Path of the Vampire forum

Myk stared at the corpse again, wondering if he should have felt guilty. If they had responded in time, would they have saved her or would any action on their part have been futile? Maybe there would have been three corpses this night instead of one. It all depended on whether or not Fate was something that could be changed. Regardless, there wasn’t anything they could do about it now, which was probably why Myk respected the fact that Fable had called the police. Some might have thought it foolish, some might have considered it treason against their kind, but Myk found it to be a beautiful representation of Fable’s wholesome personality. Fable was still very much a Human at the core of it; he hadn’t forgotten to care about these people just because he wasn’t completely like them anymore. Fable didn’t see these people as lesser because he had supernatural gifts. He didn’t see Humans as cattle – food sources and nothing more. Fable – the Vampire without fangs – was probably more closely connected to these people than the Telepath beside him, who had always tried his best to treat everyone with respect. Myk found Fable endearing, making the white-haired man all the more resolved to protect him.

When Fable confessed to phoning the police, Myk nodded at him, smiled, took the hand that was offered and followed the man’s lead. It wouldn’t do well to run out of there, though. With the police on the way, they would be looking for suspicious individuals in the area for a while and fleeing the scene was certainly questionable. Despite wanting to get the hell out of there, Myk held back and walked at a casual pace. He took the liberty of looping his arm around Fable’s again, encroaching on the other man’s space like they were lovers. Myk knew it was probably a bad idea, that the other Telepath would not likely be in the mood to tolerate this overfriendliness, but they had to seem… normal. Apparently, this was as close to normal as Myk could get. All the while, as they made their escape onto the streets, Fable kept repeating his guilt and pewter eyes worried over the other male.

“You couldn’t have changed it,” Myk said quietly as if he knew, conclusively, that this was the truth. “Some people just like to destroy whatever they lay their hands on…”

It wasn’t worth debating the subject; it would likely only make things worse, make Fable feel worse. Myk didn’t want any of that to happen. He wanted to change the subject, make it go away so they didn’t have to focus on the negativity, but he couldn’t do that either. Forgetting what had happened wouldn’t make things right, Myk even felt like it was somewhat disrespectful to just gloss over events. Yes, that Human was a stranger to them, but she was someone’s daughter, maybe even someone’s mother, and she was never coming home again. Wasn’t that the problem with their kind anyway – a lack of empathy? People, Vampires, they only cared about themselves and what they could achieve and benefit from. They didn’t care about who they hurt, who they crushed, and who they killed to get what they wanted. Ironically, they would care intensively about their own – fight tooth, nail and claw to protect and avenge what was theirs – and yet they couldn’t seem to understand the significance of what it meant to kill someone who belonged to someone else. They were ******* idiots. Stupid, selfish, cold-hearted, hypocritical idiots.

Sadness churned the liquids in his body, building waves of anger inside the white-haired man’s heart before becoming as cold and as heavy as iron. He couldn’t stomach the weight of it pressing on his inner organs, nor could he tolerate that hunger which persisted. It was like his body was at odds with itself. On the one hand he felt sick and miserable and on the other, he was starving after blood. Despite Myk’s best efforts to give respect to the dead, he found himself turning inward with the dream of fleeing outward, escaping this nightmare.

“Do you like fairgrounds?” Myk asked, seemingly out of the blue.

His voice had an ethereal quality to it – a breathless, gasping emptiness that was trying to find life. The Telepath slipped his arm out of the join they’d shared, his hand slithering across Fable as to reach for the male’s other hand – the one furthest away. He seemed to need the comfort, turning the male to face him directly and stop.

“What makes you smile, Fable? I would love to see you smile right now.”

As he spoke in dulcet tones, Myk was idly drawing patterns on the other male’s collar bone and shoulder. There was a nervous energy to the Telepath this time, however. No longer was he the confident predator lusting with mock coyness over this little lamb. Myk was frightful, fidgeting, shaking with some unidentified swarm of emotion. He was, however unintentionally, showing a side of himself that he would have preferred to have had shot and buried. This vulnerability was disgusting, this dependence was shocking. He reminded himself of an addict, which was basically true. Myk wanted to escape and flee reality, flee the seriousness of it all and bask in the high of whatever was available. He was desperate for it. So desperate in fact that he had begun to paw at Fable’s scarf again, like a kitten mewling for milk. Pewter eyes looked for sympathy, for relief, for approval, in those cerulean eyes. He was begging for permission to run away.

Fable was very, very sweet. He made the normally obnoxious and arrogant Telepath chuckle and blush. Part of Myk was actually starting to believe the things that Fable was saying, convincing himself that there was a genuine reason for it. The fact that one person could be both overly confident and overly insecure at the same time was one of the biggest mysteries in the world of psychology. People were so incredibly complex and as such, so were their relationships. It even felt as if Myk and Fable had known each other for weeks rather than minutes; they’d engaged in this flirtatious, salacious affair and it was gradually reaching its climax. Perhaps it was simply because Myk was bold, impatient, and pushed for the things he wanted, and maybe it was also because Fable allowed Myk to push that they were coming across this end too. Was it all moving too quickly? Definitely. Was that a problem? Definitely. Did Myk care? No. So was he being an idiot? Definitely.

Three out of four wasn’t bad, was it?

Pewter eyes regarded that warm smile on the man’s face fondly, and marvelled at how those lips parted ever so slightly. It was an invitation in Myk’s mind. If Fable was to say something and maybe lost the words, then Myk would have to do something to give the man something to talk about.

“One person’s fun can be another person’s bore…” the Telepath said, smiling a little smile that was as dark and sweet as liquorice. “But everyone enjoys the fair. You’ll see.”

Since Myk had rediscovered his confidence through Fable’s enabling, and since their hands were already laced together, it seemed perfectly appropriate to carry Fable away with him again. Off they went on another adventure; only, when they found their meal, there would be no resulting crime scene. Myk saw no point in murdering Humans. It created too much suspicion and despite the monsters lurking in the Telepath’s heart and in his head, Myk experienced guilt on such a level that it was physically debilitating. That was why he couldn’t stop to think about that woman in the alleyway and that was why he was dragging Fable – his partner in crime – off to the Silverlight Fairground.

The white-haired Telepath had only been there a handful of times. Once when he was unaware of its owner and just wanted to be surrounded by the energy and delight of a fairground, but every time since meeting Robert was purely an effort to find the elusive owner. Though, that was almost a year ago now and Myk had ceased contact with the man. He liked Robert and just like Mr Ripper, the Wraith had declared the man a threat and – again, just like Mr Ripper – Robert liked to disappear off the face of the planet. It was frustrating and pointless to pursue a one-sided relationship. If Myk was so persistent to tear himself apart, he could find quicker ways to do it. Like engaging with Fable, the little voice of fear in the centre of his skull reminded him…

“How easily do you get dizzy?” Myk asked, squeezing the man’s hand gently and reassuringly. He was assessing him, but didn’t want to do it in a way that might make going to the fairground with him seem terrible. “Are you afraid of heights? You can’t be, being as tall and handsome as you are… Do you like to go fast or do you prefer to take things slow?”

There was a familiar scent in the air as they’d drawn closer to the fairground; a perfume of sweet and savoury treats laced with synthetic rubber, oil, plastic, wood and metal. Most poignant of all, however, was the scent of underlying blood and bodily fluids – mixing through the layers of spun sugar and honeycomb and grilled meats as they bumped shoulders with enthusiastic Humans. Pewter eyes narrowed on each moving entre, parcelled in smiles and clothing unfit for the weather. It must have been about 2 degrees centigrade, but the only one dressed for the temperature was the cold-blooded Vampire that Myk was latched to. The Telepath found it funny really. They’d paused as Fable took in the sparkling dazzle of colourful lights, and Myk watched in amusement as a scantily-clad group of women passed them by. Vampires tried so hard to fit in and here were these young lasses dressed in little more than their underwear. They were intoxicated – it was hard not to notice the tell-tale signs of stumbling, smeared make-up and laughing too hard at things that weren’t even worth a sober giggle. Myk probably looked drunk about 90% of the time now that he was thinking about it, but his thoughts soon passed from one topic to another as he found himself concerned for their safety.

“If they stay together, they should be alright…”

The Telepath’s thoughts were once again snapped off as Fable’s voice strummed into his ear like a pleasant melody, reminding him once again of Christmas. Myk’s cheeks became a little rosy in colour too when he found blue eyes watching him – this look of complete innocence contrasting so starkly to the greedy desire in Myk’s own features. The man’s explanation also caught the Telepath in a never-ending blushing fit – Fable really was just too adorable to bear! Myk gave the man’s hand a squeeze once more, trying to hold onto himself more than anything, trying to anchor his self-control. Myk didn’t mind that his insinuation had gone over Fable’s head because it just intensified that aching want in the pit of his stomach. Myk was finely straddling the line between melting into abject adoration to coo over Fable as if he was a fluffy kitten, and letting go of his subtle seduction techniques to just pounce on him. It was a tough call and Myk nearly lost it completely when Fable gave him this pouting look which made that bottom lip of his swell bewitchingly.

“Oh Heaven help me…” Myk thought as he felt his knees go a bit weak. His thoughts might have pressed into Fable’s for all he knew as he was practically gasping and going dizzy himself. Myk wasn’t one for prayer, but now might have been a good time for a divine power to take pity on him. It wasn’t his fault he was attracted to… well… anyone that didn’t push him away. Even so, Fable was a gentle hunk – it was impossible not to find him physically as well as characteristically attractive. Did Fable have any idea what he was doing to the white-haired man? It was torture – unbridled, gruelling and incredible torture.

Pewter eyes were fixed on Fable’s lips and Myk’s whole body was still and stiff as if he’d just been turned to stone. It was obvious to any onlookers just what emotions were working away at the shorter man – even Fable could probably guess that Myk was staring at him in a way that wasn’t exactly virtuous as they held hands and stood within kissing distance once again. What Myk wanted to do was snatch that bottom lip between his teeth and nibble on it a while before moving onto tasting that delicate tongue. It was only when Myk heard a grunt of disapproval somewhere to their right that the Telepath switched moods instantaneously – from helpless romance to searing hatefulness.

Pewter eyes travelled as if towed to a middle-aged couple that were passing by. The wife averted her gaze, banishing them from sight, as the husband continued to give the pair of Telepaths death-glares. Myk figured that seeing two men together as they were was challenging these people’s idea of traditional coupling, of the sanctity of God even. It probably didn’t help matters that Myk looked like a drag queen without even trying tonight with the way his eyes were cast in shadows, how his lips were still stained an unnatural shade of red, how white hair poured down him like milk – or something a little more seedy – and for the sheer amount of black he wore; tight leather pants and a loose black shirt. Myk considered, as he smirked to himself cynically, that he probably looked more like a transgendered prostitute than an actual drag queen, but it wasn’t like these people knew the difference. Either way, he was condemned.

Myk didn’t mind so much on a personal front as he was sure he was going to hell regardless of his orientation, but he did not like the idea of them committing Fable to hellfire in their eyes. It was unjust, unfair. Myk was the monster that felt practically nothing but curiosity when they’d found that young lady’s body, and Fable had been the one to call the police, reporting her for the sake of her family. If these people had any idea how much of a delight the other Telepath was then they would feel unsustainable guilt in their hearts for thinking such terrible things. Myk might have marched over and told them of such – now and again he could be subjected to his bitterness – but he didn’t want to make Fable anymore uncomfortable than he possibly already was. Pewter eyes continued to return the glare the man was giving him for a moment and Myk slipped his hands out of Fable’s grasp.

“We should probably move on,” Myk said in a low voice that was almost a purr. “I was supposed to show you the attractions, not make an attraction out of you.”

The guilt was obvious in his voice and the way he then kept the distance between them. Myk didn’t even share a glance with Fable as he started to walk toward the fair a step or two in front of the other man. He couldn’t look up from the ground as they walked, but he knew where he was heading. The Telepath had been here enough to know the layout in his mind and the first thing he’d planned to do was take Fable to the Helter Skelter. It was an initiation process of sorts. The spiralling tower would give Myk an indication of whether the other man could tolerate true heights and if Fable wasn’t too dizzy afterwards, then they could graduate to some of the more fierce rides and shows. Most of all Myk wanted Fable to have some fun, he’d been nothing but a jinx to the other Telepath this entire night and Myk just had to make things right.

There was so much activity going on in such a small space. If Myk’s mind could ever be translated well enough into any visual form, it would likely be the view before them. People were rushing here and there; clutching to their prizes or sugary treats, their stomachs or their loved ones; running pillar to post like synapses firing off exciting ideas and needs and wants and complete urges that could not be swayed. Pewter eyes fathomed, following the sights that went whizzing and trickling by him like an exuberant fireworks display. So many lights and colours and noises swirled as carriages raced and span and bowed above, around and in between. There was so much going on, so much happening everywhere, doing everything, like a million thoughts buzzing away at once in contradiction, in harmony and in tandem. And all the while, the world knew nothing about this place. It was ignorant of its inner working, knowing only the scattered sounds and fading lights that echoed into the distant night.

It was so much like being inside the Telepath’s head, in fact, that Myk heard Fable’s voice calling to him like it was so very, very far away. That honeyed voice tingled like telepathy, an electrifying tickle that spilled into a warm embrace. Myk blinked repeatedly, pausing to look for the face he recognised as Fable’s in the sea of so much uncertain tension. Finding that the words provided a small sense of comfort, Myk longed for more of them and more of the man who had provided them. A weak, honest smile – one that wasn’t very often welcomed on the white-haired man’s features – broke, and Myk once again reached for Fable’s hand. Slender and surprisingly warm digits slipped over the other man’s hand, slipped between fingers and grasped snugly.

“I suppose it can’t be helped, you’re very attractive,” Myk said in a velvety chuckle that seemed positively scandalous. “Would you like to start there?”

The Telepath had somehow found the presence of mind to focus on where those ocean eyes were leading – the pirate ship. He wasn’t opposed to breaking his plans if Fable wanted to start there. It was just as well, really. Market research was just as valuable – if not quicker – than setting everything up like a science experiment and seeing how things played out. If Fable had a preference, why not indulge the man? Myk had plenty of remarkably fun ideas when it came to indulgence.

“I think you’ll really enjoy this ride,” he purred. “Assuming you enjoy rocking back and forth at high intensity.”

Even if Fable failed to grasp the undertone of the Telepath’s words this time around, it wouldn’t be a horrendous deal. Myk delighted in the man’s sweet innocence, like savouring a forbidden fruit.

The Telepath didn’t mind being dragged toward the Pirate ride by Fable; Myk would probably follow the man directly into a trap if that beauty would hold his hand and smile at him the whole way. There was only one thing Myk really had to worry about with Fable, and that was hurting him. Myk wasn’t capable of fearing for himself, his safety or anything of the sort. The thing that he feared – if one could really call it fear – was losing the tenuous hold he had over his sanity and doing something he would have to live an eternity with. Myk had already done some terrible things and just because he couldn’t remember them did not mean he was innocent. All the clues pointed directly to him and knowing he had been a criminal in the past, Myk knew what he was capable of and knew that he had been hurting people again. People had died because of him. His own auntie had been killed, her throat ripped apart and her blood… missing. It was the night of his own turning; Myk didn’t remember much about what happened, but it had to be him. The circumstances were too specific to his case for them not to be true. What else could it have been?

Pewter eyes blinked away the cloudy thoughts just in time to see an uncharacteristic glint in those innocent ocean eyes. Fable was making some kind of joke, an insinuation of something carnal and provocative as if he had understood Myk’s words in their entirety this time and was playing along. The total juxtaposition had the white-haired man bent over in a laugh – not that he was laughing at Fable. Amused and charmed, the Telepath placed a kiss on the other man’s cheek and whispered to him that he would remember that significant piece of information, the intention being that he would want to test Fable for the validity of his confession. This truly was a dangerous game for them to play. Did Fable have any idea who he was toying with? Myk was fluent in many languages, the most prominent being sarcasm and innuendos, and he would play and play until it was no fun anymore. Was this Fable’s way of showing Myk that he wanted to play again? The man had already expressed an agreeable sense of adventure, one that mirrored the pewter-eyed vixen’s own, but was Fable quite the Reverend that Myk had painted him to be or was there sin in him like all the others?

Whatever the case, it would be fun to find out.

The pair of Telepaths soon approached the vendor of the ride where, behind him, a snaking queue led up to the metal ship itself. The mortal was dressed in a khaki duffle coat that puffed out around him almost as if he was wearing a bush. His head – like a large white berry – peaked out over the top under a red bandana. The mortal looked at the two males with a wary eye, almost as if he could visualise the irregularity of their very existence. This piercing gaze made Myk’s pewter eyes narrow and before he knew it himself, he was hypnotising the gentleman. The mortal's eyelids drooped for a heartbeat – maybe two or three beats longer. His body seemed boneless for that time too, and he relaxed against the pillar behind him, breathing shallowly through his half-open mouth, and being unable to look away at those pewter eyes injecting calming thoughts into his mind.

“Tickets are $3 each,” the mortal said, his voice strangely friendly. “But I can do a pair for $5.”

It wasn’t much of a discount, but it was something. Myk accepted the offer, darting in confidently before Fable could say a word or try for his wallet.

“My treat,” Myk purred as he exchanged the money for the tickets and led the man into the dawdling queue of people. “I still owe you dinner, but, this can be a kind of… aperitif for now.”