by SJ Himes
“Batiste!” Angel said the second the call connected. “Simeon’s been attacked. It’s bad.”
Batiste wasted no time in replying. “Where are you?”
“Intersection of Joy and Mt Vernon. Hurry, dammit. I don’t know how to heal a vampire without blood. He can’t feed from me.”
Batiste made an odd sound, then replied. “Stay where you are. I’ll be there soon.”
Angel dropped his cell, the screen making a horrid crunching sound when it hit the pavement. Angel grabbed Simeon’s hands and tugged, leaning over Simeon protectively. “I called Batiste, he’s coming. I think he’s going to be too late as it is, so what else can I do? There can’t have been a blood source nearby for every injury you’ve ever had.”
“Blood,” Simeon breathed out. “My Leannán.”
“Angel!” He looked down the street, and Isaac came jogging around the corner, carrying Angel’s weatherproof sweater and his boots. Isaac saw them and stumbled at the gory sight, but he gathered his resolve and sprinted down the street. Isaac jumped over the hellfire and knelt on Simeon’s other side. “Shit!”
Angel wiped a hand over Simeon’s cold cheek, smearing dark red blood across smooth skin. “Can you make it ‘til Batiste arrives?”
Simeon opened his mouth to reply, and blood welled up over his lips, choking him. “No, no, no…don’t talk. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to help you except for blood. Goddammit!” Simeon blinked at him, slow, lids heavy, the brilliant green of his eyes dimming. Pain echoed down the bond between them, the vibrant gold splintering, white shards shimmering in the cord joining their souls.
“Blood,” Simeon whispered, lips wet with dark, thick blood. His own blood, and leaking from him faster than he could heal. “Leannán, please.”
“There’s no one here he can drink from!” Isaac cried out, his little brother freaking out. “Maybe the dead guy? Can a vampire feed from a dead human?”
Simeon’s hand, sticky and ice cold, found its way to Angel’s neck, and he tugged. Gently, weak, Simeon begged him with a soft touch to lean over him, blocking the wind. The wind’s needle sharp and invasive claws sliced over his back, and Angel shivered, but the press of Simeon’s bloody lips to his neck stilled his reaction to the subzero caress of the salty air currents. Simeon’s hand was gentle, but insistent, and Angel gasped when the sharp, smooth glide of a predatory kiss helped him understand.
What Simeon was implying terrified Angel. If this didn’t work, Simeon would die. The one person in the whole world who made him feel alive, who made him feel real, would be dead, and no amount of magic would bring him back. A lifetime of promise would be cold and empty, a corpse on the frigid street, collecting snow drifts and fading from memory.
He wouldn’t even be able to heal the magical blood poisoning and let Simeon keep whatever blood he took from Angel—he needed blood, and all Angel could do if this didn’t work would be to watch his lover die faster. Angel cured blood poisoning by burning the offending blood out of a vampire’s system with his hellfire at a microscopic level or by forcing the undead to vomit the blood, and Simeon would still die. Angel could heal mortal injuries in the living; if this was Isaac or Daniel, Angel could repair the wound, but as Simeon was technically dead, his affinity conversely failed him here.
Better to have tried than to admit he was afraid and failed. “Drink, Simeon. Take what you need. I love you.”
“Angel? What the hell! No!” Isaac protested past his clattering jaws, chilled and shaking. He reached out and tried to yank him away from Simeon, but Angel put a hand up and stopped his brother.
“Drink, now!” Angel ordered his mate, and pushed his neck against Simeon’s mouth, and he winced when scalpel-sharp fangs broke the skin. Simeon growled, a feral rumble that skittered over Angel’s nerves. Pain bloomed in his neck, and Angel grit his teeth and breathed through the white-hot agony of Simeon’s first full draw.
He’d been bitten before. Many times. Angel bore faint scars across his body, faded by the last ten years. Taking down a vampire army that decimated his entire family hadn’t been easy or immediate, and he got bit, savagely and multiple times before he managed to stop them. There were a handful of other times over the years since that night, including the fateful first meeting between himself and Simeon.
As that night went, Angel restrained his instinctive urge to pull away, and leaned into the bite. Simeon was too far gone to make it enjoyable or even employ low-level charm—Angel hissed out a breath, and steadied himself with one hand on the slick pavement as Simeon’s weight pulled him down. Isaac made to come help him. “No, don’t. It’s all right.”
Isaac sat back, eyes locked to Angel’s neck where Simeon drank, deep, pulling mouthfuls that made his flesh burn. “Won’t it …kill him?”
“I don’t know. I fucking hope not.”
Angel went all the way down, stretched across Simeon’s chest. Simeon growled again, a beast protesting the movement of its meal, and Angel stay passive, keeping himself close to Simeon’s mouth to avoid tearing. Simeon dug his teeth in deeper, and the steel bands of his arms came up, pressing them chest to chest. Each drag on the bite was hard to bear, but he took the pain, dealing as best he could. The cold stung his eyes, and he blinked away sharp frozen tears that clung to his lashes.
His hellfire died, the green illumination going dark.
A whoosh of heat surprised him, making him blink and come out of the daze into which he’d fallen. Isaac sat closer, cross-legged, knees brushing Simeon’s shoulder, and his little brother held a small ball of fire in his hands. Heat poured into the small span between them, and Angel gave Isaac a glance full of thanks. He then closed his eyes, dizzy.
He lost track of time. Usually when that happened Simeon was fucking him into oblivion, but this time his head was spinning for different reasons. He didn’t know how long Simeon had been feeding from him, but if Simeon was going to get poisoned from his blood, he would be growing weaker, not stronger. Simeon held him, arms cradling him now more like a lover than a predator devouring its prey. Fingers carded through his hair, tugging on the strands. The harsh pull on his neck eased, gentled.
Fangs withdrew from his neck, and Angel went limp, collapsing totally, his limbs buzzing and his body cold. Simeon had taken too much, but Angel would have given him all if it meant saving him. Simeon shifted under him, and Angel found himself on his back in Simeon’s lap, wide, strong hands brushing at his face and over his closed eyelids. A cool, soft kiss that tasted of copper and spice was pressed to his lips, and Angel opened his eyes.
A field of emerald consumed his view, and the heat and love in his mate’s eyes blazed brighter than any magical fire. “It worked? It did—you’re not dead. Well, super dead. Deader? Fuck, you know what I mean.”
Angel’s voice was raspy, and he swallowed, mouth dry. Simeon gave him a slow, sweet smile, and Angel grinned back, loopy and happy despite the spinning of his head. He looked so much better—still covered in blood and there was snow in his longish hair, but Simeon looked absolutely perfect to Angel. Simeon kissed him again, whispering over his lips, “It worked, my Leannán. Thank you.”
“Anytime. I figured I was Julien to your Romeo there for a minute—glad I’m not right all the time,” Angel whispered, grinning like an idiot. Simeon laughed and hugged him tight, rocking them both on the icy street. “You gonna tell me how that worked?”
“Certainly, but I’m sure once you’ve collected your considerable wits, you’ll know the how and why of it faster than I can explain.” Simeon sat him up more, and Angel’s head spun a bit more, but his vision was clearing and limbs were regaining their strength. He was cold as hell, but Simeon for once was warmer than he was, and Angel snuggled into his embrace. He ran a hand over Simeon’s abdomen through his ripped and ruined shirt, and the muscles and skin were whole and unblemished.
Miraculous.
“Fuck, I a
m so glad you’re not dead. I just got you. And what the hell! You let some sparkly fae sneak up behind you?” Angel tried teasing, and he found himself chuckling at the bemused expression on Simeon’s face. He was getting stronger, and his head felt firmly attached to his shoulders. Angel touched his neck, and winced at the ache from the wet, bloody bite wound. Simeon brushed his fingers away, and Angel frowned when Simeon put a finger in his mouth, pressed the tip to one of his fangs, and broke the skin. Simeon put his bloody finger to Angel’s neck and rubbed his own blood into the bite. It tingled, and stung, but the deeper ache began to lessen.
“I think we have some talking to do,” Angel murmured. Simeon nodded, agreeing. Angel licked his lips and continued, “I have something I’ve been afraid to tell you for a couple months.”
“I’ve seen a shadow in your eyes for some time now, my love. I’ve been waiting. We shall talk, a ghra, but not out here in the cold. Kiss me first, then we should call the police and Batiste,” Simeon said, calm and cheerful. Angel nodded, and Simeon took his mouth in a kiss that curled his toes and made his whole body feel hotter than a summer day on the dunes at the Cape.
Isaac stood nearby, hands in his pockets, doing his best to ignore his brother and his boyfriend making out on the street. Isaac was glad Simeon was okay, and he was equally confused as to how he was healed—everything Isaac knew about vampires boiled down to the fact that Simeon should be dead after feeding from Angel. Yet he was alive, and kissing Angel like a porn star.
Isaac snorted at the thought, and wandered away, steering clear of the dead man. The limo was fucked up—its front end was buried in the exterior wall of a corner deli and one side of it looked like a demi-god decided to use it as a punching bag. Something big and nasty and scary decided to attack the vampire clan’s limo, and Isaac shivered, nervous at the thought of what could have done that. He might ask after Simeon and Angel were done examining each other’s teeth with their tongues.
There was a boom, distant but deep, and Isaac looked up, thinking one of the military planes out of Logan was taking off, but the sky was dark and overcast, and there were no blinking lights in the clouds. A strong wind came down the street, and Isaac peered through the cold current, thinking he saw something. Air pressure grew and Isaac shook his head, and tried breathing, but it felt like he was being sat on by a forest orc. His eyes widened and he was about to call out to Angel when the air in front of him seemed to fold, to warp to his view like high heat would do on a roadway—and out stepped a blond god.
Reality swung back into now—and Isaac jumped, scrambling backwards as the tall, broad-shouldered Adonis sauntered towards him in a fine Italian suit and leather shoes. Gray wool clung in finely tailored lines, and a lean waist and powerful thighs made Isaac flush and his breathing hitch. An ice blue silk tie and crisp white shirt, and the darker gray on his trousers made the new vampire’s white skin, blue eyes, and perfect blond hair stand out in vibrant shades. Pink, lush lips curved into a wicked, sexy smirk made him flush harder, and Isaac trembled.
He knew who this vampire was, this being of such beauty and power that his mere presence electrified the air around him and set Isaac’s nerves into terrified frenzy of fascination and the urge to run.
“I was expecting to see my beloved child in need of my help. I am not complaining, not at all mind you—I was not expecting to be graced with such a delectable vision as yourself,” the blond vampire said, an old, old accent lilting his words and making Isaac’s belly tighten. “Angel and Simeon seem well enough. But how are you, young Isaac? Can I help you?”
The Master of Boston came closer, so much closer, and Isaac’s head was screaming at him to run, to flee the predator stalking him now in long strides with a sexy smirk. Isaac tilted his head up and shuddered, mind and thoughts blinded by impossible beauty. It was as if the sun came to life in the center of a dark, cobblestoned Boston street, and it shone only for him. Beauty so perfect it hurt to look upon it, a perfection so true and pure that mortals would expire from want and desire at the merest glimpse.
Isaac breathed in, and the taste that bloomed on his tongue brought to mind icy cider and apples. An orchard slumbering in the depth of winter, fruit frozen at the peak of succulence still on the highest branches. He swallowed, copper and heat filling his senses, and he swayed on his feet.
The master stepped closer, so close Isaac trembled in fear and lust, and he froze, a mouse beguiled by a viper.
“Hello, Isaac,” Batiste whispered, leaning down over him, one stone-cold hand cupping the back of his neck and holding him in a powerful grip. “I bet your kiss tastes as delicious as you look.”
Soft, cool lips settled on his, and Isaac sighed into the kiss that erased every memory of any other. Heat and ice, fire and glacial cold chased sweet apples and spice across his lips and tongue, and Isaac was lost. He struggled to remember where he was, who he was, why he needed to know any of it—and suddenly it was gone.
A rush of green hellfire and an enraged scream broke the spell—and Isaac stumbled away from Batiste, terrified and shocked. He fell on his ass, hands scraped by stone and ice. Isaac was so scared he was shaking. Angel ran in front of him, spinning to face the ancient vampire he had pinned to the brick wall of the deli.
Batiste roared, struggling against the green bands of thick hellfire that held him prisoner. Angel wasn’t burning the Master—he was restraining him, and considering how angry Angel looked, Isaac was surprised the master wasn’t a pile of ash blowing in the breeze.
“I called you here for help with Simeon—not so you could charm Isaac and molest him! What the fuck!” Angel shouted, raising a clenched fist, and Batiste lifted into the air, his expensive suit getting ripped and stained by the old, rough brick at his back. Angel shook head to toe, and Simeon’s presence at his back was probably the only reason Batiste was still alive. “Did you not learn your lesson the first time when you put your hands on me?”
Angel drew his arm back, and slammed it forward, and Batiste was tossed against the wall once, twice—again and again, head hitting with a meaty thud each time until Simeon reached out and grabbed Angel’s hands, murmuring to him in words Isaac couldn’t hear.
Isaac trembled, colder than ever before. Batiste charmed him? Isaac wasn’t shy about kissing men he’d just met, but he had never kissed a vampire in his life, and had never planned on it either—Batiste rolled him. Swept him under with vampiric charm and stole his choice from him. Isaac wasn’t like Angel—Isaac knew exactly who killed their family, and he could never forget or forgive. Simeon was nice for a vampire, and Isaac liked the Elder, but Isaac couldn’t and wouldn’t ever be ready for another vampire in his life, even as a hook up.
Isaac scrambled to his feet, and backed away, unsure and afraid. “He…he roofied me?”
“He charmed you,” Angel gritted out, and Isaac felt sick.
“Are you…are you sure?” Isaac whispered, thinking about how wonderful that kiss had been. It felt clean, sweeping aside guilt and grief, so fresh and invigorating he had trouble letting go of the sensations still running through mind and body. “I liked it.”
“He charmed you. Of course you liked it,” Angel spat, and Isaac flushed, confused. “Isaac, go home. I’ll deal with this.”
“But, Angel,” Isaac tried, but his brother glared at him, and Isaac shut up fast.
“Go home!”
Isaac backed away, not looking at the vampire held against the wall by his brother’s magic. His lips tingled and the taste of apples and spice were on his tongue. He whispered as he turned, “Don’t kill him, please.”
Isaac ran.
He kept running until the street was a blur and he slapped open the front door of their apartment building. He took the stairs, exhausted and frantic, and fumbled for his keys with sweaty hands when he reached the door to their place. Getting inside was hard but he managed it, and he slammed the door shut behind him. Thankf
ul he didn’t set the wards when he took off after Angel, he stumbled down the hall to his room, and climbed under the covers in his bed.
Isaac huddled there, kicking off his shoes and pulling the blanket up to his chin. He shivered, mind still dazzled by the Master’s kiss.
A soft chirp and the flapping of wings heralded Eroch’s arrival, his brother’s familiar landing beside his head. Eroch smelled of smoke and cold winter air, and the little beastie must have been hunting pigeons again on the fire escape. A small snout poked at his face, and Eroch chirred and chirped, consoling him. Isaac sniffled, and made room for Eroch to curl up under his chin. The tiny dragon purred and hummed, warming him as he hid from the world.
Chapter Nine
Hellfire and Hexes
“Don’t kill him, please.”
Simeon stood back, and Angel was grateful for it. If his lover tried to stop him now Angel might snap and murder someone.
Fuck, I might anyway!
“Isaac is not for you!” Angel hissed out, so mad his words came out strangled and warped.
Batiste glowered at him, still struggling against Angel’s hellfire bonds. “I did nothing but kiss the youngling, necromancer. Your brother’s virtue remains untouched.”
Angel laughed. “Isaac hasn’t been untouched since Greg Doyle got him drunk when he was sixteen. And I couldn’t care less who he kisses—as long as it’s his choice! I fucking felt your charm rolling over him from the other side of the street!”
“He enjoyed himself. I tasted just how much he liked it before you interrupted me.”
Angel narrowed his eyes, and Simeon carefully backed away out of his line of sight.
“Don’t kill him, please.” Isaac’s whispered plea hovered on the edge of his anger. Simple, and full of emotion, it threatened to calm his ire.
