Everything was dark. A voice spoke to him, but he did not comprehend the words. Atonal music was pounding inside his head, changing him. What had started as a whisper was now a roaring crescendo. Climax was imminent. Blackness became brighter. The white crept in.
“Wake up,” the voice told him. “It’s time to open your new eyes.”
Raiden obeyed. He expected to feel a sharp stab of light in his unadjusted pupils. Though the florescent bulbs in the ceiling were blazing full-force, he did not experience the sudden shock that would have normally jolted through his newly opened eyes. His body told him that he was sitting on a soft surface. Feeling the worn cushion, he realized it was his dressing room couch. He was still at the concert venue. House of Blues.
Dazed, he looked down. Although he was fully clothed, his zipper was undone. Dried blood caked his hands. Blinking in confusion, he moved his gaze to the right, and saw a suit-clad figure standing in front of the closed door. The stranger had his back to him. As if sensing Raiden’s attention, he turned around. Raiden stared. It was the man who had brought him the lilies. The fan.
A shadowy smile lurked upon the man’s lips. “Do you remember my name?”
Without having to think, Raiden answered, “Justus.”
A grin surfaced on Justus’ face. “Delightful. Now we’re properly acquainted.” He strode over to the couch.
Raiden instinctively recoiled. Bending down, Justus offered him a mock handshake. All the hairs on Raiden’s head stood on end. Too weak to move away, he curled into a ball.
“Get the fuck away from me,” he croaked. His tongue was dry. He tried to work up some saliva to moisten it, but the inside of his mouth was like sand.
“A bit parched, are we?” Justus watched him intently. “It’s been a while—a very long while—since the change came upon me,” he mused. The elegant beauty he possessed was no less striking in the harsh fluorescent lights. Thoughtfully, he stroked his chin. “I seem to recall that I was incredibly thirsty.”
Raiden trembled. Nausea overtook him, and he dry-heaved. Muscle spasms shook him from head to toe. Debilitating cramps assailed his abdomen.
Justus appeared oblivious to Raiden’s suffering. “You’re progressing rather quickly.”
“What the fuck’s happening to me?” Raiden choked. He felt feverish and dizzy. Excruciating pressure started to build in his mouth. It spread from the roots to the tips of his canines. The pain in his stomach became a dull reminder of something familiar.
Hungry. I’m still hungry.
“You’ll understand soon enough.” Justus’ eyes glittered with mirth. “It won’t be long before your body will make you understand.”
“Why?”
Justus frowned. “The question is not ‘why’. The question is ‘how’?”
Acid attacked Raiden’s stomach. He doubled over.
“How?” he gasped.
Justus closed his eyes. When he opened them, they had gone from amber to black. “I filled myself with your blood. Then, when you were on the precipice of death, I fed you my blood to fill your emptied veins.”
Raiden’s mind could not wrap itself around Justus’ explanation. “I’m dead?”
“You’re resurrected.”
“I don’t understand.”
“But you will, Raiden.” Justus gave a conspiratorial wink. “Especially once you’ve had your first taste of human blood. There’s nothing on Earth quite like it.”
With that statement, Justus vanished. Raiden rubbed his eyes, certain he had hallucinated, but there was no sign of him. The dressing room door was closed. He sniffed the air. Justus’ distinctive, musky scent lingered. Otherwise, there was no trace of him.
Raiden had the image of two daggers ripping apart the flesh on the side of his neck while pressure built in his lower abdomen. He had a vision of Justus’ mouth pressing against his ear, snarling . . . one cold hand closing around his cock, rapidly pumping . . . a powerful orgasm drawing out the remains of his bodily fluids as he stopped breathing. At one point, Justus had fed him from a cut in his wrist: the bitter, hot fluid burned like alcohol. Still, Raiden had not stopped drinking it. When at last Justus had pushed him away, grayness had overtaken his vision. Losing consciousness, he had slumped to the floor.
These memories seemed unreal. Raiden felt slow and stupid. The AC unit in the dressing room blasted stale, frigid air. Shivering, he wrapped his arms around himself. The walls around him were beginning to feel like prison bars. Struggling to regain his composure, he weighed his options. He could stay here, try to locate his phone, and call for help. Or, he could take his chances and walk out the door, knowing that Justus might be lying in wait for him somewhere.
He looked up at the clock on the dressing room wall. It was 2:07 a.m.—three hours after the concert had ended. The tour bus had left; but if he made a phone call, Taro could come pick him up. Does he even know I’m missing? He might think I took a cab to grab drinks by myself. Warning bells went off in his head. It would do no good to involve Taro, his mind warned. I might hurt him.
That thought made no sense. Then again, no part of his current situation made any sense. Particularly worrisome was the growing hunger he felt. He was incredibly thirsty, too. Wild-eyed, he looked around the dressing room for his bottle of water. Once he located it, he forced his body to cooperate and lurched off the couch. Weakly, he staggered over to the half-empty bottle. He wrenched the top free, gulped down a huge swallow—and spit it out. The water tasted beyond foul.
Raiden rubbed the excess dribs off his lips and chin, disgusted by the flavor. The last time he had taken a sip, it had tasted fine.
That was before you died.
Am I dead?
Logic told him he could not be dead—he was moving around. It seemed like he was breathing. His heart was beating. Those were all signs of life—but he did not feel the same. Something had definitely changed.
Footsteps approached. It seemed to take them forever to stop outside the room. There was a pause, and then the sound of someone clearing his throat. The door banged open. Justus stood at the entrance. In his outstretched arms lay an unconscious Naomi. Stunned, all Raiden could do was stare.
“Here we are, love.” Justus’ tone was cheerful. “A little taste of heaven on Earth. Now, which vein do you want to open first?”
Panic overwhelmed Raiden. Chaos soon followed.
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