No infringement of the following characters and situations is intended.
Warning: Rated [MA] Mature Adults only. Contains strong m/m sexual scenes, violence, coarse language and adult themes.
Wild Wild West/Forever Knight/Highlander/Young Riders
West/Gordon
c August 1994
Jim entered the carriages' drawing room, pulling on his shirt. The bandage around his midriff was still evident.
"Hey, Artie, what are you up to?"
Artie stood, waving the match out. He moved aside so Jim could see.
"Lighting candles on your cake. Happy birthday, Jim."
Jim seemed almost taken aback, flushed a little.
"You remembered," he muttered, running an embarrassed hand back through his hair.
"Of course," replied Artie. He seemed almost sombre. So few candles to mark out so brief a life, one that had so nearly ended in his arms recently. The candles marked out time, the tiny portion of his life he had watched James West grow from wild youth to adulthood. A similar number of candles more, and Jim would be gone from his life, forever, like so many before him.
"What's the matter, Artie," asked Jim intuitively, his clear blue eyes searching his lover's face for an answer.
"Nothing," Artie half lied. "Its just that you nearly didn't make it to this one. Jim, with all the risks you take, are you happy with your life?"
Jim thought for a moment, long and hard, then a small smile crept across his features.
"Yes. Yes, Artie, I am."
"Well, then," gestured his partner, "Blow out your candles and make a wish."
-o0o-
James West had been just another boy from Illinios
who had left home in search of adventure. Just 15, he had ended
up in New Orleans, under the tutelage of a madam of a cathouse
who taught him both the arts of love and thievery. It was Artemus
Gordon's pocket the brash youth had tried to pick one night. Instead
of taking him to the police as he had threatened, Artemus had
taken the lad to his home, and thus began another stage of Jim's
education. Artemus took it upon himself to introduce Jim to the
arts, he taught Jim how to dress, and fight, and conduct himself
in polite society, and he taught Jim how to take pleasure from
a man, as well as a woman.
-o0o-
Artie laughed softly as he grazed Jim's throat softly with his lips.
"What are you thinking of, Artie,"
"Fucking you," he whispered in his ear.
"No," Jim chuckled. "Something else, I saw it in your eyes."
Artie drew a small breath, before he suckled Jim's throat just below the Adam's apple. Jim tilted his head back, arching his hips slightly underneath Artie's body length.
"Artie, " Jim pressed.
Artemus looked up at last.
"Just remembering the time I first saw you. You were so young, so beautiful," he caressed Jim's cheek with his thumb. "You tried to pick my pocket," he teased.
"You'd taken Rachel's money," Jim counted.
"I won it fair and square."
"You cheated."
"So did she. Then she sent you out to steal it back."
Jim smiled. "But you caught me, and thread to have me arrested. But you didn't."
"No, I took you home with me," he tenderly traced Jim's lips with his thumb, "And then, I began your education."
Artemus pressed Jim back against the couch, his mouth closed over Jim's, their tongues sliding together, Jim's lean, hard body undulating slightly under his.
There was a sharp knock at the door.
"Better get that, Artie," laughed softly.
Artie stood, tucking his shirt in as he went to the door. Jim picked up a book and settled back on the couch.
"Colonel," Artemus brought himself up to attention as he opened the door.
"Gordon," the Colonel acknowledged. He strode into the room and saw Jim reclining lazily, shirt open, oblivious.
"I think you must be getting too comfortable in your civilian cover, West, if you don't bother to acknowledge a senior officer anymore."
"Sorry, Sir," mumbled Jim, setting the book aside and standing, buttoning his shirt, chastened.
The Colonel carefully laid the photographs down on the table.
James sifted through them, pushing them around the table casually with his finger.
"Dead cattle?" he asked at last.
"Some sort of disease?" asked Artemus, concerned.
"No. But your concern is well placed, Gordon. Cattle are a major part of our economy, especially in the West." He straightened. "These cattle have been interfered with, mutilated, killed. Their throats have been torn out, and blood drained from the carcass. Sometimes the heart and internal organs are missing."
"Who - or what - could be doing this?" asked James.
"That's your job, West. Wild animal, rival cattle baron, disturbed person or persons - find the answer and implement a solution."
"Yes, Sir." West nodded.
-o0o-
Artie had drawn the short straw, investigating the killing fields while James rode into town to see if he could find answers there.
He felt like hitting Artie once he'd walked into the saloon, though. Somehow, Artie must have known. For there she was, his ex-business partner, employer and lover; Rachel. It had been ten years, but to his eyes, she was as radiant as ever. He removed his hat, dusting it down self consciously.
"Rachel," he smiled, leaning across the bar to kiss her.
She received him warmly, then gently pushed him away.
"You always were the presumptuous one."
"What do you mean," he grinned.
"All the boys thought about bedding me. You actually did it."
"I had an unfair advantage," his eyes trailing from hers to her breasts and back to her eyes again. "We had a history."
"I remember," smiled Rachel. "You rode up, got off your horse, walked up to me and kissed me, right in front of everyone.'
"Like this," he leant forward and kissed her again.
"West, I might have known," muttered a gruff voice behind them.
Jim let Rachel go reluctantly.
"James," he acknowledged with a tilt of his head.
"James," nodded Hickok, smiling ironically. "You know, hardly anyone calls me by my real name anymore. What are you doing in town, West."
"Business."
"What sort of business."
"That I'd rather discuss in your office."
Hickok spread his hand to encompass the saloon.
"This is my office."
-o0o-
Jim kicked the door closed behind him, tossed his hat onto the dresser, and leaned into kiss her.
"Won't Artemus mind?" she murmured, breathlessly.
"Huh?" he stooped, puzzled.
"Jim, do think I've gone blind. The way he looks at you; you're the sun, moon and stars in his universe. I knew it the first time he saw you."
Jim had left Artemus shortly after that night, returning to his employment with Rachel, until, tiring of it shortly thereafter, he'd left again. Rachel he met again under the employ of Russell, Majors and Waddell. Artemus he did not see again until, spying undercover for the North in the war, he'd been betrayed, and very nearly killed, had it not been for Artemus' timely intervention. Artemus had managed to smuggle Jim back across into Union lines, leaving his beloved New Orleans forever, even though it was captured by the North over a year later. Artemus never returned, having been pressed into the service of the Union Army. A collaborator was the worst kind of traitor, and thus, the South was lost to him.
Rachel touched his face softly.
"Silly boy," she teased him. "Do you honestly think you could fool me, of all people. I taught you everything I knew. I sent you out to get back the money because I knew, if he caught you, he couldn't resist. When you didn't show up until a week later, being squired around town so proudly by Artemus, I knew."
Jim sat down on the bed, at a loss.
"You never said anything."
She smiled, sitting beside him.
"It wasn't my place to judge. I was a card sharp and a whore, you were a young and pretty thief. WE did what we had to, to survive." She held his hands in hers.
"I never even asked you what scared you so much that you had to runaway. I gave you all the money I had, to help you disappear. I must admit, I was surprised to see you in Artemus' company once more."
"We work together."
Jim wasn't meeting her eyes.
"What did happen that night. You were so scared, you were shaking. Did Artemus..."
"No," he answered sharply. "No. This guy, he challenged Artie to a dual. Artemus told me to wait behind, but I couldn't. So I hid, and I watched Artie kill the man. I was only a kid. I don't really remember. I got used to death after that."
He was lying. He could never fool her. He remembered all right. He'd seen something. But she knew better than to try and drag information out of James West by interrogation.
She slid down off the bed, kneeling before him, and began to take his boots off.
"Rachel, you don't have to - I'd be careful with that one," he advised lightly. He took it from her and showed her the derringer he kept inside.
"You are full of surprises," she teased.
He pulled her back onto the bed, on top of him, and kissed her.
-o0o-
"Friend of yours, Rachel?" asked a smooth, slightly accented voice.
Rachel smiled, blushing slightly. "Uh huh," she breathed.
James turned, leaning against the bar.
"Deputy," he acknowledged, with a tilt of his head, observing the shining silver badge that adorned the wearer's well worn vest.
"West," the Deputy breathed.
"I'm sorry, have we met?" James asked., perplexed.
"The war," the Deputy and congenially. "Oh, but you were injured, so you probably don't remember," he smiled, almost apologetically. "I have a good memory for faces."
"And names," added James.
The Deputy was tall, fair and not unattractive.
"You here to see Rachel?"
James nodded, and took a sip at his drink.
" I heard you've been having trouble with wolves or something, killing cattle."
"Probably wild dogs," muttered the Deputy, not making eye contact.
"You find any tracks?" Jim pressed.
"No," the Deputy answered curtly. "But what else could it be."
He walked off, and Rachel's hand on Jim's prevented him from following.
"No one knows what's killing the cattle. It's making people edgy, and the law's job so much harder. Don't push him, okay, Jim?" she asked of him.
-o0o-
Rachel sat on the back steps, watching the muscles move under the tanned skin as he swung the axe and brought it down, splitting another block of firewood.
"You don't have to do this, you know," she advised him again. "You don't owe me anything."
He glanced up, wiping sweat from his brow.
"I want to," he said, simply, swinging the axe again.
Later, she repaid his efforts, kneeling as she scrubbed his back. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her around so he could kiss her. Then, grinning, pulled her into the tub with him with a splash. It wasn't long before she was arching back on top of him, his hands digging into her waist as she gyrated, riding him. She leant forward, stealing a kiss, then flung her head back. She felt his fingers dig deeper into her flesh, bucking under her, until they lay together in the cooling, soapy water, her head resting on his chest, sated. His arms held her, strong and warm. It had been a long, long time since she'd felt like this with a man, since it had been more than just business.
-o0o-
By the time he left Rachel, the Deputy had disappeared, and the Marshall. He wasn't in his office, that was for sure. Jim was beginning to almost envy Artie his assignment. All Artie had to do was stake out a cattle farm. Jim had to deal with a closed mouth Marshall and a Deputy who was arousing his suspicions by the minute, and the complications of an ex-lover whom he could never fool.
He walked alone along the quiet, dark streets. It was a small town, and aside from an area near the saloon, was deserted. He guessed that if there was a pack of rogue wild dogs killing the animals on nearby farms, you wouldn't want to be out at night unless had a real good reason, either.
It was then that he saw the movement, out of the corner of his eye, almost missing it in his musings. The flitting shape of another human, keeping to the shadows, secretive, and very suspicious.
Slipping his gun from his holster and cocking it, he fell into the chase, following the erratic path of his quarry. As the figure passed under a light, he saw her just for a moment , a glimpse of the beautiful, pale face half hidden under the hood she wore. He paused, unable to move in shock, losing her into the night. It had been her, it had been Caroline.
-o0o-
James drew his gun, tracking the dark shape that flitted amongst the lowing cattle, making them move restlessly. He cocked the gun with a click.
"Hey, don't shoot," declared a voice; moments later the Deputy walked into the arc of light projected by Jim's lantern.
"What the hell are you doing here," muttered James, holstering his gun.
"Same as you. Trying to see if I can catch the wild dog that's been attacking the cattle."
"Won't catch anything, the way you were stirring up the animals," put in Jim, somewhat contemptibly. "And if it is a wild dog, it's big, savage and smart, it won't come anywhere near humans.
Nick turned his preternaturally dark eyes on James.
"Might as well give it up then. I think it was a pack hunting, but now it's just a lone animal, and I can deal with it. Surely President Grant has a better use for his best man than hunting down a wild dog in a one horse town like this."
Jim nodded slowly in agreement. At first, all the
animals on some farms had been killed in the same mysterious fashion,
even a couple of farmers had fallen prey to the mysterious 'beast',
but lately, it had just been one or two cattle with their throats
ripped out, no more than you would expect to lose overnight to
a rogue animal. The local farmers could take care of the matter.
It was a situation, he now believed, no more sinister than a few
hungry predators, and certainly not the large monster or escaped
circus animal that the more fanciful reports suggested. The cattle
had replaced the natural prey of the local wildlife, and it was
probably nothing more than a hungry cat, dog or wolf. He drew
his coat close against the cold night air, thinking enviously
of Artemus, back warm and comfortable in town.
-o0o-
"No, James, enough!" snapped Rachel, pulling the bottle away from him.
She ducked as he pitched his glass at the back of the bar with a snarl.
He picked up the bottle to hurl it likewise but his hand was held back, restrained with an unnatural strength.
"Problem here, Rachel?" asked the Deputy, having arisen for another night of gambling and breaking up bar fights.
She nodded, picking up the broken glass.
"Take him up stairs. There's a room free. He can sleep it off there."
"He can sleep it off in a cell just as well," Nick suggested helpfully.
Rachel shook her head. "He's an old friend." She wiped her hands. "I've never seen him like this before," she added ruefully.
Nick almost picked West up bodily, and frogmarched the struggling, cursing, very drunk secret agent up the stairs to the spare room.
He tossed the young man on the bed like a sack of wheat, then bent to remove his gun belt and hang it over a chair out of harm's way.
He leant closer, the handsome face working its magic upon him once more. He stole a kiss, but instead of being hit, as he expected, James accepted the kiss, responding in kind. The hunger welled up in Nicholas; he bit it down, tasting Jim again. He tore at their clothes, pressing his naked flesh against Jim's, feeling his heart beat, pulsing, intoxicating.
Nicholas suckled at the nipple, then bit at the teat, the heady, hot taste of blood filling his mouth. James arched under him, thrusting blindly, his taste overwhelming Nick, his hot, wet pulsing body throbbing against him, crying out to be taken. He wanted it, and Nick needed it. The hunger grew. Every vein and artery under Jim's skin seemed to beat only for him, a strange, erotic tattoo. Jim's blood already on his lips, its rich salty flavour, urging him, drawing him to drink deeper, the head thrown back in escasty, exposing the throat, luring him. Oh, god, how could he fight it. He wanted this, he wanted this so badly.
Nick could resist no longer. He held James tight against him, sucking hard against the skin on his throat, bringing blood to the surface of the skin, before he broke the skin, sucking hungrily. James moaned and arched under him, coming with the heady experience. Nick grabbed at his hair, pulling his head back, exposing Jim's throat further. Animal lust drove him, then, just as suddenly, he pulled back, staring in horror over what he had done, the open, bleeding bite marks in James' throat, the now limp body he held in his arms, the head lolling back. He could feel and hear West's heart. It was still beating. He had brought James to the edge, but had somehow managed to stop himself bringing him over.
Self disgust made him want to retch, but he could not. He needed the blood, the hunger demanded it.
He knelt on the bed for along moment, nursing the pale and bleeding body of his lover amongst the crumpled, blood stained sheets, the smell of his blood over powering, that even now, it drew Nicholas down to lap at it, as it ran down James' chest.
Footsteps in the corridor, then the crash of the door being shouldered open.
Artie stood there, the hall light behind him, staring at the scene before him, Nicholas bending over James' naked form, lapping at his neck amongst blood stained sheets.
"Dear Lord, " Artie murmured.
Nick looked up, eyes pained. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't stop myself. The hunger, the need."
"Get out!" Artie screamed. He drew his gun and fired wildly as Nick flew out of the open window.
Then, Artemus was alone with James. He holstered his gun and slowly, so very slowly, approached the blood stained bed upon which Jim lay, sprawled and abandoned. Afraid, so afraid, Artemus reached out a hand to feel Jim's heartbeat, his hand sliding across his chest.
It was there. Jim was still living and breathing, the slash on his throat still bled.
Artemus sat down on the bed, sick with himself. How could he, even for a moment, have wanted this for Jim, for himself, as a way to make Jim immortal.
A few curious onlookers had gathered at the door.
"Get a doctor!" Artemus snapped at them,
gathering James in his arms, his hand pressed against his torn
open throat in an attempt to stem the bleeding.
"Clear out!"
Knight's voice.
Artemus turned on him as he shut the door.
"You've got a lot of nerve, coming back here after what you've done."
"I'm the Deputy Marshall," he thumbed his silver badge attached to his brown leather badge. "And I was a Doctor."
"You tore his throat open."
"It will heal, believe me." He sat on the bed and turned Jim's head so Artemus could see. Already the bleeding had slowed and coagulated.
"I lost control, I'm sorry," he looked up at Artemus, a perfect image of repentance. "You've no idea," he gazed down at James again. "The hunger, it gnaws at you, constantly. I need human blood, to survive. Its my nature, and I cannot go against it. Jim was drunk, at first argumentative, but, by the time I got him up here to sleep it off, delightfully so. I thought I could keep it under control. We made love, and the hunger over took me. I needed him, and he was pressed against me, warm flesh, pulsing." The longing began to etch itself upon his handsome features.
Nicholas looked down upon Jim where he lay, the hunger burning in him like a fever.
"He's young and beautiful. I could bring him over, make him immortal, beautiful forever."
"No! Nicholas - snap out of it!" Artemus struck him across the face, forcing Nicholas to revert to more human features.
"Why not, Artemus. Its what you want, what you've always wanted."
"No." Artemus drew back. "I could never, not without his consent. He'd learn to hate me, for what I'd done to him."
Nicholas smiled, most unpleasantly.
"As I learnt to hate the man who brought me over. Very wise, Artemus. But it's so hard to watch them grow old and die, isn't it." He ran his fingers through James' hair. "You haven't told him, have you."
"No. How could I?"
"Indeed," Nicholas purred. "Still, fate has away of forcing your hand in these things."
"You wouldn't..."
Nicholas looked up, sad and hungry at the same time. "Not I, but there are others, aren't there," he mused. "There are the predators, and the hidden. Sometimes I wonder if you and I chose the right paths. Its not easy to pretend to be something you're not."
Knight's hand trailed over West's naked torso.
"This man has been injured recently," Nicholas accused.
"Watchers," Artemus admitted.
Nick looked visibly shaken. "Watchers, here? How did they find you?"
"I had the misfortune to duel with an immortal they were watching. They came after me, and James, because of me."
"The watchers?"
"Dead." Gordon declared, grimly.
-o0o-
Artie flung the carriages curtains open wide; Jim winced, covering his eyes.
"Oh, god, Artie, what's that smell."
"Breakfast."
Jim looked at it in distaste.
"What'd you do, Artie, put a string of garlic in it?"
"Yes. Its good for you."
Artie set the tray down unmercifully in front of James.
Jim looked up, all innocence.
"Artie, are you trying to punish me for something?"
Artie stood, looking at him more than a little coldly.
"You don't remember?"
"No. Last thing I knew I was in the saloon, drinking with knight."
The penny dropped. "Son of a bitch," Artie muttered under his breath. Jim hadn't strayed, he'd fallen under a vampire's spell. Knight had lured him up to that room, seduced him and nearly killed him. And Jim remembered none of it. a small mercy.
Jim caught Artie's curse and cottoned on.
"Did he get me drunk? My head sure feels like it."
"Yeah," Artie decided to fill in the lie. "You and he were trying to drink each other under the table. I don't think we'll be seeing him before sunset, either."
-o0o-
It was not unusual for Jim to have gone out and gotten drunk, not this week, at least. That he had gotten drunk with a vampire was an unfortunate choice of drinking companion; but nevertheless, Artie felt merely a coincidence. Jim always became moody, sullen and even cruel around this time of year.
Jim had been very much in love once, and now marked the anniversary of his broken heart.
Recuperating in an army hospital after being caught by a sniper's bullet, he had been nursed by a young girl volunteer by the name of Caroline, and in true story book fashion, they had fallen hopelessly in love. In love enough to meet each other after the war as promised. They had become engaged to marry, and that was where the problem lay. Caroline's family owned many factories and had done very well indeed out of the war. A brash and dashing young Calvary officer patronised by General Grant would have been considered more than suitable son in law material by most men, but not so Caroline's father, no Sir. With the family's increased fortunes his expectations of his daughter's future husband had risen considerably higher, to even encompass old world aristocracy.
That Jim had been blackballed by the family patriarch had not dissuaded the young lovers. They planned to elope, with Artie generously acting as go between for the star crossed lovers. It had ended in tragedy.
Jim had awaited for Caroline at the appointed rendezvous, waited forever it seemed like, only to have her never arrive. The family closed ranks and refused to speak to him, so he began to assume that her family had gotten the better of her, and that was the end of that. It was only a month later, bitter and disconsolently drunk in a saloon one night, in severe danger of losing his commission from his behaviour, that he heard of what had happened to Caroline. She had died in a riding accident, on her way to meet Jim. She had been thrown from her horse, dying instantly, and had been buried the next day, with almost unseemly haste. The rumour had it that the horse had been spooked by a ghost. Jim had gone crazy with grief, and only Artie's timely intervention had saved both the lad's life and career.
A large part of James West had died that day. a good deal of his joy de vivre had gone, to be replaced by a colder, harder edge. Artie still saw it now. Few women, even the ones he seemed to really care for, received the respect and attention they desired from James West. Even Artemus more often times than not found himself being the butt of Jim's vicious little barbs. Such behaviour had given Jim the well deserved reputation of 'kissing the girls and making them cry' as one jaded cast off lover had put it.
It was going to be a dark week ahead, Artemus just knew it. And to make matters worse, this town didn't seem like it was going to be big enough for two immortals, even if one of them was of the darker kind.
He could see that keeping an eye on James between sundown and sun up was going to be a full time job, on top of their assignment.
-o0o-
Jim emerged, poking delicately at the small bite marks in his neck, which, Artie noticed to his dismay, had almost completely healed.
"Artie," he asked. "What on earth did I get up to last night - no, on second thoughts, I don't want to know."
He studied his reflection as he fastened his shirt buttons and tied his silk cravat.
"I saw her last night, Artie," he whispered, quietly.
"Saw who?"
"Caroline."
Artie took pause.
"But Jim, she's dead. She's been dead now for years."
"I know," Jim acknowledged sadly. He did not look at his friend.
"I know it was someone else, someone who must have looked like her. But just for a moment, I thought I saw her, and she was smiling at me. I tried to follow her, but I lost her in the night. So I went back to the saloon. I guess I must have started drinking hard. I remember the Deputy, helping me up to a room, but that's all.
Maybe Knight hadn't been lying. He'd been trying to help Jim. But instead of taking advantage, he'd just lost control. Keeping such a terrible hunger in check was a terrible burden, and Jim had an almost soul destroying gift of melting almost anyone's discipline.
-o0o-
"All the cattle appear to have been exsanguinated." Artemus observed.
"What?" Jim had to ask.
"Drained of blood," Artie explained paternally.
Jim nodded tersely, looking away as Artie probed the gash's on the creature's throat, realising they wound had been made by incisors, not steel, and the span of the incisors worried him greatly.
Artemus saw Jim start to falter out of the corner of his eye, and managed to catch him before he crumpled.
"Hey, looks like last night's still hitting you," Artemus teased.
Jim pushed him away crossly.
"It's just the sun. " He took off his hat and wiped his brow. "It's so damn hot out here. And the stench," he glared at the field of rotting carcasses.
Artemus pulled his canteen from his saddle. "I wasn't judging you, Jim." He apologised, softly. "You look awful. Here," he proffered the canteen. Jim accepted grudgingly and drank greedily, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and returning the now half empty canteen to Artie. He pulled his hat down low again to shield his eyes from the sun.
"Sit down before you fall down, Jim. Just take a break for a moment. We all make mistakes. And I told you that you went back to work way too soon. You nearly died, dammit."
"I'm fine, Artie. Just a little hung over, that's all." he muttered gruffly, embarrassed again by his friend's concern. He remained standing, if wavering a little.
Poor kid, thought Artie, noting just how pale his features were; probably down a good pint or two.
Jim watched, a little light headed and more than a little green around the gills as Artie continued his examination of the latest dead cattle, taking samples to send back to Washington for testing. If it was some new disease, it could be devastating for the US economy. Poor Artie had spent all last night, staking out the fields to see if the mutilation was the act of some disturbed human agent or if the bite marks were the results of a rogue animal, like a wild dog, and wether the mutilation occurred before, during or after the death of the animal, while Jim had stayed in town, drinking himself to unconsciousness. He felt more than a little guilty for that. It was just when he had started seeing ghosts...
Artie took out his knife and began to cut open another carcass. The smell of decomposing flesh rose up, and James, to his shame, lost it.
"Well, that was a waste of a good breakfast," commented Artie lightly, holding James as he retched again, then cradling him like a child, wiping his mouth.
"How could you do this to yourself, James," he scolded softly. "And how could Rachel let you."
"She didn't," rasped James. "She was the one who got the deputy."
Artie sat him up, with an arm still around his shoulders. He really looked awful.
Jim quite simply bent over and began retching again.
-o0o-
Artie watched Jim carefully as they rode back into town, but Jim was in no mood to talk.
Artie seemed to have it in his mind to speak to the Deputy, so they waited for him, in Rachel's saloon, until the sun went down. It made no difference to Jim, he drank to break his long silences.
-o0o-
Jim left Artie in the bar to get some air. Suddenly, he'd needed to get outside, almost as if he'd been drawn out here. He walked, a solitary figure, striding down the main street of a small cattle town. He paused, to light a cigarillo, carefully, cupping his hands around the tiny flame. He glanced up again, and she was there, the mysterious woman. He gave chase again, and she began to run, but this time he wouldn't give up.
-o0o-
"Caroline," he caught her wrist, at last, drawing her close. "Oh, god, it is you," he touched her face tenderly.
"Yes," she admitted, not meeting his eyes.
"Why did you run away?"
"I was ashamed, ashamed, James, of my cowardice."
" Cowardice, I don't understand. I was told you were dead."
"I know," she sighed. "And I did nothing to dispel that belief. I didn't die that night, but I was seriously injured. It was a long time before I remembered you, and our meeting. By that time, you'd been gone a long time, I tried to forget about you all over again."
"Caroline - I - " words failed him, so he drew her close and kissed her.
It didn't take much for her to convince him to escort her home to her small property. They kissed again inside the door. She led him, almost coyly, up the stairs to her bedroom.
"Oh, James, I've waited so long for this moment," she sighed as he undid her bodice, lowering his head to kiss her creamy, rounded breasts. She held his head softly to her breast as he suckled upon her, tossing her head back, then, holding him firmly, she bit down with violent fury, tearing at his throat, revelling in the delicious pulsing of his blood as it flowed down her throat.
Jim managed a weak gasp of pain. Someone tore him out of her arms and threw him onto the bed like a rag doll.
Nicholas and Caroline circled each other, snarling.
Artemus, meanwhile, attended to his friend lying upon the bed.
"Oh, god, Jim," he all but wept, pressing his hands to the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood.
Incredibly, Jim managed to struggle up in Artie's arms, to watch the two vampires, horrified and compelled.
"Artemus - the stake and the sword," commanded Nicholas with a hiss.
"You'd do this to your own kind," she growled at him.
"I'd do it to you," he replied coldly.
He moved with savage swiftness. She was a young one, less powerful, less experienced. They crashed through the wall. He managed to wrestle her to the ground, Artie bringing up the rear with stake, hammer and sword.
Nicholas held her down, she struggled and snapped at him, a low and unearthly growl issuing from her lips.
"Do it now!" he commanded.
Jim, somehow, on his feet, pushed past Artie, taking the stake and hammer from his hands.
"Let me do it." he asked, gravely.
He knelt beside her, weeping, half conscious with blood loss, driven only by sheer force of will. Her features turned human, beautiful again as she faced him.
"James, my love, please don't do this," she begged. "We can be together, forever, eternal lovers."
"No. You're not Caroline!" he cried. He
placed the stake over her breast, raising the hammer and bringing
it down hard. Her blood spurted up over him. She writhed, gnashing
her teeth, howling. Artie lifted up the sword, and severed her
head with a clean bow.
"Well, well, well. I would have never have thought you had it in you, Nicholas, to kill one of your own, and so cold bloodedly." sneered an evil, laughing voice.
Nicholas looked up, with murder in his eyes.
"Lacroix."
Lacroix spread his hands expansively.
"I would have made a gift of him to you, I know how much of a shine you took to him during their silly little war. It's not too late. He can be yours. Just say the word."
"No - you bastard!"
Nicholas flew himself at Lacroix with such fury, sending the both of them crashing through several walls.
-o0o-
Jim sat on the floor, the strength gone out of him, staring at his twice dead lover as the vampires raged, crashing and thrashing through the rooms and walls like two rapid dogs, snapping and snarling at each other.
She had died that night, afterall, the night she'd gone to meet him, to run away with him and marry him. Only it hadn't been a ghost that had spooked her horse, it had been one of those undead monsters. Witchery, that's what Artie had once called it, dismissing it utterly, yet he knew how to destroy them.
"James," Artie's hand was on his shoulder.
He looked up at his friend, blue eyes almost blank, the blood of his beloved still smeared over his face and clothes.
The house thudded and roared with unearthly cries.
"Come on," Artie pulled him up to his feet, slipping his arm around his mortal lover. He was safe, his blood was poison to their kind. But Jim was a tasty morsel, and the savouring already planned 10 years ago.
The blood loss and shock took Jim over the edge. He slumped in Artie's arms, and Artie had no choice but to lift him up and carry him from the house, his still beating human heart a warm beacon for the vampires.
-o0o-
"Admetus," Nicholas acknowledged, addressing Gordon by his true name as was tradition, a name few but the old ones knew. The fiend who called himself Lacroix must have taught him.
"You're hurt," Artemus observed.
Nick shrugged him off.
"James?" he asked.
Artie shook his head. "He's in shock. He's seen too much. Make him forget, please."
Nick held Gordon's gaze, there was hunger burning deep within.
"Are you sure, Artemus. I can bring him across, now, forever."
Artemus shook his head slowly.
"No. I cannot do that to him. You saw his revulsion. It would change the very nature of who he is. I can't - he must choose for himself."
"If I make him forget, you will deny him that choice."
"For now, not later. Please, Nicholas. Its a kindness. He just killed his fiance. Spare him the pain of that."
Nicholas nodded weakly.
"I need, " he whispered.
Artemus reluctantly agreed, ready to pull Nicholas away should he drink too deeply.
It was electric to watch, Nicholas leaning over Jim, closer and closer, then, touching his lips with the tip of his tongue, sliding down to his throat with such sensuality, so gently, he began to lap at the still bleeding tear in Jim's throat.
James moaned softly, and began to move, aroused.
Nicholas held him down firmly. Nicholas tilted Jim's head back, sucking harder. Jim moaned again, and Nick felt Artemus' hands on his shoulders, pulling him away before the beating of West's heart drew him in, deeper into the hunger. Lips red with his blood, Nicholas gazed into Jim's eyes, whispering the commands to forget what he had seen, to sleep and heal.
It was over.
"Thank you," murmured Artemus.
Nicholas stood, silently, not quite sated.
"Lacroix?" Artemus asked.
"Licking his wounds, somewhere. You should be careful. Our kinds have never had reason to be civil to one another, and Lacroix is a dangerous enemy to make."
"I know. I knew him, a long time ago."
Nick's expression was one of pure revelation. He'd thought Lacroix's little drama had been set against him. He'd thought Artemus' involvement to be an accident, not design.
"What will you tell James," Nicholas asked at last.
Artie shrugged. "Oh, what I usually do, ease up on the wine, women and song. Either that or he's working too hard. Whichever is applicable."
Nick nodded fondly.
"You're a lucky man, Artemus," he admitted, without attempting to hide his longing or loneliness.
-o0o-
"What are you going to write in the report, James?"
Jim frowned crossly.
"I'll write exactly what we found - nothing. This case can remain unsolved for all I care. It's a dead end case. It can rot in the basement of wherever they put our reports in Washington for 100 years for all I care. Let someone else figure it out, even if it takes them a hundred years or so." He slapped the report down on the desk, frustrated.
"Okay, Jim," replied Artemus in his most conciliatory tone. He had no wish to remain in this town any longer, either, especially knowing that if James did remember or report what had really happened, he would be killed.
Aside from the fact that the animals were completely drained of blood, no other cause of death could be found. No disease, and no amount of surveillance could turn up any culprit. As far as Jim was concerned, it was an intangible mystery too frustrating and petty to be bothered with anymore. Let someone else figure out what was going on here, James thought darkly.
-o0o-
"Jim, there's someone here to see you," announced Artie sombrely. He watched as the young man, curious, opened the carriage door and hopped down the steps to greet his guest.
They hugged each other warmly.
"You're leaving," she observed, as the engine let out great gusts of steam at regular intervals.
He nodded, a little regretfully even.
"You could come and visit me in Washington, sometime," he suggested.
She smiled, but shook her head.
"No. All those Generals and their fine ladies, it's a little too fancy for the likes of me," she reminded him, knowing he never saw her for what she was.
"But, should you ever pass by this way again."
"I will, he promised, holding her tighter, nuzzling her slightly. "You mean so much to me," he whispered.
"I know," she sighed.
They broke apart then, as the whistle blew.
James looked between her and the train for a moment, just a moment, then drew away from her, passing Artie on the landing and going inside, unable to watch her as the train began to pull away.
Artie stayed, however. He watched her, her head bowed in sorrow, her hand laid delicately over her abdomen. Any other woman would have called after him, begged him, clung to him. But she did not. She let him go. And in that moment of quiet strength, she gained Artemus' eternal respect.
Each month after that, a cheque would arrive from Artemus. She didn't cash them at first, being a proud woman, but things must have gotten tight, and they were cashed. Artie often wondered what he or she looked like, the squalling ball of humanity that Jim had fathered. And he realised that Jim had achieved a form of immortality denied to his kind.
Going inside the carriage at last, Artemus found Jim bent over the desk, writing. He rested his hand on Jim's shoulder, and squeezed it slightly. James glanced up slightly, but continued writing. Artemus' thumb began a soft caress of the nape of his neck. Succumbing at last, James leant back, tilting his head so that Artemus' lips could taste his. Artemus tore away James' cravat, fingers trailing over the skin of his throat as he opened the shirt buttons at the collar, then opening the shirt and vest buttons all the way down, slipping his hands inside, running them across the hard body underneath, leaning down to slide his hands along James' muscular thighs.
James arched back in the chair, pulling his shirt away, his arousal straining at the tight material of his trousers. Artemus pulled away the belt buckle, freeing him of the constraint, his tongue stabbing down Jim's mouth as he stroked him, long and hard.
Coming up for air, Artie dragged the chair out further from the desk, binding James' arms behind the chair with the discarded cravat, then, moving around to stand in front of Jim, he pulled away Jim's trousers and boots, leaving the young man the perfect picture of naked beauty in the Victorian chair. He leant low over Jim, breathing in his delicious scent, lapping at his ear, his tongue flicking in and out; one hand holding onto the back of the chair, the other alternately cupping Jim's balls and stroking his shaft, the rhythm of the train emphasising his movements.
They kissed hungrily again. As the train headed on into the East, Artie sank to his knees between Jim's legs.