Part 1
Or, "Somewhere in a dingy apartment in New York, 1930"
She had found the boy beautiful when she had first seen him in the park earlier in the night; Adonis peddling newspaper's barefoot along the day warmed asphalt streets of New York City. He was tall and lanky, his brown hair falling just past his ears in delicate curls that framed a face that could have been described as feminine. A pretty boy, no doubt, and the perfect boy, Fleck mused, for a pretty girl like herself.
He had been an easy grab, lured away from the safety of the street lights by a girl that he had assumed was a bit too dotty but pretty none the less, singing promises of things that only wolves in rut should have known about.
Hours had passed by achingly slow since then.
"You know how cranky mommy gets when baby doesn't eat."'
Fleck straddled the poor boy's body, her torn wrist dripping drop by drop into his half opened mouth. His eyes had long since rolled back in his head, his body as still and lifeless as a wooden plank. Death, no matter how often she had let it nip at her heels or how often she had brought it onto others, was still such a foreign concept to the young Malkavian. She whimpered and pressed her wrist to his mouth, smeared his lips and the ashen skin of his face with that wicked vitae.
"C'mon," she whispered, her tone too singsongy to be soothing " Open wide for mama."
It was the stillness of him, the pallor mortis of his flesh that eventually sent signals scrambling through the madness in Fleck's head; klaxons that screamed out that something wasn't right.
"Maybe it's best he die. Lionel will be quite angry with you. A dead boy, turned without permission."
But the snippet of logic that floated on a momentary wave of lucidness was ignored by the little blonde. She laughed out delightedly at some untold joke that only she knew the punchline to before bringing her wrist to her mouth. Gashes that were already beginning to heal were reopened with vicious little teeth and torn wider with a shake of her head. But to this logic, Fleck simply shook her head and brought her wrist to her mouth, eyes clenching shut as those mean little teeth made the wound wider.
Eyes clenched shut in an effort to dull the pain, Fleck pressed her bleeding wrist once more to his mouth.
"You know what they say, little dove," she huffed out. "Practice makes perfect."
Minutes passed by in silence, broken only by the sudden suction of lips against mauled fleshed. She hissed from the pain and delight of it and cradled the back of his head with one small hand. Borrowed blood poured into the boy's mouth and the suckling grew stronger by the minute. Soon he was sitting up, ink stained fingers snaring her arm. His eyes, the color of a peacock's feathers, watched the girl with a strange mixture of loathing, gratitude and confusion.
When he was done, and he knew he was done by the way Fleck jerked her arm away from him, he found himself dizzy. He tried to stand up only to stumble backwards, his body sprawled out on the floor. Fleck, wild eyes wide and unfocused, flashed him a strangely self-satisfied smile and ran her grimy little fingers through his hair. When every muscle in his body tensed up, she laughed.
"Good boy", she whispered.
She re-slid one leg over him and then the other, her barely there weight deposited on his stomach with the ease of someone resting in a favored chair. His first instinct, the one that burned brightest through a thick haze of confusion, was to push her off and make a run for it. It seemed like a very good idea until he remembered how deceptively strong his flaxen haired kidnapper really was.
"You need a name. Do you want me to name you?"
"My name," and he paused, surprised at the sound of his own voice. It sounded much the same, but resonated in his head like gospel in an empty cathedral. "My name is Tobias."
"Tobias?" She clapped her hands and gave a squeal of approval. "I like that name very much. To-bi-us. But I think I shall call you Teddy."
And humming to herself, Fleck ripped away the ribbon that made up the sash on her dress. Carefully, eerily so, she wrapped her wrist and counted steps off on the fingers of her other hand.
"Of course. Teddy." he spat out, if only to placate his captor.
He was too tired, too lightheaded to even begin the process of unraveling the mysterious mess that had suddenly become his life. Hesitantly, he inched his hands to her sides and when his attentions weren't met with a bite or a kick, a punch or a scream, he rested them there.
"I'm hungry, Miss. Starving," he mewed. "What happened?"
The girl seemed quite content with whatever it was that was currently darting through her head. But the words that followed blissful quiet were half sung and half whimpered.
"I shall be punished for making a childe without Lionel."
Lionel. Who the hell was Lionel? Tobias felt as if he had heard the name before. Was he an imaginary playmate? No. No. No one spoke of figments so very intimately.
"Lionel," he repeated, and then it hit him. " Lionel. Is he your boyfriend?"
Fleck continued looking off into who knows what reality but she did press a finger to his lips.
"I'm damaged, he says. I'll make weak children, but I tell him I'll make a good mother. I truly will, Teddy Bear."
Before Tobias could find a voice to answer, the door flew open, sending Fleck whimpering and darting to the side of the bed. A man's voice, clipped and educated and angrier than anyone had a right to be, bellowed out and bounced off of the walls of the small room.
"How many times have I told you that your blood is tainted!?"
Only Tobias' eyes moved to the doorway, his heart pumping with the blood that the girl had taken from him and given back. The man in the door, Lionel he guessed, did not seem pleased.
"I wanted a childe," came Fleck's weak reply, the statement followed up by a whimper that made Tobias think of a scared kid cowering from some unseen boogieman. But Lionel was very real.
The man laughed as he stomped toward Tobias, fingers flexing and unflexing before balling up into twin fits. The boy watched him from his spot on the floor and flinched when the man began screaming again. How dire it was for Teddy to realize that there was no help to be found there.
"You wanted a child? You're f*cked up Fleck! How many times have we went over this? I was shunned for turning a rabid dog like you, and now I'll be shunned for letting my dear little lunatic turn fools and paper boys!"
Lionel brought a shiny black Oxford sailing into Tobias' side and when it connected, pain shot through the boy. He had heard the ribs crack before he ever felt it, but it wasn't long before everyone nerve in his body was screaming. Hurt so blinding that everything in the room went dark.
Fleck's cry, however, was far louder than his.
The pitiful keening stole away Lionel's attention and he slowly sauntered to the bed. Pink foam dribbling down his chin and curled into a tight ball, Tobias could only watch the rest of the show unfold. In the blink of an eye, Lionel had jerked the girl up from her hiding place, and he lifted her by the collar of her nightgown until her feet no longer touched the floor.
Fleck screamed, kicked, bit at every inch of flesh that she could reach and the man, for his part, took each blow with the ease of a parent waiting out a tantrum.
"I'm not an unfair man, button," Lionel crooned.
His head tilted back and his almost reptilian gaze- so cold, so void of anything other than primitive hatred- burrowed into Fleck's terrified, wide eyed stare. Then to Tobias' surprise, the man lowered Fleck to the bed in a way that was as off-putting as it was gentle.
"And I don't want to kill your new little friend, but you broke a very big rule."
He chucked her playfully beneath the chin and a lunatic smile lit up Fleck's face.
"A week," he continued, " I'll give you one week to prove that you can take care of him. After that, we'll see, okay?"
"Excuse me," Tobias muttered and both of the vampires pinned him with almost identical gazes. It made his skin crawl.
"Do I get any say in this? I'm not an animal."
Lionel nodded as if he had expected it; as it was just one of those things that everyone asked as casually as do you have the time?.
"You belong to her now, boy. You'll do whatever she says until she either gets tired of you and kills you, or I get tired of you and kill you. Maybe if you're smart then you'll run away. Understood?"
The words were far from reassuring and, coupled with the hateful glare on Lionel's face, it forced the boy back into miserable silence.
Or, "Somewhere in a dingy apartment in New York, 1930"
She had found the boy beautiful when she had first seen him in the park earlier in the night; Adonis peddling newspaper's barefoot along the day warmed asphalt streets of New York City. He was tall and lanky, his brown hair falling just past his ears in delicate curls that framed a face that could have been described as feminine. A pretty boy, no doubt, and the perfect boy, Fleck mused, for a pretty girl like herself.
He had been an easy grab, lured away from the safety of the street lights by a girl that he had assumed was a bit too dotty but pretty none the less, singing promises of things that only wolves in rut should have known about.
Hours had passed by achingly slow since then.
"You know how cranky mommy gets when baby doesn't eat."'
Fleck straddled the poor boy's body, her torn wrist dripping drop by drop into his half opened mouth. His eyes had long since rolled back in his head, his body as still and lifeless as a wooden plank. Death, no matter how often she had let it nip at her heels or how often she had brought it onto others, was still such a foreign concept to the young Malkavian. She whimpered and pressed her wrist to his mouth, smeared his lips and the ashen skin of his face with that wicked vitae.
"C'mon," she whispered, her tone too singsongy to be soothing " Open wide for mama."
It was the stillness of him, the pallor mortis of his flesh that eventually sent signals scrambling through the madness in Fleck's head; klaxons that screamed out that something wasn't right.
"Maybe it's best he die. Lionel will be quite angry with you. A dead boy, turned without permission."
But the snippet of logic that floated on a momentary wave of lucidness was ignored by the little blonde. She laughed out delightedly at some untold joke that only she knew the punchline to before bringing her wrist to her mouth. Gashes that were already beginning to heal were reopened with vicious little teeth and torn wider with a shake of her head. But to this logic, Fleck simply shook her head and brought her wrist to her mouth, eyes clenching shut as those mean little teeth made the wound wider.
Eyes clenched shut in an effort to dull the pain, Fleck pressed her bleeding wrist once more to his mouth.
"You know what they say, little dove," she huffed out. "Practice makes perfect."
Minutes passed by in silence, broken only by the sudden suction of lips against mauled fleshed. She hissed from the pain and delight of it and cradled the back of his head with one small hand. Borrowed blood poured into the boy's mouth and the suckling grew stronger by the minute. Soon he was sitting up, ink stained fingers snaring her arm. His eyes, the color of a peacock's feathers, watched the girl with a strange mixture of loathing, gratitude and confusion.
When he was done, and he knew he was done by the way Fleck jerked her arm away from him, he found himself dizzy. He tried to stand up only to stumble backwards, his body sprawled out on the floor. Fleck, wild eyes wide and unfocused, flashed him a strangely self-satisfied smile and ran her grimy little fingers through his hair. When every muscle in his body tensed up, she laughed.
"Good boy", she whispered.
She re-slid one leg over him and then the other, her barely there weight deposited on his stomach with the ease of someone resting in a favored chair. His first instinct, the one that burned brightest through a thick haze of confusion, was to push her off and make a run for it. It seemed like a very good idea until he remembered how deceptively strong his flaxen haired kidnapper really was.
"You need a name. Do you want me to name you?"
"My name," and he paused, surprised at the sound of his own voice. It sounded much the same, but resonated in his head like gospel in an empty cathedral. "My name is Tobias."
"Tobias?" She clapped her hands and gave a squeal of approval. "I like that name very much. To-bi-us. But I think I shall call you Teddy."
And humming to herself, Fleck ripped away the ribbon that made up the sash on her dress. Carefully, eerily so, she wrapped her wrist and counted steps off on the fingers of her other hand.
"Of course. Teddy." he spat out, if only to placate his captor.
He was too tired, too lightheaded to even begin the process of unraveling the mysterious mess that had suddenly become his life. Hesitantly, he inched his hands to her sides and when his attentions weren't met with a bite or a kick, a punch or a scream, he rested them there.
"I'm hungry, Miss. Starving," he mewed. "What happened?"
The girl seemed quite content with whatever it was that was currently darting through her head. But the words that followed blissful quiet were half sung and half whimpered.
"I shall be punished for making a childe without Lionel."
Lionel. Who the hell was Lionel? Tobias felt as if he had heard the name before. Was he an imaginary playmate? No. No. No one spoke of figments so very intimately.
"Lionel," he repeated, and then it hit him. " Lionel. Is he your boyfriend?"
Fleck continued looking off into who knows what reality but she did press a finger to his lips.
"I'm damaged, he says. I'll make weak children, but I tell him I'll make a good mother. I truly will, Teddy Bear."
Before Tobias could find a voice to answer, the door flew open, sending Fleck whimpering and darting to the side of the bed. A man's voice, clipped and educated and angrier than anyone had a right to be, bellowed out and bounced off of the walls of the small room.
"How many times have I told you that your blood is tainted!?"
Only Tobias' eyes moved to the doorway, his heart pumping with the blood that the girl had taken from him and given back. The man in the door, Lionel he guessed, did not seem pleased.
"I wanted a childe," came Fleck's weak reply, the statement followed up by a whimper that made Tobias think of a scared kid cowering from some unseen boogieman. But Lionel was very real.
The man laughed as he stomped toward Tobias, fingers flexing and unflexing before balling up into twin fits. The boy watched him from his spot on the floor and flinched when the man began screaming again. How dire it was for Teddy to realize that there was no help to be found there.
"You wanted a child? You're f*cked up Fleck! How many times have we went over this? I was shunned for turning a rabid dog like you, and now I'll be shunned for letting my dear little lunatic turn fools and paper boys!"
Lionel brought a shiny black Oxford sailing into Tobias' side and when it connected, pain shot through the boy. He had heard the ribs crack before he ever felt it, but it wasn't long before everyone nerve in his body was screaming. Hurt so blinding that everything in the room went dark.
Fleck's cry, however, was far louder than his.
The pitiful keening stole away Lionel's attention and he slowly sauntered to the bed. Pink foam dribbling down his chin and curled into a tight ball, Tobias could only watch the rest of the show unfold. In the blink of an eye, Lionel had jerked the girl up from her hiding place, and he lifted her by the collar of her nightgown until her feet no longer touched the floor.
Fleck screamed, kicked, bit at every inch of flesh that she could reach and the man, for his part, took each blow with the ease of a parent waiting out a tantrum.
"I'm not an unfair man, button," Lionel crooned.
His head tilted back and his almost reptilian gaze- so cold, so void of anything other than primitive hatred- burrowed into Fleck's terrified, wide eyed stare. Then to Tobias' surprise, the man lowered Fleck to the bed in a way that was as off-putting as it was gentle.
"And I don't want to kill your new little friend, but you broke a very big rule."
He chucked her playfully beneath the chin and a lunatic smile lit up Fleck's face.
"A week," he continued, " I'll give you one week to prove that you can take care of him. After that, we'll see, okay?"
"Excuse me," Tobias muttered and both of the vampires pinned him with almost identical gazes. It made his skin crawl.
"Do I get any say in this? I'm not an animal."
Lionel nodded as if he had expected it; as it was just one of those things that everyone asked as casually as do you have the time?.
"You belong to her now, boy. You'll do whatever she says until she either gets tired of you and kills you, or I get tired of you and kill you. Maybe if you're smart then you'll run away. Understood?"
The words were far from reassuring and, coupled with the hateful glare on Lionel's face, it forced the boy back into miserable silence.