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Fantasy story, shonen ai (male/male) romance between a werewolf and a vampire, |
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Blood and the Fox Chapter One by Nix Winter Copyright 2006 all rights reserved "What good are you to me?" Troy Biagotii demanded, twirling a sleek pair of blue designer sunglasses around. "Neither of you are worth a shit. You," he pointed at a young man of delicate features, dark green eyes under lush lashes, set in a faintly Asian face. "My grandfather owned your father. You freak of nature, you should be glad that someone is willing to give you a place to belong." Hands tied above his head to cargo netting, the bare gray metal of the plane seemed to give the young man a halo otherworldly distain. Or that could have been just some actual magic in him rising. Valentine St. Grenis wasn't sure. As nice as the boy seemed, Valentine didn't like weres, though he had to admit he liked their obnoxious host less. Valentine wasn't really in any better position than the dark haired pianist were. He also had his hands bound above his head to the cargo plane's inner wall. It was about all he could do to just sit still and not rip himself free, and then probably get him and the were sucked out the hole he'd likely made doing so. They had to be fifty miles out from Las Vegas even by the time he woke up. That he wasn't already so much ashes spoke to the fact that Biagotii wanted him alive, at least for a little while longer. "Biagotii," Valentine spat, quite disturbed to find his teeth feeling a little looser than he'd last found them, which made him wonder about the bit dark spaces in his memory… like how he got on this plane with his little puppet boss in the first place. "What the hell is your problem?" "You," Biagotii spat. "Mr. Diamond, allow me to introduce Mr. Valentine St. Grenis, the vampire most likely to win the Nobel Peace Prize. Val, let me have the pleasure of introducing to you Luke Diamond, son of Sunny Diamond. He's the man you were supposed to seduce. You do remember that far back?" "Luke Diamond," Valentine asked, green eyes narrowing. "Worthless. So worthless. Trace Alexander died last week. Does that mean anything to you?" "No," Valentine said, uncomfortable, the word 'Miran' circulating through the back of his thoughts like some nightmarish deja vu. "Should it?" "Cops and vampires with amnesia, just great. But see, Val, it's not just that you lost your mind in the middle of a job you were doing for me, but as he's laying there dying in you arms, you start babbling to him about how much you love him and answering every question he asks about my business. He was wearing a wire. Do you remember about those now? Why did you do it, Val? Why?" Well, that would account for the loose, and Valentine stopped fidgeting with his teeth, missing teeth. "I don't know. I don't remember. I remember your father introducing me to you, and shit, you were a lot younger. What year is it?" "My father introduced me to you twenty years go, Val. It's 2105." There was some hint of friendship in the gangster's voice. "Shit. I'm going to miss you, Val. We've had some good times." "Excuse me," Luke said. "I'm pretty sure none of this has anything to do with me." Biagoti smirked, giving his attention back the delicately beautiful pianist. "Yeah. You're right. It doesn't have anything to do with you. It has something to do with your daddy. Mind telling me where he is?" "My father would never have anything to do with the likes of you." "See, Val? That's what money will do for you. He's a freak of nature. Worse than you. Fucking Chinese demon mated with some unlucky peasant some time in the past. Worse than slumming, if you ask me, and this is what we get. Some little girly prick who thinks he's above the rest of us. Val, you do remember that you don't like weres, right?" Biagotii rose and crossed the narrow little cargo plane, a straight razor in his hand, "Mr. Diamond, your family produces movies, so you must be aware of what vampires do like, right?" As if he could draw back into the cold, thin metal behind him, Luke struggled to find a way to get his wrists free. "There is no such thing as vampires." "Really?" Biagotii said, unbuttoning the top three buttons of Luke's cream-colored tuxedo shirt. "I imagine a lot of people feel that way about kitsune. Where's your daddy, Luke? Wouldn't he rather I take my fight to him rather than feeding his pretty boy to the big nasty vampire. We beat the teeth out of Val here. Does he look like it still? He's fed well recently, so he healed up pretty good, but look at that hair still matted with blood. I think he's jaw's still a little crooked. I bet he's hungry, more than he's going to be able to really keep control of after I cut you." "I think he will attack you before he'll attack me," Luke said, eyes wide, knees pressing against the larger gangster standing between them. "If you hurt me, my father will hunt you down." "Of that, I have no doubt, little boy." "Kitsune grow up so slowly, Val. This boy is sixty-two, but he doesn't look a day over twenty, does he? But then I guess that's something you have in common. Val there was born a peasant too. It must be a bitch not remembering any of that either, Valentine. We've spent so much time researching you. When we found out what you were doing in WWI - I knew it then - that I was going to have to kill you one day. You're just not really the criminal type, but I didn't see you giving everything about our organization over to some dying cop." "Yeah? Well, I can't say I see why I would be friends with the likes of you. You're vile." Valentine's eyes were locked on the smooth exposed chest and the sharp silver blade. "I guess I saw that too, and I just thought I could keep painting you a rosy picture," Biagotii locked eyes with Valentine, as if he were waiting for some right set of words from the battered blond. Those words weren't to be had though. Whatever had been between them had evaporated as this generation's incarnation of Miran bled out his in Valentine's arms. Cops and gangsters, vampires and angels; it's just not always a good mix. "Well, I want you to die happy, Val. Not even you're going to survive a fall from this high and it'll be morning soon. You're going to rain ashes over the Sierra Nevada and I'll be free of you." "Somehow, I don't think it's gonna work out that way," Valentine said. "You think you can turn into a bat? Some of those stories just ain't true, Val," Biagotii snarled as he grabbed the pianist's chin and pinned him to the wall. The blade touched down just below one clavicle and drew slowly across to the just under the other. Tears glittered against dark lashes, slipping over, and the change, gentle as breathing shifted the pupils towards vertical slits. Valentine hissed, his fangs showing, powered as much by his dislike for weres as for the blood now scenting the air. "Wolf!" "I'm not!" Luke cried, his face morphing ever so slightly, ears rising with tufts of auburn tufts hanging down. "I'm not a wolf." "That hardly matters to him," Biagotii snarled. "He's got a terrible history with werewolves and the other half of his cursed soul just died, again. He's going to make you so dead before the two of you hit the ground that not even your little nine tails daddy will be able to find enough of you to bring you back." "Why? What did I ever do to you?" "It was rude not to answer my questions," Biagotii said, sounding so civilized, as if he hadn't just set his two captives on each other. "But I hafta go. Now you two make sure and tear up this plane good so no one will really doubt that Troy Biagotii died fighting with his partner who sold him out to the cops." Biagotii banged a red call button and a moment later the pilot, a purple haired woman with a handgun drawn joined them. "Boss?" "Tell Val goodbye, dear. I fear he really is leaving my employment." "Bai, Valentine," she said, giving him the worst imitation bow. He wrinkled his nose. "I've survived worse people than you!" "Yes," Biagotii said, voice growing louder to compensate as he opened the cargo door, "But you don't remember them!" "So!?" Valentine screamed. Purple blinked and went out the door, hand on her rip cord already. Biagotii touched his now gloved hand to his lips, and seemingly blew Valentine a kiss. "Don't you give me the kiss off you, vermin! Pestilence and plagues!" Valentine growled, his words strongly tinged with British, slightly French accent, fangs lengthening, eyes taking on a feral fire. "May the pox visit you and your pathetic spawn!" "Val," Biagotii yelled. "I know you don't remember her now, but you have an adopted daughter. I want you to try to remember her. Pink hair, cute little college student, calls you Daddy. You betrayed me and I'm going to do bad things to pretty college girl. You may have forgotten her, but I'll make sure she curses your name before I let her die. So even if you survive, you freak, I'm going to make you pay." "Liar! I don't have a daughter! You are sick!" Valentine bent the metal frame behind him, blond hair dancing with the build up of energy in the vampire. "You need a therapist!" "I don't drink blood," Biagotii said, a smirk on his face that made Valentine's blood boil, then the man went out the open door after his pilot. The stream of curses that followed would have earned Valentine a stint in the stocks if he'd uttered such in public at about the time he learned them. While they might not have had much affect on the average tourist walking down the streets in Las Vegas, the screaming vent sent his companion into a red-faced fit of timidity. Just as Valentine was about to offer an apology, the man shifted. Slender pianist fingers became white with fur, smaller, and slipped easily from within the yellow nylon rope binding them. Valentine's mouth dropped open. For just a moment the creature next to him became something beyond mythical, a specter of white Chinese silk robes, a fox's face, emerald eyes that drew what was left of Valentine's soul right out of him. The creature danced sideways, a single white tail floating along. Emeralds circled wrists and ankles. Diamonds sparkled in the flowing white hair, and Valentine was sure this creature was the most beautiful life form he'd ever seen, empty memory or not. "I wouldn't harm ye." "The Clan of the Sun does not fear a child of the moon such as yourself," the kitsune sang. "Does the Clan of the Sun fear crashing planes?" Valentine asked as he worked on freeing himself, without damaging the plane they were in. "I think I can fly this thing. I think I can." "Fly," the regal kitsune asked, his attention drawn towards the screaming open door and the clouds outside. "We are flying? What magic is this?" "Hey! Don't go near the door! It's a long way down, idiot!" "I am Lucian of the Sun Clan, hosted by Luke Diamond! I will never heed the words of a minor demon such as yourself!" One fine boned hand moved dismissively in Valentine's direction. "I know all the magic of my line and there is no such thing as flying, not even for the undead." White robes danced around with a violence that hardly seemed to touch the fox like creature within as he leaned closer to the door. "Get away from the door!" Nylon rope tore, metal bent and Valentine grabbed at the white robes. Solid as any mortal's cloth, they bunched in his hand and he jerked the smaller creature back from the door, spinning him and pinning him to the wall, one hand on either side of his head. Fox-like eyes, dark and entirely too innocent to be any kind of demon blinked, and suddenly the creature between Valentine and the wall was a dark haired young man with soft lips and a surprised expression. "What kind of were are you?" "I don't know what you mean," he choked. "Where did that vile man go?" "Jumped. Can you fly a plane?" "I'm a pianist. I'm supposed to be a university. My father would not approve of me learning to fly planes." One blond eyebrow arched, and Valentine felt a grin rising. Fangs still longer than they could be, he purred, "Do you always do what your daddy approves of?" "Of course," Luke said. "He is wise and gentle. Do you not honor your father?" "My father hadn't the courtesy to leave his name with mother. Probably wise of him," Valentine said, leaning a little closer, until his nose touched the shorter man's and he could feel the warm breath, even the blood scent still clinging to his mortal world shirt. "I've never kissed a were before." "Really?" Luke asked, fingers brushing against the chilled metal of the plain, "Now is hardly the time to start. I'm not sure I should like kissing a vampire." "Only one way to tell," Valentine said, a strong hand gently catching Luke's chin as he tried to turn away. Both of them were chilled, so Valentine's lips were no cooler than Luke's. Firm, gentle, insistent, he coaxed the surprised lips below his open so that his tongue could brush against the much warmer kitsune tongue. Luke whimpered, opening to Valentine, one hand even reaching to touch Valentine's tangled hair. So short, only a moment, but Luke smiled as Valentine pulled back. "I liked it." "Why? Why did you do that," Luke asked breathlessly. "I figured," Valentine said, his voice very accented, lulling and soft, "at sixty-two, someone had to kiss you, just in case I don't land this bird very well." "That wasn't my first kiss," Luke said, bright color over both cheeks, lips tight. Valentine was several steps towards the cockpit, Luke's hand in his, drawing the dazed man along behind him. "It wasn't?" With a strong twist, the cockpit handle came off and another good kick and the door gave way. A couple steps inside and Valentine paused, fangs pressing lightly into his lower lip. "What's wrong?" "I distinctly remember there being dials. Definitely dials." "When was the last time you remember flying a plane?" "Uh," Valentine said, moving towards the captain's seat, hands wrapping around the yoke, but his eyes still on all the computer displayed information. "It was 1943, I think. You should sit down." "Where is the radio?" "Don't." "Don't call for help?" "Do you want him to know we're alive?" "Oh," Luke said, leaning back, then moving quickly to strap himself in. "You're very nice for a vampire and a gangster." "You're nice for a half animal thing," Valentine said, distracted, flipping switches, and then suddenly smiling when he found the one for autopilot and the yoke came back into his control. "I think we're going to get along fine." Valentine grinned again, teeth normal, blond hair just barely out of his eyes, his accent now like something out of a Humphrey Bogart movie, "What say we save this kid that he thinks is mine, and then we go help your dad out, uh?" |
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