The Hunt

17


At some point, River had – despite Andreji’s strange mood – joined his Master on the bed, snuggling up to the warm skin of his Master’s still exposed chest. An arm had closed around him. He had loved the rhythmic movement with which the taller man’s ribcage had risen and sunken and lulled him to sleep. Perhaps sharing such small intimacies is more important than having an orgasm each night, River had mused before darkness had taken him.

River awoke from a warm body shifting under him. His face made contact with soft fabric. One hand massaging his face, he drowsily sat up. He saw Andreji disappear in the bathroom and heard the tap being turned on. After some blinking and pulling his eyes wide open, River managed to depict the time on his watch. Half past two.

“Come back to bed,” he called out for Andreji, missing the warm body.

There was no answer, only the sound of the tap being turned off again.

Having come to his senses, River noticed an unfamiliar mobile phone resting on the bedcover, open. A message was shown on the display.

Purchased some interesting pieces that need careful handling. Please contact me immediately. Sartre

When River looked up from the message, Andreji was resting against the door frame, a glass of water in his hand. “Are you always reading other people’s mail?” His voice did not sound angry.

“You literally invited me.” River shut the mobile phone and dropped it onto the bed. “Sartre?”

Andreji shrugged. “I ask each of my clients to pick a pseudonym – in case curious people read my messages, you see?”

River nodded in understanding, ignoring the critique. “What’s your pseudonym?”

Andreji kept his face neutral, but River could see that he did not like the direction in which the conversation was heading. “WW,” he answered curtly.

His fledgling lifted an eyebrow. “WW? What does that stand for?”

“My clients do not know.”

River folded his arms. “Yeah, but you do…,” he objected teasingly.

Andreji glanced at him in an annoyed manner while he put out the bathroom light and stepped up to the window. Finally he sighed in defeat. He sipped at his water and gazed out onto the night time Vienna. In a muted tone, he said, “It stands for white wolf. My Master called me that tauntingly after the silver had started to affect me. ‘White’ for my hair, obviously; ‘wolf’ for my wild, untameable character. I guess I gave him a hard time back then, unwilling as I was to bend to his will.”

River smiled amusedly. “Even after the transformation and everything?”

Andreji put his spare hand into his trouser pocket, nodded thoughtfully, and took another sip of water. “Even despite the gratitude that I felt for him, yes.” He shrugged as if diving out of a reverie. “It was a game for me. Like playing cat and mouse. I liked it when he had to literally hunt me down after I had sought my freedom once more… Despite all the fuss I put up each time he finally caught me, I enjoyed it. I wanted him to get me in the end.” There was melancholy in the way Andreji spoke.

River rose from the bed and went over to the elder man, embracing him from behind in an attempt to comfort him. Andreji seized his wrist and removed his arm so he could escape his clutch. He came to a halt a few steps away, still staring out of the window, his stony, distant face reflected by the glass.

Something cold and violent settled in River’s stomach. He wanted to say something, but he was lost for words. He donned a bathrobe, because he felt strangely exposed, and slumped down in the armchair.

A few minutes ticked by in silence. River calmed down little by little.

“You know,” he finally started, “you’re not the only one who’s lost someone who was important to you. That’s not a reason to act like this.”

Andreji’s voice was muted as he spoke. “I warned you I am not in a good mood.”

River snorted dryly. “And that’s a justification for pushing me away like that? I’m not your puppet! You just don’t treat the person this way that you have a love affair with!”

A sarcastic smirk spread over the older man’s face. He turned away to hide it in a last attempt at politeness. “Love affair.” The words fell from his lips with a dark trail of amusement and bitterness in it. “Honestly! Spare me with sentimental notions!” He laughed out silently in exasperation.

Andreji pocketed his hands and looked aside. He remained silent for a moment. “River. Please.” He turned around to face his fledgling. “I truly try my best. You are a good looking young man with his heart at the right place and some potential for being a good fledgling, a good apprentice, but you cannot expect me to fall for you at first sight and turn my life upside down.”

“What about all that vampire attraction stuff that you’re always babbling about? Didn’t you say I was affecting you, too?” River asked deflated.

“It draws me into your bed, yes, but it does not make me forget who I am. I told you already that I succeed more in fighting it than others.”

“Why?” River asked befuddled. “I mean, why are you fighting it? Is it so bad to care about me?”

His Master smirked. “That is not the point. I prefer to make my own decisions. I will not let my hormones get the better of me.”

River nodded silently and hugged his knees, his head resting on them, trying to stomach the bout of realism that had invaded this night.

Finally pulling himself out of his memories, Andreji turned away from the window, set his glass on the bedside table, and donned a long-sleeved shirt. He approached River. “I need to go, now. Sartre waits.”

River turned his head and looked up at him. “For how long?”

“I will need to make a few arrangements in order to be able to fulfil the job, so I will be away for a little longer. A week, perhaps two. I think we will have a little more time together after that.”

“Lovely,” River murmured and turned away again.

Andreji leaned forward and kissed the Japanese’s shoulder, licking along its round curve before he turned to slip into his shoes. With short delay, a shiver ran through his fledgling’s body, finishing right in his crotch. “Manipulative bastard,” River hissed.

“That’s the second time you are calling me that,” Andreji noted with an amused undertone.

“Spare me, Count von Count. Rather tell me how I’m supposed to get on for two weeks without you. Won’t I be affected?”

Andreji reached into the side pocket of his trousers and extracted a tiny knife. He held it out to his surprised fledgling, who accepted it reluctantly. “Drink me,” the elder man said as he knelt down in front of River and locked eyes with him.

River furrowed his brows and looked from the knife to his Master and back. “You want me to cut you and…?” His eyes widened. He held the handle of the pointed weapon out to Andreji, shaking his head. “I can’t do that. I… Why do that anyway? Didn’t you say once a month? It’s not been two weeks since I’ve first… tasted your blood.”

Andreji brushed a strand of blond hair behind River’s ear. “Having a part of me in you will make your body temporarily blind to my absence. It enhances the amount of time you can spend without me near you unharmed. You did not drink much the first time anyway.”

River eyed his Master’s neck. “Still, I couldn’t…”

Andreji pushed up his sleeve and, before River could protest, cut along a thin blue line with chirurgical precision. He held his bleeding arm out to the bewildered young man.

Not exactly sure he wanted to do this, River bent forward, taking the arm in his hands, and pressed his lips on the wound. A second or two later, a low moan escaped him, and he tightened his grip. Once more, his body was on fire. His member hardened.

After a time of listening to the urgent, gulping sounds, Andreji detached the little bloodsucker from his arm, rose carefully, and – sensing that his blood circuit was still supplying all his limbs sufficiently – moved over to his coat, in which he always carried some dressing material.

Having attended to his wounds, Andreji went over to the young man that was still muzzy and carried him to the bed, where he pulled the bedcover over him. “Goodnight.” He kissed him on his temple, seized his coat, slipped into his shoes, and silently left the room.

Outside, he inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. The boy was right, of course. By all means, he needed to make a decision. He needed to change. Yet it was not easy.

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