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• The House of Voivode •
part one: the call of blood
by Neishai
It was a chance meeting, really, that brought the creature known as Voivode and the furry boy Kamali together. Clothed in the local attire of robes in varying fabrics, the former in finer color and weave than the latter's rough un-dyed rags.
In the marketplace people from all walks of life mingled in a rich stew of sweating bodies, stands and blankets, oils, foods, furniture, clothing, animals, and jewelry. It was dusk, nearing full-dark on market day, shops remaining open just a little longer in the hopes of snagging another customer or two. A seller called out to him, begging in his no-nonsense way that he consider the lush fruits and vegetables, but was quieted by a slow shake of the head. Voivode walked without hurry, a slight frown on his cloth-wrapped face as he listened to men and women haggling around him and smelled the rich plethora of odors and perfumes. And most importantly of blood, of which there were so many flavors among the humans alone, from the hearty strength of the street urchin to the rich, sweet delicate of the nobility. Even the animals - horses, goats, birds, canines and felines - had their own wonderful spice to add to the mix.
Though he enjoyed his surroundings, the vampire realized how hungry he was. He looked up at a sky that all at once was paling and deepening, the first stars winking sleepily back at him as if to welcome him to yet another timeless night. A smile crept tentatively across his pale lips, small canines threatening to slip free of their enclosure heedless to the fact that pale fabric brushed against his face.
I am drifting, losing control, he warned himself, recognizing the danger of this irresistible dreamy state that would precede a mindless feeding frenzy. He needed to feed soon he would accidentally cause a scene, or worse. With a calming sigh, he sent out a call beckoning to the lonely unsuspecting soul with little to lose but perhaps one's life… It was a tantalizing, dangerous wave of emotion would hook the right person like an irresistible pheromone.
Simultaneously, the opportunistic killer had become the prey as a young boy scanned the dwindling crowd for his next victim. He felt a strange wave of vertigo as his eyes fell upon the short, finely dressed man loitering about the market so distractedly. He frowned, shaking the dizziness from his mind, and suddenly was certain that this was the man. The boy shrugged smirked. He's probably rolling in riches.
Voivode's peripheral senses felt the impact before it landed and he moved imperceptibly to the side, slender hip and pouch of money feeling only the graze of dirty fingers upon fabric. The boy was shorter than he, and caught upon the cusp between child and man, only by his awkward stride was his advancement into puberty betrayed. He continued forward as if the brush of bodies were an accident; only by gazing back in astonishment was his game of thievery revealed, and the required eye-contact between vampire and victim made.
If only you had continued on your way, boy, you would be safe… The vampire smiled smugly, intense eyes relaxed slightly around the edges. They seemed to pull the boy back around and he found himself lost in the abyssal depths of the vampire's nearly pupil-less, night-colored eyes.
The boy followed as the vampire turned away, weaving his way through the crowd toward the outskirts of the marketplace. Unerringly he found his way even when the vampire seemed lost to him, swallowed to the unending sea of bodies. At these times his heart began to beat crazily, sweat dampening his brow and spine as if he were the child trying to keep up with his mother instead of the street urchin following a complete stranger. And at the time, without knowing it, he used the very same footsteps the vampire had.
Who is he? It seems like I know him, but how can I? he wondered to himself, frowning at his irrational response to the man. Finally breaking free of the crowd, he saw a shadow disappear down an alleyway. Somehow he felt compelled and propelled forward knowing it was him; whenever he turned away his skin itched and pulled back toward the alley. He wondered if it was some magic, perhaps a curse or spell, that had him in its thrall.
Then, once both had entered that alleyway it became obvious to each that the other was vastly different from everyone they had ever encountered.
The first thing Voivode noticed as the boy stepped into silhouette at the head of the alley was one large, strikingly-blue eye the other covered by hood and a lock of what could only be dyed hair: blood-red and black. Then as if by a trailing wave of mist, he was encircled in a cloud of his individual smell, an amalgam of sand, dust, unwashed skin and hair and clothes ... and rodents. This last puzzled him, for the telltale stench of human waste and refuse common to sewers (why else the rodent smell?) was largely absent.
He moved forward and for every step he was matched by three more of the lad until they met, face to face.
The boy had his own enhanced senses attuned specifically to his niche, and what he could feel unnerved him. The man before him did not seem to radiate any heat, though he reminded himself the man might simply have a chill. He was pale, abnormally so, and his eyes though dark seemed somehow wrong, but he could not quite pinpoint it in this light. And his smell was not human, there was hardly any smell at all except for the smell of his robes, the desert, the last vestiges of perfume from the market, and underneath ... death!
Tripping backward in terror, the boy screamed, until he realized that he had never moved and was unable to speak. One thought flooded his mind: Kamali, now you're going to die! The vampire likewise had never moved, watching with amusement as his prey's heart skipped almost to bursting, pupils dilated, breathing raspy and quickening. Finally he reached up to pull aside the cloth wrapped across his mouth, the trailers of a proper turban, and smiled, revealing the well-defined fangs of a vampire. Again the boy tried to scream, but he remained paralyzed as Voivode struck with a whirlwind of motion.
And then astonishingly he let go, allowing the boy's body to drop limply to the ground; he had fainted. Only a thin trickle of blood dripped from the corner of his mouth as he stood, breathing as heavily as the child had a moment ago, frowning in shock as a vivid image tore through his mind. It was only an impression, but it had triggered a spasm in his mind that he could not shake. There was something about this boy that reminded him ... of what?
Voivode fell to his knees, palms upward as they rested on the ground, as he tried desperately to find that errant memory. What, what is it? No mattered how he tried, he could not capture that necessary spark of revelation. He stared blankly at what he had come to recognize as the face of some kind of anthropomorphic mouse. That was not what saved him, but it was yet another mystery that added to the enigma lying before him.
• • •
When Kamali awoke the first time he was completely disoriented. Weak and dizzy from the blood-loss, it was all he could do to sit up. He promptly collapsed back against the pillows. Pillows? He blinked which only caused his eyes to roll around in his head. He sighed, losing the battle against the need to sleep.
• • •
Again he awoke, and this time he had the power of hunger on his side. It overpowered physical weakness and the need for sleep, allowing him to raise his head and look around at the room. He winced against sudden pain, eyes clenched tightly shut to block a flood of tears. Why is my neck sore? With a shaky frown, he reached one club-like arm up to his neck and found a sticky wound there. His hand came away dirty, but the wound had not bled in hours. Blood..?
Suddenly a flash of electricity shot through his mind, one of recollection as well as a very weak link to the ...Vampire! The word came to his lips in his native tongue even before he finished thinking it. The link showed him a flash; a scene that showed the man from before, the vampire, in a room nearby. He seemed to have been waiting for Kamali to awaken, eyes jolting upward to meet his when the connection was made.
Kamali's breath caught in his throat. He pushed himself into a sitting position supported heavily by his cushioning of pillows. His breathing finally became controlled, deep and slow, as he mentally paced himself. He noticed that he was fully clothed though clean, shoes set on the floor at the foot of his bed. "Clean" was a wonderful new experience, but it was the least of the changes he had to encounter. He was indeed surrounded in pillows and a blanket, many woven of silk, velvet, or soft cloth. Many were embroidered intricately, some with golden thread. Tassels trimming the canopy above his head were threaded with gold as well. The room's walls and ceiling were draped in fabric, giving it color and softness he was not used to.
I have never even dreamed of such riches, he thought, still unsure if he could speak. He was a thief, but picking pockets had always been his trade. Never had he hoped to see something like all of this. The stuff of kings.
His awe was trampled to dust with the first rumbling of his belly, and he was reminded of his overpowering hunger. His eyes fell upon the tray filled with foods he had never seen before: ripe and dried fruits -- figs, dates, apricots -- camel milk, some strange dark bread he had never seen before (and whose recipe ironically called for blood, for its protein content), water, wine, and even a few cakes. All of it was emptied in a matter of minutes though, and he hardly tasted any of it. When he was finished, he felt he had never been so full in his life; it made him groggy, and within moments of lying back down, he had fallen asleep again.
• • •
Perhaps it was a change in the atmosphere popping softly within the boy's sensitive ears. He frowned but did not move, for the moment unable to feel his body as sometimes happens when one first awakens. He was on his back, this much he knew, for he could see clearly most of the room. There was something suddenly different about it, no, not suddenly, he was only suddenly aware of the change that had occurred gradually. But what was that change?
He frowned, looking to the left and right at first unable to see what it was that was wrong. Through gossamer curtains he saw everything, but nothing. A soft current of air passed through them, and as if each one were being lifted one by one, he gradually realized what was different, what was wrong.
And at that instant of revelation he was no longer paralyzed with comfort and the last ribbons of sleep, but with terror and the shackle-like iron grip of the vampire. His mind was locked, ground to a painful halt. He could not so much as utter a fearful squeak to his defense.
Time passed, so much that any normal creature's arms would have shaken with fatigue and he or she would have moved to the side. All the while the vampire remained in place, face no more than two inches from his own with what he thought was a darkly amused smirk. His face did not flinch or twitch, waver or alter in any way. Only his eyes moved as he studied the boy's face. With surprise, Kamali realized he was waiting…for him to speak perhaps? He also realized that except for his wrists, the vampire was not touching him at all. He seemed to be propped solely by his toes, forefinger, and thumb. (All this he knew because the vampire let him look while keeping his grip and enigmatic smile.)
"Eh…" he managed, voice much higher than he had intended, even though it was an easy tenor normally.
The vampire's eyebrows raised slightly as if to say, "Go on."
Kamali cleared his throat. "Aren't you going to kill me?"
He threw his head back and laughed, the boy catching the barest hint of metal on his breath. It was blood…his blood? "I am not hungry at the moment. Are you?" he added, referring to the food left for Kamali earlier.
He shook his head negatively; no, he was quite full, but for the moment he was caught up by the vampire's accent. It sounded familiar, but opposed to what his attire would suggest. The vampire's wardrobe was like that one might find on the set of a vampire flick. Not just a movie, a flick. He wore a cape, 1700s-style high-necked frock and slacks, black shoes… Kamali had honestly expected a Transylvanian accent, and a chuckle that sounded like "bluh ha ha ha." A truly ancient accent as opposed to more modern East European was a shock. Come to think of it, his facial features were somehow familiar too… "Why…?" he whispered.
"I decided not to kill you," Voivode grinned, confused by the play of emotions across Kamali's face, though confident he would know all soon enough.
"What? Oh…no the um…" Kamali trailed off, face darkening under the subtle covering of fur that accented his face. How could he switch subjects so quickly past, "I'm not going to die?" How could he think of something as vapid and frivolous as his abductor's clothes?
"What?"
Kamali squeezed his eyes shut and clamped his jaw shut, unable to say a thing. Mortified, he blindly reached for the vampire's lapel and tugged at it a few times. Finally he forced out, "Your clothes…your accent…" followed by a loud sigh, and astonishingly, laughter. "I can't believe it. I'm in the clutches of a vampire and I'm thinking about the movies. I've seen one or two you know."
The vampire nodded. "As you can see, people think the strangest things in the face Death himself." Idly, Kamali wondered what the vampire's last thoughts had been. "I thought I should look the part for our first meeting. I do not normally dress this way."
Kamali frowned, catching the slight emphasis on the word "meeting." "You mean…" he trailed off.
"Perhaps 'interview' is a more appropriate term. However, I do not expect that you would want to turn down a job offer from a vampire." It was a deceptively gentle smile that graced the vampire's too-pale face. "Unless I was being overconfident in my assumption."
The boy's frown deepened, wondering what on earth a vampire would want with the likes of him and remembered suddenly that the vampire had not so much as let go of his wrists. He was still poised inches from his face. And Kamali was not about to suggest he let go. Maybe if he remained silent the vampire would be lenient and let him go soon…
Then he realized that he must have been here for hours and hours, days even. It must have been at least one day for all that sleeping, and the vampire's return… How long had he slept the first time? Overnight, or two to three days?
"You see," the vampire cut into his thoughts sharply, fangs lightly visible between his lips. Those fangs had sliced through his neck just as easily, bringing to mind a commercial in which knives sliced through tomatoes… Kamali paled violently, feeling as if he were sinking into the pillows three inches at a time.
"You see," Voivode repeated, "my victims are not usually like you. They usually do not want to live, or want to die, whichever you prefer." He saw the boy frown confusedly and almost permitted himself a smile. "Nevertheless, we were drawn to one another," the vampire's voice slid through his ears like silk.
And the blood that had so quickly vacated his face now rushed back, and then some. There was definitely something to what the vampire was saying, but… No! No, he did not look at other boys that way. That was what he meant, right? He had never been attracted to any other boy. Girls yes, not boys. But he had never felt this way about anyone before…
"No…it's a trick…"
"Is it?" The vampire lifted a single arched eyebrow questioningly. His eyes were half-lidded, mouth almost slack.
Kamali began to open his mouth and paused, suddenly caught up by those eyes. They weren't black, or dark blue, or brown, they were indigo, almost purple. So beautiful…! He clamped his jaw and eyes shut in surprise. He was falling apart and the vampire hadn't done anything to him! Or had he? Kamali nodded furiously. "Yes!" he hissed through his teeth without opening his eyes, forcing every bit of denial he could muster into that one word.
"I see…"
And to his astonishment, the vampire let go. Not only that, but he could feel the light movement of him moving away, to the edge of the bed, then off. With an irrational sense of panic, his eyes popped open and he found himself reaching for the vampire. "Wait--" He faltered as he was met with a knowing smile, then leaned back and sat bolt-upright.
"Yes?" His back was still turned but head turned to face him; the smile had vanished, he was merely waiting.
"Um," Kamali began, desperately trying to formulate coherent thought. He had never been so flustered as one time when a girl he liked had kissed him, but the vampire had not touched him in any way. He had not messed with his thoughts, or he was almost certain. He would have known… No, this was different, he just was not sure how! Even so, he had to ask, "You said … um … how do I know you won't control me?" He let out a sharp breath and let his shoulders slump. He did not know how to ask, or how to put it into words. But he did not want to express everything he was thinking; an ability that should have surprised him into further submission.
Of course, that the boy had not thought of it annoyed the vampire a little. His brows knit together slightly and he turned around to face Kamali. "Do you realize that I could be controlling you right now if I really wanted to?"
Kamali paled and he reared back slightly in response to the vampire's movement. Uh oh…
But Voivode did not stop, and began to crawl forward on knees and knuckles. He caught himself feeling surprised that anyone, even a vampire, could crawl without snagging one's cape and tearing it. And yet, somehow Kamali felt impaled by the vampire's intense, almost angry and disappointed gaze, midnight-colored eyes sucking him inexorably into their depths like whirlpools. There was something strange and fleeting surrounding them, like a flash of light or color that he could not quite place. Something vague yet familiar filled him with overwhelming despair when suddenly he found himself backed up into the pillows at the head of the bed. He honestly thought he would cry, not cry out, but really and truly weep as he never had before.
"You realize, I could make you do … anything … now?" the vampire purred into his ear.
Kamali shivered and nodded, hot tears spilling from his eyes. He knew he would do anything the vampire asked and actually want to do it. He did not know why, he did not understand, and the tears fell all the more forcefully for that fact. Why? he asked himself, the word ricocheting around in his head with the force of a scream. But stronger than his feeling of despair was his desire for the vampire. Just to be near him, to touch him… that's all he wanted…
His fingertips touched the cool fabric at Voivode's shoulder and he gasped. I did not just reach out…did I? He was so hot it was as if he were surrounded in flames. He pulled his hand back and tore his eyes from the vampire's gaze to look at the palm just to be sure there was no ball of fire there. Was that what he had seen around the vision of the vampire's eyes? Flames?
Voivode smiled, basking in Kamali's heat. The boy was feverish and he felt like a lizard sunning itself on a chunk of rock. And what he felt, it was better than fresh blood, warmer, more comfortable somehow. Why? He hadn't the faintest idea, but this specific feeling that spanned more than physical -- even chemical, was unique to this boy… the boy who was at this moment looking at him in surprise and wonder.
"I'm not…"
Voivode tilted his head ever so slightly.
"I don't…" Even as he stuttered he realized the vampire was waiting for something, and also that he must already be damned for being in such close proximity to a vampire. The only thing he had to lose was his life, which the vampire was obviously reluctant to take. Is it possible? When finally he came to his decision he sighed. That must be it… It was easier than he thought it would be to lean forward, reach up and slide one hand over the vampire's shoulder through the long silken hair to the back of his neck, and press his lips to the vampire's…
The shock was that of fire meeting ice, but Voivode managed to pull away, sliding two slender fingers in front of Kamali's lips. He was also capable of masking his astonishment with disgust thinly veiled by a smirk. All Kamali was capable of was looking shocked and confused...and seeing Voivode's reaction, nauseated as well.
"I'm sorry…"
"I believe the term is, 'I don't swing that way,'" Voivode murmured stiffly, swinging one leg off the bed and landing on the floor without a sound.
"I don't either, really…I thought…I'm sorry…" Kamali was now on his hands and knees, staring unblinkingly at his sprawling fingers.
Voivode turned back at him. "Whatever happened just now, it's true, has never happened before. Maybe it has something to do with your tail," he smiled slightly, "I do not know. You are special to me, just not in that way. I only wanted to show you that I could force you, but do not want to."
Kamali did not look up. "I know." He sighed softly.
The vampire laughed quietly to himself, no longer looking at the boy. "It is strange too…I've traveled all over, met many people, other vampires, but no other creatures like yourself. And no one has affected me, except…" he trailed off, frowning. Except…
"Except?"
"Except…" Voivode shrugged and sighed. Again the memory escaped him. Whatever it was had something to do with this boy. Maybe he had met another mouse-boy? "I have lived so many years…centuries…I suppose it does not matter."
Even if he had not dismissed the subject in his mind, his thoughts would have been severed at that moment as, fists at his hips, he found warm arms curling around his back through his own arms. His eyes cleared and there was Kamali laying his cheek against his chest and looking up at him. Despite having lived on the street all his young life, those big blue eyes were surprisingly innocent. "If you don't want to take advantage of me, what do you want?"
Voivode couldn't help but smile. "Can't you guess? I'm a lonely old vampire. I need a companion." Kamali's white-toothed grin was huge, but tempered by the vampire's slight frown. "Don't think it will be easy."
"I know…"
"Maybe…" Voivode's frown deepened. "What's your name?"
"Oh!" The boy jumped free and the vampire let go. "Kamali. My name's Kamali," he said more formally and bowed slightly.
"Kamali?" Voivode stared at him. "You're going to be my spirit guide?"
The boy grinned, pleased that the vampire knew the meaning of his name. "I guess so."
The vampire's eyes slid half shut, voice becoming dreadfully chilly. "Are you sure you're up to it?"
"I…" Kamali faltered, voice catching in his throat. A chunk of ice had poured in liquid form down his throat and solidified in his belly. The old fear had returned, but dissipated when the vampire spoke again.
"Good, I'm glad you're taking this seriously. I am the Lord Voivode; I need no other name. But I would like nothing more than to have you at my side, Kamali. Not in front, nor two steps behind. Do you understand?" he asked deliberately.
The boy's eyes widened. He nodded.
• • •
More to come. Oh yes.
• • •
The Ring of Fire, the inhabitants residing therein and its adoptable dragon and flitter images © Silver Midnight.
Clan Taratus and its members and familiars are solely mine. Their unauthorized use risks my wrath.
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