You love me…
He shoved himself away from the desk and heard a gentle knock on the door. He knew exactly who it was, and wasn’t sure if he wanted to see her right now.
“Come in,” he said, keeping his back to the door.
Anilia glided in, the scent of patchouli preceeding her. “Bruce?”
She called her by his name, something she did only when she was concerned.
“Yeah.”
“You’re not all right.”
“I’m angry.”
“Do you need –”
“No.”
“I could–”
“No.” He gripped the side of the railing, squeezing and indenting the cherry wood. “Leave.”
Bomber could see her in the window, as she picked up the folder and then left the room. He wanted to hunt, but he was afraid that he would lose it on whoever his victim would be, and then the Masquerade–
“Fuck the Masquerade,” he snarled.
There was another knock on the door. It wasn’t Anilia, or Jake, or Ink. “Oh, what the fuck – What?”
The door opened on its own accord. A handsome man stood there, wearing old fashioned Victorian clothes, including a cape. He had grey eyes, short dark hair, and a pale cast to him. He wore cologne that smelled nice, but expensive. Bomber knew him from using the Bitten a few times, but he never asked his name.
“Mr. Bombardier,” the man said, his voice with a light French accent, “I understand–”
“Did Anilia send you up here?”
“As a matter of fact –”
“Get the fuck out.”
“You are on the verge of frenzy.”
“No fucking shit,” Bomber snarled. “You wanna see?”
“Not at all, good sir. Allow me to introduce myself.” He shrugged off the cape, and changed. No longer was he a handsome man, but someone else, with a tuft of hair combed over his balding head. His eyes were still gray, but there were dark deep circles around them. His face was highly veined and pock-marked, and the veins and marks continued down his neck. His hands were more claw-like, and his knees bent sideways at an awkward angle. “I am Aaron, The Inventor.”
“So?”
“What brought this on?”
“I don’t fucking know you.”
“But I hear rumors. And see things.”
Bomber raised an eyebrow and advanced. “Have you been following me around?”
“No, but – may I sit down?”
“Do I have a fucking choice?”
“Of course you do. You could throw me out.”
Bomber waved his hand and let him sit down. He admitted, he was calming down, talking to this man. Vampire. Nosferatu.
“So what the fuck do you want?”
“Only to find out what has caused this. Though you are a Brujah and it could be because you woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”
“I don’t fucking know you.” Bomber sat down behind his desk.
“Sometimes it’s good to speak with your peers.”
“And what’s to say you won’t take what I tell you to someone an’ use it against me? I know fuckin’ leech politics.”
“Mr. Bombardier,” the man said calmly, giving him a look, “in the first place, you offer your hospitality for free. Consider this as my payment to you. I shall hold your secrets, in utmost confidence, so help me God.”
Bomber crossed his arms. “I don’t need to tell you.”
“No, you do not.”
Bomber looked away, and Scott’s utterance crossed his mind again. Aaron suddenly said, “Ahhh.”
Bomber pulled his head up, fury in his eyes. “You’re a fuckin’ telepath.”
“Only surface thoughts, Mr. Bombardier, and you are thinking that phrase so loudly that any telepath worth his salt could hear it yards away. I could only sense it while I was downstairs.”
“Fuck,” Bomber snarled, looking uncomfortable.
“Anilia did not send me up here, I asked her permission to come here of my own accord. Again, Mr. Bombardier, it is bad enough you have exposed the Masquerade to your employees here and you have offered yourself up to be the local poster-boy for the Kindred in Steel Canyon. You do not wish to go out hunting and expose yourself for the monster that you are.”
“I’m not a monster,” Bomber said.
“Which is why that young man has touched your dead heart.”
“He can’t. I can’t be. I ain’t dragging him into my shit.”
Aaron smiled gently. “You are newly turned, which is why you can still feel for the kine. As time goes by, you will see the humans for what they are: food or opportunity.”
“How old are you?”
“I was Embraced about 1800 in Marseille.”
“Then you’re jaded.”
He shook his head. “No, not quite. I have been in your position, more than once.” He plucked at his clothes. “Sometimes I wonder if I am more Toreador than anything.”
Bomber said nothing, and the two of them were quiet for a moment.
“What do I do?” Bomber finally asked.
“You know what you cannot do.”
“What?”
“Embrace him. You must not, if you truly love him.”
Bomber shook his head. “The thought never crossed my mind. I don’t want him to spend the rest of my life – such as it is – with me.”
“Then is it love? Or something else?”
Bomber got frustrated again. “I don’t fucking know!”
“I suspect it is something else. An addiction, perhaps? Do you see something in him that you covet?”
Bomber calmed, thinking. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You don’t need to.”
“Goddammit.”
“So his blood is what brings you back to him. He’s a magical creature, and that is what you love. The blood, not just the man.”
Bomber said nothing.
“That is all we love, Mr. Bombardier. We always love the blood, not the person.”
Bomber said quietly, “I want him for myself, for that?”
“Not just that, Mr. Bombardier; but if you continue on this path, that is all you will want him for.”
“So I should stop seeing him?” Just the thought scared Bomber, to not see Scott again.
“No, of course not. But never, ever bring this up again. Tell him you love the blood if you need to tell him again.”
“He forgot. I made him forget.”
“You did not make him forget, not if you used our abilities. It is buried, and a talented telepath can uncover it.”
Bomber glared up at Aaron, who shook his head and waved his hands before him in a surrendering motion. “Never, Mr. Bombardier. My courtesy extends to him as well. I know what you are made of, and I know you could bar me from this place easily.”
“I want you to get out of my fuckin’ head,” Bomber said.
“I am not in your head, but if you think loudly, sir, I will hear it.”
Bomber frowned. “I’m not going to tell him again. I made a fool of myself enough as it is.”
“Love of the blood can make us all foolish.” Aaron got up, sweeping the cape back over his shoulders and letting it settle on him. Again, the handsome man looked at him. “When you wish to speak with me, think of unicorns and rainbows.”
“Why?”
“Because coming from you, it would be a forceful intentional thought.”
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