Jaron LeJeune (passions_voice) wrote in sons_of_cain, @ 2009-05-19 10:15:00 |
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Entry tags: | complete, jaron lejeune, thorne whittier, vampire, wednesday: late december |
Wednesday
Who: Jaron, Thorne, and a cast of victims
What: Jaron becomes mind-controlled by Vincent
When: Early Evening going into late, late evening
Where: All over Las Vegas
Rating: R?
Status: Complete
All through the day, Jaron stared off into space as he lay curled beside Thorne. While his lover dozed, the petite vampire fought with a stabbing headache which seemed to come and go. He rubbed absently at the back of his head and glanced around the room. Sight of his new one-legged servant brought back the atrocities of his visit to 'Blood Night', the images still fresh in his mind after a month.
Thorne had been his avenging angel, sweeping into the blood-drenched club and meeting out judgment to those who had accosted him. But Jaron felt guilt for causing the incident. He should have known better than to venture into such a place. He scolded himself for his stupidity only to thank whatever gods might exist in the next breath that he had been present to save the poor human who now was without one leg.
He wondered absently if both he and the new servant would better heal from the trauma without seeing each other daily but could not bring himself to send the man away.
When a tinkling bell reminded him of his appointment with a client, he slid from beneath the thick downy covers. Jaron took his time getting ready. A servant straight-ironed his hair as he sat quietly with a mug of warm blood and dry toast. Somehow this one event had shattered his world in a way which Thanatos had failed to do. The firsthand knowledge of what most vampires found to be entertainment had left its mark and he shuddered for the millionth time at thoughts of the violence that must be daily fare in the city.
As he pulled on a pair of high-waist, thin-leg, black crepe pants, he wondered idly if Thorne had ever treated a human in such a manner, if he hunted in the outlands without Jaron and kept the fact to himself. Would that change how he felt about his handsome lover? The petite vampire decided quickly that it would not, although he hoped in his heart that Thorne was the caring man he envisioned him to be. Jaron would never ask such questions, knowing it was much better not to know. And Thorne would lie to protect him. The thought brought a sad smile, for he would rather be lied to than know an awful truth that he could not face.
Another servant helped him to don a crisp tuxedo shirt, its buttons sparkling black jewels, then slid his feet into a pair of black satin flats, covered with gold and silver thread designs ornamented with black, red and crystal beads. At the open neck of his shirt, he chose a gothic type cross, jeweled with onyx and ruby. On his finger, he wore the ruby ring that Thorne had gifted to him.
At last, Jaron was ready to go, at least he was dressed. To be honest, he felt weak, ill-prepared, and sick to the bone. He wanted to crawl back into the bed with his lover and hide from the world outside his door but Jaron knew he couldn’t. The only solution was to forget this event ever happened, to return to his faith in vampire-kind, however misguided.
Quietly, he slipped to Thorne’s side of the bed and bent to kiss the handsome vampire, whispering against his lips, “No trouble from me this evening, I promise. Be safe, my love.” Jaron knew he caused far too many problems for the commander of the Peace Keepers.
Once out on the main strip, the cold wind blasting through the tiny vampire despite his full length fur and muff, he refused a carriage and instead decided the walk would do him good. Jaron smiled at those he passed and fought his mind’s trailing questions of what evil might lie unseen in their hearts. He didn’t want to know, and shouldn’t think such thoughts since his profession led him to many of their doors.
His client for the evening was a beautiful vampiress who, for the most part, lived as a recluse but did like a companion from time to time in order to dabble in her need for kink. Jaron knew the evening would be filled with bondage, whips and mild torture but the idea was a welcomed diversion. He wouldn’t have time to think on anything but the needs of his mistress for the evening.
His knuckles rapped lightly on Valentina’s door which opened immediately to reveal the tall red-headed vampire who had contracted his services. She kept no servants, enjoying instead the quiet of an empty house. Valentina was a tall, curvaceous Russian, her features classic, her beauty only enhanced by a pale vampiric complexion. Eyes of a startling aqua blue danced with delight at his arrival, directing him into her home which held immaculately preserved treasures from her era as a human.
Beneath a long flowing robe, she revealed a leather corset with garter, stockings and spiked heels that rivaled her fangs in sharpness. Valentina was prepared for their evening, having set out a wide array of toys and bondage gear.
The next few hours were spent in the pursuit of pleasure with both enjoying the many methods used to obtain their common goal. It was at this point that Valentina called a short break in their activities and Jaron decided he could use a cigarette. Without dressing, he stepped out onto her back porch with one of his hand-rolled cigarettes in hand, a custom blend of cherry tobacco with a sprinkling of opium. He lit the end and took a puff, hearing his client in the kitchen where she was making them both a cup of hot tea. He smiled in anticipation of the spicy brew she always offered and glanced up at the night sky where a light flutter of snow fell. His mind felt as ease for the first time that day.
He enjoyed his time with Valentina, feeling excitement each time he recognized her name on his calendar. Jaron took another deep drag from his cigarette before a sudden feeling of dizziness engulfed him. He reached out for the back of a chair to steady himself as pain thrust through his head like a dagger. He gasped with agony at the intensity of his pain and fell forward.
His next conscious moment found him sitting at the vampiress’ kitchen table. His head still pounded and he wondered if Valentina had brought him in from the back porch. Jaron looked down at his hands, folded in his bare lap, thinking how his body felt foreign to him. It was in that glance that he recognized the blood that covered him. With a cry, he jumped from the chair only to slip on the slick floor, landing on his back next to the severed head of his client.
His feet fought the gore as he pushed himself away until he huddled in the corner, wide eyes taking in the scene before him. Valentina was dead, there was no escaping that fact, her body twisted on the kitchen tiles near the stove where water continued to boil, her unseeing gaze staring in disbelief from a puddle of blood that had coursed through her undead veins only shortly ago.
Jaron’s entire nude body was covered in gore, bringing back the sensations from his trip to 'Blood Night'. What had happened?, he wondered. Was the killer still here, waiting to deliver the same fate to him as well? The thought brought Jaron to his feet. He ran for the phone and jerked it from its cradle with undue force.
“Please hurry!” he screamed into the phone. “She’s dead! Someone killed her!” Once he had been assured that Peace Keepers were on their way, he sunk back to the floor and curled into himself in fear and sadness. Had someone followed him here to take revenge for the deaths of their fellow vampires more than a month ago? Had he somehow brought this to Valentina’s door?