FicWad

“You’re going to kill me, Brendon, so just do it,” Andy said defiantly looking up at the smirking vampire.

Brendon smiled down at the hunter still lying on the floor, bound hand and foot. Crouching at his side, he removed the gag left hanging around Andy’s neck and forced his chin to one side to get a better view of the jugular vein. Licking his lips as he smelled the adrenaline fuelled blood racing through the veins, Brendon took a moment to enjoy the fear he could almost taste.

“Did you know that venous blood tastes better than arterial blood?” he asked almost conversationally, knowing that the delay would only exacerbate Andy’s anxiety. “I think it must be the lack of oxygen. Some vampires like it. Not me,” he licked his lips again and moved in closer.

Grabbing a handful of Andy’s hair and holding him firmly, Brendon settled his fangs on Andy’s neck, feeling him tense in his grip. Pausing, almost teasing, occasionally pressing his fangs harder on Andy’s neck but without breaking the skin.

“Are you scared, Andy?” Brendon murmured softly into his neck.
“Just do it!” Andy whispered hoarsely in return, tensing still further.

Laughing softly, finding amusement in Andy’s fear, Brendon retracted his fangs and pulled back. Releasing his grip on Andy’s hair, he sat back on his heels and stared down.

“No, not yet, where’s the fun in that? I think I’ll keep you for a while. I know I can’t make you a slave, you’re far too resistant for that. But if I turn you, you think you’ll end up like the other two but you won’t. You know that? You won’t. All your training, all your resistance, none of that will help you. I know Patrick thinks that’s how you keep your humanity. I sensed it when we had him after he was turned. I mean,” Brendon paused as he stood, walking the few paces to a nearby table and leaning back on it, “what a ridiculous idea! The only thing it comes down to is human blood. Patrick hasn’t had any and Pete never took his first drink until recently.” Brendon laughed. “Oh, yeah, we know. He’s suffering isn’t he? And slowly, but surely, he’s turning evil. It’s inevitable, there’s not a thing he can do to stop it and he knows. He’s already killed and he’ll kill again and every time he does it, it’ll get easier and more natural until… one day, he’ll do it for fun and he won’t stop.”
Andy shook his head. “No, you don’t know everything, Brendon. You don’t know nearly everything you think you do!”
“You’re surely not referring to the donor blood that Patrick’s feeding him?” Watching Andy pale at the words, Brendon folded his arms across his chest, laughing as he did. “Oh! You are! My dear Andy, that won’t help him, if anything it’ll make it worse. Donated blood is sour, tasteless. No adrenaline, you see. Adrenaline makes it sweet.” Brendon licked his lips without even realising it. “The more afraid, the more… Oh! The sweeter! Like nectar! Like deep red nectar! That’s why I can’t bite you now, Andy,” Brendon crouched low again and smiled at the bound hunter. “You’re just not scared enough!”
“So,” Andy scowled, “you’re keeping me alive? That won’t make your master happy, now, will it?”
“I don’t have a master any more,” Brendon offered a superior smirk, still clearly delighted with his elevated status.
“So, you finally managed to kill him before he killed you?” Andy asked, not really believing the words, but knowing that there was a good chance it would trigger Brendon’s paranoia.
Frowning angrily before resuming his smirk, Brendon continued. “William is no longer my master. He’s made me his equal.”

Andy laughed loudly and distractedly with apparent genuine amusement. That single reaction probably fuelling Brendon’s fears more than anything he could have said.

“What?” Brendon snapped angrily, partly annoyed with himself that he had allowed the hunter to get to him.
“Listen to the way you phrase it. He’s still your master, perhaps even more so now than ever.”
“What do you mean, the way I phrased it?” Brendon appeared confused, thrown by Andy’s response.
“He’s made you his equal?” Andy shook his head in an almost pitying fashion. “If you were truly his equal you would just be his equal. He couldn’t make you and you wouldn’t say it like that. You’re not his equal even in your own mind!”
“We’re equal! I don’t have to convince you!” Brendon yelled.
“You can’t even convince yourself! Try it!” Andy laughed, even though angering the volatile vampire would only work against him. “Tell me you’re William Beckett’s equal.”

Brendon stared back, somehow unable to bring himself to utter the words.

“You can’t can you?” Andy sneered. “He’s still got you exactly where he wants you!”
“Shut up!” Brendon pulled Andy to his knees. “I don’t have to prove anything to you! You’re nothing! You’re less than nothing! And I’ll take great pleasure in proving that to you!”

Andy didn’t even feel the pain of the blow, neither did he see it coming, such was Brendon’s anger. Slumping in the vampire’s grip, Andy was lucky to still be alive and, had he been conscious still, he would know that it was possibly only his goading of Brendon and persistent provoking that had prevented his death. It seemed very likely, however, that he had only postponed the inevitable.

*

William Beckett looked around the room. The Mayoral Residence was now his home, but it was little more than adequate. It wasn’t his beloved mansion and his beautiful car was destroyed. Worst of all, his Coven was gone. Utterly gone. The only survivors had been himself, Brendon and Mike Carden but he had killed Mike and released Brendon from subservience. Now he was a Master without a Coven, as was Brendon. It was pathetic and he hated it. Without even seeing any of them, he knew the remaining Coven Leaders were laughing at him. He needed a Coven desperately, but no matter what he did to build one now, with newly created vampires, he would be weak and powerless. The hunters had brought him to this and what little revenge he could extract, he fully intended to.

There was only one possible way out of all of this and once again, that plan lay with Peter. The original plan the one that would deliver all other Covens to him, the one that would make him powerful again. Feared again. That plan, the success of it lay on Master Gabriel Saporta’s shoulders. He hated handing over control to others, especially another Coven Master, and ironically one of those he intended to kill, but it was the only way. He had already managed to convince Peter that he had to break his original source link. The only way to do that was to kill Patrick. That in itself would give I’m reason to celebrate but it would do something else too. The guilt and pain would be too much for him to handle, he would sink into a depression. With no one to keep him in check, his bloodlust would build and he would certainly kill again. Beckett felt certain that soon, very soon, Peter would return. Much as he had after he had originally turned Patrick, the human blood would cloud his humanity and eventually exclude it utterly. He would return and remain. And then… The plan. Saporta would die with the other Coven Leaders and all the city’s vampires would be split between him and Brendon. They would rule absolute and no one would argue with them. It was still possible but it was essential that he played his hand carefully and part of that care meant watching over the still very volatile Brendon.

*

Patrick stared up at Pete. It was a reasonable enough statement to make that Beckett was living on borrowed time. They all hated him with a passion but it was one thing to say it, it was quite another to make good on the threat. Leaving Joe still seated on the bed, lost in his misery, Patrick wandered closer to Pete and faced him with a strongly determined expression.

“We have to deal with Andrea,” Patrick whispered, out of Joe’s earshot.
“Yeah,” Pete agreed, “but we can’t sense her, she’s blocking us, we have to find a way to see and hear her.”
“There is a way, I think, but only one of us can do it,” Patrick sighed.
“The other has to find Andy?” Pete nodded.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll find Andy,” Pete nodded. “If there’s fighting to be done, I’m stronger.”
Patrick nodded. “I can use a net gun on Andrea, she’ll be concentrating on Joe so much, she won’t even be aware of me.”
“How are you going to disrupt the blocking?” Pete asked wary of Patrick’s unspoken method.
“I’m going to drink Holy Water.”
“You’re going to what?” Pete cried, forgetting himself. “How is that going to do anything but kill you?”
“It’ll burn, but it won’t kill me,” Patrick corrected.
“And how will that help?” Pete insisted.
“Joe has a memory now of the priest throwing Holy Water at you. She’ll feel the burning in one of us, I’m guessing she won’t realise which one, and she’ll pull back and I’ll see her. She won’t be at all suspicious because she’ll be vaguely aware of his memory.”
“And what if she looks at the memory closer? What if she realises that I didn’t get hit by the water? Or she tries to sense who’s there and knows you’re not me? What if it just doesn’t work? What if it burns you too much? What if you don’t recover?”
“I will recover,” Patrick insisted.
“And the answers to my other questions?”
“I’ll be fine! You just find Andy.”
“You had better be fine!” Pete snapped worriedly. “What about when you find her.”
Patrick frowned bitterly. “I’ll have to kill her.”
“In front of Joe?” Pete gasped his voice dropped to almost nothing again.
“You know, I’ll try to sidestep that pitfall,” Patrick frowned as he offered the sarcastic reply, surprised that Pete felt the need to ask the question.
“Yeah, sorry,” Pete nodded, sighing in acceptance of the somewhat harsh response. “Good luck, Trick.”
“You too,” Patrick replied grimly.