, my money, my fame, my career, my name for a cheap meal, I need to set you straight. There is no fucking way I'm eating here. Do you understand?” Gabriel hissed, practically spitting all over his face.
In that moment, Raiden would have given anything to throw him out and leave him there—fuck responsibility, fuck consequences, fuck it all. Perhaps the only apparent reason why he didn't peel off into the sunset, however, was pride. Raiden hated, reviled, and absolutely loathed the idea of giving up, of running away, of looking weak. Teaching his creation how to survive was by far the biggest challenge the five-year vampire had faced since his own turning.
Gabriel was like a slow-hammered nail: he cut steadily deeper into Raiden’s sanity each day. His presence penetrated the singer’s self-imposed shield, exposing the guilt beneath. Despite the actor’s prima donna behavior, wild mood swings, and willful disobedience, Raiden felt the overwhelming need to help him. You don't really want to help him. You want to help yourself, clean up the mess you made. He dared not think that the foreign voice invading his head sounded anything like Gabriel’s. That's the last thing I need, a psychopath inside my brain. Fan-fucking-tastic.
It finally dawned on Raiden that if Gabriel passed the test tonight, the burden of teaching him would fall upon his shoulders alone—and he would have to accept the responsibility of caring for a newborn vampire. He would have no choice but to show Gabriel all his secrets; everything private he valued about his existence. Inwardly, he groaned in frustration. Not only would he have to share his meals with Gabriel, but he would also need to reveal the more intimate details of his life, and demonstrate tricks of the trade he had never before intended to divulge. Since the change, he had always loathed anyone getting close, to know him in any way that wasn't superficial; in this case, however, there was absolutely no alternative.
The childish part of Raiden's brain wanted nothing more than to throw a massive temper-tantrum, slap the mess out of Gabriel, and then run away laughing and screaming. Then, go fuck the brains out of a really hot chick, suck her dry, and trash her corpse on the side of the freeway for some poor unsuspecting family to find as they stopped in the breakdown lane to change a flat. At the thought of food, saliva squirted into his mouth, and he gave a longing sigh. As if on cue, he heard Gabriel's mouth water in turn, though the younger vampire tried to cover it up with some exaggerated throat-clearing. I heard that. A rush of confidence soared through Raiden's veins, reenergizing him on the spot. He figured out how to get his cohort to break. Calmly, he unbuckled his seatbelt and waited.
Gabriel ranted and raved for the next ten minutes. For the next fifteen, he tried a more rational approach that started to veer off into coaxing at the end. Raiden was pretty hungry, but he knew if he gave in to his pupil’s demands, he would lose his credibility as a teacher; more importantly, he would lose power. He held his ground, even when his creation threatened to start feeding off himself. For the last twenty minutes, Gabriel was reduced to helpless begging and pleading, imploring him to find them somewhere else to go so he could feed. When it finally became clear to him that the older vampire wasn't giving in, he pulled one last trick out of his sleeve.
“If you don't take me somewhere else right now, I'll tell everyone what you really are. I'll tell them what you did to me, I'll tell them what you do to your victims; I'll tell them everything.”
“Fine by me. I'm tired of your empty threats, Gabriel. If you're going to tell on me, than just do it already,” Raiden replied wearily, pretending that he didn't really feel the knot of anxiety twisting in his chest. Then again, he knew he really didn’t have much to worry as much as Gabriel assumed he did. Due to his altered state of existence, his careful modifications to the victim’s wounds, and the fact that he always wore gloves during a feed, no one had been able to track the bodies back to him.
He remembered a time five years ago when he had forgotten to cut away the bite marks he left on a victim. Unfortunately, the body was found by a pack of kids digging for make-believe pirate booty. Of course, the story appeared in the paper. Every day Raiden monitored it, feeling for sure that his luck had run out. However, five weeks into the case, the media leaked confidential information to the public, stating that the forensics team was baffled by the DNA left behind by the perpetrator—the bite marks in particular. Furthermore, the team was unable to find any matches even remotely close to matching the DNA. Three days later, the police department declared the case solved. The murderer, the forensics experts surmised, was a new breed of bat. Upon reading that, Raiden laughed for a long, long time—until Taro seriously considered calling for help.
“Just what the fuck is so funny, Rai?”
“You wouldn’t get it, T. You just wouldn’t get it.”
“Whatever. You feel like dressing up today?”
“Why?”
“Because I promised our agent you’d do some last-minute PR for our new album. They want you to go girly again, and I said it was a definite possibility.”
“Fuck, Taro!”
That had completely killed the mood. Speaking of mood-killers...Gabriel’s tirade was finally drawing to a close.
“Okay, FINE, Raiden. I—I retract my previous statement. We’ll do it your way. I just—I don't understand why we have to do it here. It's so risky,” the younger vampire said in a meek tone. The sheen of sheer hunger replaced the earlier spark of anger in his eyes.
“I told you, Gabriel. You have to try to trust me. I've been a vampire for years. I know—I generally know—what I'm doing. Plus, I'm looking out for my own ass. I wouldn't take you here if I thought it would get me in trouble,” Raiden explained, reaching into the glove compartment. He retracted two pairs of gloves and shades. Donning sunglasses at night was fairly common at Mouth Garden, considering the fact that it was frequented by the upper crust. They tended to move in small social circles, so many of them tried to disguise themselves while visiting the park. Trench coats, jackets, and rain coats were just as common. After all, the people who came here after dark didn’t want to be recognized.
“Put on the sunglasses, Gabriel. Don't forget the gloves.”
“I don't know if I can kill an innocent person again,”
Gabriel had a spacey look on his face. Raiden rolled his eyes. Here we go again.
“Of course you can. You can't hold back instinct. C’mon, let’s do this. I’m not going to sit here starving while you agonize over your self-imposed morals. Are you going to eat with me or not?”
“Would I be here if I hadn’t planned on eating?” Gabriel shot back, the ghost of his earlier defiance returning. The older vampire smiled secretly. It was infinitely better to see the cheeky side of Gabriel than the mournful one.
“You better not wig out this time.”
“Oh, because sucking someone’s blood is such a normal part of my life.”
“It’s going to have to be, if you want to keep yourself alive," Raiden said through gritted teeth, donning his gloves and checking his shaded reflection in the mirror.
“So you keep reminding me.”
“Remember, you’ll have to do exactly as I instruct you or there may be a very good chance this is the last time you’ll see your name at the top of Hoity-Toity’s Most Eligible Bachelor List.” He gestured for Gabriel to put on his gloves and sunglasses.
Unbuck
ling his seatbelt, the actor yanked the rearview mirror in his direction and gazed at his worried reflection. He fiddled with wayward strands of hair. “You’re just jealous because I have more game than you.”
“We’ll see about that. I’d be willing to bet my left incisor that you’re the corniest fucking lay ever.”
Raiden reached into the backseat to grab his tool belt, which consisted of a hunting knife, a razor, extra gloves, rope, wire, and a gag. Can never be too prepared. He snapped it on, and made sure that everything was in place. Gabriel narrowed his eyes.
“Well, it’s a good thing you’ll never find out, or else you’d be missing a tooth,” was his clever comeback.
Raiden bit back a sudden giggle and gave a dramatic eye roll. Grabbing his raincoat, he unlocked the car doors. “That was almost clever, Gabriel. Now don't forget your slicker.”
“But it's not raining yet,” his student protested.
Raiden smirked and reached over, patting his knee. Dumbass. “Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel...it's not for the rain.” He opened the door with a flourish, gesturing for the actor to follow him.
A few minutes ago, while Gabriel was busy whining, the older vampire had already chosen their intended victim. The man was about forty, five foot six, trim save the paunch around his middle. He was probably a businessman of some sort, someone clearly self-absorbed, with a beautiful wife and kids at home; yet here he was, in Mouth Garden after dark, about to get his dick sucked by a high-class prostitute. Raiden experienced a perverse kind of pleasure from feeding off the elite, because he was one of them. Only the best for the best. Snobbishness, vanity, and slight self-loathing comprised of his penchant for the wealthy. All the same, their blood was generally no different from anyone else's—they simply covered up the stench of decadence with the perfume of money.
“Keep your head down, Gabriel, and just act casual. No one will ever recognize us as long as you don't draw attention to yourself. Don't forget, it's practically pitch-black. I know you can see clearly, but these people can't—they're human. Now follow me,” Raiden instructed in a whisper. His fangs itched to unsheathe. The vampires tracked their unsuspecting prey down the jogger's trail, into the dense, sable-cloaked woods. It's on.
