“I need to know what happened. Something more than a fight, am I correct?”
“He made me… he made me taste some of his blood. And he… he fed me some of himself.” Will retched just saying it.
“I see.”
Maddox tried to keep his voice calm. It was important not to spook Will. The boy had been through enough of late, and it seemed that every time he was out of Maddox’s sight he got into even more strife.
Will lifted concerned pale eyes to him. “Am I going to have to eat people? I don’t want to eat people.”
“Don’t worry about that for now, boy.”
“That’s not a no.” Will bit his lower lip. “I'd rather die than be like him… than do what he did. He killed people like an animal, no dignity, no… It was fucked up.”
Maddox did not remind Will that on their first meeting Will had to be stopped from beating a prison guard to death. It seemed churlish and unproductive to do so. Humans never had a clear vision of themselves, and they changed so much during the course of various events it was impossible to pin them down as one thing or another.
Lathering a cloth with soap, Maddox started to wash Will’s back. It was the one part of his body that had not taken much damage during the fight with his father. Wounds on the back were retreat wounds. He had none because knowing Will, he had stayed on the attack the whole time.
“I hate him,” Will whispered. “I hate that he's inside me. I hate that I am made of him.”
“Many a fledgling shares that sentiment, and probably many a human too,” Maddox mused, moving the cloth in soft, soapy circles over the rippling muscles of Wills’ back. He hoped he was providing some comfort, if any could be found in the warm touch of a master in Will’s darkest time.
“You knew, didn’t you. You knew all about him. What he was. What I am. You knew.”
“I would like to say I knew it all,” Maddox said. “That omnipresence of knowledge would be…. well. Suffice to say, I knew that sons who look for lost fathers rarely find the peace they are seeking.”
“Did you know I am, or he thinks I am supposed to eat people?”
“Your kind is rare, William. I have lived long and seen many things.”
Will lifted his head and his blue gaze bored into Maddox. “Did you know about the people meat?”
“Yes,” Maddox admitted.
Will made an impatient gesture, splashing water over his master, though not in a fun way.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“You have been through a lot, and you seemed very healthy and somewhat happy. I saw no reason to tell you that you had to stop eating toaster pastries and start on the toes of your unfortunate victims. I thought you might lead a normal, healthy life without such ingestion.”
“But I’m not going to, am I?”
“I don't know. For now… how do you feel?”
“It doesn't hurt as much as it did before,” Will said with no small amount of relief.
“Good. It is likely that you will feel the hunger again, boy. If it becomes too great, or if you are unable to contain it, trust that I will contain you.”
“Thank you,” Will said, truly grateful.
While Maddox paid full attention to his famished and tortured mate, forces were shifting and consequences were unfolding. Nobody, no matter how immortal or apparently omnipresent could truly control a city as vast as New York. Mad was faintly aware of them all, but he refused to give anything besides his boy his full attention now. Having come so close to losing what was most precious to him, he was going to do everything in his power to keep Will close.
15
The Meanwhiles
Ivan was on the street stark naked and heading for his parked pickup. He’d had to make a choice whether to travel as a wolf or a naked guy. In New York being a naked stumbling man was far less conspicuous than a spectacular wolf. He was at the truck, pulling the door open, in fact, when he heard the unmistakeable sound of a gun being cocked.
Someone had been waiting for him. Someone who knew he’d break out. Someone who knew him better than the fancy vampire who ruled the city’s undead. Someone who’d known him longer than almost anybody else.
He turned around slowly, his hands lifting though it hadn't been asked for.
“You want to play this game again? It ends the same way.”
The holder of the gun was a woman. A cop. That was all he saw first, the uniform and the threat of laughable justice. It took him a second to work out who was behind the glinting barrel in the night. It had been over twenty years, but she still looked the same. He’d know those eyes anywhere.