Part 23

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A/N: A quick point about the song: the band's name is now Dear Agony. They're pretty much awesome and I'm glad I finally got to use one of their songs with my story! Now back to the action~

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Well, shit. That was unexpected.

Okay, maybe not completely unexpected. I had often wondered about, um, yeah. No more wondering.

An arm brushed over the bare skin of my shoulder, snapping me out of my revelry. It gently wrapped around me and squeezed me into a cool embrace.

"So? Was I just all talk, Beautiful?" Ian whispered through my loose curly hair into my ear.

The tired muscles of my legs clenched together as I desperately tried to not focus on the heat rising in my cheeks. My face was warm. Act cool, cool as a cucumber. "I will never doubt again."

I could almost hear the smile on his lips as he replied, "there will never be a need."

A slightly confused smile plastered itself on my face. Did he just quote that movie? Was he messing with me? "Did you do that on purpose?"

"Do what?" He loosened his grip so I could flip over and face him.

It was a more complicated process than I'd anticipated facing him, mostly due to our legs being inconceivably tangled up in the dark brown bed sheets. Once I finally was respectably covered by the sheet between us and able to see his smug face, I scrutinized him further. "Are you sure you're not just mostly dead? You know, meaning slightly alive?"

"Yes, I'm definitely all dead, or undead. Why?"

I sighed with a massive heave of my chest and sat up, pulling the sheet along with me as cover. "It's nothing. Just a little disoriented I think."

He let the fabric slid off him without any shame and chuckled as I quickly turned away, embarrassed. "You've already seen it all. I'm not sure why you're being so shy now."

"Perhaps, it's just the gravity of the situation that's hitting me." I stood up and continued wrapping myself in the sheet. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"You know where it is." He watched me and although, he'd drunk my blood several times now, I couldn't shake the feeling that his eyes had a possessive quality to them suddenly.

I shivered and hugged the fabric closer, no need to advertise how my body reacted to him any more than I already had.

When I finally locked the bathroom door behind me, I allowed my grip on the sheet to loosen and it fell to the floor. The view made me blush a little as I had several light bruises across my torso and arms, but what really caught my attention was the darker hickey that consumed almost the whole left side of my neck. Gingerly, I reached for it. The two prick wounds really had healed shut on their own within seconds of him licking them.

My breathing sped up again as if I could feel his tongue on me still, but I shook myself.

Okay, so he can heal others as well as himself with his weirdly, perfect body. That thought had me blushing yet again so I went about my business on the toilet as a distraction. He probably could hear my every irregular palpitation. Seriously, there would be no privacy unless we figured out some boundaries.

Crap, that conversation was supposed to happen before anything else tonight. Not that I was expecting anything else tonight. I glanced at the wall connecting the bathroom with the bedroom and hoped Ian wasn't listening in too closely to the erratic prancing of my heart.

With my business accomplished and hands washed, I noticed that the toilet paper roll was practically empty and there wasn't another one in sight. I would not be that person. After a few timid glances around the toilet and in the cabinet above, I found nothing. Then my hands grasped the doors to the cabinet under the sink and tugged. They stuck for a second before popping out and producing a handgun hung against the inside of the door.

It made me jump, but it wasn't the first time I'd ever seen a gun. He was single and mostly kept to himself so it wasn't that unusual, right? Maybe it was unnecessary since he was a weapon himself, but not really unusual. Beyond that distraction, the cabinet was nearly empty save for a few bottles of oil and different types of cleaners. He probably would take a keen interest in cleaning with all the blood stains that he's had to deal with over the years. Unfortunately, there was no extra roll of toilet paper in sight.

After my toga of sorts was reaffixed to me, I strolled out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. No one was there though. The lights were on, but Ian was gone.

Looking back into the apartment, I didn't hear or see him anywhere. He had better reappear soon because I did not think he was capable of a fuck and run, especially when it was at his own place. We needed to sort a few things out and I meant more than just the logistics of our relationship. Would I get sick if he drank my blood too much? Like not a normal type of sickness? I'm sure I wasn't his first, but was he clean? Could I catch something from him?

"Damn, damn, damn. This is why, Nicole, you don't do unplanned one nightstands with someone who's practically a stranger." I walked into the bedroom and began searching for my clothes. I couldn't believe I'd even fallen for it. I wasn't that person or I hadn't been that person. Had he made me that person? I mean I did rely on him for a lot emotionally right now and I still knew only a handful of things about him. I didn't even know what kind of sales he was involved in.

Digging through the strewn clothing and bedding only helped me find my bra, shorts, and shirt.

"You have got to be kidding me," I whispered, afraid that Ian was going to pop up any second and gloat about how he made my underwear disappear. I groaned, dragging my hand across my face, and exhaled exasperatedly.

There was little choice left to me so I quickly dressed myself in what I had and began looking around the room for my rogue undies. It was hard to ignore the wall of murder and disappearances now that I wasn't lost in a haze of lust and stupidity. This was so irresponsible.

Emily was going to ring my neck. Especially if she thought we did it again after I'd claimed it was a mistake the first time.

"Crap. Crap! Where are you?" I whisper-shouted at my underwear, wherever it was hiding.

Only now did I notice the window was blocked with both a heavy blackout curtain and a wardrobe. I bent down and crawled around on my knees, searching frantically under the wardrobe and beneath the bed with a hand.

My knuckles smacked something hard under the bed and I retracted my hand to coddle it.

"Ouch, what the hell?" I cursed, shaking my hand out to brush off the dull ache emanating from my hand. With both hands on the floor for balance now, I peered into the darkness beneath the bed. There was a large black lump that stood out from the rest. Reaching in, I grasped a corner of it and pulled.

It was another instrument case. This one was thinner and squared and there was a lock on the from of it. Why would he lock an instrument case and what would fit in such a thin one?It was an instrument case, wasn't it?

Shoving it back under the bed, I glanced around to make sure he wasn't sneaking up on me again.

I mean he's been alive and seemingly alone for decades, maybe he's a one-man band... and learned some unusual skills like sneaking out of places while the door remains locked. Or does it remain locked the whole time?

Either way, my underwear was obviously not locked inside the case nor hidden around it so I got up and walked to the other side of the bed by the closet. Still, it eluded me. There wasn't much to hide under in this room. It was pretty bare now that I'd tossed the bedcovers back up where they belonged, except for a pair of shoes next to the closet, the murder wall, the bed, and the wardrobe. The door to the closet was slightly ajar so maybe they managed to get tossed inside?

I was really grasping at straws.

Sliding the door open, I expected to see a line of collared shirts and dress pants hung on hangers.

That wasn't what I found.

In place of clothing, there was a three drawer, metal filing cabinet. It wasn't locked. I don't even know why I felt the need to try it. It wasn't my business anyway. But, next to the cabinet was the amp that I'd seen him carrying around a few times, and it was missing the top. Like, the top of the amp had been unscrewed and whatever technical and mechanical things that usually are supposed to be inside were missing.

That was not normal, especially since I couldn't find the rest of it laying anywhere around. Maybe he'd sent it away to get fixed?

Even I didn't believe that excuse and I made it up for him.

Sliding the doors so I had more light on top of the opened amp, I noticed more grey foam inside. Gently I lifted the top piece out and had to catch myself from shouting. There was another gun inside, but this one was somewhat disassembled and something I'd never seen in person. It might be a machine gun if my movie references were accurate, but quickly I shoved the foam cover back onto it and closed the door on that side.

The glint from the metal filing cabinet caught my eye again.

Was I ready for this?

Probably not, but I hadn't been ready for anything else in my life either.

It only took a light tug for the whole top drawer to whip completely open. It must've been well oiled because I hadn't heard a sound over my pounding heart. There were several tabs sticking out: Invoices, Receipts, Stock, Reports, Customers, Suppliers.

Quickly, I pulled out a few sheets from the Invoices section. Each page was straight to the point: no logo, no extra information, just a name, a short description of each item, how many were requested, a surprisingly large number as the price, and the date.

The descriptions perhaps were clear to someone who knew what was being handled, but as I skimmed over the last line at the bottom, things were beginning to dawn on me.

All sales are final. Products will not be used against seller nor will products be traced back to seller upon pain of death.

"Used against seller? Traced? Pain of death?" I whispered, flipping through the three pages again. "Who writes this stuff? MAC-10, PKM, FN P90, B&T TMP, 7.62mm NATO, and Browning M1919."

The last page I held was addressed to some Mr. Blue and had a written-in slash through the price for some markdown. It was the only one with any handwriting other than a signature acknowledging that pain of death line. This bill was from the thirteenth of October, only just shy of two weeks ago.

He said he'd finished up some work and happened upon me, but what if it was a set-up? What if he actually knew what occurred before he 'helped' me get back?

My eyes were wide and whatever warm tingly feeling that had remained on my skin evaporated in a quick shudder. I needed to leave, to get out of there. I needed to process this terrifying revelation.

I shoved the papers back into the filing cabinet and shoved the drawer shut. It unfortunately wasn't that quiet and as metal hit metal with a clang, I cringed at my carelessness. What if he heard that?

I stepped out into the living room, completely forgetting about my missing undergarment. When I was a mere two feet away, the door clicked and opened towards me. Ian walked in, tucking his phone away in a pocket.

"Beautiful, you're dressed? I didn't think you'd want to leave already. You aren't missing anything, are you?" His eyes darted from my clothes to my face and paused as he observed. "Is something wrong?"

Don't freak out, Nicole. I took a deep breath before speaking, "I didn't know what happened to you. I thought you might have left and I didn't want to hang out here alone all night. You seemed like there were other things you had to do when I caught up with you."

"Yeah, it's fine. I just ran out to make a phone call quick. We're all good. I've got a bit of time now. Would you like something to eat or drink? I can order some takeout or something." He took a few steps to close the distance between us and pulled my hand into his.

My heart had been nervous before, but now it was rampaging and I noticed my hand had a tremor-the one he now held. My eyes returned to his face and I forced a smile onto my lips. "No, I'm fine. You don't have to bother. I can just grab something from my place. It's just downstairs after all."

His thumb started rubbing soothing circles into the back of my hand. "Was I too rough? I'm sorry. It's been a while since I've been with someone that I need to be gentle with. Does it hurt?"

He used his free hand to reach up to my bruised neck to caress it lightly.

Unfortunately, I flinched at his touch, remembering the tight grip he'd used when he thought I was a spy or a traitor or something. Now it made sense, all those secrets.

"Why won't you tell me what you do?" I whispered, staring at the door to the tiny laundry room. I knew he'd heard me and I knew he suspected something even before I spoke.

Our moment was broken.

"I told you what I do. I'm a sales associate." He answered softly, pulling his hand away from my neck. His thumb stopped tracing circles, but he didn't retract that one too.

"What do you sell?"

"Different things, it depends on the customer." He averted his eyes as well.

Turning my face to him, I stared at his ear so I could watch his face without direct eye contact. My chest tightened, suddenly fearful that I might be extra susceptible right now since I'd been drained of blood. "But you sell guns, right?"

His head jerked back to stare at me, but he didn't say anything. His mouth hung open ready to lay out a million different lies to cover his tracks, yet no words escaped.

"You supply guns to people illegally, don't you? Arms dealing, is that the correct term?"

His lips shut and he half nodded.

"Wow, and here I thought the big vampire secret was the scariest thing going on with you. At least that was something you couldn't control. It just happened to you. But no, you chose this job. You chose to do something dangerous and illegal." Anger welled up inside me. He was putting all of us at risk being here and no one else could do anything to escape even if they wanted to. He trapped them all here. He'd trapped all of us here. "That's why you got attacked. You pissed somebody off. I can't believe you'd do that to everybody here. What if they learned where you live? What if they brought more people and more guns? What's going to happen to Mackenzie and Tom and Roberta and Lisa? What's going to happen to everybody that you turned into puppets? Are they going to seek shelter, defend themselves, run for their lives? God, you're so selfish. They're all going to die, right? So long as they give you enough heads up to get out yourself, it doesn't matter what happens to them, does it?"

"No one knows where I live," he snapped back finally. "I don't work out of here. That'd be idiotic. There's too much at risk and too many openings for attack."

I stepped back and pulled against his hand, but he didn't release me. "I can't believe I fell for it. I must be blind."

"Fell for what?"

I tugged again on my hand, but his grip was firm. "You couldn't control me so you thought of the next best thing. Why not lie and manipulate me into helping? All it would take is a little accident so you could swoop in and save the day. You'd be the hero and I'd feel indebted to you."

His eyes narrowed, irritation perhaps causing them to glow softly. "What are you talking about?"

"You had me roofied, didn't you?" I watched him as the accusation hit him and he fell silent. "You didn't happen upon me at the club. You knew what I was wearing, probably followed me, hypnotized somebody into spiking my drink, and then conveniently was there to save the day. Yeah, sucking contaminated blood was a bit rougher than you expected, but so long as it got me onboard to watch your back, it was worth it. Am I right?"

He stared at me. His mouth hung open slightly, showing off the tips of those fangs.

Laughter escaped my lips and shook my whole body. My free hand went to my brow and brushed the hair away. "I only needed a little extra push and I completely bought into it. Breakfast was a nice touch. You probably guessed that I would love it since you already knew how much I loved eggs. Who would have guessed that my loyalty could be bought for so little? I mean, I barely remembered any of the drugged night and probably wouldn't have at all if my coworker hadn't taken a sip of whatever was poisoned and fallen victim to it as well. She suffered because of me, because you were trying to win me over. God, I'm so stupid. I'm such an idiot."

My laughter softened into half breaths. I pinched my lips together in an attempt to stifle the sob crawling up my throat. Swallowing it back down, I locked eyes with him and glared. "Go ahead. Laugh at me. You played me like an old favorite on that stupid piano over there."

He didn't speak though and his eyes no longer glowed. That mouth that seemed so ready to lie and manipulate was shut and pulled into a thin line. What I wouldn't give to see that stupid, smug grin on his face again.

"Tell me I'm wrong." A few tears tipped over the edge of my eyelashes and dripped down my cheeks. "Tell me that this is some big misunderstanding. That you just really like guns and always wanted to be like someone in a movie and have them hidden around your house. Give me something else to believe. Please."

His grip on my hand loosened as he stared at me, then he looked away.

"Right. So, I'm going to go. I assume I'm definitely not allowed to move now, huh." I glanced at our feet, standing so close, and yet, a vacuum lay between us. Or maybe that was just the hollowness in my own chest at being completely betrayed like this. "Just leave me alone, until you finally decide to kill me. It's the only way to protect both of your secrets, right?"

With that I yanked my hand free from his and pushed my way around him to leave.

Pausing to open the door and let myself out, I remembered his gifts and whispered, "what was the point of the food and the flowers then?"

Nothing. He didn't even try to stop me this time with or without powers. I guess we both knew the ugly truth now.

Nothing else matters.

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Thanks @RainerSalt for pointing out some hasty generalizations and assumptions. You've helped make Ian a more realistic, faulty person. Hopefully, that settles things more.

And... I'm sorry, I didn't get an actual chapter posted yet... still working on that. Holy Week, Sickness, Drama... Worry really kills the creativity.

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net