Open for Business [Kitchi]

[Cedric Costello]

Cedric had been busy. With the development of the new shopping centre in the city, he had taken advantage of the cheap prices of the shops within. He had bought two spaces - each, in their own way, consolidating his continued existence in Harper Rock. There were things that he’d left behind - a past that haunted him. It was something that he and his sire saw eye to eye on. It was the one thing, he thought, which had brought them together. Maybe it was what had endeared him to her - he hadn’t asked. Maybe he would, in future. It had to have been something that he had said, something that he had revealed about himself that had convinced her to turn him, rather than kill him.

Whatever the case, the turning had provided the necessary roots that he needed in order to begin to move on. A drastic change, but a change nonetheless. Something new, just as Castalia had promised. Indeed, it was new. Harrowingly so, sometimes, but more due to a peculiar kind of shock than to an assault on Cedric’s morals. This kind of life suited him, he thought. And he would always be grateful to Castalia for giving him the opportunity to live it.

Only in the past couple of nights had Cedric been able to finalise the businesses; the two of them were side by side and they both opened on the same night. The Cocoa Bean would run during the dar as a cafe, but at night it would almost transform into a bar from the past; a 20s vibe, even, with the piano on a spinning pedestal in the middle, cocktails, fancy dress nights. Classy. Next door had a different vibe - grungy, almost, but still nostalgic. When the era of records was at a high - the shop was fashioned to appeal to those who had a keen sense of the past. These things were coming back into fashion, Cedric was told. So why not indulge the masses?

It was nearing on midnight when Cedric caught a break from the crowds; the new mall in Newborough - the Vertical Mall - was getting a lot of traffic. He sauntered out into the middle of the mall for some fresh air. Fresher air than inside, anyway. The openings were going well, though the staff were human. It would be better, he thought, if he could hire some of their own kind to run the shops at night. More efficient, perhaps, especially if he wished to cater to vampire-kind. Which was why he had posted to the family forum at the beginning of the evening.

Pulling on his jacket, Cedric wandered out to the front of the mall where he stood leaning against one of the small wall of one of the well-kept garden beds. There, he pulled the cigarette packet from his pocket, proceeding to relax a little before going back inside.

[Kitchi]

If the First Nation Woodland Cree invested any amount of time in a mall it was usually to take in a glimpse at a society that he did not feel a part of. It was not a negative to him that he felt so out of place when he stepped inside a multi-shop structure. He just had no use for it. The curiosity that would lead him in was understandable given that he rarely made such a trip. The changes he had went through, the loss of Paskus and his right to be among his family, left him viewing the current world around him like one would holding a snow globe that for whatever reason was developing a film within and tarnishing what was left to see.

The scene that he took in with his dark eyes did not please him nor did it impress him. Pale bodies bundled up with red noses scurried around aimlessly as if they could finally catch a dream that was out of reach. Weak and lost souls. Each and every last one of them continued to move a little faster, pushing their misguided gluttonous bodies a little farther than looked comfortable just to be a part of what was as artificial as the green turf he stepped off of to reached the manufactured tile.

The air was filled with more than the scents of cinnamon rolls baking and an obnoxiously strong perfume dispenser leaving it’s doors open. The darkness in his veins was nothing compared to the work of what created this hell. His brothers and sisters lost their land for all of this. His nostrils flared. It was clouded with entitlement, greed, waste and excess. If he parted his lips he was sure it was plentiful and more than enough to choke on if it was entertained for any length of time. All the reasons he had no interest in staying in the mall longer than he really needed to were hitting him as he moved.

The soft yet weighted sounds of soles securely fashioned to the bottom of his leather boots echoed as his long stride carried him across the interior courtyard. His pace prevented him from having to stop as others moved back and forth around him. A stroller crossed his path and the woman behind it pushed it faster keeping him in the corner of her eye with a focus on his chest. The eyes of the killer within looked at the female’s face and dismissed it with the turn of his head. He had no time for her to try penetrating his world with her irrational fear or ignorance. That look was a dime a dozen.

Kitchi was a man of his own mind and chosen ways. Chosen from those that had been handed down from generations before him. He was not a Christian and did not subscribe to the idea to the idea some human was so divine that he could die and save the world. He also had no interest in the after holiday sales that had the desperate signs in the windows screaming for foot traffic to come inside. Such purchases were no savings at all. It was a ploy to hand the shop money and buy what no one wanted in the first place ultimately saving them space in storage. The product was still on the shelves for a reason.

Between the faint sounds of a piano playing and the alarm of a security checkpoint being set off a rustle of what was otherwise unheard by the general public around him caught his attention. Movement that should seem to blend so well with the rest around him stood out and called his dark gaze to the male resting against the exterior wall of a garden bed.

Why?

Kitchi paused in his steps and stared. His mind searched for a reason that this one had him feeling as though there was something different in the stranger's presence. As the warm blooded bodies continued darting about as if there was a count down and climactic ending soon to come he found himself searching the male from head to toe with his dark orbs.

What besides the cigarette in the male’s hand had Kitchi investing a second longer focusing on him?

[Cedric Costello]

The hustle and bustle of the mall didn’t bother Cedric. Society liked to put people into two camps - introverts and extroverts. Nothing was ever that simple, however. Nothing was ever that black and white. Cedric wouldn’t seek the company of large crowds but that didn’t mean he didn’t like them. He might have been taller than average, and he might have seemed a striking figure, but it generally wasn’t the case. The clothes he wore, though nice, were not overly expensive. And his features were not overly handsome. They did not stop any one person in their tracks. He could blend in. It was easy to stand there in the gardens just outside the mall to smoke his cigarette, the punters meandering past him without a second glance. He could almost be invisible here, away from his new business. People didn’t know who he was; they didn’t know that he was the boss, or that he had any importance whatsoever.

As a pianist, Cedric had a lot of time to watch people; they didn’t pay much attention to him, unless they had a particular affinity for music. If they found beauty in what he played, then they were the worthwhile ones. They were the ones he chose to spend his time with. They were the ones that interested him. Most, however, heard the music only as background noise. White, and insignificant. That was okay. He could be patient. And now that he had eternity… well, company didn’t seem quite as important.

He knew that he had to get back to the festivities, soon. As soon as it started winding down he would have to cash off the tills, count the money. See how much he had made upon his first day, the opening. Sooner or later he would have the staff necessary, he hoped, that he would not have to make much of an appearance at all. Though a couple of businesses might be good for one’s sanity, given eternity awaited. It was the new future that Castalia had mentioned, the one she had dangled in front of Cedric like a lure. And he had taken the bait, hook, line, and sinker.

A life was forming around him, here. Something solid, something that could distract him from the past that he left behind, and the regrets that lingered in his soul.

The smoke rushed from Cedric’s lips as dropped the cigarette to the ground, to grind beneath his boot. It was only then that he looked up to find that he was being watched. It was somewhat unnerving, but Cedric did not shy away from the interest. His bright blues narrowed in the man’s direction. The tan skin, the dark eyes, the hair - he was reminded of Ambrose, though younger, of course. The features were different, too. Perhaps not even related. Cedric stood up straight, chin raised; he didn’t say anything, just returned the steady gaze. His own stare wasn’t so much curious. Maybe challenging, in a way. Inquisitive in a completely different way.

[Kitchi]

Pitikwaha. The name of his brother came to mind as his dark eyes bridged the distance between the male crushing out the last of the cigarette beneath his boot and where his own tall frame stood solid. Gone from his mind’s eye was the vision of glowing gold rays of the sun haloing the one who continued to follow him beyond their last physical encounter. The very one that separated them between the earth and sky. A darkness now clouded the mental imagery of his dead identical likeness and reminded him anything could be a shell to hide the worst kind of evil within a man.

Kitchi’s hand lifted to his chin scraping his fingertips at random spots. He could smell the blood that he could not see on his skin while the itch was chased away. Piti never lost blood that night so it was another sign of his true spirit trying to challenge him further. That was the evil of Pitikwaha at work. The blood brother was no fish and the fact Kitchi gave him a choking dose of karma to prove it was likely something that Piti would never let rest. However, his brother’s message from beyond was taken for what it was worth. The woodland cree dropped his hand while his feet began stepping towards the one who appeared to be finished with his vice.

The doors to the mall available to use for a clean and eventless exit were becoming farther from his reach as he walked. It was all about choices. For the moment Kitchi decided on the one he was currently making which was to opt for the detour ahead and the distraction of meeting up with the one who stood out from the rest of the meandering warm bodies that moved around. One step was casually followed by another. The air was cool as he expected when his feet finally stopped their long stride.

For whatever reason there was no expectation to find the male to be the owner of a rapid pulse or the tell-tale deep whooshing of blood pushing along beneath his pale skin. Both were found to be missing while he stood there and he was not disappointed on finding he was right. Increasing curiosity had him quiet for a brief moment trying to put together what he felt he should already know.

Kitchi’s eyes read the lines barely visible on a pale face that was appearing young. The look in the eyes he found pinned on him squarely was not as youthful as he expected. It had more intensity than those casting glances their direction while moving about the place they stood still in. A common darkness shared perhaps? The kind that had both of them preserved indefinitely as they appeared to the bustling world around them. Time no longer could leave its mark upon the contrasting tones of their skin. But was that all?

Or perhaps it was a reflection of the things Kitchi had yet to learn? He stood undecided but aware that this was the point he would be expected to say something. It was part of the process of finding out what was so familiar. The awareness of such a face he had not met before. He knew had not because he would in fact remember what inspired the conflict of the two states of mind he was in. His eyes dipped briefly to look at the surface beneath the man’s feet then back up.

“I am assuming we have never met.” Kitchi’s face needed to relax from it’s nearly constant hard weathered expression. “But perhaps I am wrong?”

The mystery of this existence only increased as he stood and waited for a response. If he was right then the journey of the unexpected would begin. If he was wrong he would have to use the doors behind him and let it serve as a reminder why this was no place for him to be.

[Cedric Costello]

This was not an ordinary meeting. If Cedric were a joking man, he might asked the stranger if the two were experiencing a kind of ‘love at first sight’. Their eyes had locked across a room, and they had closed the distance between each other as if they were two entities that could not resist each other. Except, Cedric was not at all attracted to men. In fact, his attentions were only for women, and since his turning, those attentions seemed to triple. To multiply, exponentially. Thus far, he had kept his voracious sexual appetite to himself, choosing instead to entertain a colourful imaginative life. Treating women with the respect they deserved though all the while imagining what they might look like without their clothes, and how they might feel under his touch.

This encounter was nothing like that, however. This was something entirely different; as if Cedric had some kind of sixth sense and it was nudging at him, scratching at his innards for his attention.

He stood still, pianist’s hands limp at his sides. There was something about the other man that commanded respect. He looked as if he’d stepped right out of another time, though it was not something that Cedric commented upon. There was something about him that Cedric couldn’t put his finger on, but he could of course jump to his own conclusions. He shook his head.

“No, I’m sure I’d remember if we’d met,” he said. He didn’t voice his opinions, in case they were wrong. Just because the guy looked as if he should belong to the same tribe as the head of the Acheron bloodline did not mean the two men were related. Would Cedric be accused of racism, if he were to suggest it? Best to skirt the subject altogether.

Instead, he flexed his fingers before he offered a hand to the stranger.

“Cedric Costello,” he said. “I just opened a piano bar inside. I have only lived in Harper Rock a couple of months,” he said, offering all the little bits and pieces of information that might provide some inkling as to how the two might know each other, even if only in passing. His accent was a mix - Dutch, French, something in between. But his English was impeccable.

“Very closely acquainted with a lady called Castalia. Do you know her?” he asked. The names, he assumed, would provide enough. If this man were within the bloodline, if, the names should be enough of a connection.

[Kitchi]

The warm air cooled as Cedric’s hand came forward towards him. Kitchi had his eye on its movement as well as on the eyes of the man extending it. If the name was supposed to ring bells for him it did not but the mention of Castalia did. The sense of discovery and building awareness to this man in particular was confirmed as his hand accepted the greeting by closing the space between them. The contact of the two forming a grip spoke volumes in their brief shared silence.

Cedric Costello was of the new blood that he carried. He possessed the powerful fluid that hit him like a runaway train and took over when he ran out of fight or choice in the fatal encounter with Machk. Since that night it was insidious and constantly invasive beneath his skin. There was a definite lack of warmth to it or the sense of gradual belonging he attributed to his cree family lineage.

Acheron blood was distinct. It was cold as the fall streams he frequented to fish as a kid and as unforgiving as the deep winter night winds he tried to endure when on his spirit quest. It was powerful and went beyond the reach of the general senses he was accustomed to with his mother or father. It tracked him no matter where he went. Like a predator of what it had claimed and refused to let go of. Even as he stood there it continued to stalk and shadow his every move. It was looming over him while he moved and greeted him when he returned from the escape of his rest. It was not just in him. He realized as his hand released Cedric’s that it had the ability to reach farther than he took the time to fully consider. It encompassed what he had yet to learn of.

“I know of the name.” Kitchi would never qualify for the title of the world’s best example of an enthusiastic conversationalist. He was guarded and for good reason. “Kitchi.” His hand slid back to the space he stood in. “I am more familiar with Machk.”

His eyes moved over the line of Cedric’s shoulder to the business he spoke of. People took to this existence and lived like they were still human. It was always a surprise to the extent they would expand their presence into the world around them that they were essentially torn from. He entertained it all briefly then returned his attention back to the owner of the piano bar.

“Less than a year.” Kitchi lacked the detail that should go along with his announcement of how long he had been in Harper Rock. “It was a last minute change in plans that made it more permanent.”

There was always more to someone that what was shared and it was wise to leave it that way as far as Kitchi was concerned. He was aware that even the blood that they had in common was no guarantee for all that it linked to get along. For the moment so far so good. It was a step and he would wait for the next to be taken by Cedric.

[Cedric Costello]

Kitchi. Had Cedric heard the name before? Had he read it on a screen? Maybe, maybe not. He was almost one hundred percent certain he’d never heard of Machk, either. But then, Cedric hadn’t spent too much time with the extended lineage. Although he had met Ambrose in order to receive a tome, it wasn’t an item he’d had cause to use much, as of yet.

Although Cedric had a phone that was capable of all kinds of things, he mainly used it only to make phone calls. It was that kind of world where his five-year-old daughter had even made fun of his lack of knowledge about technology; he was a traditionalist. He liked to read real books, and he liked to play real music. He liked to talk to people face to face, instead of through a computer screen. Or, a phone screen, as the case may be. He should reach out to the others in the family, but he wasn’t too sure whether they’d be open to it. As friendly as a few of them might have been on that phone screen, the one that he had met - aside from Ambrose - had been ice-cold and, basically, a *****. It wasn’t within Cedric’s nature to judge a group of people based on the actions of one, but Castalia hadn’t made a move to introduce him to anyone else. She didn’t speak much about the extended bloodline, and as far as he was aware, didn’t use the tome that she herself had. He assumed, maybe wrongly so, that the group wasn’t a very social one.

Judging by the man in front him, however, Cedric’s assumptions remained steadfast. He was not very forthcoming. But when were strangers ever really forthcoming toward each other upon a first meeting? Besides which, Cedric only continued to assume things. Kitchi had not confirmed that the two of them belonged to the same bloodline. Maybe he had not heard of this Machk because the person was not someone Cedric would naturally come across.

“I am the opposite,” Cedric said in response to the last statement. “I was looking for permanence. For a change. Instead of giving me permanent death, she gave me a second life,” he said with a shrug. He would never resent Castalia for what she had done. He couldn’t say that he disliked the change. It was exactly what he needed - she had come along at the right time of his life. It was, as much as he was loathe to admit such a thing, meant to be.

“But I have assumed too much. I need clarity,” he said, his own hands pushed into his pockets as he regarded the man in front of him. “You know Castalia. Do I know you through her? Or are you...Acheron?” he asked. It was the first time he had said the name out loud. He hoped that he was pronouncing it correctly.

[Kitchi]

If this whole vampiric movement was going on for a hundred years or just started a year ago it wouldn’t have really reached Kitchi either way. In his tightly knit family he was not so much sheltered as he was a part of a line that had learned long ago through history that trust of people outside your own could cost you, kill you or even worse. No one back home ever had fangs or was walking around without a pulse. They didn’t even watch it on the limited television they did watch. They had their own stories handed down full of legends that were still considered far more impressive than dead men walking or leaping rooftops in a single bound.

The spirit world as he knew it would never bow to such evil. If Tahkoc knew of what was going on he was certain the faces that moved around him while he stood with Cedric would be given a reason to run for the nearest holes they could fit in. This was what would inspire his mother’s brother to declare the beginning of the world war he had been concocting in his angry mind.

Kitchi had found the current world around him coming closer to confirming those stories his uncle had shared with the twins during the long hours while fishing. Each outing was filled with the tales of the ‘white devil’, as the elder woodland cree often referred to them, and their ways. Kisikaw, their mother, would faithfully spend equal time trying to undo the narrow line of thinking that her resentful brother tried to set in motion on the generations beneath him. It only did so much good as he was able to work on them more than she could.

Tahkoc meant well but those close to him including his sister knew he was ready for a war that she believed had no place involving her sons. Her people had lost enough in her mind and she had the hope for peace and change that her parents had raised her with. Kitchi generally favored his mother’s peaceful nature but the seeds of thought planted by her brother were fertilized in the last year. Piti disappeared from their family and went angry and blind into the world that Kitchi was currently trapped in.

Upon Piti’s return he took Paskus’ life out of jealousy and disgraced their family. An eye for an eye. Kitchi in turn took his brothers and honorably left. Piti brought that evil back with him and Kitchi purged it with his own hands. Evil always permeates and now Kitchi saw it, felt it, breathed it in to the point he ultimately tasted it. There was nothing good to ever come of it except the conditioned skill of careful balance. How much more than that did a man need to lose to accept what he had been warned about could be true? His dark eyes continued to focus on the man in front of him that called himself Cedric.

“I am Kitchi.” The sound of his voice saying the statement was solid and proud. “Acheron is the cold blood that harbors in my veins. It is nothing I would wrap with a bow and call a gift.” He found no sign of threat in the face in front of him. It was likely just what he was witnessing. Curiosity and inquiry. “Castalia…” A name that he could count on his right hand the reasons he had to say it. “Is she not carrying the same blood or am I mistaken?”

[Cedric Costello]

A lopsided smile graced Cedric’s lips as he considered the man in front of him. No, there was something about his bearing that indicated he was a morose kind of man. Unhappy with his lot. For a moment, it had Cedric considering his own opinions, his own bearing.

Castalia had not asked him what he wanted, but he didn’t hold it against her. There’d been no war, excepting the war that he’d waged within himself. The conversation they’d had before she took him home was close enough to permission. He’d about admitted to the bottom of the barrell that he had hit, the top of it so far away that he couldn’t even see the light. There was no better way to thoroughly let go of a past ridden with guilt and regret than to die and start fresh. Cedric didn’t go about this second life half-heartedly. He grabbed those bull’s horns with both hands and held on tight.

Every now and again, he missed his former life. Not the one he had left behind, but the one from years ago. When he’d first met his wife; when he thought that she would cure him of the basic urges he was so often victim to. For a while, she had. When she fell pregnant. While their baby was young. He could watch her grow, and there was a miracle in that growth. There was a miracle in watching this girl grow, this girl with his eyes and an early aptitude for music.

He had always been a monster, though. No amount of purity could cure him of it. Not that of his wife, nor of his child. No, he did not hate what Castalia had made him, because he had started to believe that it was what he’d always been destined for. It was what he was meant to be. The smile broadened, ever so slightly as he nodded.

“Acheron, yes. The same blood,” he replied. It was strange, to claim a bloodline. It seemed an antiquated notion - or something out of an old school horror novel. Not that Cedric had much to do with the extended ‘family’. Castalia didn’t really talk about them much, and Cedric was happy to keep to his own devices. He’d met Ambrose once, and had gained a tome that proved useful. He knew he should try to return the favour - and be somehow useful - but he wasn’t going to be any use to anyone until he got his own two feet on the ground, and got his own **** sorted out. Then, he could think about how his particular skills could be of use.

Or was he just a selfish man? The thoughts visibly flitted through his mind, his eyelashes fluttering as he pushed them out.

“Excuse me for mentioning it… Kitchi. But you don’t look comfortable,” Cedric said, nodding to the other man’s body, his general stance. He almost looked like he didn’t want to be there.