Prologue
It seemed to us, then, as if spring came early.
For the first time in many, many years, it seemed the old was washed away and replaced not only with young and fresh, but with new. Brand new, and better. But it dawned on us, eventually. What has grown from that which is old cannot be truly new. Changed maybe, a different shade or scent, even shape. And yet it always was, and always will be, the same darn thing. None the less, it was the change of a lifetime, or ten. And the sun still shines.
The ties that bind - The beginning
Das kapitel besteht aus mehren abschnitten deswegen werden die nächsten Kapitel auch immer nur "The ties that bind"- mit irgend was andrem noch dran heissen xD Haha....
Also ich hoffe ihr habt spass am Lesen und kommt mit ein paar Kommentaren ;D
It was raining over New York.
The downpour was heavy, but not enough to veil the bluish, star-spangeled sky. Midnight was approaching fast but below, far below the serenity of the skies, the city was dancing back and forth. Tiny cars and even tinier people both inside and outside of them were heading here and there in a most chaothic rythm. Must be a hell to be lost in it, surrounded by noise, movement, agitation.
But from up here, where one could see the bigger picture, it was all still in sync somehow. As if everything had it's predictable moves; a dance, neatly coreographed.
Coreographed chaos, he mused to himself. He was obviously getting tired.
In Ahmrod's office, four floors above the ground, he had a fine view over the city he had once been put in charge of. The entire wall behind his mahogany desk consisted of glass; a gigantic window - bulletproof, a necessary precaution - from which the headmaster could stalk a person several quartals merely by watching him or her, should he want to. With eyes (and windows) like his, he didn't even have to shift in his chair.
Usually he turned his back on said view though, too busy with his books and his countless affairs to afford being bothered. That was one of the downsides of putting up a university for special children: that someone had to be in charge of it. There were always phonecalls to make, assignments to grade and applications to plow through. But from the very beginning, Ahmrod had known he'd be the only one who could be in charge. He simply couldn't stand the thought that anyone else should be in charge of maintining his vision, the project of his dreams. Not even his sister could he imagine in his place, with her rash temper and sometimes ruthless methods.
And so the days often became too short, and he, despite his extrordinairy...condition, was tired more often than not.
But tonight, he had turned his chair. Cancelled everything on his schedule for a while, even if he knew that meant he'd then have to put in double effort later on.
The main reason for him taking such frivolities was the cellphone in his hand, or rather: the one talking on the other end.
"Atsuki is coming to visit you?"
He couldn't tell whether she was stating it, or asking. Ahmrod snickered to himself, folding the book in his free hand - Italic author, charming plot. Boring. The reason he was chuckling was in the the fact that he had spent over hundred years studying pshycology, among other subjects, and he still encountered difficulties analyzing his sister.
"You find that amusing?" Serena asked, sounding flabbergasted. "You really have been alone for too long..."
She smiled. That, at least, he was sure of.
When he didn't answer, she added: "He's such a brute."
Crossing his legs, Ahmrod turned in his chair, placed the book on the desk and then picked his glasses off his nose.
"I know," he sighed, smiling while he manouvered the phone to stick between his shoulder and his ear and tugged out a handkerchief from his pocket.
"You know I know, or you think so too?" Serena insisted, although he suspected she was just teasing: she should already know the answer.
Ahmrod cleaned the glasses off although he didn't really need to. In fact he didn't even need glasses: his eyesight was perfect. He put them back on nontheless, then stretched, and waited. They were never in a hurry on the phone, and for that he was thankful. Never mind the fees; they could pay their bills both of them, that was not even worth mentioning. This, however, was worth it. Taking their time. They called each other often, but never spoke more than necessary. Just knowing the other one was there, on the other end, was enough. Far away perhaps, at least by human standards, but close at heart.
There was no awkward silence between this brother and sister.
"I know. But so are you though," he finally chortled. "Brutal, I mean."
"What?!" She laughed in mock surprise, delighted, and he could imagine her twirling her brandy around in a fancy glass from her favourite set, sitting in her own office; her feet crossed on the desk, he'd bet this entire university on it.
"Oh, I have my sources. Word is that every low little criminal and scoundrel that can still walk these days are fleeing head over heels from London. What did you do?"
There was a brief moment of silence. Grave, he noted. Had he hit a soft spot? Serena was oddly touchy when one commented her way of handling things. Or was it only because it was him commenting?
Sometimes she laughed and gladly offered him detailed descriptions on how she'd practically torn down a building to lure out some crazy outspring on a killing spree.
Sometimes she just huffed at him and hung up, and it could take days before she called back.
Not this time though. "I burned one scumbag's house down," she said plainly. Almost grumpily, as if she expected to be scolded.
He raised an eyebrow. Was she feeling bad about destroying a building? If that was where they were headed, she wouldn't be mistress of London much longer. "Yes well," he said, "you see that's hardly original. Ulrica burned an entire casino to ashes in 1993, if I remember correctly. In one night too."
"We locked his family inside and lit it before his eyes."
"Ah." That was slightly uncharacteristic. Criminals, crazy newborns gone astray, Ahmrod could understand to some degree how Serena sometimes wanted to make horrible examples of those. But she was seldom one for torture, even less for slaughtering of innocents.
He hesitated a moment, to give her room to speak, and when he heard nothing he began:
"You really found that necessar-?"
"He was gathering underlings," She all but spat, bursting like a full balloon. "Recruiting. Planning assaults on several keypoints. Taping together home-made bombs, for godness sake! I had to set an example!"
Now that she'd slipped, the words came gushing out as if she had been burning to let them out. As if she had waited for a chance to finally reveal to someone, the only someone she could really trust, her side of it. Her reasons, and her qualms.
"He had a mate?" He asked, unable to contain the scepticism. And why should he, he didn't really want to hide his opinion from her; they both knew he differed greatly from her in matters like these. "Children?
"Does it matter?"
He didn't reply. Merely tapped his foot toward the floor.
"Yes," she finally admitted.
"I see."
"Yeah, he also had plans to exterminate half of London! Honestly Ahmrod, I don't know how you get by with your pacifist line! I don't like all this violence either, but it seems to be the only language these bastards understand. Remeber the disaster at Buckingham? I've given up on negotiating!"
"This conversation is heading to a dead point and you know it," Ahmrod replied calmly, standing up and heading for the bookshelves; he had suddenly decided that he could in fact do some multitasking while he was on the phone, and first off was preparing tomorrows lessons. It should still be a good while before Atsuki arrived.
He let Serena rant on for another fourty minutes, and as he had predicted they discussed his ethics, his principles - she thought they outdated or at least in need of some modification, and he withstood yet again. To him, being merciful would never be old-fashioned. It was always odd to him: he could see how his sister seemed to have lost belief in kindness, but he himself had done fine. Spared as many lives as he could, but met no more resistance in the other world-society for that matter. Were London-vampires so much worse to handle than those residing in NY?
He didn't know. He trusted, he hoped, that his sister Serena did. They were both so new to this, ruling their respective cities. Not technically speaking of course, but what were a few hundred years for one practically immortal?
Again like he had predicted, they reached no compromise on the matter. Ended up wishing each other a 'good night'. Serena promised him to drop by ol' Vanessa, as she liked to call his workplace, and Ahmrod jokingly assured her he saw through the bluff and thus would not expect her to.
After he hung up, a familiar feeling of hollowness seemed to fill him up. It was always like this whenever he realized how far away he was from his sister. An overwhelming sense of loneliness, which had only grown with the years. Sure, he knew he could visist London and Serena any time he wanted to, and none knew him better or could support him better than her, but it had become more and more clear on him that they did not think alike. They weren't so close becasue they had chosen it: there had been no choice.
They were siblings, and had not chosen one another like their sire Calwyn had chosen Serena so long ago. She had picked Serena because she'd been fascinated, enchanted by the unknown person. Ahmrod wanted someone like that too. Someone who reminded himself of him, whom he could bite and give blood to, have by his side and grow close to. Not because he was related to him or her, but because he wanted to.
Although he denied it with steely determination, Ahmrod wanted to sire his own fledgeling.
But whenever that thought occurred he brushed it off fairly easy. He was not yet strong enough. No, that was a lie, he was older than most, and in all probability he had strength enough. In all honesty, he was scared. Not brave enough to bring up a new vampire. He didn't dare offer anyone this kind of life - it so often backlashed and made the poor souls miserable instead of happy. He and Serena was one of few vampires who hadn't grown deranged with the idea of immortality, or drinking human blood. Most went mad, killing themselves or simply getting killed by hunters because they acted foolishly in their confusion.
The body died, after all. Your kin becamse your prey, the one ugly truth that made vampires a rather rare breed. One had to be open for a whole new way of living which, in a way, persisted of not living.
He didn't want to be responsible for anyone being destroyed from it.
Having pulled out a huge map from his 'business-shelf', Ahmrod walked to the window, wanting to take a last look over his city before sitting down. "His city..." as if he owned it. He didn't want to own anything. But taking care of things....that was something he could do. He liked to think he was good at caring.
"A simple child," he said, reciting a poem he'd read recently. It seemed apt.
"That lightly draws its breath.
And feels its life in every limb.
What should it know of death?"
He smiled, a bittersweet smile, watching a car shoot forward although the light was red.
"What should it know..."
The ties that bind - The hunter and the prey
Hier das nächste Kapitel :D
Ich hoffe es gefällt euch!
It was the last airplane that night to land at the JFK airport, NY. The one passenger on board was leaning back with eyes closed, as if asleep. But he was awake enough to notice a shadow leaning over him, as he noticed a sickening scent of perfume; cheap, sellable.
'Oh, you silly human, he thought with disdain, wrinkling his nose in discomfort. The stink was unpleasantly sharp for a keen nose like his. No vampire alive could appreciate such a smell – he’d met very few women nowadays who smelled pleasant. Couldn’t even remember last time he found someone clean and natural. 'Do you really think you’ll gain my attention by this technique? Very...welcoming, but no, thank you…'
But the stewardess could not read thoughts. She gingerly placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking him carefully. At the same time he heard noises from further ahead, toward the cockpit, and opened his eyes. Green. First they found the female hand that was still resting on his arm, then their gaze travelled up to the woman on whom they belonged; blond, and wearing way too much makeup. "Thank you,” he said, struggling to maintain his cool and be polite: “but you can let go now. I am awake." She stood up and presented a smile which in her opinion was probably cute, but to him it made her seem years older. Would he have some free time at all tonight? She asked with badly camouflaged eager; or would it be straight to work here in New York? The green eyes now became narrow and oddly dark, almost threatening. Without a word, without another glance the man gathered his papers spread out on the table before him, and then rose to get his suitcase.
"Sorry, I’m afraid I have no time to spare. You must understand: I’m here to meet a friend of mine whom I haven’t seen in ages. I’m afraid I’ll be leaving NOW, at once," he insisted, his voice neutral. Almost mechanical, like a robot. Grabbing his jacket on the way he strode past the discouraged stewardess and out through the exit.
The cool night air that hit him in the face helped clearing his mind, cooling his temper. This was good because, like countless of persons had experienced, his temper was something to be handled with great care.
’Should’ve eaten before I left Japan,” he thought, realizing just how long he had gone without any nourishment. No wonder he felt particularly tense. ’I’ll find some lowlife that none will miss. Shouldn’t be that hard, seeing as Ahmrod lets pretty much anything and everyone who has earned their rightful punishments leave with their lives…'
The prospect of crawling before the NY lord and ask him for permission to hunt on these grounds bothered him. This courtesy wasn’t really necessary for travelling vampires, but between the rulers it was considered…polite, to announce one’s visit – Atsuki, who was skilled in these games by now, knew it to be an unspoken, but obligatory. To disregard it was pretty much social suicide. But if he just picked some scum off the streets…he smirked.
Ahmrod wouldn’t even know, would he?
At a more remote location – if one could find such in NY – at the bar "Adam Site", a different scenario unfolded. As always in the weekends there were orders on anything from food and alcohol to the occasional, rather sleazy request for company to the drink. But as always, someone was being too sleazy. At the same time Atsuki had began testing whether his new suit could handle him leaping over the rooftops in search of a suitable prey, a young man in the beginning of his twenties were showing, or rather shoving, one of his custumers out the door, wishing him a good night.
’Goodness,’ he thought to himself, rubbing his tired eyes. As usually, the sense of having seen too much over too short a period made him feel slightly queasy.
’...I hate these old bastards. Only one thing on their mind.' It gave him the creeps, sure, made shivers run down his back.
‘But these...’ In his hands he had a small fan of paper. A generous tip from that last, creepy customer.
’ With these I can pay down a good chunk of rent.' Maybe even have something to spare, he thought hopefully, successing in cheering himself up. He was strong that way. An optimist.
But optimist or not, he still had two hours left of his shift. Unfortunately this happy little bloke didn’t have many friends, unless one counted that man he’d just more or less forced out, that was the prettiest, funniest friend he had...
His first customer, a regular. They could spend hours, or rather, that man spent hours. With him, Khay. The very thought always made shivers shoot down his back, but at the same time he never gave this customer a reason to stop coming to him. It was his only steady income after all.
As he turned around to walk back to the bar and it struck him, as always, just how fucked up his life was, Khay instantly spotted a new figure: a stranger, blocking the doorway.
'Who is this, then?’, he thought instantly, narrowing his eyes a bit, as if suspicious. Dumbstruck at least, as he’d never seen this man before, and he liked to think he knew most of the faces here. They were an exclusive club with few customers, though their preferences were many and varied. Adam’s site was a niche shop, so to say.
Khay examined the man closer, walked a bit closer too. The tall stranger was handing a waiter his coat now. Maybe he had seen him before after all, Khay wondered. Without noticing himself the boy was walking closer and closer, too close, but he couldn’t help it, he was so fascinated. As if he was a magnet and this big man was pulling on him like a giant, perfect fridge, the fridge, which every magnet would want to attach to...Silly, yes, he knew, but that was a very exact example!
Khay almost jumped out of his skin as the bar’s manager put his hand out before him, forcing him to stop. Flawing him with his barking orders, telling him not to gawk at the customers, that it was rude. It felt like waking from a trance, and it was just now Khay noticed he was being yelled at. He instantly shrinked back from the rant, wondering just where he’d lost focus.
But in the corner of his mind he could still see the man. He was turning to them now, granting Khay’s hungry eyes full access to his face. It almost knocked the wind out of him.
'Not a day over thirty!’ he quickly deicded. ’Or, maybe...’
For a man he had a gorgeous face, unusually so! He could have been a model if it hadn’t been for the stiffness in his features and the piercing eyes.
’Is that lenses or does he actually have that kind of eyes?’ Khay’s wondered with shock, almost annoyed, finding himself oogling, even at this distance; the man had green eyes. Not the natural bottle green one sometimes found but lucid green, unnatural and bright, like dimmed neon lights.
’Man, I hope it’s not lenses’, he thought. ’That’s so harry. And he can’t possibly need that sort of things…’
'Then again, Japanese people...', he thought sarcastically, with a very slight shrug, invisible to most eyes. The man looked Japanese, after all. Not the typical little man one saw every single day on the news, by God no, but his eyes had the slightly askew angle, the skin and hair type was right. Khay guessed on Japan, or China.
His boss was leading him to this new man now, still going on about how he had to learn to act more politely if he wanted to keep his job. Bullshit, Khay thought sourly, although he’d never dare to speak up. The manager might not admit it, but Khay knew he was valuable here. A popular one.
’This is creepier than it should be’ Khay realized as his manager lead him to the new customer. Sure, the stranger was beautiful enough. Had a different kind of charm, an authority that was unusual and therefore attractive, Khay guessed, which was good because then it was easier not to hate this job. But these green eyes freaked him out a bit. He hadn’t been able to lock eyes with him for even a second; it was as if those straightforward, slightly luminous eyes had seen right through everything that was flesh and bone in him, piercing right into his deepest secrets. His soul.
What a silly thought! I’m getting paranoid.’
But that didn’t make him feel calmer.
In fact, every step they took closer to the new man made him more and more nervous. It earned him a slap to the back of his head from his boss, who ordered him a low wheezing voice to get a grip because this customer was valuable; seldom here, yet very, very welcome.
Khay’s gray, normal but pretty eyes – he had been told they were pretty - got even more confused, if that was possible.
’He has been her before then. Maybe not from NY or USA at all. If that’s right it would explain a lot…’
They were there, after what seemed an hour rather than just a few seconds. It was what – four metres form the bar and over here to this special guest?
Yet his thoughts came to an abrupt halt here, the wheels in his mind jamming and locking tight.
’Get a grip man!’, Khay tried to think, tried to urge himself on. ’Special or not, it’s just a regular customer. Been here several times. You, on the other hand, are new and therefore doesn’t know him. It’s a great chance to eanr yourself some status here – GOD, why am I so nervous?!'
He drew his breath quickly, deeply, feeling the eyes of his special customer resting on him. He forced himself to look the man straight into those unnerving eyes, only they weren’t anymore. Not unnerving. Or unnatural. On the contrary: up this close, the color was warm and soft, so inviting he almost toppled over backwards from sheer surprise. That was the nicest, most endearing look he had received in ages, and suddenly his nervousness had vanished completely and instead he felt wrapped up in adventure itself, excited like a little boy. Suddenly, nothing existed but the the two of them – him and this man, he wanted to think of nothing else.
Mistaking his glassy eyes for distant thoughts, the manager quickly pinched Khay’s arm, making the boy snap for air. Unable to hold his tongue anymore, tha manager blurted: ”Don’t you got better things to do than to daydream at work, my dear lad? I’ve told you several times, do it at home! You understand that, don’t you? Or am I asking too much here?”
He wasn’t shouting, he couldn’t very well do so before a customer, but he tone was threatening enough without volume to match.
The manager turned his face up, presenting a strange smile, a nervous laughter.
“I’m sorry mister Tougu, but this kid is downright useless sometimes. Cute as hell, charming mind which unfortunately tends to wander a bit…But you are sure it is him you want? After all he is far from experienced and obviously not present, so if you want to switch I’m sure we can find someone more…yes, what should we say…”
The fat little man halted, his eyes flickering around the room as he slowly realized his mistake. Everyone else was busy.
”At second thought, this was your choice. It’ll be fine. And you’re awake now, right Khay?”
He patted Khay’s cheek, making the boy frown skeptically, completely baffled – he’d never seen his boss act this stupid.
Khay missed the look his manager received from the customer he was talking to, but said manager did not. For reason he himself even could not explain he found himself filled with instant dread, upon which he quickly produced some sort of excuse – something he had to do, had to check up on - to get away, finally released Khay’s arm and left, leaving behind one highly confused, young boy and a smirking Atsuki Tougu.
They stood for a long while without exchanging a word. Khay instantly became restless, blushing fiercely. As his manager had mentioned, he was still very inexperienced. And he’d never been much of a small-talker like some of his colleagues here, who could easily steer any conversation wherever they felt like.
But he’d never been insecure, he thought almost angrily; he had always been able to talk when it was needed, just not as well as…everyone else. He was not shy. But this man was so unnerving! Just thinking about what he was thinking now made Khay shiver.
He almost hopped as he felt a large hand on the middle of his back.
«Maybe we should sit down somewhere, so your boss can not fire you...»
A sweet smile, almost too sweet, but Khay didn’t care much - the man was speaking, finally. He had a surprisingly inviting voice considering the harsh exterior; melodious, as though he was singing the words instead of simply speaking them. He turned, took the lead at once, which Khay for some reason was sure was typical for this man. And Khay followed him without questions. Like a loyal dog, without the shadow of a doubt, nor a will of his own.
They sat down at a secluded table, somewhat hidden from the general view one had by the entrance of the bar.
Sitting on the sofa, the music suddenly very loud in his ears, as was his heartbeat, Khay tried to think of something to say and failed miserably. Too awed, too hypnotized by the otherworldly beauty of the man opposite of him, no: right next to him, to even speak.
«What’s your name?» The man was looking at him, watching him, Khay could feel his inquiring green gaze on his own long, delicate face, the black strands of hair that hung over his own anxious gray eyes. It felt as if the man was demanding something from him, if ever so gently, and he felt his heartbeats pick up another notch or two.
«Eh...», he gulped, knowing he was blushing again and quickly directed his gaze to the table, his eyes locked on the lighter he was fiddling with.
Argh! he thought, panicked, thoughts racing in his head. The image of his customer’s gorgeous face was etched into his mind, scorched into the fabric of his mind’s eye like a cigarette burn. ’Get a grip, man, for the last fucking time! Rich or not...beautiful or not, he’s still a customer.’
“My name is Khay Fallaway,” he finally forced out, speaking quickly as he feared his courage would leave him anytime. “I apologize for being so ”out of myself”. I’m afraid it’s becoming a habit.” What an idiot you are,he instantly wheezed at himself, he doesn’t care about that!
He bit his lip and bowed as deep as he could possibly do whilst sitting – that was custom in Japan, wasn’t it? With his right hand he lifted his lighter to lit the cigarette settled between the lips of…yeah, who was it? Khay had to search his brain, which was hard as there was such a chaos of thoughts there now. “And your name is Tougu?”
'I’ve heard that name before’. He was sure of it, there was something really familiar about that name. “Have I heard of you?”
A slim little smile Khay had no chance of catching ran over Mr. Tougu’s thin lips.
“Yes, my name Atsuki Tougu,” he said, casually raising his hand to draw a whiff of nicotine from the now lit cigarette. “I’m a counselor of the Japanese emperor.” Another smile, noticeable this time. Amused, probably. “Maybe that’s how you heard of me?”
The young boy had been sitting with lighter in one hand and the other hand halfway through his hair in a futile attempt to clear his vision. Now he dropped the lighter, and his jaw, dubious as he stared the odd man on his side. Was he joking? Was he serious? Could he, Khay, even tell? Both of those options could very well be the right one!
The concelour’s – if that was what Mr. Tougu was – strange eyes watched the boy intently, wakeful: he seemed a bit shocked. Which was exactly the intention, he loved to watch that sort of confusement. What would the boy do? Believe him, or think he was rambling mad, a pshycopath? It didn’t matter at all. It was all for entertainment’s sake.
While observing the young man’s every movement, he ordered drinks for both of them.
“I just ordered a Coke for you,” he said with a frown, speaking in a questioning tone; “in case you don’t drink alcohol...”
Khay blinked, feeling a slight annoyance stirring behind everything else. ’What, do I look fifteen to you? he thought. ’NO, I’m over twenty years old. And we’re at a BAR...’
Still all he could say was: “Coke is fine. Thank you.”
«Yeah, see you tomorrow. Bye...”
That was the last thing Khay said that night, closing the door behind himself before he started making his way home. The last two hours had passed quickly, more quickly than he had really wanted. His head was lost in dreamlike images, chocked full of green, twinkling eyes and thin, fine lips forming words he barely remembered.
He had already reached a crossroads, he registered that somehow, but instead of taking the long, boring road around the park, he decided to take a shortcut almost straight through. The dark, scary shortcut. Oh, spare me, he thought, snorting, his mind still somewhere quite else. Whoever said New York was unsafe might be right, but he couldn’t have meant this particular park. Nothing ever happened here. The first few nights Khay had been too anxious to take any other route, but he had all too quickly got used to it, tired of it. Not that the shortcut was much better though: the most exciting thing that could happen there was that he might get to see a cat trip into a garbage bin or something.
That didn’t mean he felt comfortable on either of the two paths. Ever since he stepped away from the door of the bar Khay had felt like someone was watching him. Felt like he was being stalked. But that was rather common. It wasn’t the first time, he was always suffering under some mild, healthy paranoia at this hour – not really scared, just…uncomfortable. Wanted to get home to his light apartment. But today it was slightly worse than the natural paranoia, or so he felt. But of course every time he looked over his shoulder, or stopped completely just to take another closer look, he saw nothing. Or yeah well, the last time he stopped he saw a cat, which in turn was watching him. Other than that little critter, the streets seemed perfectly empty. And why wouldn’t they be? It was fucking super-late. Should’ve taken a cab. But nooo, I decided to go for a healthier lifestyle. More walking! Yeah…
Continuing to scold himself mentally, Khay hardly noticed he was halfway through the park already, that the trees were thinning out, that he could spot streetlights again up ahead.
Then he heard footsteps. He held his breath for a moment, but never stopped: this was not his mind toying with him. He could hear them – the sounds were almost, but only almost synchronized with his. As if they made a only half-hearted attempt of not being discovered. Khay felt like he’d swallowed his heart, on the verge of running now. How long had they been there, whoever it was?
Now that he thought about it, it was true that nothing had ever happened in this park – no rapes, no murders, no mugging, no nothing. But his agitated mind could suddenly recall one, no, several headlines about things happening in this area. A young girl was had been killed a few kilometers away from here. In fact, now that he had started to think about it, there were several disappearings in this part of the huge city that was NY. Shit! He thought, resisting the urge to sprint as his heart started pumping adrenalin out through his veins and to his racing mind, almost making him hyperventilate – he tried to walk, albeit quickly, so that the ones behind him wouldn’t get excited and chase after him. If there was someone behind him, that was. Planning to kill him, like that girl…! You moron! How could he have forgotten this?! Or was he just being paranoid, was he thinking about some other place? No, it had been here, hadn’t it?
Of course he’d rather sprint off here and now. Get away, and he was fast so that might just work. Or it might not work, depending on how fast the one behind him was. But it was not only that, there was something else, something slowly invading his very mind and mood, calming him. Once again he got the feeling he was living a fairytale, a dream, like he had back in the bar, with the handsome Japanese man.
Maybe...he suddenly stopped, eyes wide and excited. The footsteps behind him continued,had been a little behind but was nowcatching up to him. Perhaps, Khay thought, his heart still beating like a bird in a cage trying to get out; perhaps Mr. Tougu was…?
He turned around.
And looked straight into a pair of flaming green eyes, ripping him back to reality. He made a startled sound, like a baby animal before a predator, an animal which should not exsist, did not exsist: he was a doe before the ultimate hawk and it was a pathetic sound he’d made, he’d heard that himself but it was too late, he realized with a stabbing sense of animalistic fear, it was much too late for anything now. There was a swift movement, a piercing, utterly painful something happening to his neck but he couldn’t move a finger. He was poisoned, paralyzed - his head was already slurring, and spinning with images. His two best friends, they had been with him through absolutely everything, just not this…His ex, he never got to talk it over properly…his cat! His poor cat, waiting for him back home. Who would feed it, it’d die if he didn’t get home, the light in those pretty round eyes would go out…His father, fighting his mother, his brothers, one of either sound of the adults. Defending him, not defending him…
I’m free, he thought, imagining the sky above him to be light blue and full of thin, soft clouds. That it was sunlight, not starlight, beaming down on him. In his minds eye he was reaching out for it, the sky, ready to fly, unaware that he was in someone’s arms, his blood rapidly leaving his body.
Is this what’s necessary to live? he wondered, smiling, his eyes unable to focus anymore. He was getting paler by the second, although he couldn’t see it. We have to die? In order to breathe and be...free...
And then all was black.
