John

"Ow."

"Hold still."

I wince as David cleans the bite on my shoulder with a cloth dipped in rubbing alcohol. He crouches in front of me as I sit on the couch, nursing a bad mood. I've always been a bit of a sore loser.

"You know this wouldn't have happened if you'd simply admitted the truth," David murmurs.

"Blaming the victim, huh? Classic abuser."

"Oh, stop." David tsks at me fondly and smooths a bandaid over each of the two puncture marks. Of my various injuries, they alone have yet to heal, the bite of another vampire being one of the few things that can inflict lasting damage on our kind. "Sometimes we must learn through experience, and you've never felt so strongly about another person before as you do about Carlos. Have you?"

"No," I admit grudgingly, "I haven't."

David nods and pushes himself to his feet, resting a hand on my uninjured shoulder. "I wondered if you ever would, you know."

"Guess I'm deficient that way."

"That isn't what I mean. John, there's a difference between desire — the desire to eat, or fuck, or sleep — and... love."

Startled by the word, I look up at him.

He smiles. "You know me, John; you know I would never harm or use someone the way I threatened to do. So what made you come at me?"

"You frightened and upset someone I care for, that's why."

"Exactly. Someone you care for. There's the difference, and that's the proof I was after. If your attachment to him was merely instinctual — hunger, lust — I'd have been far less concerned. You may not be fully turned, but you still have... appetites. On the other hand, a true bond is one formed between equals, and it can be a source of great strength, or of great pain. Because I care for you, I want to help you avoid the latter."

"How? By taking Carlos away with you and holding him hostage in San Francisco? By experimenting on him in your mad scientist lab? By keeping us apart?"

David squeezes my shoulder and releases it, letting his hand drop to his side. "By keeping you both safe, John. You've sensed the light inside him, haven't you? The thing that makes him shine in the dark?"

I nod. "Yeah. He said that's why he used to get possessed. Things were attracted to him."

"That's a symptom of why, but not the source. Do you know who his father is?"

"He hasn't mentioned one."

"Interesting."

David turns and walks to the windows, gazing out at the view with his hands clasped behind his back. Outside, the world is swiftly darkening; the sun having set and the last pink and gold light fading to a bruised purple black. It will be safe for David to leave soon. The thought begs a question.

"How did you get here, anyway?"

"I flew. My plane is at the little airport outside town. From there, a took a limousine."

"Right." I rub the back of my neck. Despite having been raised by him, I sometimes forget David is as rich as Bruce Wayne. "You want a drink?"

He waves an elegant hand in wordless refusal. I probably can't afford anything he'd consider palatable, anyway. He never made a big deal of his wealth, and while he'd ensured I had everything I needed growing up, he also instilled a sense of self-determination in me that made me reluctant to accept his help. He'd offered me money more than once, but I'd never accepted it.

Leaving him to his ruminations, I go into the kitchen, get down a bottle of bourbon, and pour myself a generous glass.

"Will you return home tonight?" I ask, calling across the open space of the lower floor.

"That depends." David turns away from the window to face me as I return to where he stands. "What do you intend to do about your... situation?"

Frowning, I swirl my drink and take a bigger gulp than is good for me. It burns all the way from the back of my mouth to the pit of my stomach, where it comes to rest like a hot coal.

"Isn't there something you can do? Make me forget about him. Wipe my mind."

"Is that really what you would want?"

"If it stops me from killing someone that I... care about... then yes. Unless there's another way this ends, I don't see how else to keep him from getting hurt."

"Well, there is one way; one very risky, potentially deadly way, but probably the only way that promises any chance of happiness for you both."

"What way?"

"Bite him. Infect him with your blood. If he survives, and if you manage not to kill him... he will become like you, and you will become like me. I can guide you, help control the process. The chances of success are still not wonderful, but they won't be as abysmal as if you were left on your own."

I shake my head. "That's a decision I can't make alone. And what he if refuses? You saw how freaked out he was."

"One thing I have learned over the years, John, is that humans are remarkably adaptable animals. Their realities can shift rapidly, and after a brief period of adjustment, what once would have seemed unthinkable, alien and strange, becomes commonplace and accepted. Give him time; you have some left."

"What about distance? Taking him with you?"

David sighs. "That would be the safest option, undoubtedly, but you are right; I can see he won't accept it, and whatever decision you reach, you must reach it together, and on your own. In the meantime, the best I can offer is to erect a mental barrier for you — a sort of psychic prophylactic, if you will. It won't affect your bond, and it won't stop you from losing control if you're not careful, but it will help you keep your emotions in check."

"Fine. Do it."

I set my drink down and approach him. He rolls up his sleeves. "Are you certain, John? I won't do this — in fact, I can't do this — without your absolute trust."

I meet his eyes. I know mine hold a challenge, and a trace of lingering anger, but they also hold the truth. "You have it."

"Very well." He places his hands on either side of my head and his eyes shift from dark gray to transparent silver. "Let our thoughts be one."

He touches my mind like the brush of a feather, or like a breath of air on silk. The effect is startling and instant, like being in a loud restaurant full of chattering people and then shutting my eyes and putting noise-cancelling headphones on.

Calm. Still. Strong.

David's presence in my mind is like a mountain: immovable, venerable, and tranquil as ancient stone, and familiar as home.

He used to do this, I recall, after I was infected — at first, every day; gradually less and less often. Now, it's been years since the last time we shared a mental link, and I can't remember ever experiencing it quite so intensely.

"Someday this will be yours," he says, his voice sounding in my mind. "For now; share of it. Every nature has two faces. This is the unseen side of ours. Peace, John, comes from within."

He releases me, and when I open my eyes and take a breath, I feel lighter and freer than I have in a long time.

"Is that what it's like?" I ask. "Eternity?"

He shrugs. "I highly doubt we are truly immortal. But yes; as fearsome and insatiable as our hunger, so too, when fulfilled, is our satisfaction. The longer we live, the more powerful we become, the deeper and longer it lasts. Mine is enough to share, and I am old enough to enjoy a bit of youthful fire in return."

"Why can't we just keep doing this, then?"

"It's a temporary measure," he says. "A masking of symptoms, not a treatment of disease. The disease — or 'dis-ease,' quite literally — will continue to progress unseen. Little by little, the link will lose its effectiveness, until your inner turmoil outweighs my inner calm. Then we will truly be in trouble."

He laughs, a sound as rich and smooth as good dark chocolate, as if the idea is a mildly entertaining prospect, and not a promise of pure chaos and terror.

"Right. In the meantime, I guess I wouldn't mind if you want to stick around. I don't know how, but I have a bad feeling that Carlos is connected to this case more deeply than we know. How many coincidences does it take before you have to accept something isn't a coincidence?"

"I can stay for a few days," David says. "After all, I came all this way to ensure you were safe; I'm not about to leave without knowing this solution, temporary though it is, will work."

"Good. Besides, you owe me a new TV."

David surveys the wreckage of the living room and frowns apologetically. "Ah. Yes. I'll write you a check."

"Fine. Now for the other half of the equation." Sighing, I head upstairs.

The door to Carlos's room is closed, and I hesitate before knocking quietly. I wait, knock again, and call his name. Not wanting to disturb him if he's sleeping, I try the handle, find it unlocked, and let myself in.

The room is empty. All of his things are gone. I don't need to search the whole house to know, with sudden and chilling certainty, that Carlos is gone, too.

I sprint back downstairs, snatch my phone from the table, and call him.

Instant voicemail.

"Fuck."

I grab my wallet and keys from the hook on the wall and stride for the door.

"John? What's the matter?"

"He split."

"Well, perhaps it is for the best. Give him some time to adjust."

"Not tonight." I shake my head. "Tonight is when the second ritual's supposed to happen, and Carlos is a prime target."

"Ah — this 'Feast of Blood' you mentioned?"

"That's the one."

"Sounds like something I ought to be invited to," David says mildly. "I'll get my coat."

Despite the serenity imparted by the link, anxiety hums beneath the surface of my mind, and I know it won't stop until Carlos is safe and I have him in my arms.

I also know it's already too late.

I'm not sure 'love' is the word, yet, but what David said is true: I care about him, and don't think I can let him go without hurting us both.