It's 1871 and Leonides is in Hong Kong, en route back to France with a captive, Ian (who used to be named Clerik). But things go awry and Ian is kidnapped. Leon's tracking him:
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I followed it up to Queen's Road, into an area of tumbling little shacks trailing smoke into the sky past thick foliage. In the middle of it all was a finer house, two-levels, surrounded by masonry walls topped with tiles, overgrown garden showing it was much abandoned. I stormed up the steps and through the doors to find...
An empty foyer. Cleared of furniture but not filth. Walls moldy and dark. Rats scurrying about.
And grunts of pain from Ian.
I was up the stairs in a flash, and there I found him. strung up to the ceiling by a thick rope by his wrists, his legs spread apart and bound to a pole, his underwear torn half off one hip to reveal him. And around him were three young men, all naked. None pretty but not ugly. Just plain. Thick. Stupid. Almost boyish. Ian was an elegant bear in comparison to them.
And all three were slaved, not vampires.
Then I saw him, sitting off to one side his monk's robe now a cloak opened wide to reveal his taut, naked body and erection.
Prior Pious.
And the triumphant expression on his face confirmed my suspicion -- he had taken Ian to draw me to him.
"Leon, I di' no' leave..." was all Ian could say before one of the slaves whipped a gag around his mouth and bound it tight. Perhaps he thought I'd be stupid enough to jump over to stop him, since one of the others was groping Ian in very invasive ways while the other was close by with a broken lance pointed at me.
A broken lance of wood, sharp and deadly.
Pious was only smiling. "Leonides," he said, speaking in our old Norman dialect. "I had heard you were coming this way, and hoped you would return."
I barely paid him any attention. Ian was not the least bit wet. No scent of the harbor's water on him. He was telling me the truth. He had not tried to escape me. He had been taken from the Angelique, as bait. Probably by these three little worms. They would have needed no approval to unlock my door to enter my chambers. Nor to remove the chain from Ian's leg. Nor to bring him out so Pious could ferry him here.
"Where is the guard on my ship?" I asked.
"In the harbor," said Pious. "He was quite tasty."
I cannot begin to tell you how angry that made me. This was a violation of protocol, of my standing, and Pious would have known that, yet he did it, anyway. The son of a bitch...
Ian tried to speak but I silenced him with a wave of my hand.
My voice grow cold as I said, also in our Norman dialect, "This is a very big mistake on your part, Pious."
"Is it?" He rose and wandered over to Ian, his robe almost trailing behind him, his erection leading the way. Whatever fondness I'd once had for his physical appearance, he now struck me as vile and depraved. "You know, for years," he continued, "or decades...no, centuries I have been trying to find a way to get your attention..."
"And you do it by taking what is mine?"
"But he's not yours." He caressed Ian's chest, toying with his nipples as he said, "He is pretty. A bit more swarthy than I prefer, and he has what counts." He slipped his hand down to grab Ian's genitals, making him squirm in horror. It was all I could do to keep from jumping Pious and tearing him apart. "But he's not yours," he said. "Not yet. He's not slaved, nor has he been turned, so he's still fair game."
"Protocol says otherwise."
"Protocol is the reason I'm here," he snapped at me.
"What do you want?" I snapped back.
"You know, the First Ones were willing to tolerate my preferences, so long as I kept it confined to the monastery, with my monks to play with and serfs to feed upon. But you took that away from me."
"You did that, yourself, when you turned me. In direct violation of..."
"I did not mean for you to be turned!"
"It doesn't matter. I was, thanks to your actions. Accept responsibility for yourself."
"But it's not fair."
"Oh, now you sound petulant, like a child."
"I'm weary! I want back in our world."
"Talk to The First Ones."
"I've tried. They won't listen. But they might listen to you."
I actually laughed. "You threaten my property and then ask me to help you?"
"As I said, I just wanted to get your attention." He slipped behind Ian, letting his hands curl around to his front. His nails grew and his fangs lengthened. The terror in Ian's face was infuriating...and wildly erotic. Then Pious stupidly continued with, "And now I have it. You know, if I turn him, he becomes mine."
"Don't you even try."
"You cannot stop me. Protocol forbids we kill each other, and you may not harm those I have slaved."
"You have broken protocol."
"But I am weak; you are not."
"Don't be so sure of yourself, Pious."
He chuckled and started to bite into Ian's neck, but I slammed between the two of them, kicking Pious to my left while pulling Ian to my right. The lad with the spear jabbed it at me but I slapped him, sending him across the room. The other two tried to jump me but in a flash I was on the ceiling, holding Ian and glaring down at them all in full vampire mode.
And then I saw the blood on Ian's neck.
Pious had cut him, with his teeth.
As had been done to me.
He would turn, now. There was no other path. And he was not a Blood Angel, so he would belong to that bastard, not to me.
I lost all control. In fury, I sank my own teeth into Ian's neck and drank from him...drained him before he could turn. Heard him screaming and felt him fighting me but I did not stop. Just drank and drank as he grew more and more still...then finally limp in my arms.
I had killed him.
I killed him.
Deep within I knew it had been necessary. He would have been Pious' and he was not enough removed from his nature to trust he would not become a feral feeding beast. But it was kill him or unleash him on the world...and that I could not bear.
But still, the insane anger that exploded through me...screaming pain and a near madness...it would have been felt by any vampire within a hundred miles. And in fact, several appeared within moments to put themselves between me and Pious. It was only they who kept be from sending myself into banishment from the community, for I was ready to slaughter not only that bastard but his slaves, protocol be damned.
Eogard was with them, and his hands were upon me as he growled, "Let go, sir. Let go."
I fought it and fought it but the fury boiled within...until...
Amongst the group I sensed another Blood Angel.
An Elder One.
Female.
She replaced Eogard in my sight, her clothing a brilliant combination of silk and gauge in a thousand colors. Tall. Strong. Beautiful in the extreme. Egyptian.
She stopped me with a single hand to my chest, whispering, "Leonides, he is not yours to do with."
I sensed her name was Nethys, and the strength in her was greater than my own. Far, far greater. As were the peace and control. They drifted into me.
I finally grew aware enough to realize I was still holding Ian's lovely body. Cradled like a lover. Pale in death. Lips slightly parted. Eyes half-closed. My wound to his throat bold and vicious and cursing me with what I had done.
"Take no blame for yourself," she said. "This was brought about by another."
I looked at her, knowing but not understanding.
"Stay strong, Leonides. Not only for your sake, but others who depend on you. Leave Pious to us."
Somehow I managed to say, "But I want him dead...and vampire may not kill vampire."
"This is true," she replied with a gentle smile. "But we know those who can. Take your friend. Know you protected him as best you could. Did right by him. Bury him."
"Here?" In this hideous land of corruption and filth? My beautiful Ian lying here, for eternity?
"Make ashes of his body. Spread them in the fields. Watch this world grow beautiful around him."
"Come along, sir." It was Eogard talking. He put a hand on my back.
I still held Ian's body, and did not want to move for fear I would not wake to find it all a dream. Yet I let him lead me to the stairs and down into the night
Ian was cremated. His ashes put into a beautiful urn of white porcelain and gold, and we sailed for home. Then I did as Nethys suggested, whispering a gentle layer of them over Nellis' hectare of iris. And when they bloomed, that summer, I watched butterflies and bees and birds dance amongst them.
And never once did I weep.
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