Sui Generis – 16

 

"I'm not quite as poor as I've made it out I am," Brand said. "The homeless gig just gave me a reason to be hanging around on the streets."

"Ah ha. So while I've been busting my ass making enough money to pay the rent on this place, you could have afforded a much nicer one for us. And—" Mag shook his head disgustedly, "—paid our tuition at a real college."

"We're at a real college—well, trade school. And why pay for it when we got in on need scholarships because we're smart and passed our GED tests with flying colors?"

"Because?"

"That's not an answer. And I don't have that kind of money. Even if I did, how would I have explained it to you when I was supposed to be down and out the same way you are? Were."

"Well…"

"Exactly."

"Gentlemen," Antton said, "all this is fine and dandy and interesting, but it's not getting us where we need to be at the moment, which is finding out just what Fedor did to you, Brand, and figuring out how to do something permanent about him."

"Do I have to tell you what he did?" Brand asked, shuddering. "Isn't it enough to know that he changed me? Can't we leave it at that?"

"Yes," Mag said, taking Brand's hand to stop his pacing.

"No," Antton replied at the same time. "In order to know what he thought he was creating, I need to know how he went about it."

"That's simple enough," Brand said bitterly. "He broke me. He tore me down—tore me apart—until I was nearly insane and close to death. Then he gave me blood—not his blood, not vampire blood. That would have killed me, since I'm half vampire."

Antton shook his head. "If you're going to say what I think you are, our blood would have killed you just as quickly."

"So you'd think, but he was clever. He did it slowly, very slowly. First, he mixed in minute quantities with my food, once he allowed me to eat again. Then when I didn't get sick or die, he increased the dosages, as he explained to me at one point."

"I thought… I mean, the legends say that it's the bite of a werewolf that turns a human into one, not their blood," Mag commented.

"True enough," Antton agreed. He looked at Brand thoughtfully. "You're half human. I'm surprised he didn't try that first."

"He told me, in one of his bragging moments, that he did with another dhampir he had… had experimented on. The dhampir's blood killed the werewolf and did nothing to change Fedor's victim. Go figure."

"Possible I suppose, as vampires and werewolves are not compatible in more ways than you might think." Antton chuckled. "Still, there is a Serbian myth that when a werewolf dies, he becomes a vampire. I've never seen any proof of that."

"Well, when it comes down to it," Mag pointed out, "until today, I never saw any proof either species even existed outside of books and movies. Obviously, that's not true."

"Agreed." Antton smiled dryly. "We have to keep our existence hidden if we're going to survive. That's neither here nor there at the moment, however. What is, is what Fedor did to Brand. I would take it that he wasn't successful? That you can't find a werewolf the way you can a vampire."

"I'd say that's a given, since I didn't know what you were until Mag told me," Brand agreed. "Still, who knows if it would have been possible for me to tell in time, if I hadn't managed to escape before he finished his experimenting?"

"How did you do that?"

"Luck and determination." Brand sat, finally, staring down at his hands. "He kept me in a cell, chained up at first, except when… when he… he let his men use me." He glanced at Mag for a second. "You were half right, although he didn't sell me to customers. He just used that as a way to break me. That, starvation, taunts, threats—you name it. He's a master at torture, without leaving marks except—" he tapped his forehead, "—in here."

When Mag took a step toward Brand, looking as if he wanted to hold or console him, Brand said, "Don't. I'm… I can't get this out if you try to make me feel… if you feel sorry for me and…"

"I understand," Mag replied softly, taking a seat in the chair opposite the sofa.

Sui Generis – 15

 

Brand was in the kitchen when he heard the front door open. He set down his drink before going into the living room, trying to stay calm while praying it was Mag. He has to come back. I need him. I can't do this without him. I can't. Those words had run though his mind over and over since Mag had stormed out of the house.

"You came home," Brand said when he saw him. He didn't know whether to be elated or terrified Mag was going to be there just long enough to pack up and leave again.

"I did, and I brought a friend." Mag beckoned to someone still outside, stepping aside to let them enter. "This is Antton Ochoa," he told Brand, by way of introduction. "It seems," Mag smiled ruefully, "there are things beyond what most people really believe."

Antton stepped forward, holding out his hand to Brand. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last."

After warily shaking Antton's hand, Brand asked, "Who are you, exactly?"

"He's a werewolf," Mag said, before Antton could reply. "No, I'm not crazy. I saw him change." He hurried to Brand's side, hugging him tightly. "And if I'm not crazy, I guess you aren't either."

"Thanks for that," Brand said wryly, putting his arm around Mag's waist when he seemed about to step away again. "Would I be pushing things to ask why you brought him home with you? He could, after all, be working for Fedor."

"I could," Antton agreed. "If that was case, however, Mag would now be sitting in solitary confinement at Fedor's lair."

"You know where that is?" Brand asked, hoping against hope that he did.

"From what Mag told me, no more than you do. However, I suspect the knowledge is somewhere in your mind, but blocked by Fedor."

"That does us a lot of good," Brand muttered. He looked up at Mag and gave a small chuckle. "You're the nurse. How do we unlock it?"

"Unfortunately I'm not training to be a psychiatric nurse and even if I was, I doubt that's something I'd have been taught—not in my freshman year, anyway."

Brand nodded, returning his attention to Antton. "You still haven't proven, to me at least, that you're trustworthy."

"And how would I do that?" Antton asked a bit sarcastically. "Being what you are, you know I'm not a vampire. You know Fedor is. I could still, as has been pointed out by Mag, be working for him for reasons of my own."

Brand studied him, slowly nodding. "No, you're not a vampire, and Mag says he saw you change. It could have been a mind trick however."

"I can't control your mind, so if you want me to prove to you that I am a werewolf, I will."

"I might agree with you about the mind control, if I hadn't been in Fedor's clutches. He shouldn't have been able to do that to me, but he did." Brand finally released his hold on Mag so he could pace. He thought better when he was moving. "How did you know where to find Mag, and as a corollary to that, how did you know he and I are—together?"

"As I told Mag earlier this evening, I was eavesdropping and followed him when he stormed out of the house. I originally knew you lived here by following my nose. I can scent another werewolf a mile away or more, even if their scent is as strange as yours. I need your help, but I had to be certain I could convince you to give it to me, since it was obvious that until tonight, you were keeping things secret from Mag. Right now you may be the only link to finding Fedor."

"Now hang on a minute," Mag said in shocked surprise. "He…" Mag turned to look at Brand. "You said you were a dhampir. You never mentioned the werewolf part."

Brand's mouth tightened. "That was the reason why I didn't want to talk about what happened with Fedor—what he did to me."

"He turned you into a werewolf? Are you shitting me?"

Brand barely smiled. "I wish I was."

"Why?" Antton asked. "Wait, let me guess. He thought he could use you to find us. A werewolf, with the powers of a dhampir, but able to use those powers to find and eliminate those of my kind. You would be a fearful foe; just as you were to the vampires you hunted."

Mag frowned, again. "When did you hunt…? Oh, hell. That's why you'd up and disappear sometimes then come back with some lame excuse about seeing someone you thought you knew." 

Brand shrugged. "I figured it was better than saying, 'I'll be right back after I take a vamp's head'."

"Well, yeah, but damn, Brand." Mag tapped one knuckle against his lips. "Antton says you're a bit older than you look."

"That was off the wall but yes, about forty years older," Brand agreed. "And… okay, don't shoot me."

"Would it do any good if I did? Even if I had a gun I don't think I'd have silver bullets to use on you."

Antton chuckled. "They don't need to be silver."

"Another myth?"

"Let's put it this way, if you hit his heart, he'd probably die, just like you would. The same holds true for vampires to some extent, although they are allergic to silver, so it takes them much longer to heal if you cut them with a silver blade." Antton glanced at Brand. "Which, I presume, you have."

Brand nodded. "Don't all dhampir?"

            "Nice to know," Mag muttered. "Where the blazes did you…? Never mind, you can tell me later. So, back to what you were saying. Why would I be shooting you, Brand?"

Sui Generis – 14

 

Antton smiled wryly. "If you're ready to believe the unbelievable."

"That Brand's a dhampir? I know he believes it. I'm not all that certain I do, even after what you've said."

"He is."

Mag studied him. "And you're what? A vampire? Is that what Fedor is—or what he thinks he is?"

"I'm the opposite end of the spectrum, a werewolf."

"Uh-huh."

"Would you like me to prove it?"

"If I said 'yes', you'd tell me you can't right now since there's no full moon."

"A myth, one of too many." Antton studied Mag in return. "I think, perhaps, you do need proof, if you're going to believe." He stood again, glancing around. "Come with me." He pointed to a small stand of trees at the back of the park.

"As if. One thing Brand and I did figure out. If Fedor gets his hands on me, he'll have a hold over Brand to make him return to the fold."

"And still, you haven't run away from me."

"Yet," Mag replied.

"Yet. All right, you sit here and watch, where it's safe." With that said, Antton moved swiftly to the trees. Standing between two of them, where the shadows were deep, he looked back at Mag.

At that moment, Mag realized how silvery-blue Antton's eyes were. They seemed to glimmer, even in the dark. More so, in the dark, which is weird. Almost instantly, it wasn't Antton standing there. Instead a sleek wolf with the same eyes looked back at Mag. "Not possible," he whispered unbelievingly.

"Possible," Antton said moments later, returning fully clothed to his human form. He walked back to where Mag sat, eyeing him warily as if he thought he would turn tail and run.

"If I hadn't seen it happen…"

"But you did. Now do you believe?"

"I'm… It could still be a trick. You could have hypnotized me somehow, the way you said Fedor did to Brand, to make him forget where Fedor had kept him prisoner."

"He didn't hypnotize him, he enthralled him. It should have been impossible, considering what Brand is, but Fedor is very old and very evil. Brand is still young." Antton chuckled. "Although not as young as he looks, I'm afraid."

Mag gulped. "How old?"

"Fedor? Well over three thousand. Brand? He's been around for, I believe, sixty years, give or take a couple."

Mag buried his face in his hands, trying to take in everything Antton had said—and done. Finally, he looked up at him. "I suppose you want to come home with me."

Antton chuckled. "You make it sound as if I was a stray dog."

"More like a stray wolf," Mag said, suddenly bursting into uncontrollable giggles. "I don't think… we have… a collar and a leash, but…"

"Not funny," Antton grumbled, but he was smiling. "Yes, I'd like to come home with you. I need to meet Brand and all three of us need to talk."

"My mantra with him," Mag said, sobering. "Maybe you'll have better luck than I have."

"We can only hope."

Sui Generis – 13

 

Mag didn't stop running until a stitch in his side forced him to. He bent over, hands on his knees, trying to ease the pain and catch his breath.

He's crazy! Fedor did something to his head, his mind, twisted it, twisted him. But why? And why would Brand believe such insanity? Vampires, dhampir… they don't exist. It's impossible. But… but he believes what he said. He thinks he is one.

Mag straightened, looking around, and saw he was close to a small pocket park. There was a bench and he went over to it, sitting. Leaning back, he stared up at the slowly darkening sky. 

What would make Fedor do that to him? What would it gain him? Does he run some Satanic cult that worships blood and… and vampires?

Mag vaguely remembered reading about a cult—in New Orleans he thought. The worshipers—if they could be called that—would kidnap children, kill them, and drain their blood. Then they'd drink it, thinking it gave them supernatural powers. Was that what Brand had gotten involved in? 

No. He's too smart to even begin to believe such things. At least the man I knew before Fedor got his hands on him was. Yeah, sometimes Brand acted—strangely. We'd be somewhere, hanging out after dark, panhandling or just settling down in a safe place to sleep, and suddenly he'd jump to his feet and take off with no warning. But he always had an explanation when he came back. 'I thought I saw someone I used to know' or, 'Saw someone bothering so-and-so and I figured she needed help'. It was logical, even if I didn't see what he said he did. But that was just Brand. Never quite relaxed, even when he was sleeping.

"Mind if I join you?"

Mag turned quickly to see a tall, dark-haired, bearded man standing a few feet away, a smile on his face.

"Yeah, I do," Mag replied sharply. "I'm not looking for… company."

The man nodded. "Didn't figure you were but I think I might be able to help you with what's bothering you."

Mag snorted. "The only thing bothering me right now is you, so go find someone else who might be interested in what you're offering."

Laughing, the man replied, "I'm not offering sex. It's not my thing. However, as I said, I might be able to help you believe the unbelievable, I suppose."

Mag was on his feet seconds later. "Who the hell are you and how did you know I… I said that to… to…?"

"To Brand? I was, I'll admit it, eavesdropping. He needs help if he's going to find and defeat Fedor. I'm offering it."

"By feeding into Brand's fantasies? And how do you know about them." Mag tensed suddenly, backing away. "You're part of it, aren't you? You're part of some cult Fedor runs—the one that messed with Brand's head." He kept walking backwards, looking for some way to get past the man and make a run to safety.

The man didn't move, although he kept his gaze locked on Mag. "It's not a cult. Trust me on that. Brand is someone special, as he tried to explain to you. Fedor knew that, which is why he captured him. Why he—" the man spread his hands, "—why he experimented on him."

Uncertain, Mag stopped moving away. "Who are you then and how do you know about that—and Brand?"

"My name is Antton Ochoa. I am, to put it bluntly, a bitter enemy of Fedor's."

Mag shook his head, feeling almost amused for a brief moment. "So I'm supposed to think that the enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"What could it hurt?"

"Me, and more importantly Brand, if it turns out you're not what you say you are. For all I know, you could be working for Fedor and this is just another step in the game of terror he's playing."

"I could be, but I'm not," Antton replied quietly. "What Fedor did to Brand—what he's done to others—has brought a death-sentence down on him. There is one problem however. He knows this and had gone to ground."

"Not hardly. Brand saw him, on the Fourth, and he's been to where we live at least twice since then."

"True, he is out there from time to time. He desperately wants Brand back, but I think he wants him so traumatized when it happens that Brand will do whatever Fedor tells him to. That's something that didn't happen the first time, obviously, since Brand managed to escape his clutches. We need to find out where he was being held when that happened."

"Brand doesn't know."

"Alas, I'm not surprised. I'm sure Fedor put some block on his mind so he wouldn't, just in case."

"Hypnotized him?"

"In a way." Antton sat down, asking, "Will you join me?"

Hesitantly, Mag did. "Are you… will you tell me what's going on?"

Sui Generis – 12

 

The moment Brand came down the stairs and saw Mag standing in the middle of the living room, he knew something was up. He wasn't certain he wanted to find out what.

"We have to talk," Mag told him. "Or more to the point, if you want to survive whatever Fedor has planned for you, you have to talk. To me. "

"Not happening," Brand replied tightly, as he headed toward the kitchen.

"Happening," Mag said, stepping in front of him. "Now."

"And if I don't?"

Mag sighed. "You had to say that, didn't you? Look, if you're going to make it out of whatever he's got planned, sane and alive, you have to… to tell me what's really going on so I can help you."

Brand started to protest but Mag overrode him.

"I want to help. I need to. Not just with stopping him, because that's a given. But with whatever it is that's made you so secretive you won't even tell me the least little bit about what he did that made you change so drastically."

"You really think my telling you will make a difference?"

Mag nodded. "Letting it out will—for you. You cannot keep it bottled up inside. It's not healthy."

"Again the nurse in you comes to the fore," Brand responded with a half smile.

Shrugging, although he obviously didn't feel as casual about it as the shrug made it seem, Mag agreed. "It does. And for what it's worth, you know I'm right, even if you don't want to admit it."

Brand began to pace, his hands clenched at his sides. He's put up with me since I've been back. He's stood by me, even when I tried to push him away, the way I did everyone else. But will he continue to once I tell him what really happened? I know what he thinks, that Fedor forced me into submission by any and all means possible—that he turned me into some sort of sex slave. He grimaced. I wish that was true. That I could live with. That he could live with.

"Brand," Mag said softly. "Please?"

Brand gave a slight nod. "Sit, and... and…"

"You'll tell me?" Mag did as he'd asked, perching on the edge of the sofa while he watched Brand continue to pace.

Without any preface, Brand asked, "Do you believe there are things that are, for a lack of a better description, beyond belief?"

"Isn't that an oxymoron? Believing the unbelievable?"

Brand nodded. "Perhaps, but the question still remains. Do you?"

"I don't know," Mag replied hesitantly.

"You know about werewolves, and vampires, and things of that nature—the myths about them."

Mag snorted then. "Yeah. I've seen one too many movies with sexy vamps and snarling werewolves. Fun stories, but just that. As you said, myths."

Brand smiled sourly. "All myths have some basis in reality. One of those myths talks about dhampir, who are the product of a vampire mating with a human."

"That's a new one to me. No wait, wasn't that what Blade was supposed to be in those flicks?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Mag frowned deeply, staring at Brand. "So what does all this have to do with what happened when Fedor got his hands on you? And don't tell me he was some sort of vampire or werewolf and he turned you into one. That's fine in books and movies, but in real life—" he shook his head, "—in real life, it's impossible."

"This is real life. I'm 'real life'. It is possible," Brand stated, his gaze locked on Mag's face. "Whether you believe or not, it is what it is. I am what I am."

Mag returned his gaze with an incredulous one of his own. "You're trying to say you're one of these dhampir things? You want me to… believe you're…" 

Brand nodded sharply. "I was. I am, but…" He took a deep breath. "Fedor did things to me. Things that made me change. Now I'm more than that."

"Bullshit!" Mag leapt to his feet, his hands fisting. "This is your explanation for why you're hunting for Fedor? And you expect me to believe it? Well you can go to hell, Brand. If he beat you, tortured you, forced you to become a sexual toy for clients—that I could accept. I know that happens. But this? Why the fairytales, Brand? Why?" Without another word, he spun around and raced out of the house.

"It's true," Brand shouted angrily before dropping down onto the sofa and burying his face in his hands. "It's not a fairytale, Mag," he whispered. "It's all true."

Sui Generis – 11

 

Right after class Monday evening, Brand and Mag headed home to change clothes. When they got close to the house, Brand said quietly, "Let me check it out first, just in case."

"To see if he's been there and left something? If he did, I can handle it as well as you can," Mag protested.

"Just… don't argue. Okay?"

Mag sighed in resignation. "Okay." He watched as Brand moved furtively to the front walk and then up it to the small porch, testing the door handle. After a moment, Brand disappeared around to the side of the house, so Mag thought it was probably safe to at least go closer. He was about to step onto the front porch when he heard the sound of swearing from behind the house.

Hurrying around to the back, he arrived just in time to see Brand jump down from the tall tree in the corner of the yard, landing lightly on the balls of his feet. He held something in his hand and when he saw Mag, he quickly put whatever it was behind his back.

"You might as well show me," Mag told him. As he said that, he looked up at the tree's branches. The lowest ones were a good eight feet or more off the ground. "How the hell did you get up there? You didn't have time to climb, get whatever he left, and…"

Brand shrugged. "I'm athletic?"

"I don't care how athletic you say you are, that's one hell of a distance to jump to. Just like when you get up on the dumpsters." He eyed Brand, shaking his head.

"This is what he left," Brand said instantly, obviously trying to deflect Mag's speculations. Bringing his hand from behind his back, he showed him a dead puppy with a piece of rope tied tightly around its broken neck.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Mag spat out in horror. "He—the puppy—belongs to a kid a couple of doors down from us. Damn it. Damn Fedor."

"Yeah, I know," Brand said dourly. "We should bury it. Better the kid thinks it ran away than… than this."

They did, in the dirt where Mag's garden had been just a couple of days ago. Then they went to the back door. Mag checked to be certain it was still locked and that the windows on either side of it were tightly closed. When Brand cocked an eyebrow, Mag told him, "I want to be sure he didn't get inside."

"He'd have locked up afterwards—or even if he's still in there," Brand pointed out.

"Yeah, well…" Mag inched the door open, peering around it into the kitchen.

"It's safe. He's not here," Brand told him.

"How do you know?"

Brand shrugged. "Instinct?"

For some reason he couldn't quite put his finger on, Mag thought it was more than that. But what? How does he know? Taking Brand's word for it, Mag pushed the door the rest of the way open and they went inside. Brand dropped his backpack on the kitchen table and opened the fridge, taking out one of his drinks and handing Mag a bottle of water.

Mag made quick work of the water, tossing the empty bottle in the trash. Smiling slightly, he said when Brand washed the container for his drink, "Someday you're going to tell me what sort of concoction's in those. More than just 'something I learned about in one of my nutrition classes'."

Brand grinned. "It's actually blood, mixed with protein powder and fresh fruits."

"Uh huh. The fruit and powder I'd believe from the frozen packages in the freezer and the can on the shelf. The blood? No way. And if it's so good for a person, why don't you let me have some."

"Hey, there's the blender, have at it."

Mag grimaced. "I'll pass. Veggies I can deal with but fruit, not so much so."

Brand waggled a finger at him. "You're supposed to have two cups of them a day."

"Do tomatoes count? They're a fruit."

Brand just rolled his eyes, picked up his backpack, and headed towards the stairs to the second floor. Mag followed slowly. He had questions he really wanted to ask Brand—things that had been bothering him about how much Brand had changed since he'd gotten away from Fedor.

But now's not the time. This afternoon, though…

He vowed he'd make Brand sit down and talk to him. It was time. Past time, in fact, now that Fedor had stepped things up another notch.

Sui Generis – 10

 

Brand was ready to move on to another spot. Fedor wasn't anywhere close by, unless he had disguised himself, which he hadn't the last time Brand had seen him. Not that I'd know until it was too late.

He glanced at Mag, who was on the roof of a building at the far end of the alley. He'd been splitting his attention between his friend and the alley for the last hour, undeniably proud that Mag seemed to be overcoming his fear of heights enough to actually watch what was happening, or not happening, in the alley.

Hefting his backpack over his shoulders, he moved rapidly from rooftop to rooftop, easily handling the different heights as he made his way across them to where Mag was kneeling with his attention locked on whatever was going on below him.

Without thinking he might frighten him, Brand walked up behind Mag.

Mag swung around, his hands tightly fisted, a look of terror on his face.

"Whoa, it's just me," Brand said, dropping down to kneel beside him.

Mag stared fearfully at him, his breath coming in fast pants. Slowly he relaxed, muttering, "You scared the hell out of me."

"So I see. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." Brand hugged him quickly.

"I know." Mag sighed. "If you'd been him, I'd have been up shit creek."

"But you'd have done some serious damage to his knees in the process," Brand retorted, when he realized Mag held a penknife in one hand.

"Yeah, maybe." Mag managed a smile, then a weak laugh. "Not much of a weapon, but I felt safer having it." 

"No doubt," Brand agreed, chuckling as he got to his feet again. "Ready to move on?" When Mag nodded, Brand held out his hand to help him up.

"I wish…"

"I had been him?" Brand asked.

"Yes. Then this would be over, or at least moving on to the next step."

"I'm with you on that, though I'd rather you see him before he gets as close as I was. I really do not want you in his clutches. You're supposed to be bait, not a victim."

"True enough. So where are we going next?"

They decided to move, block by block, closer to the creek, spending an hour or so in each of the alleys. It was close to morning when they finally gave up and headed home.

"If he was around, he's still playing games," Mag said, as they walked.

"I know but somehow I don't think he was. Or at least not where we were, when we were where we were." Brand chuckled. "If you get what I'm saying."

"At lot of 'weres', but I do. So we try again tomorrow night."

Brand nodded. "Or…"

"Or?"

"I was thinking. Alleys aren't the only place we'd go if we were still on the streets."

"The creek," Mag said, apparently getting what Brand was thinking.

"Yeah. It would be easier for him to find us, and—" Brand smiled, throwing one arm over Mag's shoulders, "—you wouldn't have to be up high, having panic attacks every time you looked three or four stories down."

"I wasn't. Well, okay, yeah I was at first but I started to get better. A bit." Mag grinned. "I wasn't leaving fingernail marks on the parapets on the last couple of roofs."

"Still, the creek might work to our advantage. I should have figured that out a month ago, instead of playing hide-and-seek in the alleys."

"So tomorrow we try it and see."

Sui Generis – 9

 

"What are you doing?" Brand asked.

"I'm going to call work to say I'm sick. And—" Mag shot a defiant look at Brand, "—I'll do it every day until we stop Fedor. That way I can sleep during the day and spend the nights on the street with you." He smiled slightly as he punched in the number. "The only thing we won't do is skip school. Got that?"

"Got it," Brand replied softly, amazed—and yet not terribly surprised—Mag was willing to do this for him. He knew, although Mag had never come right out and said so, that Mag had feelings for him that went beyond friendship. Once, before Fedor, Brand might have—probably would have—reciprocated and acted on his own feelings for Mag. Now—I'm not certain I have it in me anymore. I care for him, but is that enough to overcome how Fedor… changed me?

Brand was brought out of his reverie when Mag said, "Done. Now all we need is a plan."

"More than just hanging around alleys and rooftops?" Brand commented with a small smile.

"Exactly. If it wasn't some asshole who vandalized my garden… if Fedor was responsible, I'd say he knows about me. I'm hardly your invisible housemate. If I had to hazard a guess, even though he didn't let us know he was around, he probably saw the two of us together sometime during the last two nights."

Brand nodded. "Unfortunately, I'm sure you're right."

"So we play into that but… yeah, that would work. We do it separately tonight and for as long as it takes."

"Uh-uh, no way. All he'd have to do is grab you and he's have the leverage he needs to force me to come to him on his terms."

"I'm not saying we stay ten blocks apart, but if you're at one end of an alley and I'm at the other, that should make him think he could get to me before you could do anything about it. I see him coming, I yell for help, hopefully he runs, and then you follow him. Done deal."

"Possible," Brand said thoughtfully. "But… we make it seem as if we really have split up. When we get downtown I take off in one direction, you go the other, then I double back and hit whatever alley we decide on, but carefully, so he doesn't know I'm there. You're more overt about getting up to one of the roofs."

"Like the last two nights?" Mag said, grinning. "That never was my thing, if you remember rightly. I was always one to find a spot behind a dumpster or in a doorway, because I hate heights. I'm surprised he didn't see us going up there. If I'd been alone, then for damned sure he would have."

Brand chuckled. "Got that right, and that's what we're going to play into." And hope Fedor falls for it. That he does think we've split up and I'm somewhere else, because he knows I'm looking for him.

"Then let's do it." Mag shivered, murmuring, "Now's when I wish I had some Dramamine."

"I thought that was for motion sickness," Brand said, giving him a fast hug. "You'll be fine. Just don't look down when you get up there."

"That sort of defeats the purpose of why I'm supposed to be on the roof, doesn't it?"

Brand grinned. "Then close your eyes when you do. He won't know the difference, if he sees you."

"That'll work."

*****

If he could have, Mag would have closed his eyes as he climbed up the fire escape. When he was with Brand, he knew he was safe because his friend was there to make sure he didn't fall. But now…

He made it to the roof in one piece then crawled down to the far end. When he got there, he huddled against the parapet, trying to regain his composure before chancing looking over it into the alley three stories below him.

Finally, gripping the edge of the parapet as if it was a life-line, he peered down. Despite Brand's suggestion, he wasn't willing to keep his eyes closed. If he was going to be any help at all, he needed to see who was in the alley.

Everyone and their brother. Guess they figure the cops aren't running a sweep this far down, or they've been through already and so it's safe.

Every doorway, every place behind and between dumpsters, seemed to have an inhabitant. He wondered if he'd even realize Fedor was among them if the man chose to disguise himself as a homeless man.

Not that he really did the one time Brand saw him out here, but still… He shook his head in dismay. Blond. I'm looking for a blond. Still gripping the edge of the parapet as tightly as possible, he leaned forward a bit more, then pulled back quickly, feeling dizzy. I'm about as much help in finding him as a… a ditzy blonde.

He was damned if he was going to give up however. Fedor wouldn't know he was there if he didn't show his face, so to speak.

An hour passed. Every few minutes Mag took another fast look at the alley below him. All its denizens were asleep, as far as he could tell, and none of them were Fedor—as far as he could tell.

Suddenly he was aware there was someone behind him.

 

Sui Generis – 8

 

Seconds later, Mag was standing in front of Brand. "Talk."

"About what? How damned pissed I am that he seems to be eluding me? That's a given, I think. It's been two months. I should have found him by now. I almost did, last week, but I blew it. And why isn't he coming after me? That's what I can't figure out. He wants me back. He has to. I'm dangerous to him. If he did that…" Brand pointed to the sink full of vegetables. "If he did, then he knows where to find me for sure. I should leave before he comes after you as a way to… to punish me for running."

"Fuck no!" Mag said adamantly. "First off, where would you go? Secondly, even if you did disappear, that doesn't mean he wouldn't do something to me and then somehow let you know that he had. He kills me or… whatever, and it'll end up on the five o'clock news. You know he'd be sure it did, just to get the message out to you that no one you know is safe."

"That still doesn't explain why he hasn't tried to catch me yet."

"Games, Brand. Games. Despite the fact you've been very close-mouthed about what happened, I get the feeling he might be the kind of man who would get a great deal of pleasure in tormenting you with 'what ifs' until you're wrapped tight as a spring. He lets you think you got away scot free and then does something like tear up the garden. Then he pounces. He allows you come after him, guns blazing, so to speak, and he swats you down like a lion would a baby gazelle. Once he has you, he puts you back in the fold but with no hope of ever escaping again, making his triumph over you even sweeter."

Despite Mag's rather picturesque descriptions, Brand has the feeling he'd hit the nail on the head. Fedor loved bloodshed and torture, both physical and mental. He lived to impose his will on others in the worst ways possible. That's why he'd chosen Brand in the first place. Well, one of the reasons. I need to go on the offensive, more than I have. If I can. If… it's not all gone now.

Brand shivered.

"What?" Mag asked, sitting beside him but not too close.

"Just… thinking. Wondering if getting to him is even possible."

"It is if you give him a real reason to come after you. He may want you back, and he may like the games, but he needs to be drawn out so you can repay him for what he did to you."

"Don't you think I've been doing that already? I'm out on the streets every night, damn it. I can't believe the only time our paths crossed was on the Fourth. He has to know I'm somewhere, looking for him."

Mag nodded slowly. "Perhaps it's a catch-twenty-two for him as well. He stays in one place and waits, so do you. You move, so does he in opposite directions."

Brand would have liked to believe that was the case, but he knew better. Not that he'd tell Mag. So he just nodded. "Perhaps."

It is a game for him. The only question is, is he afraid I'll find him before he decides he's terrorized me enough that I'll be weak from fear when he finally tries to grab me? When does he think I'll reach that point? How will he know? I wish to hell I knew if the vandalism was by him or just random. There was nothing, no… message in it saying he did it. Besides, as I told Mag, he'd have done something more dramatic. A dead cat, a tortured dog, spilled blood, would be much more his style. But… maybe that's what he wants me to think.

"Damn it," Brand growled, getting to his feet. He looked hard at Mag. "If I leave you here, and it was him, you're not safe. If I take you with me again, and that's what he wants me to do…" He shook his head.

"Hobson's choice," Mag agreed wryly. "Still…" He took out his phone.

Sui Generis – 7

 

They spent the rest of the night moving from alley to alley with no luck. If Fedor was out there, he didn't appear where they were.

Brand began to wonder if it had been his imagination when he though he saw Fedor. Or, perhaps, he was there and saw I wasn't alone. Not that that would have fazed him in the least under normal circumstances. Still… He smiled wryly. These aren't normal circumstances. Not in the grand scheme of things.

Saturday night they tried again, with no success, leaving Brand tense and jumpy. After getting some sleep, again filled with dreams bordering on nightmares, he appeared downstairs mid-afternoon to find the ground floor empty. He knew, because he'd checked, that Mag was up and moving.

"So where the hell are you?" he growled. Taking one of his drinks from the fridge, he tossed it back and washed the container to be used again. Then he opened the back door, wondering if Mag was out in the small yard for some reason. 

He was, and he didn't seem happy when he whirled around to look at Brand. "If I get my hands on whoever did this," he said, pointing to his tiny but productive garden.

Brand could see why he was upset. Someone had torn up every vegetable. Not the way a dog would, by digging them out, but they were literally torn out and scattered around the area.

"Well that sucks. If they wanted something to eat, why didn't they take it with them?"

"They didn't even try eating. It's vandalism, pure and simple," Mag replied in exasperation, picking up a carrot, waving it in front of Brand's face. "See?"

Brand grabbed his wrist, trying not to laugh, even though it wasn't a laughing matter. "I see. The question is who would do such a thing. We barely know our neighbors, and we don't play loud music when they're trying to sleep, so I'd say they're out."

"Anyone dumpster-diving would have taken the veggies with them." Mag smiled tightly. "The way we did a time or three."

"True." Brand paced to the fence, checking the lock. Not that it really would have kept anyone out. The fence was only a deterrent to dogs prowling the alley, low enough to climb over unless one was small kid. He suspected even a determined five-year-old could get over it—or through the gate.

As he turned back to look at Mag, he saw a frown, followed a panicked expression, cross his face.

"You don't suppose…" Mag said hesitantly.

Brand knew what he was asking and shook his head. "Why would Fedor do something so infantile?"

"To let you know that he knows where you're living?"

"I suppose that's a possibility, but it's hardly a terrifying way to go about it. Blood poured on the porch or a dead animal dropped in front of the door, would have sent a stronger message."

"He's toying with you. Maybe tomorrow it will be the animal."

"And maybe it's just vandalism, pure and simple, by punks with nothing better to do with their time."

"No." Mag pointed to the neighbor's yard where there was a much bigger, and untouched, garden. "If that were the case, they'd have done the same thing there, don't you think?"

Brand had to agree. "Probably."

Sighing, Mag started to pick up the vegetables that were salvageable. "Now what do we do?"

"You go to work tomorrow and we both go to school, as if nothing was wrong. Then I keep on hunting for him. Sooner or later, our paths will cross again, his and mine. Only this time I'm going to be much more careful."

"Meaning what?" Mag asked, as he started toward the house with an armload of vegetables.

"Meaning I'll do everything possible to stay off his radar so I can follow him without his knowing. As you pointed out a couple of nights ago, staking out his… his lair… and catching him alone when he least expects it, would probably be a better option than trying to attack him in an alley with other people around."

"Would he be alone there?" Mag suddenly grumbled 'damn' under his breath when he couldn't get the back door open because his hands were too full.

Brand hurried over to help him and when they were inside, Mag dumped the vegetables into the sink, turning on the water to rinse off the dirt.

"I presume there are other people there," Brand said in reply to Mag's question of a moment ago. "I never saw them, though, other than… than the men…" He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "If he has cohorts, they paid no attention to me. He was the only one who did. He and…"

"You don't have to talk about it right now," Mag said quietly.

Brand managed to smile a bit. "But later on?"

"Sometime, Brand, you have to. You've been carrying around what happened to you deep inside. If you don't let it out…"

"Yes, Nurse Larsson," Brand said acerbically. "I think you're taking your studies too much to heart. I'm fine. I'm dealing. As soon as I catch him, it'll be over and I can move on." He knew he was overreacting and whirled around, striding out of the kitchen before he said something he shouldn't, or worse yet, took his anger out on Mag.

It's not his fault. He had nothing to do with it. And now—maybe—he's drawn Fedor's attention because I let him come with me the last two nights. So what do I do now? He grimaced, throwing himself down on the sofa. If I knew the answer to that, this would be over.