All God's Children

Isaac closed his eyes and rested his overheated forehead against the cool, damp glass of the bus window. His headphones blared, replacing the hiss and clank of diesel and the chatter of passengers with the soothing, melancholy voice of Aurelio Valle. Isaac felt his lips, which were still a little swollen, pull into a tiny smile. He couldn’t seem to help it.

He’d left his girlfriend’s apartment in the city less than half an hour ago and caught the last bus to the suburbs, where he lived with his mother. Tonight had been their one year anniversary, and they’d been fortunate enough to have the place to themselves. They’d had a great time; he’d given her the necklace he’d bought her, which she’d loved, and they’d eaten dinner and talked about movies and books, although they’d stayed away from music. Then she’d taken him into her room, pushed him down onto her blue and purple blanketed bed, and made love to him.

It had been his first time. It had been wonderful, even though it wasn’t what he’d expected. She had been sweet and soft and careful with him; he knew she wasn’t a virgin, and he appreciated her patience with him.

After it was over, they had dressed, and she had hurried him out of the apartment. Neither of them drove; Isaac simply could not afford a car and she had never bothered to learn. Her father would return home eventually, and he knew he couldn’t call his mother for a ride; she didn’t approve of his girlfriend.

The thought of that made him frown slightly. He would never understand his mother’s dislike of his girlfriend. He had a great relationship with his mother, who he had always called by her first name; Adelaide. It was a strange practice, he assumed, but one she always insisted on. He loved Adelaide dearly. She was kind and understanding and loving, more like a friend than a mother, and they’d always had a very open, close relationship.

Still, he knew he would never tell her about this. At least, not until he was older and living out of the house. The only thing she’d ever been stern about was that he remain a virgin until he was eighteen. She’d made him promise a long time ago that he’d never do what he’d done tonight. She told him that she didn’t want him making her mistakes; she’d been younger than he was now when she’d gotten pregnant with him.

Isaac sighed and shoved his hands through his coppery hair, noticing that it was still slightly damp with sweat. He pushed all of his thoughts away as he favorite song came on his MP3 player, and he let the music pull him away; lyrics about fireflies, and that spooky train whistle music that made him feel calm and somehow safe.

When the bus stopped at the corner of his street, and got off, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his head against the slight drizzle that had started while he was in transit. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, lowered his head, and hurried towards home. He planned on saying hello to his mother, who would most likely be in her studio, painting or working on a tapestry, then take a shower, grab a snack, and get in bed.

None of these things happened.

He unlocked the front door, stepped inside, and shut it with his hip. The house was dark. He pulled his headphones down around his neck, toed off his sneakers, and shrugged out of his jacket. He padded into the kitchen.

His mother came out of the dark, and he had a split second to see her eyes, wild and huge, in the gloom, before her hand flashed out and slapped him across the left cheek. The blow was so hard his head snapped to the side, and he felt his neck creak. A bright flare of agony raced up the side of his face, screwing that eye shut, and he let out a surprised, pained grunt.

“What have you done, you stupid child?” she hissed through her teeth, and slapped him again, this time with the back of her hand, and he stumbled. He heard her sob, a high strangled sound that terrified him. “You let that… that whore…” she stopped, and he heard her quickly retreating footsteps.

He looked up, saw her backing away from him, and opened his mouth. He was scared and confused. She’d never hit him before, never acted this way. How had she known? How was that possible? The idea that he should be angry with her for striking him never even crossed his mind.

“Adelaide, I-”

“No!” she shrieked, and he flinched at the sound. “Save your lies.” he saw her shudder. “You’ve ruined everything.” she told him, and the hurt and accusation in her voice made his chest ache.

Before he could formulate words, the kitchen light flickered on, and he winced at the brightness. “I must say, your hysterics, as amusing as they may be, are pointless.” a female voice, low and rich, said from behind Isaac. He turned to see a black haired woman in her early thirties, standing in the doorway. “What’s done is done.”

Adelaide took a step forward. “He’s still under age, Clara.” she said. “He’s-”

“He became a man tonight.” the woman, Clara, said, with a tiny shrug of her surprisingly broad shoulders. “Age means nothing. You should’ve read the contract.”

Adelaide sobbed and buried her face in her hands. Isaac looked back at Clara. She was dressed from head to toe in black; skin tight pants, a short sleeved tee that hugged her breasts, a winding strap of leather from her wrist to her elbow. Her eyes were black, as well. She regarded him carefully.

“What’s going on?” Isaac asked. His face hurt terribly, and he felt sick to his stomach. “How did you know?”

Clara’s inky eyes rolled. “Honestly, Adelaide, you left him in the dark about all of this?” she snorted. “Some mother you turned out to be.”

“Fuck you.” Adelaide snarled, and Isaac was startled at the profanity. His mother so rarely swore.

Clara laughed. She looked back to Isaac. “Well, no use wasting time. Run along and fetch your shoes, child. We have a long way to travel tonight.”

“I… what?” Isaac looked at his mother. “What the hell is going on?”

She looked at him. “You have to leave.” she told him. “Right now. You have to go with her.”

“What? Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because you no longer belong to your mother, boy.” Clara replied. “I’m not a patient woman, and neither is my employer. Hurry along and-”

“I don’t understand.” Isaac said.

Clara’s eyes narrowed. “Interrupting will get you in a lot of trouble where you’re going, little one.” she told him flatly. “As a matter of fact, don’t bother talking at all if you want to keep your skin.” she made a shooing gesture with one hand. “Now fetch your shoes. Don’t bother with the jacket. It’s useless where you’re going.”

Isaac looked at his mother, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Adelaide-” he started, and she closed her eyes. “Mom-” Adelaide flinched and turned her back to him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Clara sighed. “Your mother sold you, Isaac.” she said, her voice matter-of-fact. “Before you were born, she promised you to my employer. The agreement was that the day you became a man, you became his property.”

“Property?” Isaac snapped. “I’m a human being-”

“Exactly.” Clara grinned. “Not a good thing to be, where you’re going. But, what’s done is done.” she looked pointedly at the clock on the far wall. “Your shoes, boy. Before I lose my temper and end up having to deliver damaged goods.”

Isaac turned accusing eyes at his mother. “You sold me?”

“I had no choice.” she told him, her back still to him. “If you had just listened to me, if you’d just-”

“Oh, enough already!” Clara snapped. “The boy couldn’t keep in his pants. Tragic, but nothing can be done. The contract must be honored.” she stepped forward, and before Isaac could react, the hand with the leather strap wrapped around it’s forearm was around his throat. Her fingers were strong, like steel, and he let out a strangled gasp. “Now, listen, boy.” she said. “While this place keeps me from using my natural talents to hurt you, don’t think I’m not capable.” Her free hand went behind, and came back with a pistol. It must’ve been tucked into the back of her pants. She pressed the barrel against his left temple. “Get your shoes. Now.” She let him go, and he stumbled back, coughing.

“You wouldn’t kill him.” Adelaide said, and the woman’s dark eyes turned towards her. “You can’t.”

Clara smiled. “True. But I have no such restrictions with you.” she changed the direction of the barrel, and Isaac made a coughing, gasping sound. “Shoes. Now, child. Come with me, and put up no more fight. Or your pretty mother eats a bullet. Choose.”

“Isaac-”

“No.” Isaac stood up straight, massaging his sore throat. “It’s okay.” he glared at the woman, who grinned at him but said nothing. “I’m going.” he went into the hallway to fetch his shoes. He lingered there, staring at the door. His heart was pounding. What was going to happen? He knew he couldn’t run for it; Adelaide would die. He had to play along for now. Later, when they were away from the house, he might be able to get the gun away from the woman, might be able to-

“Let’s go.” Clara said from his elbow, and he flinched away from her in surprise. She brushed past him, and he smelled her; blood and snow and leather. She pulled the front door open and gestured for him to go out with her gun. He took a deep breath, threw one last look over his shoulder, and stepped outside.

There was a sleek black car parked at the curb, its engine idling quietly. Leaning against the hood was a teenage boy, just a little older than Isaac. He was black haired, dressed in black, just like the woman.

“That took longer than you said it would.” he said to Clara as they drew close. “Any problems, Mother?”

Clara shook her head and pulled open the passenger side door. “Nothing I can’t take care of. If he tries anything on your way to the gate, call me.”

The boy smiled, his full, startlingly red lips pulling away from his pearly, perfect teeth. “Oh, he won’t cause any problems for me.” he told her, and Isaac felt the boy’s cool, dry fingers slide along the bruise that was blooming on his throat. “Will, you pretty one?”

Clara slapped the boy’s hand away, with Isaac was grateful for. “Careful, Abel. He’s not a toy.” Clara’s lips pulled into a smile. “At least, he’s not a toy for you.” she looked at Isaac. “Get in the car.”

He hesitated, and she pointedly moved towards the front stairs. He hurriedly got into the passenger seat. Abel shut the door, then went around the front of the car and got in the driver’s side. The car was instantly filled with the same smell that Clara carried, and Isaac moved to unroll the window. Abel chuckled and put the car into drive. They pulled away from the curb smoothly.

Isaac eyed his captor carefully. Up close, even in the streetlight punctuated dark, the boy’s attractiveness was evident. He was beautiful in a way that reminded Isaac of Roman statues. The hands on the steering wheel were pianist hands, with long nails filed to points.

“Where are we going?” Isaac asked.

Abel’s eyes flickered to him momentarily. “Hell.” he said promptly, and laughed as though he’d told a very good joke.

“Seriously.” Isaac said, scowling.

“For you, it will be.” Abel assured him, and reached over to pat his knee. Isaac cringed away from him. Abel rose his eyebrows. “You’d better get over that, darling. Being contact shy will just get you hurt.”

“What’s going on? I don’t understand.” Isaac realized he was dangerously close to do something stupid; crying, maybe, or attacking the slender black haired youth. He balled his hands into fists on his lap. “What’s happening?”

Abel sighed. “You’ve been traded, honey. Your mother made a deal with my boss, and you were the payment.” he eyed Isaac with a little smile. “Did you at least enjoy it?”

“Enjoy what?”

“Living free.” he laughed. “And the sex that got you into this mess.”

Isaac bit his lip and looked away. “Where are we going?” he asked again. “Who’s your boss?”

“So many questions.” Abel said, and shook his head. “And he’s your boss now. Of course, there’s no promise you’ll actually be his. He’s picky about his humans.”

“You say that like-”

“-I’m not one?” the car slipped to a stop at a red light. Abel turned in the seat and spread his lips. From under his tongue something slid out; a long, protruding tentacle like thing, ending in a long, black barb. It waved gently, and Isaac realized he was making a choking, gasping sound; he was trying to scream.

Then the thing was gone, and Abel was smiling at him. “We’re not the fanged night stalkers your culture has turned us into, sweetheart.” he shook his head. “No capes, no sparkles, no turning into bats.”

“You’re a… you’re…” Isaac’s stomach rolled, and he shut his mouth to keep from throwing up out of sheer fright.

“And we don’t like the V word.” Abel told him. As an afterthought, he said, “We don’t drink blood, either.” the car started moving again. “There are kin of ours that do, but they’re little more than scavengers.” he shrugged. “Still, they have their uses. But my kind, we’re the top of the food chain.”

Isaac closed his eyes, his head spinning, and that was it. Tears started, and they didn’t stop. He put his hands over his mouth, hunched over his own knees, and sobbed.

Beside him, Abel shuddered. “Oh, don’t do that.” he said, his voice suddenly hoarse. “Such a waste.” Isaac felt that cool, dry hand on the back of his neck, but he couldn’t move away, couldn’t do anything but sit there and cry. “Isaac-” his name was a purr on the boy’s tongue, and then the car was stopped again. Those fingers tightened momentarily. “Stop crying.” Abel said.

Isaac ignored him. He sobbed into his hands, fear and anger and hopelessness washing over him like tidal waves. He heard a sharp intake of breath, and then that hand was in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling his head up so he could look into Abel’s eyes.

They were solid, dead white. No pupil, no iris, just white shot through with tiny red veins. The boy’s nostrils flared, and he ran his tongue along his lips. “You’re so afraid.” he crooned, and Isaac tried to pull away. The boy’s hand was like a vice grip in his hair, holding him still. “So lost.” his lips pulled back, and his smile was predatory Isaac went into panic mode.

He lashed out, punching the boy in the mouth as hard as he could. The hand in his hair didn’t slacken; it tightened. The boy’s head didn’t even move. His other hand flashed out and grabbed Isaac by the throat, fingers digging into the already bruised flesh. Then his head darted forward, so like a striking snake, and that thing flickered out.

Isaac felt a tiny, hot pinch under the left side of his jaw, and then he entire body went slack. His mind went crazy, but his body did nothing. Abel let him go, reaching to unlatch his seatbelt before he slid over and straddled Isaac’s lap.

“This is your fault, you know.” Abel told him, and leaned down to take a quick swipe with his tongue at the spot where he’d stung. “If you’d just stayed calm.” Abel shook his head, then smiled softly. “No sense in letting all of that go to waste though, is there?” he asked, and the thumb of one of his hands pried open Isaac’s jaw. He leaned down, and Isaac smelled his breath. It was so different from the smell of his body; like roses and peaches and honey. So inviting. Isaac watched, unable to do anything, as Abel’s face swam closer. “Hold still, sweetheart.” he said, as though Isaac had a choice.

Isaac felt Abel’s tongue inside his mouth, probing along his teeth and across the roof of his mouth. It slid farther, along Isaac’s own tongue, to the back of his throat. That impossibly long tongue flickered there, nearly choking off Isaac’s air, and Abel made a low, satisfied moaning sound a moment before he latched his lips around Isaac’s and sucked.

It felt like something was being pulled out of Isaac’s head. It wasn’t painful, exactly, but it was uncomfortable and terrifying. Still, he could do nothing. Abel made that sound again shifting above him, his hands holding Isaac’s head on either side. His fingers traveled up and down Isaac’s gently, in a gesture that would’ve been soothing had circumstances been different.

The thing being pulled finally snapped, and Isaac suddenly felt numb. Abel pulled away, looking flushed, his lips swollen. He ran his tongue along them, and smiled down at Isaac. “You’re sweet.” eh said. “Even your fear tasted like sugar.” he ran the tip of one finger along Isaac’s bottom lip. “I wonder what your lust would taste like.”

Abel climbed off of him, put his seatbelt back on, and got them going again. In the passenger seat, Isaac lay immobile, his mind numb and dark. He watched the streetlights as they drove, and wondered what the hell was going to happen to him.