The Strangest Boyfriend II
(Content note: this is tagged Adult just because the other story is, and it still contains mature themes. If you're looking for yiff, you'll be disappointed.)
(Meta note: thanks again to Draugr for letting me borrow Randall for this continued series.)
(Cliffhanger warning: I had intended this story to be a one off, but it turned into a series without me trying. There will be 4 parts; part 3 is in revision at the time I post this, and part 4 is barely started. It will likely be some time before I finish it. If you dislike unfinished stories, consider yourself warned. I will delete this bit once the other parts are done.)
The Strangest Boyfriend II
The next several months were the happiest of Randall's life. Some of that was surely New Relationship Energy, he had to admit, but so much more was Nightshade himself.
The spirit's use of The Bridge was truly magical. Using its reality distorting powers, he explained some of his historical research by literally recreating various events. He also let Randall tell stories from his life and have them recreated -- which soon started to slide into some of his fantasies. Nightshade soon developed his talents for giving sexual pleasure more than any of Randall's previous boyfriends ever had.
The times they shared were amazing, but the magic extended beyond just the two of them. Since getting together with Nightshade, Randall couldn't deny his life had improved. Just like before they were in a serious relationship, it was a series of small, individual manifestations of good luck.
Despite the fall semester being weeks out, Randall soon started finding more opportunities to chase tail at the bars. Apparently, there was some campus recruiting thing that was going on, and many of the prospective students decided to check out the night life. One or two ended up checking out Randall, too.
When the wolf felt like he was about to quit his job from frustration with customers, he suddenly got a call offering him an interview. A couple days later, the manager of a computer repair shop explained their need for a replacement, when a previous tech quit unexpectedly. It was only tangentially related to his interests, but he felt he could do it, and it paid twice his last job behind a cash register.
But the event Randall felt the best about was also the strangest. When he and Kana were in the middle of a movie on a Saturday night, the doorbell rang unexpectedly.
Randall got up to open it, and found a college-age husky holding a pizza.
"Hi! Let's see, that'll be --"
"Hold on, I didn't order a pizza," Randall politely insisted.
The other male seemed dumb-struck. "What?"
"You've got the wrong house."
"Uh... it says right here... 144, that's your house number, right?"
"Yes," Randall answered suspiciously. "What's the phone number on the order?"
He read a completely different phone number.
"That's not my number," Randall insisted, a bit more sternly. "Did the guy sound like me?"
"I-I didn't take the call," answered the dog, looking apologetic. "Listen, can I come in for a second while I call my manager?"
"Sure," sighed Randall.
The husky stepped in, pulled out his phone, and put the delivery carrier down while he dialed. He turned away from Randall -- giving the wolf a good view of his tail and his legs, since he was wearing very short shorts.
Despite not quite being Randall's type, he had that... aura about him. The same aura that made Randall not walk away from Nightshade the first time he saw him. Randall wasn't going to say anything, since this guy probably wasn't even gay... but he might end up fantasizing later.
"Ugh," the boy sighed, hanging up the phone, "why do people do that? Sorry to bother you."
He bent down and picked up the carrier again -- giving Randall an even better view of his tail, butt and thighs. Randall drooled for a moment -- but managed to look back at him when he stood back up.
"Well, um, listen," Randall finally managed to say, "I'm sorry. But I don't think it's fair for me to pay for something I didn't --"
"No, you're right," the husky interrupted, suddenly seeming a little flustered. "But uh, j-j-just to d-d-double check, could I, um, get your, uh number?"
That stammer suggested to Randall this husky wasn't going to use it for business purposes. He had apparently been a bit too careless with his eyes, but the other canine seemed not to mind. He took a long pause to think it over, looking over the dog one more time just to make sure he didn't shy away from the attention.
"If it's really important," Randall replied in a suggestive tone of voice, "then I'll write it down for you."
The husky smiled. And a weekend later, Corey (whose name Randall soon learned) showed up at the door again, this time without a pizza, but in the same shorts. And Randall now had a extra supply of tail that he could chase whenever he ran out.
The wolf was telling Nightshade about their last escapade, in the comfort of their living room in the Bridge. And without really thinking, he paused.
"Is there anything you can't do?" Randall asked pleasantly.
"Many things... and many more I will not, because I have learned you would not like them. Often, when I see where and how you live, I want to mail you a check for your rent. But when I tried that with Cody, he... did not interpret it the way I meant it."
Randall seemed a bit relieved. "Yeah, I wouldn't either. I care about you a lot, but... being dependent on you like that? That's a very different thing. But you really think of everything, don't you?" Randall sighed affectionately.
"I do my best," replied Nightshade kindly. "But Corey's appearance was not my doing."
A gentle silence fell, as Nightshade didn't continue this line of thought. So Randall, gingerly, decided to bring up one of his lingering questions. One that the knew was probably a bit risky, but Nightshade had seemed to very carefully avoid. Too carefully.
"Is there... anything else you'd like to say about Cody?" he asked.
Nightshade didn't react badly at all, much to Randall's relief. "Just that he was... amazing, in his own way. He was a husky, with the best personality, and the strongest --"
Nightshade suddenly paused. "Say," he suddenly asked, "Corey is a husky, is he not?"
"Yeah."
"Why again did you... pick him?"
"There was just something very attractive about him. Maybe they're just all like that?" he asked with an affectionate smile.
"Perhaps... I'm afraid I'm not the best judge..." It was clearly a self-deprecating joke, but Nightshade said it very absent-mindedly and without even a weak smile.
"Is something wrong?" asked Randall.
"I'm sorry to make this awkward," stated Nightshade sternly, "but... I would like to see him."
Randall was quite surprised by this request. "Um... that would be very awkward, yeah," he repeated.
"I don't have to meet him, I just want to look at him once. I can stay invisible."
Randall paused a moment. It felt weird to show his boyfriend the furson he was having fun with... but based on Randall's usual relationship rules, Nightshade did have the right to request that.
"Okay, just once. I'll set up something for next weekend. You can see him then."
"Thanks," Nighshade answered. But he didn't seem any more at ease.
"What's so important about him?" Randall asked.
"It's like you said his appearance is very convenient. I want to make sure it is a coincidence."
Randall thought back to the way they met, as well as what Nightshade had previously told him about other spirits -- particularly the qualities that Nightshade had rejected in his exile.
"Are you saying... another spirit might be trying to steal me away from you? You don't have to worry about that. I know enough not to trust them, between you and Kana."
"Well... not exactly..."
Nightshade got a look of very deep thought on his face for a moment, as if he were about to reveal a great secret. But once his train of thought seemed to reach the station, he declined to share it.
"It is a long story," he brushed off. "I only want to make sure it's not... someone else pulling the same tricks on you that you love me for. Okay?"
"Sure," Randall replied with a warm smile. He knew there was more to it, but trusted Nightshade would reveal it in time.
"Now," sighed Nightshade, finally seeming to relax again, "where was I?"
"Anything you wanted to say about Cody."
He smiled wistfully. "Many things, actually..."
***
Next Sunday, Randall heard the doorbell, and was excited. He opened it to find... Nightshade.
Randall was about to chastise him, but then remembered their agreement: Nightshade would always use the front door, except in case of emergencies.
"Hurry up, and disappear," was all he said.
Nightshade stepped through the door, and the moment both feet were inside, Randall closed the door and found him gone. But within 10 seconds, there was another knock. And sure enough, when he opened it, there was the husky.
"What's up, Corey?"
"It's not Corey today," he stated gently, "it's Cody."
That confused Randall. "Huh?" was all he could ask, wondering if it was a joke he was missing.
"May I come in?"
"Sure," he replied, giving him a look up and down. Something about him was different; the way he carried himself, and the way his eyes seemed to be lacking in his usual excitement.
And the moment the male was inside, and the door closed, he gave Randall a very dark gaze, and a toothy smile.
"You're beautiful, Randall," he growled, voice becoming unearthly.
It was a voice Randall recognized all too well from Nightshade's escapades. It made Randall think back to the conversation they had last weekend.
He stepped backwards. "Who are you, spirit!?" Randall demanded.
No sooner had the words exited his mouth, did Nightshade appear between them, and try to strike at the dog, hands glowing white and eyes glowing red.
An ethereal cloud of black and white fur, anchored by a pair of glowing red eyes and a shimmering energy shield, came out of the dog's body to deflect the blow. It was as if the hairs of Corey's fur came to life.
The two shape shifters contacted without a sound, merely a brief gust of wind, and then individually stepped back. Each floating an inch or two off the ground. Corey, meanwhile, had stumbled backwards and caught himself on his knees, and was now giving a rather dazed look to the floor.
"I told you to STAY AWAY FROM HIM!" roared Nightshade.
"He invited me in," countered the other shape shifter, voice becoming silkier while keeping its unearthly quality.
"He invited Corey in, not you!"
"He did not throw 'Cody' out, so he invited me in."
"SOPHISTRY!" thundered Nightshade, "Randall, take Corey and leave us for a moment."
Randall didn't like the sound of that. He gave Nightshade a silent, nervous look.
"Trust me," he firmly stated. "No harm will come to either of you... will it?"
"It won't," confirmed the other spirit with a silky tongue.
Based on everything he had been told -- both by Kana and Nightshade -- this spirit's promise meant nothing. But Nightshade's word did mean something, and Randall trusted him to handle it.
"Alright," Randall answered, "c'mon, Corey."
He took the dog by the shoulder into the kitchen, and after asking him what happened, learned one tiny piece of the puzzle: the other spirit had been "possessing him", with his permission. And that included making him create a fake pizza order two weeks ago.
Randall was shocked, but wasn't too hard on him. "If everything after that was all you," he sighed, "I can't really be mad... but don't you know how dangerous shape shifters are?"
"But he's different!" Corey insisted. "He really cares about us mortals! He has given up his killing ways, and wants to live in peace -- you, of anyone, should understand."
Randall did -- but knew Nightshade had never mentioned any other spirits showing interest in his philosophy. While he was vague, it was clear that his treatment of mortals was a minority view, and that his exile was strongly related to it. Randall found it hard to believe any other spirit would volunteer to be in Nightshade's position.
"How long have you known him?" was all Randall could think to ask.
"Not all that long... but he's really... something," he sighed, quite dreamy-eyed.
"And I take it you're screwing me because he won't give you any?" he asked.
"You can't blame him for not being sexual," he answered defensively, "he doesn't sleep, eat, or drink. He doesn't even really have a corporeal body, so he has to sustain himself with laboratory blood."
Randall's ears perked. Based on Nightshade's descriptions of his kin, that was certainly a lie. This spirit was getting his vitae from the same place every other spirit did: unsuspecting mortals.
"That's how I'm sure he cares about me," Corey continued. "The pizza thing was his idea to meet my needs that he couldn't meet."
"But why did he possess you today?"
"Because he wanted to me to deliver you a mess--"
But just as Randall was about to find out what the message was, the two spirits reappeared. Nightshade was his usual self, and the other shape shifter had turned into a somewhat taller and lankier clone of Corey. His eyes remained luminescent red instead of Corey's soft blue.
"I'm very sorry to ruin the party," Nightshade stated diplomatically as he walked over to Randall, "but we need to talk."
The way Nightshade said it -- with a stern look on his muzzle and a soft sadness his eyes -- put Randall on edge.
"It must be important," Randall snapped, standing up from the kitchen table he and Corey sat across. He moved his body closer to Nightshade, even as he asked the other spirit, "what do you want?"
"Oh yes, I remember now," he hissed sardonically. "You two are 'boyfriends.' You're drawn into that whole 'romance' thing he does. It must be those execrable novels he reads when he's lonely."
The other spirit focused his supernaturally red, liquid gaze upon the wolf. The tone and visage, despite being much less ethereal than a moment ago, gave Randall a sense of unease -- the mirror image of the comfort and interest he felt when he first laid eyes on Nightshade.
"You think you're special, don't you?" the spirit sneered.
"What's more important to me," Randall retorted, wrapping an arm around Nightshade and feeling his fur, "is that he thinks I'm special. Don't you?"
Nightshade smiled. "Yes," he answered affectionately.
The other spirit seemed completely unfazed. "You fool. He says that now. but in time, you will learn the truth: you are not special enough. It would take little to break you two apart. Cody found that out the hard way."
"Only because of you," Nightshade snarled, protectively hugging Randall. "I'm not letting you do that again."
"Letting me?"
"I told you to stay away from my boyfriend. And if you ever trick your way into his house again, I will dissolve you where you stand."
This threat did not seem to have the intended effect. "He has been feeding you well... but not that well. You cannot dissolve me. And even if you could, you would forever be trapped in this realm. Alone."
"I'm not alone," Nightshade defiantly stated, "I have him. And it would be worth it to keep him."
Randall felt a rush of affection, getting him to more fully hug his boyfriend. Despite the swirling secret between the two spirits that concerned the wolf, the words coming from his boyfriend's mouth were a source of reassurance, and proof his feelings were not misplaced.
"You shouldn't be buying this act," the supernatural husky insisted to Randall, "because you have not seen where his true priorities lie. Once he finds out I have made his long-sought discovery, you will watch him lose all interest in you."
"Nonsense!" insisted Nightshade.
"Then let us test it. Corey? Show him the jar."
The mortal husky, seemingly unfazed by any of this, smoothly reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a small, sealed jar containing a few ounces of clear liquid.
"Take the cap off."
Corey did so. A moment later, Nightshade couldn't take his eyes off it.
"You can smell it, can't you?" teased the other spirit.
"What is that?" gasped Nightshade nervously.
"You recognize it all too well... but for the benefit of your 'boyfriend', it is Vitae."
"Where did you get it?" Nightshade snapped. "Did you kill someone?"
"Tell him, Corey."
The husky looked nervous. "Um... well... I got it from a trash can in the pathology lab at the hospital. He showed me where to go, and I found a plastic thing, and poured it in here."
"A lab sample?" Nightshade gasped.
"Yes. Our energy... our curse... our 'food'... it has been called 'vitae' because we knew not what it was. Until now."
He paused for dramatic effect. Nightshade's eyes never left the jar.
Randall recognized this behavior. If his "monster" form were any guide, Nightshade was just as enticed by it as he was for Randall's sweat during their "sessions".
"Biologists call it... adenosine triphosphate."
Randall tried to rack his brain; he heard it in biology class once, but had no specific recollection of what it was. He wished he'd paid better attention.
"I know you want to," encouraged the other spirit, "so go ahead: taste it."
With no more encouragement than that, Nightshade opened his mouth, and a far more elastic version of his monster form's tongue shot out, and wrapped around the jar. The tip slid inside its neck and tickled the liquid.
The taste immediately made him bristle, and his tongue suddenly pulled the jar out of the husky's hands, sending it crashing onto the floor.
"Hey!" demanded Randall, more as a startle than anything.
But Nightshade ignored him. Instead, he started mopping the floor with his tongue, which passed through the broken glass to mop up tiny splatters of liquid. It was the same licking pattern as Randall had previously felt upon his own fur.
"Despite feeding upon you," hissed the other spirit, "he is still clearly quite hungry. And if he wants more, he will give you your assignment, and convince you to carry it out."
"What assignment!?" Randall blurted, looking between the two of them, "what are you talking about!?"
"I leave you two to work it out. Corey, let us depart."
The husky carefully stepped around the glass, giving one brief glance at Randall, a distant look in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he added on his way out, "I didn't know this would happen. I hope we can still be friends."
Randall didn't answer, still in shock as he watched the spirit merge back into Corey's shorter frame, and then leave out the same front door through which they came in.
***
Randall carefully picked up the broken glass, while Nightshade sat at the kitchen table, staring silently, a mixture of guilt and despair on his face.
The wolf was trying to process what he'd been told, but it was really hard. He had so many questions... and the answers were almost scarier than the questions.
After getting the last several shards, and mopping the floor with a real mop for the last few fragments, he poured himself a glass of lemonade, and sat down with a heavy sigh. Nightshade looked up at him, expectantly.
Since Randall was still trying to organize his thoughts, all he managed to say was: "start talking."
"I was going to tell you," was all the other canine said, "but... I wanted to spend a little time really enjoying our life together first. I'm sorry. I didn't want you to find out like this."
"Find out what?" growled Randall.
"Find out that... my exile from the spirit world has one string. The one difference between exile and... dissolution."
"Go on," was all Randall could say, as he tried to keep himself level.
"You read my journal. Do you remember why I found you?"
Randall had to think back, it had been weeks. "Didn't someone... wait, is that the spirit who pointed you to me?"
"Yes." Nightshade spoke a word in unearthly and almost reptilian voice for a moment, which Randall presumed was the spirit's name. Randall thought that "Virgil" was the best he could get without such supernatural vocal tricks.
"He helped me find you, because he has a better grasp on mortal social customs than I do. I told you he selected you for your kinkiness, and that is true... but that is just so we would bond better. He chose you for the assignment he had in mind. The assignment I would convince you to complete."
Randall knew there was more to their meeting that he was first aware, but the revelation that it had such a strong ulterior motive made him feel a little sick. "And you knew what this assignment was from the beginning?"
Nightshade seemed only to get more apologetic and nervous. "Not the details, but, yes," he sighed. "I was going to tell you... to keep my end of the deal with him... but I wasn't ready. Not yet."
Nightshade hesitated. Randall's stomach had formed a knot.
"Please believe me," Nightshade begged, before Randall could speak again, "no matter what you think of me right now, I really do care about you, Randall. Everything I said, everything we did, it was all real. I... I hope... we..."
Randall's opened his mouth to speak, but Nightshade's head immediately hit the table. His hands wrapped around his face, and quiet gasps and sniffles came from him.
The words were stolen from Randall momentarily, as he saw someone in pain; someone who -- despite everything -- he still cared about. Randall reached out and comforted his boyfriend while he cried, something that he hadn't needed to do in quite some time.
"Perhaps I was foolish," Nightshade sobbed, "to build up a relationship based on a pretense... even if I did love you. ... So if... if you can't... love me anymore... and want me to leave... just... say so, and... y-y-you will never s-s-see me again..."
"I don't want you to leave," Randall reassured, as Nightshade seemed to be calming down, trying to ignore his deep conflict. "I want to work through this. Maybe I shouldn't, but I still love you, and I believe you love me. There's no reason we can't be together."
Nightshade's tear-stained face lifted, eyes almost puppy-like. "You... you still want that?" he asked, as if he wanted to hear it again to be sure.
"Yes," answered Randall affectionately, "I want that. I have loved our relationship before this happened... and I want more of it. But," he added, giving voice to his reservations, "you've got to lay it all out. No more secrets."
Nightshade nodded.
"And I'm not making any promises on this assignment of yours, except the same one I always give: I will listen. Okay?"
Nightshade seemed to finally be responding, "yes... that's... all I would ask... thank you..."
Nightshade reached across the table, for a hug. Randall did the same, and they embraced over the napkin holder.
Once they released, Randall's first question was simple -- and the one that made his heart flutter in fear. "Let's start with the most important part: was anything you've told me -- all that history, your interests, yourself, any of it -- lies just to suck me in?"
"No," emphatically answered Nightshade, looking Randal firmly in the eye. "Everything was true. Who you saw, and everything I felt for you, from the day I met you, was real. I even tried to make sure, from the beginning, that you knew I had secrets. I wanted to be as honest as I could be."
"That helps," Randall sighed in relief. "But I still feel like... you lied to me a bit. This is a re ally big thing to hide. I can forgive, but... I need a good reason. And if I know you half as well as I think I do, you have one. So tell me."
"I do," murmured Nightshade, "and it is... ugly."
Randall leaned back in his chair and listened.
"I have not always had the view of mortals I now hold," Nightshade began. "I had a very long and successful 'career', if you want to call it that, working for my kind. I was just as deceptive and cruel as your friend Kana made me out to be. And everyone else, including Virgil, still is."
Randall had a nagging suspicion in the back of his mind along these lines, but Nightshade giving voice to it still made his heart sink a little bit. "But you've turned your back on all that now?" he asked, more to reassure himself than anything.
"Yes. I was one of a small group of heretics who believed there had to be a better way than parasitism... but my views were ignored. We did some simple, crude experiments and found ways to extract vitae without killing. Then we were declared a threat to our kind, because if the victim lived, they could tell the mortals about us."
Randall nodded. Though twisted, it made a certain amount of sense.
"After a big confrontation with... the powers that be, we were all driven into exile to 'prove our theories.' I am the last one, the only one who did not... starve into nothingness. Virgil is my 'handler', the one who makes sure I'm not contaminating mortal society with our existence. He is also sympathetic to our project... but he has his own reasons. He is not to be trusted."
Randall nodded again. "And this is where the assignments come in?"
"Yes. The assignments require too much energy or social skill for one of us, but can be performed by any mortal. So long as I ensure it is carried out, my dissenting views are tolerated. When my vampire-bat boyfriends were pickier, I drew upon their energy and coerced random strangers to carry out my assignments instead."
Randall felt a little chill at the thought, but kept listening.
"I could have done the same thing with Cody and you, and you two would have been none the wiser. But I had already grown my heart by then. And just as important, my ability to extract vitae from sweat. It made me focus more on the idea of consent. And that extended to these assignments, too."
Randall had to think about this. "I see," he found himself saying. "So you are telling me that, when you 'grew your heart', all the bad things Kana described stopped?"
"Yes. That was when I could... live out my ideals. And believe in myself, not just the work I was doing."
"And that work is what? Research?"
"I would be happy to explain that, but it would best done in The Bridge for visual aids."
"Then we can talk about it later. In the mean time... I'm not mad at you anymore," Randall concluded with a weak smile. "Thank you. But... I need time to process this. Could you just... give me some space until next weekend, please?"
Nightshade nodded, somewhat reluctantly. "As you wish," he added. "I'll see you then."
And the next time Randall blinked, Nightshade was gone.
***
"If you say 'I told you so'," Randall began once Kana had sat down at the dinner table, "I'll leave."
"Did you two have a falling out?" she asked with more curiosity than anything.
"Sort of... it seems you were more right about spirits than I gave you credit for."
She smiled -- but didn't open her mouth before returning it to a more neutral expression.
"I'm sorry for your drama," she offered. "But you still seem convinced he is different."
"Let's just say... I can understand why you freaked out the first time you saw him. If you had met him not too long before, your reaction would have been the right one. But he is different; he changed his ways thanks to his personal project to make spirits more humane, you could say."
"And you believe that?"
Randall sighed. "I believe what he said himself: everything he said is the truth, he just left out a lot more than I realized at first. And he has promised to fill in those blanks this weekend."
"You don't sound to happy about it."
Randall sighed, and gave his spaghetti an extra couple twirls on his fork. "Part of me wants to get this over with, so I can trust him again... but another part of me is afraid of what he'll say. You' ve given me pretty good reason to be scared, after all."
"Now I'm sorry I did," she replied. "I had no idea that... you would end up feeling the way you do about him. But I hope it wasn't a complete shock, thanks to me."
"I sort of knew something big was coming," Randall admitted, "with all the mystery... but it still hurt when it hit."
"My advice is not to think about it for a while. Just remind yourself that you have a life without him, and you'll feel better."
"Yeah, I know. Now that I've put Corey on hold, maybe I can do that."
"Corey?"
"That husky with the really short shorts?"
"I don't remember him... was that when I was on my dates?"
"Oh yeah, probably so. Anyway, he... well... was involved in the blow up, so I'm putting him on ice for a while."
"Another mortal? Did he have a spirit boyfriend, too?"
The way she asked it made Randall suspicious. "Don't ask," he grumbled. "I don't want to think about him either, if you don't mind."
"Okay," she shrugged. "My date went well, thanks for asking."
"That was going to be my next question, actually."
"Her name is Trisha, and she's very... serious. She... has a way of drawing out another side of me. But I kinda like that, I don't know if I can explain it..."
"Did you screw?" Randall asked with a smile, finally being able to turn the tables for a change.
"Pffft, you boys, always dating dick-first. We had a lovely dinner at a nice restaurant... with verrry loooong table cloths," she added with a mischievous grin.
Randall smiled back. "I'm glad you two had fun."
She replied with her own two eyebrow raises, as Randall pulled out his phone, and texted the husky he was on ice.
***
Next Saturday, Randall found Kana up early by the time he came out of his bedroom.
"I was waiting for you to show up. I have a note from your boyfriend."
She held out a plain white envelope.
"Did you read it?"
"Of course not," she scoffed with a smile, "I'd rather not think about what you two do to have fun, frankly."
Randall gave her a double eyebrow raise, and opened it.
My Dearest Randall,
I hope this note is not considered intruding upon the week you requested. It is only to explain how I was thinking I could fresh start with you later today.
While your assurances are comforting, I am still very nervous about telling you all this. I have never done this before. Cody did not want to know, was simply willing to do as he was told. No other boyfriend before him ever needed to.
Even if you will not dump me, I fear you will never see me the same way again. And the only way I can mitigate this fear is through planning out the way I explain it.
Today, I would like to start with another "adventure", an assignment from many years ago that is memorable to me. As always, it will be frightening, and it will be fun. However, it may be more frightening because it is based on a true story, as they say. If you accept, please arrive at The Bridge between 2 and 3 this afternoon. If you want to be more direct, or in-charge, show up earlier or later.
Know that I love you, and I have felt that way since the day I met you.
Love, Nightshade
As a result of that note, Randall waited until 1 o'clock before heading out of town, grabbing lunch on his way at a restaurant. As a result, by the time he got out in the country and managed to find the run-down farm house, it was around 2:10.
He got out of the car, looking around to see if he was being watched. If he was, they had to be a spirit in a completely incorporeal form, for there was nary a sign of anyone. It was completely still, and aside from a buzzing dragon fly and a bird or two, completely quiet.
Randall approached the house, and knocked.
"Come in, Randall," stated Nightshade's voice.
He opened the door... to a dimly-lit room with video monitors, and a tall bear wearing a security guard's uniform in the shadows.
"It's about time you showed up," the bear said with Nightshade's voice, not looking away from his monitors, "you're late! Where've you been?"
Randall was a bit taken aback, but tried to play along. "Um, well, it was really bad traffic."
"Hah! Traffic at 3 AM? Sure, buddy, whatever. Just get your stuff on already," he directed, waving a hand at an open locker in the corner of the room.
Randall looked inside to find an identical blue uniform in his size hanging up. On the top shelf was the matching badge, and a leather holster with a semi-automatic handgun tucked inside.
Knowing that he was often told to change clothes for a reason -- Nightshade could create new clothes at will, but only Randall's original garments would survive outside The Bridge -- Randall did so. Once in them, he did feel like he was adapting to his new role.
"You watch the basement storage," he was told.
"Got it," Randall acknowledged, and sat in the rolling chair on the opposite side of the room, in front of a cluster of six monitors. He hadn't actually done security work, but knew a friend who did, and so did what he remembered was the "boring" part.
Using switches, he occasionally flipped them around in a loop, but didn't see anything but empty hallways. At least, until he started wondering what was going on. Almost on cue, after one switch flip too many, he saw one of the freezers had its door open.
"Is anyone working tonight?" he asked.
"Not this late. You see somethin'?"
"Someone downstairs opened one of the freezers and left the door open."
"Which one?"
It took Randall a moment to identify which camera it was. "Uh... B12."
"The blood bank!" the bear exclaimed, more with glee than anything in his voice. "That's great! We'll finally catch these shit eaters!"
Randall assumed this was the true story came in. "We will?" he asked.
"You haven't heard about Dr. Chainsaw's gang?" he asked excitedly, still keeping his face in shadow as he turned around. "He runs this illegal clinic where they do all sorts of weird shit, but it can only stay open because he steals all his medical supplies! I bet it's his henchmen trying to get blood for his surgeries. If we can nab them, we'll shut him down, and be heroes!"
Randall, however, didn't have heroism in mind -- even in his role. "Uh... let me just call the cops, first. At least let them know to surround the place."
"Good idea," concurred the bear, suddenly more stern, as he faced the door behind Randall and snapped back the hammer of his pistol to load a round in the chamber. "I'll see if it's really them." He unlocked the door with the keyring on the wall, returned it to that peg, and then closed it behind him.
Randall got the book to look up their police liaison, some particular Sergeant, and after calling 911, specifically told the dispatcher to include him in the response. He was told they'd be right over, and to stay put until they got in radio contact.
Randall watched the bear walk down the hall on cameras, meeting no resistance. When he approached the freezer door, he pulled out his gun, and shouted -- presumably, there was no sound. But he didn't seem to see anything, so he slowly walked into the freezer.
Randall's radio suddenly came on. "This is Sergeant Briggs. Security, are your ears on?"
"Uh yeah," Randall said into the radio. "Randall here. What's your next move?"
"Where's Monty?"
Randall had never seen the front of him in any detail, between the shadows and the grainy cameras, but presumed that was the bear. "He just went into freezer B12."
"Alone!? Idiot! I'll be up there Ay-sap."
"He hasn't called for backup, at least," Randall offered. "Maybe he's okay."
"We need to set up. Sit tight until then."
Despite the danger, Randall was once again becoming bored. He had long since become accustomed to the horror-movie aspect of these escapades; so much so that it was actually hard for him to see the point of this besides scaring him. Knowing the context, there were probably spirits at work; but he was out of harm's way, and it all seemed so ordinary.
Until, that is, he saw one of the hallway cameras glitch for a moment, as if something went in and out of its view in a fraction of a second. And simultaneously, he saw three masked musteleids hustling up the fire stairs.
They started prying open the fire door on hallway J2... the exit from the stairwell to his current floor! They were coming for him!
Without thinking, he got on his radio, "Sergeant? I think they're coming for me. I saw them heading up the fire escape!"
"What!? What do you mean they!?"
"There are three --" The radio suddenly broke into static, and there was no response. Randall was on his own. And he certainly wasn't bored anymore.
He snapped the hammer of his own pistol, just like Monty did. After unlocking the door, and not seeing anyone when he peeked his head out, he crept down the hall toward the emergency exit.
Peeking around the corner, he saw the three masked fursons, all leaned against the wall, and strangely, watching the stairway. This was Randall's chance.
He leapt around the corner, gun pointing at them. "Freeze! Stay where you are!"
All three of them were startled by him, and put up their hands, in a move that surprised Randall.
"Who are you!?" he demanded.
They did not respond... and only one of them seemed the least bit afraid, despite having a gun pointed at them. Those other two must be professional, Randall thought.
The cops soon arrived from down the hall, and Randall immediately let them take over the situation. They forced the three burglars down on the ground, and started cuffing them.
"Good work," encouraged the tiger in charge, whose voice Randall recognized as Sergeant Briggs. "Once we get these guys processed, we can move in on the basement. We've surrounded the building, so they won't be going anywhere."
One weasels in the back of the three suddenly asked, "are you ready?"
"Ready for what?" demanded the female German Shepherd in uniform.
"I-I-I'm ready," sighed the first one, an otter.
The back two looked at each other, and suddenly vanished, their cuffs clanking onto the tile floor.
"What the shit!?" gasped the tiger.
But before he could do more than that, they suddenly reappeared wielding combat knives and stabbed the two officers in the neck.
"Behind you!" Randall shouted, even as the tiger leapt toward him away from the assault.
The tiger in front dove away from the assailant, and Randall -- without even thinking -- shot three rounds at the two attackers.
They did not even seem to respond to the bullets, which ricocheted off the concrete behind them. Instead, they grabbed the otter, and after a moment of glowing, the three of them disappeared.
"Did you see that!?" Randall demanded to the cop.
"Let's get to that freezer," he replied, voice betraying more fear than Randall had ever heard in a police officer's voice before.
The two of them hurried down the stairs, guns still drawn, checking each doorway and shouting "clear!" before continuing down the next flight. After flight six, they finally got to the storage area, only to hear the otter's voice again. "The cops are here!"
In response to loud metallic bangs, Randall peeked his head around the corner only to hear gunfire immediately after. His heart stopped for a moment, until he realized they had thankfully missed him.
"Hurry it up! They're closing in on us!" demanded the voice.
"This is Briggs," the tiger said into his radio behind Randall, "I need backup... B12, fire escape."
"On our way, Sarge," answered his radio.
"THIS IS THE POLICE!" he shouted, "YOU ARE COMPLETELY SURROUNDED! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP AND YOU WON'T BE HARMED!"
"No way, copper!" shouted an accent straight out of a bad movie, "there's no way you're takin' me alive!"
A different German Shepherd and a Rottweiler showed up, each holding military rifles.
"THIS IS NO TIME FOR JOKES!" demanded Briggs. "PUT UP YOUR HANDS, AND GET OUT HERE!"
The response, when Randall tried to look around again, was more gunfire. The Sergeant pulled him back around the corner with a dead serious look. The wolf got the message.
"We've got 'em pinned in the hallway," explained Briggs quietly to the other two, "but we can't get any closer. See if you can move over there."
"I'll cover you," the rottweiler said, and poked his gun around the corner, and fired a short burst of automatic gunfire.
With another two or three of those, his partner ran across the hallway, and back around the corner behind them to get a better vantage point. And from there, the gun battle began in earnest -- which the two of them quickly won, based on the groans and cries the heard from the enemy.
Or at least, that's what Randall thought. When he looked around the corner he saw them slumped over on their ice chests -- killed not be bullets, but huge gashes in their backs.
"Move up!" Briggs demanded.
Randall couldn't help but shake in fear as he followed the three officers. Outside of his role, he felt he knew what would happen. This was supposed to be a horror movie, after all.
It seemed to rub off on them, because even as they climbed over the lifeless bodies, the Sergeant's voice had more fear than control as he repeated his message: "POLICE! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!"
The response was nothing but a low, ethereal growl that sent chills down Randall's spine.
"What was that!?" demanded the rottweiler.
The light inside the freezer suddenly turned on, revealing the silhouette of a tremendous feral canine. It slowly sauntered out of the freezer, with glowing red eyes.
"Um, good boy," murmured Randall, grabbing ahold of his gun again, "easy now."
After slowly looking up at them, and pausing... all of a sudden, it lunged at the tiger.
Everyone, including Randall, fired. But their bullets passed straight through the creature, which tackled Sergeant Briggs onto the ground, and started tearing at his limbs.
He screamed and struggled, the two sharpshooters and Randall unable to do anything but watch the beast attack; their guns were useless, and if they tried to do anything, they would be next.
After much blood and screaming, the tiger's neck was finally torn open turning his shouts into into a rasp and a gurgle. And then, he stopped moving.
The beast looked up at the rottweiler next. Randall was paralyzed in terror, but the other cops tried to retreat -- straight into the two knife-wielding spirits earlier. They were so terrified, they failed to lift their weapons before they too were fatally stabbed.
Randall tried to grab his radio again, to at least keep other officers from being killed, but with a gesture, one of the masked assailants pulled it out of his hand like telekinesis in a superhero movie.
Despite Randall's terror, the immense canine did not seem to notice him. He was too busy licking the wounds he had inflicted upon the tiger, slurping up as much of the blood as he could from the body and the floor.
When Randall turned around, the other spirits had also teleported over to the other two bodies behind the barricades, and bitten their necks like vampires, reaching through their chests and seeming to pump their lifeless hearts manually.
Their smoldering red eyes -- much like Virgil's -- seemed distant, as if they were on a drug trip. But this was much more powerful, for after a minute or two, their fur went from slightly shimmering like Nightshade's to a soft, luminous glow.
Finally, the two of them lifted their bloody mouths, and spoke, clearly to make Randall even more terrified: "this rent-a-cop has seen too much. What shall we do with him?"
"Let Commander Nightshade take care of it. He deserves a reward for his good planning of this operation."
They quickly picked up the lifeless bodies by the waist, and then after an intense white light that blinded Randall for a moment, vanished. Nothing remained but pools of blood on the ice chests.
Not sure what else to do, heart pounding and hands shaking, Randall crept quietly into the freezer, whose compressor was now running over time as long as the door had been open.
"So, Monte," stated an unearthly voice as Randall approached the door and paused to listen, "tell me what happened."
"I don't know what happened to him," groaned Monte, "but the new guy... Randall, I think... he just... flipped out... went insane... killed a bunch of them with a knife..."
"Good... and what about the cops?"
"They... died... in the line of duty... trying to stop him..."
"Hey!" shouted Randall, stepping into the cold air and pointing his gun at Monte's silhouette, "you're not framing me for this!"
"Yes we are," rumbled deep voice behind him, as the wolf's arms were suddenly grabbed. First by one pair of hands, then two on each side, another taking away his gun.
"No!" Randall cried out involuntarily, struggling at the touch he recognized.
"You should be happy," intoned the deep voice to his left.
"Because you're the only one," added the same voice to his right, "who is leaving here alive and not possessed."
Randall gasped in revelation: Monte didn't have Nightshade's voice because it was convenient. Nightshade was showing the bear was possessed! No wonder he never let Randall see his eyes!
"Since we have all had our feast," concluded the voice, "I think it's time our perpetrator escaped. With his 200 litres of plasma."
"It's all collected and ready," stated another ethereal voice across the room.
"Then let us depart, and leave the police to find that the Chainsaw Gang has struck again."
"And you," added the other voice to Randall, "are my special treat. You're coming with me."
Immediately, the room lit up, letting Randall finally see the truth. The bear smiled weakly at him, with his red eyes. The two weasels had also sprouted a dozen arms, each carrying a fistful of plasma IV bags. The hands upon him were indeed those of "the sex monster", suggesting what was to come.
And all four of them were glowing, brighter and brighter, until it became blinding.
And after Randall closed his eyes, and felt his chest, arms, and legs, almost get crushed in, he suddenly was in the air, and fell a short distance to the ground.
He opened his eyes to find himself in the middle of a forest clearing. The sun was bright, and the arms of the Sex Monster still gripped him.
"You pathetic fool," stated a familiar deep voice to his left, as the hands started forcing him onto his knees.
"Did you really think you could stop us?" asked an identical deep voice to his right.
"You might as well try to stop a drifter from stealing food."
"Or a mouse from stealing cheese."
"We have given the entire spirit world a feast."
"And you will be dessert."
***
Randall didn't know how long it had been, as he slowly awoke in Nightshade's bed. Only that he felt like he had been in a sauna for hours, after everything Nightshade had put him through, including two of Randall's own orgasms.
When he sat up, and looked over, he found the other canine propped up, watching him sleep with an affectionate look on his face.
"So," asked Nightshade contentedly, "do you see why I didn't want to tell you all this?"
"I was less interested in... your former life than your project. What is it?"
"To understand vitae, of course. Virgil was right: it is our curse. It is what makes us act without empathy or compassion toward mortals. Even now... with you... it leaves a mark. When the 'sex monster' talks about how much he loves a good chase, and a good scare... that is still me."
Randall smiled. "So you are a hunting dog. You have trained yourself to enjoy the thrill of the chase without the kill."
"Yes... and since you said no more secrets... more than once... while you slept... I wanted to suck the blood right out of your body, like a bad vampire movie."
Randall was about to say something clever -- but did notice that Nightshade's canine teeth had grown slightly sabre-toothed with that statement. It made him change his mind.
"I'm not surprised," was what Randall said instead. "I knew that you wouldn't be perfect... but since you never did it, and I know you never will, that's okay with me. You do a fine job of chasing me otherwise," he added with a smile.
Nightshade did smile in response, but it was much more muted than usual.
Randall expected it, since they were in such heavy subject matter. And he was about to make it even heavier. "Would you be willing to talk about my assignment now?" he asked.
"It has not been finalized yet," Nightshade explained, "but we need confirmation of Virgil's ATP theory. And that means, we need someone to test some blood samples. And unless you know a lab technician who doesn't ask any questions, it will be a crime not dissimilar from what you were on the opposite end of."
The word "crime" made Randall a little uneasy, not to mention what happened to the mortals in the end. Nightshade sensed it, and continued before he even could say anything.
"I would not ask anything so dramatic as the supplicants aiding us that night provided. In fact, after what happened to Cody, I would probably put myself in harm's way. And I can deal with it as deftl y as you saw the last time, but much less bloodshed."
The way he said those words made Randall take Nightshade's hand in his, and curl up tighter before he asked the other question on his mind, the most delicate of all: "Cody died... on his assignment, then?"
Randall felt him take a shaky breath, and exhale it, before he answered. "I wish he had," he sighed. "Instead, while he was handling medical waste, he... got infected. He thought it was a bad cold... but three days later, he collapsed and ended up in the hospital. They said he had... a drug-resistant... staph infection... and a week later..."
Randall saw his eyes tear up again. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.
Nightshade tried to blink them away, and took another breath. "It was a shock... to everyone... I visited... every day... until he... said he loved me... and... asked to be... taken off the ventilator..."
Nightshade broken down crying again. Randall sat up fully, leaned over, and held him, much more fully since he was completely corporeal here. The wolf sensed that Nightshade had been waiting for this; that it was behind his previous sudden bursting into tears last week.
"He was twenty-six years old!" the other canine sobbed. "No one should die that young! From an infection! And it was my fault!"
Randall just held him, and let all the sadness pour out, stroking his head.
"I'm sorry," Nightshade gasped as his breathing returned to normal, "I thought... I was over him."
"It's okay, really. I don't think I'd be handling it as well as you have, honestly," Randall reassured. "But I want to get one thing straight: it wasn't your fault."
"Yes it was," sighed Nightshade with more resignation than resistance.
"Why? Did you make him go through that trash?"
"At the time, we were still trying to figure out what vitae was used for in tissue," he explained. "So, I decided he should get some samples from the trash cans in the pathology lab for us to study. To avoid suspicion."
"You couldn't know they were studying anything that dangerous," Randall insisted. "It's a very rare infection that kills a healthy 26-year-old, from what I've been told. Even if it is drug resistant."
"I know, but... I got him to do it. Because he loved me. And I'm not making that same mistake with you. I have a better idea: I will get you to feed me enough to become... powerful. And I will simply find and take what I want without risking you."
"How can I do that?"
"We can plan later. Do you have any more questions?"
"Just one: if Virgil has not 'grown a heart' like you have, why is he helping you?"
Nightshade had recovered from his despair, but this returned him to another sort of stress. "That is the one secret I would really not like to involve you in. It could... put you in a different kind of danger."
This made Randall want to know more, not less. "From Virgil?"
"From his masters. He is merely my 'handler' for them, making sure my... political opinions do not lead others astray, or break any of the rules. The more you know know about what you might call spirit 'politics,' the more difficult it will be to argue you are... tucked under my wing, and under my control."
Randall was unfazed. "Just give me the basics, then."
Nightshade thought for a long moment. "Imagine if you came up with a revolutionary food source that meant you could make food so easily, you could end world hunger. What would you do with it?"
"Feed everyone, of course."
Nightshade smiled. "So would I. That is why we are meant for each other. But what are the consequences of that? The population gets bigger, and then food stops being the problem, does it not?"
Randall nodded. "Then you need water, and healthcare..."
"Ten years from now, you have more individuals, and together, they have greater needs. Have you really made the world a better place? You have solved a problem that has plagued mortals for centuries... but is it, overall, really better?"
Randall just listened.
"Upon reflection, there is another possible answer to my original question: feed those you care about, but keep the food source a secret. Because if too many find out, demand will rise. And then, it will be independently re-invented by someone who is less careful, or less honest."
Randall thought the analogy through, with regard to "vitae", and it made sense. But it did prompt another question: "so... if I'm following this... then doesn't that mean I already know too much?"
"What do you mean?"
"Virgil, or whatever his name is, sorry, thinks he knows what vitae is. And he announced it in front of both me and you. In your analogy isn't that the secret information? The knowledge that could feed the world?"
"Yes. And he trusts you with it, because he sees you as an extension of me, and trusts me. If you start... stirring things up among mortals, or resisting his orders, then his masters... he will punish both of us, on behalf of his masters. Do you see why I didn't want you involved?"
"He already got me involved," Randall answered defensively, "by telling me that. But don't worry: my opinions about this whole thing, and how shitty it is, are safe with you."
The wolf smiled knowingly at Nightshade.
"Thank you," he replied, with a kiss.
***
To be continued...