paradisio

Shadows. There were always shadows. The kind that masked the places one really wanted to see and knew they hid. The sun made them weaker so they hid in the shadows, like spiders in their cozy funnel web waiting for an insect to walk in unawares and get bitten.

Alfred F. Jones knew he was the insect in this scenario, his hands tightly held behind his back restricting his movement. Even though he knew how to outmaneuver his enemy he would have to stay stuck and wait for the spider.

The light from the high musty windows of the warehouse flitted on the man walking towards him. "You always seem to disobey." The British accent emanating from Arthur's lips made them just that more kissable. The green eyes that matched emeralds watched him with anger muted. Arthur was angry but wouldn't show it being such a gentleman. The shorter man jerked his head slightly and Alfred was released. Nonchalantly stretching his arms out and trying to get feeling into his hands Alfred grinned at Arthur.

"Missed you."

"Did you now?" The vampire said softly, his eyebrow rose in mock disbelief, "tell me child, what is your keeper going to think when he finds out where you are?"

Alfred pouted. "First, I'm not a child. Second, he won't find me. I covered my tracks." Alfred's smile was huge and victorious.

"So, love," Arthur had moved slightly closer and his elegant slim fingers played with the edges of Alfred's jacket. "If I were to kill you, no one would even know."

Frowning, Alfred stopped the hands stroking his jacket zipper with his own. The tan of his skin contrasted with the dark gloved hand that he held. His thumb ran over the pale skin at the base of the wrist subconsciously, rubbing a slow circle over the place that should have held a pulse. "You won't Artie. You said so."

Arthur's eyebrows ticked at the sound of the nickname.

"So be it." He snapped his fingers at the vampires surrounding them. He turned and walked away.

"Where are you going Artie?" Alfred yelled after him.

A swift wave of the hand to follow him was the only response.

Grinning inside and outside, Alfred ran to catch up with his captor.

Arthur led him into a simplistic room decorated only with a large cast iron bed, a fireplace with a fur rug before it. He recognized it as the place he had been led to before. This time though, the sun shone muted through dusty dark windows enough for Arthur to flit between the beams of light, and stay in the darker portions of the room. Standing on a tripod was an old-fashioned camera one only saw in movies, the cloth draping down behind the box, and the small squeeze shot handle hanging down. Unable to resist Alfred promptly went over to play with it, to see how it worked, and was about to throw the dark cloth over his head when a sharp British, "Don't touch that!" stopped him mid-motion. "Take off your clothes."

"What?" Alfred was surprised and was deeply disappointed for some reason. He didn't want to think too hard about why his heart hurt. "Is this only about sex?" he grumbled as he started undressing, throwing off his old leather coat on the floor.

Swiftly Arthur was behind him, picking up the jacket from the floor. "Some things," Arthur said dryly, "Should be treated better."

"That's what I said." Alfred muttered, as he worked off his t-shirt.

"This is a bomber jacket from WW2. Those men fought for freedom. I think history is taken too lightly." Arthur lectured. Alfred rolled his eyes halfheartedly, because he actually agreed.

Bending over and taking off his pants he realized that Arthur had stopped speaking. When Alfred turned to see why, he found Arthur staring him as if he was the most beautiful thing in the world. He fidgeted and started babbling about Arthur meeting his brother, nervous about Arthur seeing his body.

As if knowing the deep insecurity he was hiding, Arthur came over and brushed his hair out of his eyes affectionately, which let Alfred grab him and hug him. Letting Alfred do so for a bit longer than usual, Arthur finally pulled away.

Taking Alfred's hands he led him to the bed. Alfred blushed as Arthur undressed swiftly and came back to lean over him. Green eyes met blue, and Arthur leaned in for a kiss. Alfred loved this part; the deep heady kisses, tumbling him into lust.

"Let me take you to heaven." Arthur whispered softly by his ear.

"Is there such a place?" Alfred gasped hearing his voice hitch as Arthur stroked him.

"Oh surely, my darling. You will go there at least."

Something glimmered in those green eyes, a lovely sweet yearning look. Alfred eyes fluttered as those talented fingers slid up his thighs. He was going to analyze the look, dissect it like he was supposed to, but he could no longer think coherently, and slid into the pleasurable haze of passion.

purgatorio

"Please tell me you didn't wear those." Matthew gestured to the snakeskin covered points of Alfred's cowboy boots.

The bass of the club throbbed, muffled and muted noise surged through the air around them, as they stood in the cold waiting to be let in.

Alfred shrugged, "They are pretty cool."

Matthew sighed, "What if the old man saw you? It's not like you can run in those. Why do you keep pissing him off? I swear Al if…"

Alfred was nodding as if Matthew was still lecturing him, and turned to see why he had stopped. His twin's face was stark and pale staring at a man walking nonchalantly by the herd of people waiting in line. The man had flawless wavy blond hair and sleek designer clothes and shoes. His cheerful blue eyes landed on the twin brothers standing there. Obviously he was a vampire, Alfred analyzed, and a powerful one at that.

"Bonjour Chers," the vampire called out to them, "Come. I will get you into the club." The vampire lifted the ropes to let them out and marched them to the door where upon entering the large bouncer didn't even glance at them.

Alfred noticed Matthew was staying behind him. He glanced at his brother curiously, but Matthew shook his head. The club was lit in a golden light, like the illusion of sunset or sunrise. They were ushered into a separate VIP section.

"Don't you want to check us for weapons?" Alfred asked the Frenchman.

"Why?" The Frenchman looked at Alfred up and down flirtatiously, "Do you have some hidden close to that handsome body of yours? I might have to check. Or," his attention turned to Matthew lingering behind Alfred, "with a face that like that mon ange, you don't need anything extra to slay hearts." Matthew glared back.

Alfred pasted on a smile, "Alfred. And my brother."

"Does the brother have a name?" Francis called to Matthew.

"You already know it." Matthew muttered to Alfred's surprise.

"Moi, Je m'appelle Francis. Let me get you handsome men some drinks."

After Francis had left, Matthew turned to Alfred and said, "I want to leave. Now."

"Mattie…"

"Now."

Alfred shrugged. "Can't. Have things to do."

Matthew was sulking in the common area as far away as Francis as possible. Alfred had cast some flirtatious looks at a cute Eastern European, well-endowed girl until her drop-dead beautiful sister/friend who was definitely packing a knife stepped in front of her. So he intercepted the next cute girl he saw.

"Hi," he gave what he hoped was a sexy smile at a petite pigtailed girl, "Do you know where Arthur Kirkland is?" In actuality he was yelling over the horrible loud music.

"Eyebrows!" She yelled back.

"Uh, Sure!" He yelled back.

"Back room, VIP."

"What? I'm sexy?" Alfred teased. She rolled her eyes, and motioned for him to go away. Alfred went and found Francis.

Francis had a small smirk on his face as he escorted Alfred to the back room. He also had definitely ass-groped him and kissed him good-bye on the cheek before he pushed Alfred into the room.

Did Alfred believe in love in first sight? He suddenly did. He believed in the kind that makes one's heart not just pound, but flutter. The kind of love that contained an indescribable need to know the person so much that if he didn't talk to them a part of him might die, or he'd regret it forever. That is what Alfred thought when he saw the man sitting in the opulent room.

The man's green eyes under quite large eyebrows studied Alfred, dissected him.

"I've been looking for you." Alfred started once he could breathe and the lump in his throat let him. "I'm Alfred F. Jones." Lame, Alfred, Lame, he mentally kicked himself.

Arthur Kirkland, Master Vampire, just appraised him, as if he was a piece of fine china that might be salvageable. "Arthur Kirkland."

"Um…I thought we could go somewhere…"

"More private?" Arthur supplied. His British accent was rounded, as if Alfred had stepped into a Renaissance Festival. "Sure, love. Let me see you." He made a motion of Alfred to turn for him. Alfred, feeling self conscious, did so.

"The darling buds of May."

"What?" Alfred stared at Arthur who had stood up. He was shorter than Alfred remembered him, but that was a long time ago.

"Never mind."

Arthur motioned Alfred to follow. Which he did until they had entered a far room that the bass from the club no longer audible. Alfred was deathly aware of how dangerous this was, but part of him yearned for a fight, to judge and see if he had grown, prove himself. The room was lit with a fire, and a bed was the most prominent piece of furniture. Ah, this is how it went. Alfred thought. If only he could do this right.

"Take your clothes off, and then we'll talk." The vampire stood there clearly expecting Alfred to obey. The order chaffed, but Alfred reminded himself he was on a mission. Doing what was commanded he stripped off his clothes and weapons. The Master Vampire didn't even blink at the knives.

Naked, vulnerable, he slipped under the soft cotton sheets shyly, while Arthur watched amused. "Virgin, love? Marriage night?" Arthur smiled at Alfred's blushing face. It made him horribly handsome, Alfred thought. "Not the whore I was promised then? Damn the frog." Arthur undressed. His skin was white, perfect; all Alfred could do was stare.

"Well, then. On with it." He set a condom and bottle of lube on the bed table. "Tell me Alfred F. Jones, what do you want?"

Cheeks high with color, Alfred could only think of horrible dirty things, or cheesy things, like "Love me!" but didn't know how to say them.

Arthur pulled his face close, and Alfred moved first to kiss Arthur's lips. The move didn't make Arthur laugh at him like he thought it would. Instead Arthur contemplated him. "Do you find me repulsive?"

Alfred shook his head emphatically. "No," he croaked out, "You are beautiful…I mean, handsome." He stuttered.

Arthur stared. "You lie, darling."

"I'm lying with you." Alfred cheekily said. "But no," he said seriously, "you are the most perfect man I've ever seen."

Arthur blushed.

Alfred knew this was dangerous, that it would change him forever, but he couldn't stop, and when Arthur started kissing him, he knew he never wanted to stop.

The dying fire cast golden tones into black shadows. Alfred felt his hair being stroked by slim beautiful fingers. "This strand…it does not like to be with the rest." Arthur murmured contemplating.

"It's been like that since a child…" Alfred whispered, the air felt sacred, as if the wrong thing said would ruin this magic.

"Hmm…I have not been a child since the reign of Elizabeth."

"She's reigning now." Alfred said thickly, hoping it was the right to say.

Arthur laughed low. Alfred loved it, memorized it. "Ah, the first Elizabeth, the Golden Age they call it now. The first time I came to the New World the woods they were so dark. So forbidding. I wrote sonnets on the long voyage to keep myself from worrying about leaving England. I walked the shores of this new land and it was so wild, savage they called it. I never returned 'til much later."

"Did you know Shakespeare?" Alfred asked curiously.

Arthur smiled sweetly at him. "Should I tell you I did, love? Would you like that?" He kissed Alfred's forehead. Alfred frowned.

Arthur idly traced the muscles on Alfred's chest.

"Would you change me to be one of your kind?" Alfred said suddenly.

Arthur sighed. "Let me tell you another story."

Alfred snuggled in closer.

Arthur's hand still played with that one lock of hair, "When the Goths took dying Rome, the people of Rome fled, leaving the great city empty. The Goths lit torches and walked the great streets of Rome and took in the magnificent architecture, the statues, the art, the temples, and its beauty."

There was silence.

"What did they do?" Alfred asked.

"They laughed."

Alfred shook his head, "I don't get it."

"They saw all these wonderful things, this beauty and art and thought it worthless. They saw nothing; they understood nothing. So they laughed. The great things were laughable. Then they burned it, destroyed the laughable place. So it is with my kind, as you say. They see this greatness and laugh. I, instead, revel in its beauty…No, would be the short answer."

Alfred murmured. "You won't kill me."

"Yes."

Arthur moved to kiss the hollow of his neck, under his ear. "Darling." He murmured. "You have no idea what I want to do to you."

Alfred swallowed nervously, "Sweetheart, I think I have an inkling."

"Mm…" Arthur kissed him chastely and then deeper, "Good."

Alfred's last rational thought was from deep inside, the kind that hurt the heart, tore the mind, and passed understanding, Why? Why him?

inferno

Alfred knew he was dying. He could feel his life trickling out of him slowly.

The red fluid surrounding his head was proof of it. Death was painful, but not as painful as knowledge of who shot him and the plans that lay behind it.

Arthur, he had to get to Arthur, his mind was running with agony. He needed to save Arthur. It was ironic that the man he had intended to kill was now his love. The man who destroyed his life would do it again.

As if conjured by his thoughts, he heard Arthur's voice echoing in the deserted back alley, "Alfred! You are killing him!" There was struggle, the vampire's voice had become almost mad with rage, "Alfred! You've killed him, you bastard!"

"No." Came a calm deep voice. "You've killed him."

There was anguished sobbing. Surely, Arthur wasn't crying was he?

"Kill me. Don't kill the boy. Take him to the hospital. I'll stay. I'll die." Arthur voice was pleading.

"You think I could afford to leave the Master Hunter's legacy alive? I'm just finishing the job you started. How will I rise to power with the boy alive? He's too good at what he does, what he could be. You know this."

Alfred's mind screamed at the memories he didn't want to remember. The house filled with blood after school. Red everywhere. The kitchen knife on the bloody counter. The vampire on the ceiling. The quickness that had come over his body, matching the vampire's movements. Stabbing the vampire until he couldn't stab any more. The bloodlust in the vampire's eyes fading to emerald green as he died. Or so he had thought. Tears ran down his face mingling in the blood surrounding him.

"You underestimated him. I have to thank you for that. Now the twin living-that was burdensome. You need to keep your people in check."

"Arthur. Alfred." The weak voice was Matthew's. It sounded as if he was dragging himself.

"Matthew." Arthur said softly.

They had hurt his brother! Alfred lifted his head with an effort that caused horrible pain to rack him until he almost passed out.

Alfred had to save them, but he couldn't move.

"Would you like to confess to your lover? Maybe I could persuade you? I confess myself, having power over a Master Vampire is rather intoxicating."

"You have no power over me!"

"Oh." The voice grew lower, "Really?"

A weight suddenly crushed down on Alfred's back, the pain was excruciating, he was screaming.

"Stop!" Arthur was yelling. "Stop! Stop you bloody fool! Take your foot off him! I will…I will do whatever you want."

"Tell him."

"Oh, Alfred."

"Tell him."

"Alfred," The voice was shaking, "I killed your parents. I hunted them. They were in my territory. I underestimated you. You almost killed me. It was me."

"I know." Alfred said slowly as if it was drug out of a deep well.

"You look surprised vampire. Why do you think the boy sought you out? I never expected it to end so well. What a coup. I kill the boys; it's your fault. I kill you in self-defense. A Master Vampire and the heir of the Vampire Hunters, it's amusing, really."

Alfred could no longer see, but he heard scuffling, yells, shouts, Matthew crying.

Then it was quiet. Someone leaned over him, but he heard no breathing. Blackness was slowly overtaking him. He wasn't afraid though, it was like falling asleep. He wanted it to take him away from this pain.

"Fare thee well Alfred." The pain in Arthur's voice hurt worse than the death rattle coming from Alfred's lungs. "I've loved thee since I saw thee."

Love you, Alfred tried to mouth. Love you, love you, love you, love you.

Then there was darkness.

There was blood. He could smell it. Deep tangy, life. A man calling his name. His mind rebelling. The receding sense of a master, angry, upset at him for rejecting him. French, French words. A British voice arguing. His lover angry with him, his mind far away. His own self. His love.

He awoke.

A/N: I thought I would finally put this up on . This was orginally written for the 2012 USxUK Anthology and was the first fanfic I ever wrote. It is in vignette style and does not go chronologically. I love Vampire!Arthur so much, and Matthew and Alfred being heir to a Vampire Hunter family. I might tell Matthew's story one day. This is actually fanfic off something I wrote a long time ago. Maybe one day I will try to publish my orginal story. I own nothing of Hima's.