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.