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were_ghost and bq_x_stain

Mun’s Note: Kashmir was written by Jimmy Page and Robert Plant (with contributions from John Bonham)

warning: violence and attempted rape scene

Part 1

“Aww, come on, René, you really should come to the party,” Mark, a friend of René’s, insisted. They had met in Music Theory class when René first transferred in and had clicked ever since. Mark was not aware of René’s dark past, but he knew enough to venture that René had some demons to contend with. “Say you’ll go, you haven’t been to one party this whole semester and it’s our last.”



“But Saturday is my best tip night at The Den,” René protested, though he knew there was more to it than that. He chewed on his lower lip contemplatively; he tried to avoid parties whenever possible. There was too much temptation with the drinking and the drugs present at such events. “I dunno,” René hesitated, running his fingers through his curls as he thought it over. He knew he should say no, but a part of him wanted to see his school friends one last time. “Where is it going to be?”

Mark’s face lit up. Getting René to participate in such things was always like pulling teeth, so the fact that René asked where the party was held was a good sign René was going to attend. Mark related the details with a smile. “This means you’re coming, right? I’ll even pick you up, that way you don’t have to bitch about finding parking or not having gas money, yadda yadda...”

“All right, I’ll go,” René finally said with a sigh. This decision went against his better judgement. “But no sneaking anything in my drink and trying to have your way with me - my boyfriend is a pretty jealous guy,” he teased, knowing Mark was both comfortable with and aware of René’s ‘alternative lifestyle’.

“I’ve seen your boyfriend pick you up from class a couple of times. I do not want to mess with that guy. I promise not to do anything that will impinge upon your virtue,” Mark answered, placing his hand over his chest and trying to look all serious.

René playfully hit him on the shoulder. “All right, then, I’ll see you Saturday. I have to call my boss and let him know I won’t be in that night. Catch you later.”

***
René had not been at his apartment much, not since the confrontation with Alfonso. René had only returned to pack up his personal belongs. They were not ready to be shipped over to the loft as of yet, but René wanted to be prepared.

Only a few items had been left out, some articles of clothing, jewelry, toiletries, and such. The apartment had come furnished, so René did not have to worry about moving those over to the loft. It certainly made the job of moving a lot easier.

Sorting through what was left in his closet, René picked out an outfit and threw it on the bed before hitting the shower. He toweled off, flinging the towel over the shower rack and walking naked into the bedroom.

René dressed quickly, donning a pair of tight leather pants that laced up along the sides, showing just a hint of bare flesh. He topped it with a gothic mesh shirt with bondage straps. That should prove fun for Ghost later, he mused with a grin.

Walking back to the bathroom, he outlined his eyes with black liner, then glanced at his hair. René opted to let his curls just lay wild, completing his goth look. Well, almost. René knew an essential piece was missing. He headed over to his desk and opened up the bottom drawer, taking out a small jewelry box. Inside were various charms and amulet designs, crosses, bats, dragons. But René opted for a wolf head made of pewter, its eyes made of two small emerald stones.

With a smile he could not hide, René proudly placed the necklace on, admiring the wolf head before taking out his cell phone to call Ghost. His thumb rubbing over the pendant, he waited anxiously for his love to answer.

Ghost turned off the power tool he was using. He was sure he heard his phone. The machine was so loud and so close to his ears that it even dulled his exceptional hearing. With the noise gone, he clearly heard his phone ringing. The were prowled back into the “living room” area and scooped up the small electronic device. The number calling registered as his beauty, René . “Hey, babe, what’s up?”

“How’s the world’s most gorgeous wolf today?” René asked playfully.

“Wanting to be with his mate doing delightfully wicked things to him.” Ghost wandered away from the workmen who were working late to get the kitchen installation finished. His wanderings brought him into the space that would be René’s music room, a place where he felt closest to the young human when they were apart.

“Mmm, I miss you, too. I will see you tonight though, I hope? I have a small favor to ask. My classmate, Mark, asked me to attend this party tonight over at his friend’s house. I told him I would go and he’s picking me up, but I don’t want to stay too long--the temptation to drink and stuff would get too much after a while. So would you mind picking me up, say about midnight? I promise to make it up to you when we return to the apartment,” René said mischievously while rattling off the address of Mark’s friend. “Besides, you know my body can’t handle being away from you for too long,” he added teasingly.

“Anything you desire, babe.” Ghost pulled a pad out of his pocket and scribbled down the address. He always kept one close these days to record room measurements or materials needed or a just random notes. “I’ll be there. You have a good time,” He said, slipping the pad back into his pocket.

“All right, I’ll see you then,” René said, hating to have to hang up with his love, but he heard Mark’s car outside. He was already honking the horn. “Gotta go, love, see you soon.”

“All right, I’ll be there when you need me. Bye, you sexy thing.” He smiled and clicked the phone closed. His mate needed this. René spent too much time studying or working. He needed to be able to take part in the rituals of college life, like parties. Ghost slipped the phone into his pocket and returned to his workshop. He was working on a little surprise for his mate.

***

The party was already in full swing when René and Mark arrived. They were each greeted by a series of hugs. The place was already crowded with people; loud music from a live band was playing from the back.

René wasted little time in mingling with friends, dancing and joking with them. After a heavy hour of dancing, René went to get some refreshment. Some friends joining him offered him whiskey, unaware his addiction to alcohol, which René waved his hand and declined. “Got my cranberry juice, I’m good.” He raised his glass.

“What is it with you, man, and the not drinking? Is it against your religion or something?” One of the guys teased, lightly slapping his shoulder. “Come on, it’s just one drink - is it going to kill you?”

“Nah, it’s just a personal choice,” René answered, keeping a smile and refusing to allow his past to bring his mood down. “But it looks like you’re drinking enough for the both of us,” he added jokingly.

“True,” the young man answered, chugging the rest of his drink and heading back over to the bar to refill his now empty glass. René just laughed and shook his head.

“Don’t look now, but your stalker is here,” Mark said, sliding up to René.

Mark was referring to Jeremiah, of course, to which René responded with a roll of his eyes. “Maybe he won’t notice me.”

“Dude, you are one of the few goths here. You stick out like a sore thumb. He’s gonna notice you’re here,” Mark said with a shrug. “But don’t let that asshole’s presence ruin your evening. ’Sides, he’s here with some foo foo dude, claims it’s his ‘friend’. Enough about Jerry the jerk, i know something that will spice up this party. Come on, follow me. You’ve been requested to sing.” Mark motioned over by the band.

“For a moment there I thought you were going to ask me to strip,” René laughed teasingly.

“What, and have your boyfriend come and kick my ass? No, thank you.” Mark chuckled, waving his hands. “Enough dallying, up on that stage. And don’t even pretend you don’t want to,”

Mark made a point. René wanted to say no, but the truth was he loved the spotlight. “You know me too well.” With a smirk, René followed his friend toward the small stage that was set up on the back porch.

Mark made a small production of introducing him, and the college kids applauded and hollered their drunken approval. René laughed as he took the microphone. “So you want to hear me sing, I hear?”

Again the crowd cheered. René’s voice and musical talent had gained him popularity within the school. And their approval gave him the confidence that artists required. He went over to the band and they came to an accord about what to play.

René did not suffer from stage fright; once the music started it was all that existed, it centered him. The crowd faded, even the band members faded into the background; all that surrounded René was the music and the sound of his voice.

The moment René started singing, it brought about a roar and certainly caught Jeremiah’s and his guest’s attention. Jeremiah went to approach the front of the stage, but his companion held him back, whispering something in his ear to which Jerry nodded, waiting at the front by himself.

Jeremiah’s gaze was transfixed on René, watching every move the cellist made. He held a secret smile as his eyes locked with René. It caused René to wonder, but he did not pause. He gave the crowd a few good songs and ended with a kick-ass version of Led Zeppelin’s Kashmir, and the crowd went wild.

René sang and played this song on a purely sentimental note, because it was René’s mother’s favorite song, which is why René choose it as part of his final project. René had converted the song to play with an orchestra. True, there were music sheets out there with the song already converted, but it had to have René’s personal touch in order to pass the class, in this case a bit more gothy. And because René worked so much on it, putting his all into it, he became quite associated, which is why his classmates roared with excitement when he sang it.

When René completed his set, he exited the stage on the side farthest away from Jeremiah, as he did not wish a confrontation. But Jeremiah had been sent on a mission, and he would not disobey his vampire master.


Jerry trailed René back toward the end of a corridor where René stopped to talk to a friend. Jeremiah took the opportunity to go over to the bar and order two drinks, one non-alcoholic for he knew René didn’t, or rather wouldn’t, drink.

Using sleight of hand, no one noticed Jeremiah taking a small wrapper and slipping its contents into the cranberry juice. He quickly pocketed the evidence and noted that René was finishing up his conversation with the other person. That’s when Jeremiah made his move. He moved himself into a position where René could not help but pass by him. Holding out one arm, drink in hand, he asked, “Hold on a second, René. I know we haven’t gotten along during our time here, but this is most likely the last time we will ever see each other. Let bygones be bygones, eh? Have one small drink with me? I got you cranberry juice, since I know you don’t drink.”

“How do I know you haven’t slipped some mickey in there or something?” René challenged, crossing his arms, looking annoyed.

“In this crowd? And with your friend Mark watching ever so vigilantly? What could I possibly do to you?” Jeremiah answered with his best smile. “You don’t even have to finish the drink, just one toast and I promise to leave you alone for the rest of the night.”

René glanced over to where Mark was and as Jeremiah stated, he was keeping an eye on René. “Fine,” he said with a sigh. “One toast and that’s it,” he said, taking the offered drink. “What shall we toast to?”

“How about music?” Jeremiah offered, keeping his lop-sided smile. It was the one thing René would probably not refuse to toast to.

“To music, then,” René said, clinking his glass against Jeremiah’s.

Satisfied that he had successfully baited René for his master, Jeremiah clinked his glass to René’s and took a drink, watching in anticipation as René took a generous drink of his own. The drug would take only a few seconds to kick in and Jeremiah was ready. He knew that René need not drink all of it; just one sip was all it would take.

The juice had a strange taste to it. René paused and held the glass away from his lips. “Okay, what did you spike this with, you motherfuc--” He never got a chance to finish his sentence because suddenly the room began to spin. With a look of panic he glanced over to where Mark had been standing, but he did not see his friend.

The vampire, Razvan, watched with amusement as his favored thrall, Jeremiah, did his bidding. Razvan had made sure to ‘glamor’ René’s friend Mark and keep him preoccupied elsewhere.

René felt Jeremiah catch him and tried to pull away, but whatever Jerry had given him in that drink made his muscles useless. His legs felt like jelly and he could do nothing as Jeremiah escorted him up the stairs.

Panic and fear made René’s heart go into overdrive. He tried to reach out to someone else to call for help, but his tongue felt numb. He closed his eyes as he was led to a room. This is not fucking happening! he told himself. Then he heard a door lock.

René opened his eyes and found himself in a bedroom. He wanted to scream, but no sound came out. He knew the others at the party would not think twice of a couple going into a bedroom. Where the fuck was Mark?

René was shoved onto his back on a bed and he did his best to kick Jeremiah, but again, his legs would not move. With a cry of desperation he reached out to his mate, Ghost. His thoughts were somewhat discombobulated due to the drug, but he hoped he could get his message across. Baby! If you can hear me, please--I’m in trouble, I’ve been drugged and-- he stopped short when he saw a form step out of the shadows.

René’s eyes widened as recognition set in.

Razvan! Doviculus’s childer! (Doviculus being René’s former master)

In his mind, René screamed. He could only hope that Ghost heard it. Vampire! Razvan! He said the words as loudly as he could within the confines of his mind.

“Now is that anyway to greet an old friend?” Razvan asked, tracing his sharp finger ring alongside René’s tender throat. “Oh wait, you can’t speak, can you? Who is this Ghost you are calling out to? Hmm? He can’t hear you or help you.” He smiled, and the curve of his lips reminded René of a sharp razor.

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