The Lines of Marsden 2
Living in Shadows
Publisher: MLRPress
Released: March 2014
BLURB:
"By dying I will not fail, within my
linage three will come together, and you will know them by the colour of their
eyes."
Michael
Marsden learns he's not alone. There are other Marsdens out there...with an
agenda that's all their own. Faced with his past for the first time, Christian
Risely-Kincaid learns there's more to him than meets the eye.
Benj
Marsden's grateful Christian was rescued from Elsewhere, but he's not going to
allow Michael to keep what's his—Christian belongs to him.
EXCERPT:
Chapter
One
Understanding...
And then some.
Six
months!
Six goddamn
crazy, lonely, filled-with-fear months, and still Christian hadn't woken up.
Only by chance had Michael worked out a way to stop Christian's body from
withering away. Sebastian had once again let something slip he shouldn't have.
To save his lover's life, he needed to help Christian take in nourishment.
Feeding him was easy, but how Michael had to do it felt as though he was
violating the man he loved. On the other hand, Christian only appeared to be
able to feed while Michael was making love to him--if you could even call it
that. To Michael it was more like impersonal fucking because the act was so
one-sided. The process had taken a lot of trial and error. The whole thing was
a pure accident of need on Michael's part in figuring out the truth. In his
heart, he knew Christian wouldn't have minded the way he went about everything,
especially knowing this was giving Michael enough time to figure out how to
bring him back completely.
God, he
missed Christian so damn much.
As
Michael lay in bed, staring up at the darkened ceiling, he wondered if
Sebastian actually was as dumb as he appeared to be. Did Sebastian even realise
how often he was giving Michael the answers he needed? Though the last time
he'd listened in on Sebastian's thoughts, the man was torturing Christian with
memories of his past. The name Benjamin kept coming up, and every time the word
passed Sebastian's lips Christian would sob in what sounded like pain and
misery. But the question remained, who was Benjamin and what did he mean to
Christian?
Michael's
fingertips slowly caressed Christian's cool skin to comfort him. In the
background, he could hear the rest of the family downstairs moving around as
though nothing had ever happened. Somehow, it seemed so wrong when one of their
own was incapacitated.
From
somewhere in the house Michael heard his sister laughing at something Doyle was
saying and it flooded him with guilt, remorse, and a whole lot of other
emotions, which ate away at him. Michael fretted constantly over the way he'd
acted toward everyone since the night his world collapsed in on itself.
Firstly, he'd lost Christian to Elsewhere, to suffer at the hands of a sadistic
bastard—who Michael wanted to kill more than anyone else in the world—and
secondly, he'd lost his parents to a fire, destroying any chance of him ever
having the normal family he wanted. The pain, combined with the devastation
filling him, was too much for Michael to bear. He'd since taken to exiting and
returning to the house in a manner where he wouldn't have to run into the
others—especially Gypsy and Doyle.
Seeing the hurt in their eyes
would kill him.
Michael
felt guilty twice over with Gypsy, because he hadn't been there when she'd
needed him the most. Strangely, with Doyle it was because every time Michael
saw him lately he wanted to be held in the man's arms so he could feel a sense
of normalcy and comfort. Yet, something so innocent somehow felt as if he were
cheating, even if he didn't intend it to be that way. So it was better if he
avoided everyone all together, especially Doyle. Also, Michael was pretty sure
Doyle was straight, so he'd more than likely be uncomfortable with Michael
clinging to him. Sighing deeply, Michael debated whether to go out to feed as
his lover's body would be requiring nourishment soon just to maintain his
current state of health.
Voices
were drifting up from the corridor below. He could now hear Gypsy softly
arguing with Doyle over something. He was almost positive they were heading in
the direction of the room he shared with Christian. Michael didn't need this
right now. Rolling out of bed, he went to the window which was thankfully open.
Escape was at hand--thank God for small mercies. The moment he heard the first
footfall on the steps leading up to the attic, Michael stepped out of the
window, dropping down two stories to land agilely on the ground below his
window. Stepping back into the shadows, he listened as his sister cursed. A
smile came to his lips when he realised she was calling him all the swear names
she'd used in their younger, more normal days. No matter what, there was no
changing the personality of who his sister was. He had always liked that about
her.
He'd
make it up to her one day. As soon as he brought Christian back he'd make it up
to everyone for the way he'd been treating them all. Yes, he knew he was acting
like a total arse-wipe most of the time, but sometimes he didn't have the
energy to be able to pretend everything was still all right. In those times, he
knew if he were around the others he'd only bring them all down to the level of
hell he found himself existing in. Taking his cigarettes out of his pocket, he
lit one while he waited for Gypsy and Doyle to leave his room. He heard Doyle
at the window and held his breath. He sensed Doyle must have somehow known he
was there because he tried to get Gypsy to calm down and leave. Michael smiled
as Doyle did what he always did: made peace as best he could. There was
something about the man that made everyone want to listen.
As
soon as they were gone, Michael started the slow walk into town. At times like
this, he wished they had a car so he could keep driving into the night and lose
himself for just a little while. Maybe he could find out what had happened to
his parents' car. Had it also been destroyed in the fire? But in reality,
people would be freaking out if they suddenly saw an empty car driving down the
road during the daylight hours. Maybe if the car had tinted windows they could
get away with driving during the day, but a car would definitely be great for
night-time when they were mostly active anyway. Michael shook his head in
frustration at the stupidity of why he was even thinking about owning a car.
Even though he knew how to drive he still didn't have a licence. Gypsy did
though, and maybe he could con her into playing chauffeur.
His
mind was filled with so much crazy crap he needed time to think and sort
through it, so he started to jog slowly toward his favourite place to meditate
when he was a boy—a little cave on the back end of what used to be his
grandfather's farm. The cave was a secret spot his grandfather had shown him
when he was much younger. Since his grandfather's death, Michael wasn't sure
who the farm rightfully belonged to now. If it still belonged to the family he
sure fricken hoped it wasn't his cousin Geoffrey, because he hated that son of
a bitch more than he hated anyone else in the world. Actually, he hated and
feared him all at the same time because his cousin was evil personified.
Michael had often thought he was spawned by some demon. Now that he knew vampires
were real, who's to say demons weren't also real, because if they were it would
explain a lot where his cousin was concerned.
As
soon as he was away from humanity, his jog turned into a full out sprint which
was well-beyond-the-normal fast. This was one side effect of vampirism Michael
genuinely enjoyed; the feel of the wind rushing past him and knowing no one
would even know he'd run by them at all. This was a freedom he absolutely
loved.
The
cave was exactly as he remembered, except maybe a little smaller. The place
he'd actually love to be was Haven—the huge tree which grew in the paddock next
to his grandfather's old, ramshackle house. A chuckle fell from his lips. He
didn't think the new owners would appreciate a complete stranger sitting in
their tree. He wondered if the tree was even still there or whether the new
owners destroyed a thing of such beauty. Grandpa Jack had taught Michael how to
climb to the very top of the tree. They'd spent hours together exploring all
the branches. His grandfather had carved dates and names in the bark while they
were there. The funny thing was, his grandfather used to tell him his destiny
was written in the branches of Haven. He also told Michael how his life was
forever interwoven with the tree itself. Back then, he had loved the way his
grandfather talked. Nowadays he had to wonder if maybe his grandfather had been
a touch on the crazy side.
Man,
he missed that tree almost as much as he missed his grandfather.
The
sounds of the night filled the air as Michael dropped to his hands and knees
and crawled into the cave far enough to lie on the slab of rock at the very
back. These days he had to scrunch his legs up so he'd fit. A little awkward
maybe, but strangely comforting at the same time. He could recall when he barely
filled half of the rock shelf. Was he ever actually small enough to fit here
stretched out as he remembered? The whole thing seemed like a lifetime ago,
which got him pondering about what his Grandpa Jack would think about the
man/creature Michael had become. Would he be disappointed? Disgusted? Or would
he have accepted what had been done to Michael without a second thought?
In
his heart Michael was hoping for the latter.
His
thoughts drifted all over his youth and back again as he lay there staring at
the rock ceiling. Remembering the things that happened in his childhood years
was safer than having to reflect on the last six months. Yet, think about the
last six months he would, because what else could he do? His hatred of
Sebastian had only grown, and if his dreams were telling the truth, Sebastian
was responsible for the fire that took away Michael's parents. For that,
Michael was going to make him pay. One way or another, Sebastian was going to
die because of what he'd done. There wasn't room in this world for both he and
Sebastian to exist. Why he'd chosen to hurt Michael this way was anyone's
guess, though Sebastian more than likely blamed him for stealing Christian away
from him. Was it even his fault if Christian had dumped Sebastian's weird arse?
The more Michael learned about Sebastian, the stranger the man became.
Christian was sexy as fuck, but there were times Michael had to wonder if even
Christian knew who he himself was.
Michael
wondered if his new friend would come visit him tonight. He always appeared to
know when Michael was in need of comfort of some kind, almost as if he were
guarding Michael, keeping him safe from harm. It was reassuring. A few times he
thought he'd seen the dog in the backyard of the house where he now lived. He thought
he'd seen him even as a child—well, maybe not this exact animal, but one of the
same breed with extremely similar markings. But that wasn't possible, right? No
sooner had the thought come to mind, when the… 'I'm here' whine let Michael know he was no longer alone.
"Come
on, Blake. Here, boy." Why he called the dog Blake he didn't know. The
name simply came to his mind when he remembered what he'd called the dog from
his youth. Funnily enough, Blake didn't seem to mind being called by the name.
"How are you doing, mister?"
His
new friend limped toward him, and then laid his head on Michael's hand. A long,
mournful sound reverberated through Blake's large chest. Blake was talking to
him. Michael wished he could understand what was actually being said.
"You're
hurt, boy." Moving enough so he could run his hands over the animal's
body, Michael sensed the hind leg on the right side was bothering Blake.
"How did it happen?" Flickers of something flashed through Michael's
mind. He could see men beating on Blake with pipes, chains and pieces of wood.
Michael flinched away in pain, his touch leaving Blake's body as the assault of
images disappeared as quickly as they'd begun.
"Whoa!
What the fuck was that?"
Blake
looked up at him with big soulful blue eyes which had always seemed odd on the
dog, making him look more like a wolf. He slowly slunk closer to Michael, once
again making contact with Michael's skin. With slightly shaking hands, Michael
sank his fingers into the course fur. The pictures in his mind were a lot
slower this time, and they didn't hurt as much. What he was seeing couldn't be
real because he shouldn't be able to see whatever it was Blake was showing him.
He hoped desperately that it—whatever this was—was merely another new vampiric
ability. Michael realised had been getting a few new ones lately. First the
speed thing, then he learnt he could climb absolutely anything without fear of
falling. Gypsy's earlier theory of them all being superheroes was looking more
and more realistic, and in all honesty it was starting to scare the crap out of
him.
"What're
you doing, dumbarse?" Laughter bubbled out of Michael when Blake, as huge
as he was, pushed Michael further back onto the ledge until they were squished
as they both lay there. "You sure you've got enough room there? I could
move over a little more if you'd like?" he said sarcastically as Blake
huffed noisily.
Michael
lost it; tears rolled down his cheeks as he howled in laughter. "I suppose
it could be worse. You could have farted."
A
lone woof was his only reply.
When
Blake began to snore beside him, Michael's mind began to drift as he tried to
work out how he was going to bring Christian back. His fingers carded through
Blake's fur, and again images flooded his mind, but this time they were of him.
The images showed Michael feeding Christian, and at the same time, another
image overlaid it, showing Michael in Elsewhere with Christian. He could see
himself kissing Christian as they stood there wrapped around each other. The
vision of Elsewhere faded, leaving only the one where they were making love.
Michael knew then what he had to do. It was so simple, yet had the potential
for utter and dismal failure. But at least he had a starting point now.
As
Blake scrambled to his feet, Michael knew his friend was leaving to go
home--wherever home was for the big brute. Michael heaved himself up as well,
getting ready to do the same thing, but first he needed to feed. He needed to
be fully prepared for what he was about to attempt.
Failure
was not an option.
The
walk back into town helped him clear his head as he came to terms with what he
was about to do. He was debating whether or not he should feed twice just to
make sure he was strong enough to pull his idea off. Someone in the family
would need to be told what he was going to try, solely in case he screwed
things up too badly and managed to trap himself in Elsewhere right alongside
Christian. That wouldn't be good at all. The hard part was working out whom to
trust, because the person he chose would need to be there for Gypsy if he
didn't make it back to this life. In his mind's eye, he could already see
Doyle's face forming, but Michael wasn't sure he wanted Doyle to witness how he
fed Christian in case his friend found his actions sickening.
Michael
stopped walking and slowly turned as the coppery scent of blood drifted over
him, wrapping him up in a fragrant cocoon. His gaze drifted to the row of units
standing in front of him. He knew this place. He'd been here before. His
footsteps echoed loudly as he walked to a front door. He found the front door
unlocked, which to him was exceedingly strange. Michael knew from his past
visit that Rhys was a stickler for locking up, too easy for someone to gain
access and rob him blind or worse. For the door to be open now had Michael on
edge. The scent of blood pulled him toward the bathroom where he found Rhys
propped up in a tub full of warm water. There was too much blood for it to mean
anything good. Sadness washed over Michael as he realised exactly how close to death
this man was. What could have pushed him over the edge to end his life this
way? Michael entered the room and knelt beside the tub full of crimson water.
Rhys had his head back, resting against the edge of the bath, his eyes were
closed.
"I
knew you would come," Rhys whispered, startling him. "It seems only
right that you, who were the beginning of my downfall, should be here at the
end." As his eyes fluttered open his gaze locked onto Michael's face.
Michael
couldn't bring himself to speak. Flashes of memory from the last time he'd been
here flew through Michael's head in an endless stream. The soft yet demanding
caress of Rhys's lips on his as they lay entangled on the bed came to the
forefront of his mind. The way the man's hands had danced across his skin in
want had Michael's body heating up. Michael recalled how after he had fed from
Rhys, he'd lingered and explored the beautiful man's body. It was Rhys who had
convinced Michael that being gay wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Even
though they hadn't made it as far as having actual sex, the intimacy had still
been there. What had happened since then to make Rhys think this was his only
option?
"I
couldn't live with the fact of what I am. For so long I tried, but my family
couldn't understand why I was this way. They didn't want me anymore. They told
me I'd be better off dead instead of causing the family shame. I didn't want to
hurt them anymore. At least with this I will be the dutiful son—heeding his
father's words." Rhys slid his bleeding wrist along the edge of the tub
toward Michael. His hand shook with the effort of doing so. "It's okay; I
know what you are… Please."
It
was all becoming clearer. Michael was so glad his own family hadn't rejected
him after they discovered he was gay. Though he'd had a moment of trouble when
his mother had found out he was actually a vampire as well, but in the end she
still loved him no matter what.
Family
love was meant to be unconditional.
In
reality, sometimes family fucking sucked.
The
precious gift he was being offered tore at Michael's heart, his body was
pounding with the knowledge he'd partly been to blame for driving this
beautiful young man to suicide. Tears filled his eyes as he lowered his lips
and drank. This wasn't meant to happen, but something inside Michael told him
Rhys wasn't long for this life. Michael knew he shouldn't waste what was being
freely offered.
Rhys's
next words broke his heart. "I could have loved you," his eyes
fluttered open once more, and Michael held their gaze, "but it would have
never been enough. You would have always loved him more." He smiled sadly,
his words barely above a whisper, "Looks like my family's going to get
their wish."
It
hurt that even in his dying breath, Rhys had known the truth. Michael would
always need and want Christian more than anyone. He gently placed Rhys's wrist
beneath the water as his last breath fell away from him. Michael knelt there
for a moment to grieve over the death of a man he barely knew. Had he gotten
here earlier he might have been able to save him instead of hastening him
along. Leaning forward, he placed a soft kiss against Rhys's cold lips before
rising and walking away. The thought of Rhys lying there alone had Michael
stopping at a pay phone. He dialed triple zero, needing to inform someone of
what he found. Rhys deserved to be dealt with quickly, not left for days until
someone discovered him. Michael wondered if Rhys's family would even be
saddened by the loss of their son. These thoughts kept him occupied as he
walked home. He silently and repeatedly thanked Rhys, as his last gift would
help bring Christian back to him. Michael wasn't ashamed of the tears which
still flowed down his face for the loss of the man he'd known for only a few
brief encounters. He only wished Rhys could have been happy with who he was.
Everyone deserved to be happy.
So
caught up was he in his own sadness Michael wasn't even thinking as he entered
through the kitchen door and came face to face with Doyle. Maybe this was a
sign?
"Michael!"
His name was startled out of Doyle, who'd been making himself a cuppa. His
friend was doing something so normal it made Michael want to scream at the
unjustness of it all. But this wasn't Doyle's fault.
As
he stood there, Michael bit his lip, staring at Doyle for the longest time
before he could bring himself to speak. He took a deep breath as he worked out
what to say to the man in front of him. Doyle appeared a tad apprehensive and
it didn't sit right with Michael. "I need your help, Sweetness."
Doyle
sat his coffee on the counter as he gave his full attention to Michael.
"What do you need?" There wasn't even any hesitation in Doyle's
answer and for that Michael was grateful.
"I'm
going to bring Chris back tonight. I'm going into Elsewhere, and I'm going to
shatter it so completely Sebastian can never use it against any of us again. I
need you to be able to bring me back if I get stuck. If you can't bring me
back, I need you to take care of Gypsy for me." There. He had said it, and
now he waited for Doyle's reaction.
"H-how?
I mean how do I bring you back?" The look of fear on Doyle's face was
almost enough for Michael to tell his friend to forget about it, but he knew he
was going to need his help, even if it was simply having him nearby; someone to
anchor him to this world.
"To
be totally honest, I'm not exactly sure." He pressed the heels of his
hands against his eyes, hoping the slight pressure would open up his mind
enough to let the answers come to him. "I only know what I have to do to
get there." He fell silent trying to work everything out in his head.
"I
guess there are some things you'll need to know about how I feed Chris. Also,
I'll have to explain how I'll be getting to Elsewhere." Michael picked up
Doyle's cup before taking a hold of Doyle with his free hand. He led him
through the house to where Christian lay upon their bed. After getting Doyle to
sit in the chair, he placed his cup on the dresser beside them before he
explained in great detail what he was about to do. When he was finished, Doyle
only nodded.
Resolved
within himself, Michael undressed before he climbed into bed. While Doyle
watched, Michael tenderly prepared Christian's body for what he needed to do.
After he'd finished, Michael manoeuvred himself so the moment when Christian
finally opened his eyes, Michael's face would be the first thing he saw. In
everything he did, he tried desperately to forget there was another man in the
room with them; a man who already had Michael confused within himself.
He
really hoped Doyle didn't judge him too harshly for his actions.
Tonight
Michael didn't bite his own wrist, he held it gently against Christian's mouth
as he slowly and carefully entered his body. Being this way with the man he
loved almost made him think his heart was thudding against his ribcage in an
erratic rhythm. The pace he set was deliberately slow as he concentrated on how
to reach Christian's soul.
"Please, God! Let this
work."
The
moment he detected Christian bite into his skin, Michael lowered his mouth to
kiss the spot over Christian's heart where it would have beaten if it were
able, and then bit Christian deeply on the throat. He sensed his mind shift as
Christian's warmth flowed into him and he followed the strands of confusion and
pain in the hope it would lead him to his lover.
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