The Taste Of A Warrior

Part 21

Posted: October 2003
Author: Dhvana

*****

"Paul, you can't do this!" I protest, stumbling as I try to free myself from the hand holding tightly to my arm.

"I'm sorry, Colin. You may not realize it now, but I am trying to save you. You're my friend, and I care about you. I don't want to see you hurt--or worse, dead."

"Oh, for gods sakes," I snarl, shaking my arm, but he refuses to loosen his grip. "Orlando's not going to hurt me, and he's sure as fuck not going to kill me."

"He's a vampire. I don't know what he's told you, but Colin, even you must know you cannot trust him."

Paul doesn't look at me as he says this, but keeps his cold blue eyes pointed directly ahead of him. I think he's afraid to look at me. I think he's afraid to listen, and his refusal to even hear what I have to say causes my blood to rise.

"I'll have you know I trust him more than I trust most of you."

My friend and captor comes to a complete halt, looking as if I'd punched him in the gut, and I immediately start yelling at myself for even thinking I should be allowed to open my big mouth.

"Paul," I say, hoping I can mend this quickly, "I didn't mean that. You have to understand—"

"Oh, I understand all right," he interrupts with a snarl, hiding away the pain I caused him as his hand tightens on my arm. "You're even further gone than I first thought. He's got you completely under his spell."

Well, yes, he does, but not in the way Paul's thinking. "I'm not under any spell. He hasn't manipulated me, coerced me, brainwashed me, or in any other way managed to influence me, my feelings, or my thoughts." I'm not even sure he can, not with the way his mind works. My Orlando's a little too far gone to be controlling minds.

"Then what is it?" Paul demands, looking at me for the first time. "What is the reason for this obsession with him?"

I can't answer him, I'm too ashamed--not of Orlando, but of myself. Instead, I just stare down at the ground, wishing it would open up and swallow me whole. It can even grind me up a bit when it closes over me again, just so long as it gets me the fuck out of here, and fast.

"You can't hide from me, Colin, so stop staring at your feet and fucking look at me!"

Seeing as how the ground isn't doing its fair share of the work, I force myself to raise my eyes and meet his gaze--I owe him that much.

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" he seethes. "I've noticed you disappearing after fights. I know you've been sneaking away at nights more often than usual. Hell, we've all noticed. Peter's worried sick that it's his fault because you've been avoiding him ever since you disappeared. Elijah just thinks your dreams are bothering you, and that being kidnapped aggravated them. But I knew the truth, right from the beginning. I knew you were running off to see him."

"Then why did you wait so long to confront me? Why not come to me sooner? Or why come to me at all? Why not just go straight to Marton?"

"Because I was hoping you would snap out of it, for our friendship's sake, and for Elijah. Do you know how much this is going to hurt him? This will break his heart. He adores you, Colin! How can you do this to him?"

Of course I'd never want to hurt Elijah. It's part of the reason why I've been going behind their backs. If Elijah even suspected--Elijah! Of course! Why didn't I think of him before?

"If you're really concerned about Elijah," I say, my voice measured so he doesn't miss a word, "then you won't do a thing. Turning me in to Marton could cost Elijah his life."

Paul's eyes narrow as he grabs onto my shoulders, his nails digging into my skin. "Don't you dare threaten him, or I swear to god, I'll kill you myself!"

"I'm not threatening him," I say, struggling to keep my voice steady. "I'm trying to help open your eyes. Don't you think it's a little bit strange that, even when we've got them cornered, the vampires don't attack us unless we attack them first?"

His face clouds, and I can tell he's wondered about this himself. "I just figured they're finally starting to learn to fear us."

"Of course they are, Paul," I say in my driest voice. "Us, and a field full of fuck-happy rabbits. Together, we're a terror to vampires everywhere. Put your ego away, because they're not afraid of us anymore than they're afraid of those rabbits. They're afraid of Orlando."

Paul frowns, his eyes growing troubled. "What do you mean?"

"Orlando has placed all four of us under his protection. Do you know what that means? So long as Orlando is alive and well, no vampire can attack us unless we attack them first. Are you aware of the advantage that gives us? It makes our chances of getting hurt practically non-existent, especially with our exploding bullets. So long as we aim well, we're invincible!"

"I guess that puts you out of the running," he says before he can remember he's mad at me.

"Oh, shut up," I grumble. "I'm working on it. The point, though, is that if you turn me in to Marton, the first thing he's going to want to do is take out Orlando. If he succeeds, our chances of living decreases drastically. The vampires will have no excuse to hold back and they will slaughter us. They will slaughter Elijah. The only reason he's lasted this long is because he's been under Orlando's protection for years now. You get rid of Orlando, and Elijah won't stand a chance."

Having explained the situation as best I can, I close my mouth for a moment and give Paul a chance to let it all sink in. From the various emotions that cross his face ranging from doubt to fear to horror, I can tell he doesn't know whether or not to believe me, but also that he's afraid of what will happen if he doesn't.

"Don't risk Elijah's life over my stupidity, Paul," I say gently. "It's not worth it."

"How do I know you're not lying to me?"

"You don't. The only proof I have is from the vampires themselves, and from Elijah."

"What?" he snaps, and I can tell I'm walking a thin line here associating the vampires with his love.

"Remember when Angelina found us? Elijah stood in front of you and said she couldn't harm you because you were under Orlando's protection."

He nods, the memory slowly returning. "Angelina said Elijah was, but I wasn't."

"You are now. You, me, Elijah, Peter--Orlando is protecting us all."

"But why?" he asks, then growls at me, "I know why you, but why the three of us?"

"Because he likes you," I shrug. "And because I like you. He'll do anything to make me happy, including protect you from his own kind. I can guarantee you if anything happens to me at your hands, that protection will vanish and he will come after you himself."

Okay, I'm digging myself in a little deep here. I don't know if Orlando would actually kill them over me, but he probably wouldn't be too thrilled. Actually, he'd probably just train himself to forget me--again--and then go on with his eternity.

Cunt.

Paul sighs, the conflict warring inside of him visible through the pain in his eyes. Come on, Paul, I urge, afraid to say anything aloud while he is thinking for fear of condemning myself. Listen to me. Believe me. I don't want to lose you.

"You know I'd do anything to protect Elijah," he says, sounding as if he's forcing the words from his mouth.

"I know."

"But Colin, I can't let you continue like this. I can't let you keep meeting with a vampire. Promise me," he says, holding my eyes with his own, "promise me you will never see Orlando again, and I won't turn you in to Marton."

Never see Orlando again? Oh, fuck no! That will not be part of the deal.

"Paul, I can't promise you that."

"Then we're going to go to Marton," he says, dragging me down the street again.

"No, wait! Paul, please, even if I agreed, Orlando wouldn't. He will still seek me out."

"Then tell him it's your life on the line, and he might listen."

"He'd never believe you'd actually harm me."

"Convince him," he growls, blue eyes cold and hard, eyes that truly belong to a killer. In that instant, I believe he would see me hurt, or killed, or maimed, anything to keep me away from Orlando.

What makes me forgive him for it is knowing that, in his heart, he would be trying to protect me. Paul truly is a dear friend, and I'm lucky to have him.

Though right now, I'd settle for a really loyal dog.

"Paul, you can't ask me to do this."

"Perhaps if I put it in terms you will understand, as you were so kind enough to do for me," he says, his voice oddly methodical, countering the bitterness in his eyes. "Don't risk Orlando's life over your stupidity. You either agree, or I hand you over to Marton, who will then dedicate all of our resources to hunting down and destroying this vampire you're so fond of."

"But if you hand me over to Marton, Elijah will lose Orlando's protection, and he could end up getting killed."

"Then it looks like we'll both have something to lose if you don't agree."

"You'd risk it?" I ask, my eyes growing wide. "You'd risk Elijah's life over a vampire?"

"If that's what it takes," he says, his voice leaving no room for argument. He's made his decision. Either I make this sacrifice, or we both stand the chance of losing the ones we love.

Fuck.

"I have to see him one last time, explain what's going on."

"And that will be it?" he asks. I nod.

"That will be it. After that, I will never see him again."

"Then I won't turn you in to Marton and I will keep your secret. But I'll be watching you, Colin. If I catch you even once with him, it will be the end for you both."

Swallowing hard past the lump in my throat, I nod again. "I understand."

"Good," he says, placing a somewhat friendlier hand on my arm. "We should get back to the Leftovers before everyone wakes up and wonders where we are, and then you should try to get some sleep. You look like hell."

So would you if your heart was breaking, I think with narrowed eyes as I walk alongside him down the street. But then, you'll never know what that feels like because you and your Elijah will live happily ever after till the end of your days, whereas I'm being forced to give up the few short years I would have had with Orlando. It wasn't like we were going to live happily ever after, but a couple of years would have been nice.

I can picture it now. I'd wake up every evening to that glorious smile and those big brown eyes, we'd make love for a couple of hours, and then he'd go hunt down dinner while I'd go hunting vampires. After work, I'd come home to find him waiting for me, naked, hungry, and we'd hop right back into bed. It would be the same thing in cities all over the world, hunting and fucking and loving and oh god, I am going insane.

Maybe this is for the best. I mean, seriously, what kind of life could we have possibly had together? How could I live with myself going out every night and hunting vampires only to spend every day fucking one? It never would have worked. I'd cave eventually and either kill him, or myself.

I am a fool for ever letting myself be lured in by him. It doesn't matter what my heart feels, I need to end it now, before I completely lose myself to him.

When I finally am able to drift off to sleep, the sunlight is cheerfully pouring in through the cracks in the curtains, and when the dream returns, it is truly a nightmare.

There is no love in his eyes as he looks down on me, only hate. There is no giving in our lovemaking, only taking. All of our affection has turned to anger, violence, pain. When he bites into me, it is with the pure intent to kill.

"COLIN!"

Peter's panicked voice is shouting in my ear, his hand shaking my shoulder. I know he is yelling, and I know I should feel his hand, but he seems so distant, as if he's not quite real.

"God damnit, Colin!"

"Peter, what's wro--oh my god!" Elijah gasps. "What happened? Peter, where'd all that blood come from? Colin--no! Colin!"

"Elijah, call the medic! Now!" Peter orders before turning back to me, slapping my cheeks. Why is it that every time I lose a lot of blood, people start slapping my face? Is this really the best way they can think of to get my attention? "Fuck, Colin, wake up! Come on, just look at me. Help is on the way. I just need you to look at me. You can't leave me, Colin, not like they did. Please, wake up!"

It takes all my will to force my heavy eyelids open. I mouth his name, but as my voice is gone, there is no sound. Still, Peter sees and chokes back a sob.

"Oh, thank god! I thought I'd lost you. Stay with me, Colin. It'll be all right."

There is movement on my neck, his other hand shifting as it places more pressure on the bite marks there. He notices my eyes trying to watch him and he quickly explains.

"The wounds on your neck--I don't know what happened. They're open, but there's something. . . there's something wrong and. . . and I can't get the blood to stop. Colin, what's going on?"

Even if I could speak, I don't have an answer for him.

Damnit, why did this have to happen? I thought I was finally starting to get over these stupid dreams, and now I've got Elijah screaming frantically over the phone for help, Peter trying to keep me from bleeding to death, and it's only a matter of seconds before Sean and Marton come barging in here demanding to know what all the fuss is about.

What a pain in the arse.

If there was enough spare breath left in my lungs, I'd sigh, but since there isn't, I'll have to make do with staring up at the ceiling.

I would give anything not to be here right now, bleeding to death in fucking London. I should be at home, bleeding to death in Ireland. Oh, fuck, who'm I kidding? I just want Orlando.

"Hey, Colin, here's some good news. I think the bleeding's slowing down."

At least I still have the energy to roll my eyes.

That bastard. Of course he'd be linked to the recurring disaster that is my neck. Maybe this will help convince Paul that I shouldn't be separated from him.

Probably not.

Assuming I live long enough to discuss it with him.

But I don't need to discuss it with him. This decision is no longer his. My heart isn't his to control, no matter how good his intentions.

The medic arrives, along with Marton and Sean, and they immediately start poking and prodding me, sticking me with needles and doing what they can to replenish my veins.

"Colin," Marton says as he leans over me, and I try to clean up the edges of the blur that is his face. "You're going to be fine."

I know, I think with a smile. Because I am never letting Orlando go. Paul can just go fuck himself. Orlando's mine and I am his. If it means being more careful when sneaking out, fine. I can do that. I'll drug Paul's drink. I climb over walls or out of windows. I will meet him during the day and steal kisses in the shadows. If it means letting Orlando in here, I'll even do that. I don't care. We will be together.

Even if it means my life.

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