Pale Narcissus
-- Ah, but where better to be than in the center of a conflict? Wasn’t that where he belonged, at the heart of everything? That was where he preferred to be, anyway. --
Candlelight flickered across the exposed planes of his frame, the contrast between deep shadow and toned muscle vibrant in the dim atmosphere of the room. Not generally one to play with fire, Cristo just couldn’t resist setting match to wick tonight while his body was still wet, yet glistening from a particularly long and indulgent shower. He ran a finger over his jaw line, the slight scratch of stubble tickling a sly grin onto his lips. Turning slightly to the side, chocolate eyes surveyed the tattoo that marked his back, his keen vision taking note of the slight fade around the edges. Maybe it was time for a touchup, perhaps add something new…his grin dipped with the faintest hint of a frown. Nah…just the touchup. Why bother trying to improve perfection?
His hand reached up to absentmindedly ruffle his damp hair, his smile returning fully at the spiked look that occurred. Spikes weren’t out of style now, were they? He didn’t think so, but even if they were he was more than capable of pulling the look off. Just not tonight. He had plans for tonight, and though some artfully placed gel might be fun, his hair was just a tad bit too long presently. That and he wanted it soft, naturally disheveled, easy for girls to run their delicate fingers through. He liked when they did that.
Retrieving the towel from an armchair he had tossed it over, the vampire laid it across his shoulders, digging water from his ear as the screen of his cell phone illuminated his face. Cristo’s feet led him down the hall as he scrolled through his messages, deleting and blocking junk mail, skipping any notes that seemed boring. Delete, scroll, delete, delete...he paused mid stride, eyes alight with curiosity. “…and what might this be…”
The subject consisted of a single word, SUBMIT, followed by an odd pattern of keyboard symbols. Interest peaked, Cristo thumbed the ‘open’ button, brow lifting at what lay within. There were no recognizable words, only more of the symbols laid out in a way that suggested a cat might have walked across the keyboard several times while an infant ignorantly pounded away. A regular citizen might write off a message such as this one as spam, dump it in the folder entitled such, check for viruses, and move on with their lives. A person holding a position of power might think the same for a moment, reconsider, imagine it to be a threat, and send it off to be inspected for some horrible plot against them while they, too, proceeded with living. Perhaps only those associating themselves with a career path similar to Cristo’s own would have realized the actual significance of the strange communication. Fewer still would have been able to read and understand what the note entailed…but it was a cipher the vampire himself had invented. Only those contacts he highly valued were given the secret to its decoding, those he held enough sway over to entrust with something that he so prized.
Submit: that was the easiest part. Synonymous with acquiesce, bend, concede, obey…surrender, that was the word and, consequently, the location of where he would be going tonight. Surrender at Encore, a fact more obviously indicated by the word ‘apple’, a key feature in the club’s logo, included beside it in cryptogram. The remaining symbols of the page long letter spelled out a name, the description of a statue, and a variety of random sentences and words that in no way had anything to do with shit. All in all, his contact had done quite well at following every rule he had given for the code’s use, particularly for a first attempt.
Abandoning the damp towel in his wake, Cristo’s thumbs typed out a reply at breakneck speed as he turned back toward the room he had just left. The phone screen slid closed with a snap, text completed, as he came to a stop before the closet. Now…what did he feel like wearing. Mulling over the answer briefly, it became all too apparent precisely what was needed. The venue called for ‘trendy style’ which he had all but invented. Pulling on a pair of boxers, he set to work on his outfit, each article arranged meticulously on the canvas that was his frame. Worn-in jeans (that were actually brand new, as was the style) in a dark gray denim; a long sleeved, button-up shirt, white, with a black jacket; a comfortable pair of shoes: Cristo couldn’t help the surge of vanity as he examined himself in the mirror for what seemed like the hundredth time of the evening. But…something was missing, something vitally important…he could almost see the light bulb flash on over his head, his fingers snapping at such an obvious overlook.“Por supuesto. Tie.”
As the black tie was loosely placed around his neck, a glint of gold sparked in his gaze. Brushing a few stray locks back into their properly messy position, Cristo flashed a smile at his reflection. Perfect. Not that he had expected less, of course.
Leaving the room behind him smoky from stifled flames, the vampire kicked the damp towel lying in his path toward a wall. He would need to pick that up…later. Right now, one of his greatest loves was calling to him, and when Adrenaline called, he was helpless to resist. He hooked the key ring hanging from the wall as he swept by, hand automatically sealing the front door with a deft twist of his home key. Too impatient to wait on the elevator, Cristo took the stairs three and four at a time, a feeling of invulnerability clouding and obscuring the judgment call a parent might have upon seeing children attempt the same. Cristo, however, was neither. A vampire stuck forever in his mid-20s, he still retained a degree of the immaturity associated with the age and although he might possess the knowledge and wisdom to rival Solomon himself, it didn’t necessarily mean that he always used it.
The doorman tipped his hat in parting when Cristo walked on after exchanging a few friendly words, making a beeline toward the garage. One always had to be nice to those in service positions. Basic etiquette demanded it…as did the desire of most people to not have their coffee spit in or a door slammed in their face.
Flashing headlights greeted him as he neared his most favorite possession, the Venom GT’s honk echoing around the concrete bunker. Cristo let his hand trail along the glossy black of its hood as he made his way to the driver’s side, soaking in the knowledge that the wonderful machine belonged entirely to him. Not legally, perhaps, but the real owner was never going to take it back from him. That would be a hard thing to do from jail, particularly when the man had made ever so many enemies during their...acquaintanceship. No one that crossed a de la Vega was left unscathed.
A trill of expectation coursed through his veins when he folded himself gracefully down onto the leather seat, a sigh of pure contentment escaping from his lips as the engine roared to life. Pulling out onto the street, Cristo felt a tug beckoning him to turn left, to drive right out of town and keep going until the sun drove him into hiding and that urge to experience the freedom of a clear highway was almost too much to resist. There wasn’t much that could beat the feeling of pushing the speedometer to its limits on a straight, desert road; it was lucky for his plans that dancing with the young and beautiful creatures that often frequented nightclubs such as Surrender was one of them. Well…not so much the dancing as, you know, more horizontal activites. But vertical worked too. So did backwards, forwards, sideways…
…precisely eleven minutes and forty five seconds after he had made the decision to turn right, Cristo was grudgingly handing his keys over to a rather young looking valet. Once the threat that he would literally tear the boy’s arms off if anything happened to his car, the vampire by-passed the extensive line and was ushered straight inside. Oh the perks of being, well, him.
The moment he walked through the door, the bass dropped in a manner that nearly shattered his eardrums. He was still reeling from the unexpectedness of it, grimace firmly in place, when a scantily clad woman took him by the arm and pulled him to the side. “You’re here to see that shady dude, ain’t ya?”
Choosing to ignore her poor grammar in view of the fact that she had an hourglass figure that he could see most of, Cristo steered her over to a nearby booth so as not to attract any unwanted attention. Not that he didn’t enjoy attention, but this was not the time. Might be the place, but it definitely wasn’t the time. “Now why would you think I’m looking for anyone shady, cielito? Maybe I’m just here for dancing.”
The go-go girl’s lips pursed as if she had just gotten a hold of something sour. “Yeah, an’ I’m just here ‘cause I like guys staring at my ass all night. Reason I ‘think’ that is ‘cause dude told me to be on the lookout for ya.” Her lips turned up in a coy little smirk as she stuck out her chest just a hint more. “Not many guys look like you do, so it was pretty easy.”
Cristo’s brow quirked upward ever so slightly at this. So he looked…different? He was going to assume that was a good thing. Taking the swelling of her chest as a sign that she wished to be stared at, he allowed his chocolate gaze to wander over her bikini perfect body. The approval in his smirk brought a sly look onto her features. “So, chica, where is this…shady dude?”
This last word felt so incredibly out of place on his tongue, his accent warping it into something that sounded so comically horrendous that the vampire decided right on that very spot that ‘dude’ was no longer a part of his vocabulary. ‘Dude’ was hereby, and forever more, below him so long as he wasn’t actively suppressing the fluid motions of his Latin tongue for some ulterior motive which required him to speak like an American. A barely repressed shudder prickled up his spine, the girl’s amused expression the only saving grace. Amused women were far more pleasant to interact with than those that lacked even the barest hint that they possessed a sense of humor. Her finger gave a ‘come hither’ motion and her upper body bent toward him before snapping straight once more, hips swinging wide as she turned. A cascade of blonde hair swept down her back as she sauntered off, a long nail painted cherry red flipping a loose strand behind her shoulder as an inebriated patron ran his hand over her backside. A subtle shove from the vampire trailing in her wake left him stuck in the middle of what looked like the clothed version of an orgy. All thoughts of the club dancer escaped him at the sight of two less attractive girls grinding on one another immediately to his left, his hand deciding to occupy itself elsewhere.
After several long minutes of winding through sweaty bodies thrashing around in what today’s equivalent of ‘dancing’ was for the common plebeians, the girl gestured at the opening before them, her gaze pointing at a lounging man across the pool. “When you get tired of ‘im, come find me, k? Never met a Spanish guy...” Her blue eyes snapped around to pierce him through, a single crimson nail running down his chest. “Heard good things ‘bout ‘em though…very good things.”
He’d heard some things about club dancers too, but that didn’t make them fact necessarily. No, he’d learned through experience and he had to admit that a fair number of the rumors seemed to be true in a lot of cases. In the matter of what she may have heard about those hailing from his homeland, though…Cristo had it on good authority that he met those hopes spot on. A purr seeped from his lips at her touch, dark eyes hooded with dangerous passion. “You won’t be disappointed, amante. You have my word.”
She gave a small gasp of surprise as he captured her hand within his, lips leaving a chilly spot on her lightly tanned skin before releasing it. A faint blush seeped across her cheeks, the pink color fading as she regained her composure as quickly as it had fled. Pivoting on her stiletto heels, the girl danced a few steps back toward their previous location before stopping to blow a kiss at him. Fake eyelashes brushed against her cheek with the exaggerated wink that followed, wiggling ‘see you soon’ with her fingers. Cristo’s warmly seductive grin held firm until she was safely hidden by the crowd once more, only then warping into the cold smile of a predator. So easily strung along, humans. Now…to business.
Straightening his tie unconsciously, the vampire stepped out onto the concrete, eyes centered on the man he was to meet with. So Mike Harper was on the look out for him, hmm? Throwing polite smiles whenever it seemed necessary, Cristo made his way around the water feature, relishing how perfectly the moon was reflected in its crystalline depths while avoiding his desire to stop and stare. Keeping an eye on Harper despite the way his attention seemed to focus on everything but, he couldn’t help but notice the distinct beading of sweat on the man’s brow, the way his knuckles turned white around his glass whenever someone passed by too closely, the constant shifting of his eyes. Settling into the chair beside the nervous fellow, Cristo said nothing to him, content to allow the silence to stretch as he flagged down a waitress patrolling the pool deck with a tray of daiquiris. Sipping the frozen treat, the vampire let his gaze wander wherever it so pleased, never making contact with those of his…companion.
The man waited until Cristo was nearly ready to pluck yet another drink from some uniformed waitress’s tray to finally speak up. “I know you’re here about the statue, but I can’t tell you nothing. You wasted your time coming down.”
Lines appeared around the edges of the vampire’s mouth, annoyance pulling at its corners. What had changed between the time his contact had sent his message and now? Something rather important, he assumed. “I guess the double negative means you can tell me anything I ask then, hmmm? Or did you change your mind.”
Obviously this last option was less of an option than Mr. Harper might have thought. Breaking his pre-established pattern of avoiding the human’s eye, Cristo turned, sight fixed with a hard stare upon the green irises beside him. The flash of confusion that passed over the man’s features stole an inaudible sigh from the Spaniard’s lips. “Double…no, I can’t say nothing. I just told you.”
Another one that had apparently skipped the grammar section of school…damn, what was it with people tonight? Abandoning his empty glass on the ground next to him, Cristo narrowed his eyes in frustration. “Yes….I heard you the first time. But you see, the thing is you told my man you would speak with me about it. I’m not fond of liars.”
And he really wasn’t, to be completely honest. Perhaps the world’s worst offender when it came to spouting fallacies, when someone lied to Cristo he nevertheless always took extreme offense. Aside from telling him ‘no’ for any reason at all, his top two pet peeves involved liars and traitors. He didn’t like liars or traitors, not one bit. It was naturally just fine when he did it, however. His own indiscretions always had wonderful excuses, the reasons behind them completely sound in their logic. Besides, this type of lying was just plain rude: telling someone to meet you and then tell them you can’t help? Psh.
Harper snorted in contempt, sneered. For someone that was so clearly anxious, the guy sure did have a lot of cojones to act in such a way toward a creature whose very mood could well determine how long his existence on Earth was tolerated. Swinging his legs over the side of the lounge chair, Cristo was now blatantly centering his attention on the man. The flinch that tightened the man’s jaw as a bystander noticed their close proximity brought a sense of triumph, however small, to him. “Wouldn’t you hate for someone important to see you talking to me? Who knows what could happen…”
The sweat on the Harper’s forehead merged as a fresh wave of anxiety passed over him, a line weaving its way down the side of his nose. There was a visible swallow taken, a forced unclenching of the fist holding what smelled to be gin, a severe tightening of the masticator. “I got nothing to talk to you about, remember? Don’t need your help, so you can just go.”
How incredibly irritating it was that he had spent so much time personally watching this man, having others watch the man, gathering and sabotaging his every effort just for the guy to clam up as soon as he was finally loosened up enough to talk. Cristo had had quite enough of this game. “Oh, but our conversation is far from over. Not nearly as many as I would like have noticed us yet. Maybe I should raise my voice a bit, start talking about what’s really special about this ‘statue’? Talk about what’s hidden inside it that everyone seems to want so desperately, hmm?”
The neckline of the human’s shirt was growing damp, his inner dread and fear palpable to the vampire’s senses. He might get through to the American after all. Another swallow, this one harder to get down…but Harper still had some fight left in him. With the hint of a smirk and all the haughty detachment Cristo himself was so familiar with employing, the human’s gaze locked in on the grime beneath his fingernails. “A statue, you say?” Green eyes that betrayed the man’s horribly forced outer calm snapped up to meet the features of the vampire he was aggravating. “I don’t know nothing ‘bout a statue.”
Gold flashed in Cristo’s gaze, his features going deathly still in the dim light as eye contact was met. A soft whisper dropped from his lips with only the barest hint of movement, the sound liquid and cold, poison in the form of words. “You know you can’t do this without me...you need my help. You need to tell me everything.”
A look of suspicion passed over the Harper’s face at the odd color shift he had just witnessed, but the sight was gone before his mind could fully register what had occurred, the question having fled before it could fully form. Cristo watched with a certain kind of detached curiosity as the venom set to work. It started with the corners, always the corners, the vague shine of wet taking on a new sheen as the silver crept across the whites of the man’s eyes. The human parted his lips to say something in retort, spit out some type of argument that was likely along the lines of ‘fuck you’ or something as equally eloquent, but the silver disease reached the outer rim of green just as the man’s throat tightened to expel whatever idiotic comment it contained. Gold radiated out in a fractal pattern from the silver, enveloping every trace of the underlying iris before pulling itself from the verdant color and sequestering itself in the inky center of the man’s gaze. The words paused in Harper’s throat, warped into a sharp intake of air, and vanished into oblivion. Resisting the urge to grin, Cristo stared into the golden pupils as intently as any predator ever eyed its next meal, waiting, waiting…
…and there it was. The confused look as self-doubt crept in, the softening of the hard, stubborn features that had been so ready to further frustrate him until the end of time only moments before. This wasn’t all Cristo’s doing, though, the emotions the man was now feeling. No, the doubt had been there already, the gnawing insecurity and creeping knowledge that he was in too deep with too few allies. That was the true beauty of it, really, that the man’s own feelings had betrayed him. That nervous tick, the excessive sweating that had stained his shirt despite the coolness of the night…even without the ability to feel the self-doubt that underlay the false bravado, it had been apparent.
Whenever the vampire walked down the street he could feel it: the vanity, arrogance, egotism…the pride. No one was free of it, not one single person in the whole damned city…and the ones that used it to cover their doubts and insecurities were all too ripe for the picking. Scum like this guy didn’t even weigh on Cristo’s conscience when they were manipulated for his gain. The people that were basically good? Sometimes…it tended to depend on which part of him thought about it. Nicolás thought it was a hoot, Tony became overly sensitive for weeks, but Cristo? He tried to think of it as strictly business, nothing more.
The green gaze before him, accented as it was with an aureate shimmer, dropped to the ground, searching for the earlier obstinacy that its owner seemed to have misplaced. Voice little more than a distressed whisper, Harper spoke directly to his shoes, his attitude having nearly taken a complete 180 with the suppression of his pride. “But I…I can’t. They’ll find out, you see, he’ll fuckin’ find out. If he finds out, I won’t have to worry about nothing anymore ‘cause he’ll fuckin’ ice me, man, don’t you see?”
Cristo’s head cocked to the side, a single brow lifting. “And you think you can cover up all those other transgressions against your boss? Don’t think about it and they will just…go away?” A condescending noise fell from the vampire’s lips. “Either you tell me what I need to know or you don’t have the slightest chance of survival.”
In all reality, the Spaniard had no way of knowing if Harper would be able to pull himself out of the mess Cristo had so very subtly placed him in over the last month, but Cristo could personally guarantee that the guy’s clock would hit midnight sooner rather than later if he didn’t start cooperating just about...now. The years had taught Cristo that patience was definitely a useful thing to have, but that didn’t mean he had an endless supply of it. For the sake of Harper’s continued existence, he had better hope the bottom of that particular well was never reached. Then again, the bucket was presently scraping rock bottom…and Nicolás hadn’t been out to play for far too long.
When the man refused to look up from his shoes, a flash of anger shot through the vampire. Nails pierced the man’s jaws, drawing forth the smell of blood tainted with the acrid scent of crank as he forced Harper to look at him. The grimace of disgust on Cristo’s face was unmistakable, especially when his senses were able to determine the blood type. What a waste of good B+...but if it hadn’t been for the man’s drug addiction, Harper wouldn’t be so completely at the vampire’s mercy right now. “You shouldn’t ignore me. I don’t like being ignored…especially when I’ve asked a question.” A voice in the back of his mind suggested a tighter grip, a suggestion that his hand agreed with judging by the popping of the man’s jaw. “Now start talking…before I break your face, preferably. I don’t really feel like being banned tonight.”
A thin whine crept from the man’s squished features, watery eyes finally snapping up to meet the demanding stare as a stream of blood wove a path down side of the vampire’s hand. Cristo smiled as he noticed several more faces turn in their direction. Word was no doubt on the way to him at this very moment, word that Harper was talking to the Spaniard he had been warned against. Struggling to keep his voice down, the man held up his hands placatingly. “Wait a sec! Okay, okay! I’ll tell you everything, just….let go, okay?”
The bright smile that lit upon Cristo’s lips was undeniably charming and friendly as he released his grip to pat the human on the shoulder. “I’m glad you’re finally seeing things my way.” With a grin like that, who would possibly choose to see the ill intent in the dark gaze above it? Chances were good that the answer was ‘only Harper’. ”Would you care to walk with me? It seems we’ve drawn a crowd and I think we would both prefer to speak in private, sí?”
Harper had no choice but to nod his acceptance, eyes wide with uncertainty. How could he possibly have allowed it to come to this? Willingly leaving with a demon that seemed fascinated by the idea of destroying not only his life, but everything he had ever accomplished? Cristo knew that, by the end, the human would truly see things his way. After all, Cristo’s way was always the best way…for him. And really, who else mattered?