Black Blood - 5. Chapter 5

5

Micah was lying down on his four-poster bed with his new boyfriend, his trance music playlist coming out of his computer speakers at low volume. His cat Clover slept on the computer chair and Leaf sat on the windowsill, red curtain hiding him partly, so that only his furry tail was visible.

“Clover,” called Micah, extending his arms as though hugging his cat from a distance.

The Bengal cat’s ears pricked but he remained motionless on the computer chair. Micah gave up.

“What a silly name for a cat,” said Viko.

His long limbs were sprawled across the bed, his face buried in a dark red pillow. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, so Micah could see the big, detailed and realistic dragon tattoo on his back. It spread from his left hip to his right shoulder, from the dragon’s tail to the wings. It was beautiful. The scales were so nicely drawn they looked real. Micah couldn’t help but trace it with his fingers, feeling the slight bumps on the soft skin. The tattoo seemed pretty recent.

“Look who’s talking. What did you say you named your pet snake again?”

“Fraya.” Viko lifted himself up on his forearms slightly, looking at him with yellow green eyes. His long brown hair was ruffled, framing his angular features.

“That’s a weird name.”

A sort of shadow flashed across Viko’s eyes.

“Don’t say that. It’s a good name.”

Micah shrugged. His hand was still on his back, feeling the curve of his spine. Viko’s golden skin was always so warm. It clashed with Micah’s pale skin tone, and with the fluffy white blanket they lay on.

“It sounds like a girl’s name.”

“She’s a female snake.”

“Oh.” Viko was so weird. But he didn’t mind.

“I’m hungry. Do you have any meat left?” He made to rise from the bed but Micah whined in protest and clasped his arms around Viko’s waist.

“No, stay here. There’s nothing left anyway. You ate all of it. Honestly, I don’t know how you stay skinny.”

“I have a high metabolism.”

“Stay,” Micah insisted.

The room was dim. No lights were on, and it was getting dark outside. Only the open laptop cast an artificial glow from the black work desk, making the movie posters adorning the walls discernable. They were of various genres; Star Wars, The Last of the Mohicans, Titanic, Kill Bill, The Lord of the Rings, Saw, Zombieland. He liked to remind himself that his dream was to one day star in all sorts of movies.

Out the seventh floor window, the view of Manhattan’s lights at night was really nice.

Viko’s traits softened, and he returned Micah’s embrace. It was strange. Micah had never felt as safe as he did in Viko’s arms. Yet they had only known each other for two days. Maybe it was because Viko had protected him from his enraged ex.

They were just about to kiss, when a key turning in a lock was heard from the foyer. Micah froze. The identical cats both jumped on the floor with thumps and meows, ready to hide under Micah’s bed if needed.

“Who’s that?”

Micah bolted upright. “My parents.” He could hear their voices as they walked in. “They weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow afternoon.”

“Sweet.” Released from Micah’s hold, Viko leaped to his feet gracefully. “You can introduce me.”

“Um…” Micah ran his fingers through his hair nervously. He looked down and saw that his blue button down shirt and white pants were all wrinkled.

But there was no time to change or anything. His parents were calling his name, and they sounded angry. Micah picked up Viko’s shirt from the mess of clothes on the floor and flung it at him.

“At least put this back on.”

Micah watched as he threw it on, and wondered if that really was a better choice; Viko’s shirt was black, but so thin that it was almost transparent. It had a deep neck line and fishnet sleeves. Added to the skin tight army print jeans, dragon buckle belt and claw pendant around his neck, he had quite the style. Micah loved it. But his parents wouldn’t. They wouldn’t like it at all.

It was too late to back out though. Viko had already stepped out of the bedroom, and now he walked down the hall and to the living room, where Micah’s parents had dropped their bags and suitcase. Micah trotted next to Viko reluctantly. His parents seemed to be angry about the fact that the giant cat playground was in the living room. They were all business; Richard, his father, wearing a gray suit and black tie, and Lauren, his mother, clad in a plum colored skirt suit.

“Micah, why did you—?” Lauren stopped short when she saw Viko in the threshold. She frowned, replacing a strand of blonde hair that had dared come out of her neat chignon.

Richard was the very figure of authority as he crossed his arms against his massive chest.

“Who is this, son?”

“Um, this is my friend from school. We were just rehearsing some lines. He was just leaving. Right, buddy?” Micah slapped Viko’s shoulder, laughing nervously. God, he usually was a very good actor, if he did say so himself but, when it came to acting straight in front of his parents, he really sucked.

Yet, somehow, his parents didn’t know. He had made many attempts at telling them but the moment never seemed right. So instead he had written a nice letter explaining everything. He had spent many hours finding just the right words. It explained how he knew he was different from his older brother and sister, who were respectively at Harvard law, and at Yale studying marketing. He knew that it wasn’t easy having a son who was a little different, who wanted to become an actor, and who was gay. He knew he was throwing them out of their comfort zone, so in the letter he was reminding them that he loved them, and that he wanted them to take their time coming to terms with it. He had yet to give it to them. For now it was neatly folded in his desk drawer, waiting for the right time.

Viko had stepped forward. “Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell, my name is Viko, and I’m your son’s life partner now. I promise I’ll always take care of him, protect him, and make love to him.”

Micah felt sick. He tried to talk but no sound came out. His throat constricted.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking,” Richard said, “but it’s not funny.”

Viko looked perplexed. “It’s not meant to be funny at all. I’m very serious.”

Somewhere, hidden deep beneath his fear of his parents’ reaction, Micah thought it felt kind of nice to hear those words. Was Viko really serious? That had been quite the declaration.

He could have left out that part about making love, though.

It lasted only a split second. Micah regained his senses. This was ridiculous. Who did Viko think he was, barging into his life and messing up his relationship with his parents like that?

“He’s kidding! It’s for acting class, father. He doesn’t—”

A shocked silence fell upon the pastel themed room when Viko interrupted Micah with an intense kiss. He held him so close that Micah couldn’t even pull away. Viko made it quite clear that it was him who decided when the kiss was over.

And when it was, he turned to stare at Micah’s father defiantly.

“If you don’t approve of me, you can fight me, but let me warn you. You will lose.” There was an arrogant glint in Viko’s feline-like eyes.

“What’s wrong with you?” Micah detached himself from him. “Are you insane? You’re not fighting my father!”

“Oh?” Viko arched a dark eyebrow. “But that’s how we do it where I’m from, so I thought…”

“Enough!” His father yelled. “Get the hell out of here. Both of you.” His face was red with anger. “I don’t care if it’s some acting crap, or what, but I just got home and I’m too tired for this.”

“But…” Micah protested.

“I said out!”

Viko was holding his hand, already leading him to the foyer. Micah’s mother furtively came to speak to him while he put on his Gucci sneakers. They seemed quite small next to Viko’s massive, silver spiked combat boots.

“You can come back later, without your, um, friend,” said Lauren with distaste. “Your father should have calmed down.”

“Whatever.” He appreciated her telling him this, but he didn’t like the way she looked at Viko like he was vermin in her house. He wasn’t sure he should blame her, though.

And that was how they ended up walking down Fifth Avenue, toward Viko’s cousin’s place.

“Where the hell are you from anyway? And don’t give me that ‘a little bit of everywhere and I don’t believe in staying in one place’ crap. The whole mysterious thing was fun until you went and outed me to my parents like a crazy person.”

Micah walked with his hands shoved in his white jeans pockets. Without his jacket—Skylar still hadn’t given it back—he felt a bit cold, even though the September night was actually rather warm. Other buildings like his own condo complex lined the left side of the street, as well as high corporate buildings full of offices, with lights still on here and there wherever people worked over time. On their right were the outskirts of Central Park. Manhattan was filled with fancy cars and stylish people walking on the sidewalks as always.

Viko wasn’t giving him an answer.

“Well, which is it? Some Indonesian tribe? Some Pacific Island in the middle of nowhere? Honestly, I don’t know where the hell you’re from, but around here,” he gestured wildly, “you’re not supposed to talk like that to your boyfriend’s parents.”

“You’re overreacting,” said Viko, “and it’s not attractive. Don’t be like your parents, Micah.”

He scowled. “I’m not like them!”

“Then don’t act like them. Getting angry for no reason.” Viko shook his head in disbelief.

Micah didn’t know what to say anymore. Maybe Viko really was from an entirely different culture.

He took out his cell and texted Skylar because he was emotional and Viko was being insensitive. He kept the phone in his hand, waiting for Skylar’s reply. It never came though. They were still walking along Central Park. Micah didn’t know where Viko lived, so he just followed him.

“Why won’t you tell me anything about yourself, Vik?” He nudged him.

“I tell you lots of things. You know I like food. And dragons.”

“Anyone would know that you silly bastard.”

Viko smiled, glancing down. Micah liked his smile. It wasn’t perfect; one of his incisors was chipped, but in an endearing way.

“Would you believe me if I told you that,” Viko held his claw pendant between his thumb and index, “this is a real dragon claw?”

“Uh, no?” Micah chuckled.

Draping his arm around Micah’s shoulders, Viko leaned closer and kissed his temple.

“Come on, we’re almost there.”

Blake lived on Fifth Avenue, on the seventeenth floor of a building even more luxurious than Micah’s. The residence was full-floor, with terraces overlooking Central Park on one side, and the Upper East Side on the other. The view from every angle was absolutely gorgeous. Micah wondered if Skylar had been here. Probably not; she would have told him. Right now, no one was home.

Viko was giving him a tour. The place was ridiculously big, with fifteen rooms in total. It was flooded with light and decorated with taste. The floors were mostly polished, beautifully patterned wood tiles, and pure white ceramic in the kitchen and bathrooms. Rich dark paint covered the walls in between the rooms, in tints like indigo and cherry red. They were lined with tapestries and paintings, some of it renaissance art, some of it very gothic. Micah recognized the famous hell paintings by Bosch. It made him shiver.

They stopped by the incredibly wide, modern kitchen that looked like it was out of a catalogue, so that Viko could grab a bottle of expensive scotch and two crystal glasses from the mahogany cupboards. Viko’s bedroom was their ultimate destination, of course.

“This is my lair,” said Viko.

The first thing Micah noticed was the wide, six foot tall terrarium taking up most of the wall opposing the bed, inside which was the boa constrictor Viko called a pet. The snake seemed to be at least eight feet long. It was a pinkish tan color with dark crossbands.

“Scary!” said Micah as he carefully stepped closer to see the snake. Right now it was wound around a branch, partly hidden behind some plants.

“Fraya, this is Micah. I hope you guys can get along.”

“You know it can’t understand you, right?”

“She,” Viko corrected. “And you talk to your cats all the time so shut up. Fancy a glass of scotch?”

“Sure.” He watched as Viko put down the glasses on the ornate cherry wood desk, and poured the amber liquid.

There was no computer on the desk, just some books, piles of paper, and a sketchbook, which reminded him of Skylar because she had a similar one. Micah raised a brow as he realized one of the books was for learning English. But then his attention was brought elsewhere as Viko handed him the glass of scotch. They clank the crystal glasses together and took a sip. It was Micah’s first time drinking scotch. He was only eighteen, after all. It was strong, but it wasn’t bad. There was a subtle smoky aftertaste.

“Are you even twenty one?”

Viko smiled. “I am today.”

“Is that true?”

“Yes.”

Micah was annoyed with being in the dark. He went to flick on the light, which he realized was a gothic wrought iron chandelier. The walls were royal blue, with a tattoo-themed calendar hanging above the desk. The curtains covering the window were black velvet, and the double bed covers were also black. The furniture was all cherry wood. There were some black, blue and white candles on the night stand.

It would have been really beautiful, if the bedroom hadn’t been such a mess. Micah could hardly see the floor. There were books, crumpled sheets of paper, clothes, shoes and boots, accessories such as scarves, belts, and hats, empty bottles of liquor, empty pizza boxes, brown paper bags from fast food restaurants.

“This place is such a mess! Do you need me to help you clean up?”

“No. I like my mess.” He sipped at his scotch some more, looking at Micah with gleaming yellow eyes.

“I like your eyes. They’re not contacts are they?”

“No.”

Micah raised a hand to touch Viko’s left eyebrow with a hesitant finger. There was a thin white scar slicing through it.

“What happened there?”

“My little brother did that to me.” Viko took Micah’s hand and laced their fingers.

“What?” Micah held his breath.

Viko finished his glass of scotch and put it down on the desk loudly.

“He has always been jealous of me.”

“You mean he did it on purpose?”

Instead of answering, Viko looked at the crystal glass still full of scotch Micah was holding.

“Don’t you like it?”

“I do.”

“Then drink it.”

“You know, some people actually take their time when drinking, or eating, or anything.”

Viko tilted his head, looking at him like he couldn’t comprehend the language he was speaking in.

Micah rolled his eyes, and threw back his head a bit as he forcefully drank all of the scotch in his glass. Then he made a face, putting down the empty glass next to Viko’s.

“Why was your brother jealous of you?”

“Because I had everything he didn’t.”

“Like what?”

Viko glanced to the side, hesitating. But then he made a small smile. “All the girls.”

“Are you messing with me?”

“Maybe a little.”

“You’re so annoying Vik.” Micah ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it all on one side. “So is it really your birthday?”

Viko nodded, and sat in the desk’s chair to refill the crystal glasses with scotch. But Micah needed a little break before drinking that again. He leaned over Viko’s shoulder and snatched the sketchbook.

“Don’t,” he protested, “they’re not very good.”

But Micah was already flipping the pages. They were all drawings of dragons. One of them was the exact replica of his back tattoo.

“So you drew it yourself, huh?” said Micah more to himself. He leaned one arm on Viko’s shoulder. “You’re so talented.”

“It’s just a hobby.”

It was more than that, though. Viko seemed really obsessed with dragons—or maybe reptiles in general, considering he had a boa constrictor in his bedroom. Seriously, Micah considered taking a picture of the terrarium and showing it to his parents, so they would see that it could be worst and stop being angry about his cats and the playground.

“Have you watched Game of Thrones? I’m pretty sure you’d like Daenerys.”

“I haven’t. Here. I want to celebrate.” He raised the two glasses of scotch.

Micah drank his much slower than Viko again. But he managed to finish it. He felt a bit light-headed. Viko was looking up at him so intently that it was making him blush.

“I don’t have a present,” he said.

“I don’t care.”

He rose from the chair so abruptly that Micah dropped his glass. It shattered on the floor. Micah tried to apologize, but Viko was kissing him, hard and deep, while gripping at his clothes and tugging so much that he ripped a few buttons of his shirt. Micah held him more for support than anything, because he felt like he was falling. His eyes closed, and he kissed back because he couldn’t help himself. It just felt right.

Maybe it was partly because he was a bit drunk.

Micah was pushed back and then dropped onto the bed. He grabbed at Viko to pull him down with him, eyes filled with lust.

But just as they were starting to kiss again, they heard a door being slammed open.

“Charisma?” A deep masculine voice shouted.

Another voice, female, added, “Charisma are you here? Blake?”

Viko sighed and pressed his forehead to Micah’s. “Why does this keep happening?”

“Poor baby.” Micah hugged him tight, half-teasing. Viko’s scent was nice. Subtle but sweet. “Who are these people anyway? And who’s Charisma? Is that Blake’s sister?”

Viko remained quiet, enjoying the embrace while it lasted.

The two individuals barged in the room. They both looked quite disheveled, like they had been running. The boy was tall and dark-skinned with entrancing pale eyes, and the girl had Mediterranean skin and tawny eyes. There was this wildness about her; she gave off a certain aura that even Micah could pick up on. He didn’t need Skylar’s gift to know that he shouldn’t mess with her. Also she was only wearing a black bra along with her red striped pants.

“Viko, is Charisma here?” the boy asked.

He pulled away from Micah slowly, glowering at the ones responsible for the disruption.

“No, Xievon, she’s not. Otherwise she would’ve answered you when you yelled.”

“We need to speak with her,” the girl hissed, “right now.”

Viko stood up straight, tucking his sleek dark hair behind his ears in annoyance. “Fucking hell, Jacy, can’t you see you’re interrupting something here? You need to speak with Charisma? So what? She’s not here. Want me to spell it out for you?”

Xievon looked slightly more apologetic than Jacy, which was still not much. “Viko please, do you know where she is? It’s important. Something’s happened.”

“Why would I know where she is? Just call her.”

Xievon shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “My phone’s dead, and I can’t find my charger. It’s all so complicated. Can’t you call her?”

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” said Viko flatly.

“This is an emergency.” Jacy stepped closer, chin raised, as though she could make up in arrogance for the one foot height difference. “You know Charisma won’t be too happy if you don’t help us.” Her tone sounded threatening.

Micah slid off the bed and brushed it off nervously. “It’s fine. It’s late anyway. I need to go talk to my parents and try to sort this out. Are these your cousin’s friends? It sounds important, anyway.”

“I’ll walk you out, at least.” Viko placed his hand at the small of Micah’s back and they walked past the two others. “I’ll be right back,” he told them, voice laced with irritation.

“Whoa,” Micah made a whistling noise when they entered the elevator, “your cousin sounds like a bitch.”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

“And her friends are… they seem kinda dangerous, actually. Especially that girl. Are you gonna be okay?”

Viko was amused. “Are you worried about me?”

“A little. She sounded like a mad person.”

“And I’m worried about you. Never be afraid of your parents, Micah. Stand up to them.”

When they got out of the elevator, Viko escorted him across the lavish lobby and to the double glass doors. There was someone paid to open them, of course.

“I’ll try.” Micah gave a little smile.

“Don’t just try.”

“All right. See ya.”

He felt Viko’s eyes on his back as he exited the building, and hit Fifth Avenue’s sidewalk. Skylar called him as he walked along Central Park, the lush trees emitting a fresh green scent in the night.

It was difficult to hear her with all the taxis careening by and the buses puffing to a stop. He pressed his cell close to his ear. He still felt a bit drunk from that refined scotch.

“Thank God, I really need to talk to someone. I had such a weird evening. I can’t believe Viko outed me to my parents. What am I gonna do? I had such a lovely letter, too. Now it’s useless…”

“Micah… I think I need to talk to someone, too. I went vampire hunting again with Mayrin.” The usually melodious voice sounded weary.

“Really? You’re going to keep doing that? I really think we should just call the cops, or something.”

He just really didn’t want Skylar to get hurt. He couldn’t believe just two days ago they had been discussing their screenplay ideas.

“I don’t know. I’m supposed to help Mayrin, though. She healed my dad, remember? I owe her. But tonight… we were attacked by stronger ones.”

He lowered his voice. “You mean vampires?”

“Ya. It was crazy. It’s blurry when I try to remember, you know? Like a dream. First we tortured some lame vampire into telling us that his leader’s name is Charisma, and then—”

“Skylar…” His legs felt weak.

He stopped walking in the middle of the sidewalk. Some guy bumped into him, and then walked past him while cursing colorfully.

Charisma wasn’t exactly a common name.

“What is it?”

He swallowed hard, realization dawning on him. “That’s Blake’s sister.”

“What?” She sounded confused.

“I can’t do this on the phone. I’m coming to your place.”

He hung up. He doubted his father would let him drive the Cadillac now. So he hailed one of the countless cabs in the area.

The familiar scent of taxi air freshener filled his nostrils as he sat on the back seat and directed the driver toward Skylar’s apartment just a bit farther North. He closed his eyes for a moment, the pop music on the radio filling his ears.

Thoughts racing, he tried to make sense of it all. But he couldn’t, not really. All he could think about was Viko. What if he was a vampire, too? He could go out in the sun, though. But did that matter? Skylar hadn't told him much about these so-called vampires.

Viko was stronger than he looked. And it would explain the overall oddness. He ate a lot of normal food though, and he had never tried to drink Micah’s blood. Now he really was confused. He just really didn’t want Viko to be some kind of vampire, because even though he was really strange, he was still great, and Micah didn’t want Mayrin and Skylar to go after him. That would be horrible.

He really just had to talk it through with Skylar. Also, that was a very good excuse not to go confront his parents right away.