Lifeblood - Chapter Nine
Mar. 6th, 2021 10:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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i_read_whatSo last time, Jack learned what Gaylen really wanted, finally learned Braxton's backstory and ended the chapter getting shot full of lead.
This chapter needs a warning. But to be honest, I'm not really sure WHAT warning would be appropriate here. We have someone forced to take part in an act perceived as sex or nourishment. The latter is clearly not the purpose in this case. Is there a such thing as symbolic or metaphoric sexual assault?
That's not the only awful thing in this chapter either. Brace yourself!
So we rejoin Jack as he's lying on the floor. He's alive, of course, as he's a vampire, but he's not feeling great. Getting shot hurts. He manages to get to his feet, but Malcolm's gone. Braxton is dead. Matheus Webber is still alive though, albeit a bit traumatized looking. Jack goes mist form and tries to chase Malcolm.
He finds someone with Malcolm's coat, but it turns out to be a drunk guy. Malcolm had given him his coat "for a joke", and has gone out another way. Jack finds the doorman, reports that there's been an accident and goes back to hunt for Malcolm. No luck.
Upstairs, things are crowded. And worse, there's no sign of Bobbi or Marza. Everyone is freaked out and panicking. But the elevator operator did end up seeing Bobbi leave with Marza and some others. Jack tries to catch up with them, but fails. He figures Marza dragged Bobbi out to protect her. But when he gets back to Bobbi's hotel, Marza is there alone, and pissed.
“Where’s Bobbi?”
Her body was shaking inside the green frame of her dress. “Who were they?” If looks could kill, I’d be on a slab next to Braxton. She started for me, her hands reaching. One of her inch-long talons had broken, but there were still nine more left and aimed at my face. I dropped the envelope, caught her arms in time, and held her at a safe distance. She kicked and struggled until she ran out of breath, then her knees gave out and she sank to the floor, trying not to sob from frustration.
I really do love Marza.
Jack gets the story out of her. There was a blond man with a gun and a woman with a knife. Jack notices the envelope (Phil the hotel detective had given it to him when he'd come in) and opens it. It's "platinum silk." Bobbi's hair. Damn.
Marza nearly faints, but Jack quickly gets her a straight triple and makes her drink it. I'm not really pro-manhandling here, but I can appreciate that these are dire circumstances. Marza regains composure, and Jack finds a message with the envelope that reads:
Sit tight or we'll give the whore more than just a haircut.
Then there's a phone call. Bobbi's on the other end. She says Jack and Marza's names, but gets caught up quickly. Poor Marza keeps trying to get a straight answer from Jack as to what these people want. Jack can't give her one. Finally he spills: the guy with the gun is Malcolm, he claims to be a private eye and he killed Braxton. He asks about the woman with the knife.
Marza gives a description: about her own age, bony and "hungry" with crazy eyes. They told Marza to go to the hotel and wait for Jack.
Someone knocks at the door. Madison Pruitt. He's completely clueless and Jack was about to make him leave, but Marza asks him to let Pruitt in instead. She even says please, which means she's very thrown.
I didn’t exactly want to, but she looked like she needed him and pulled him inside. She wrapped her arms around him. He didn’t understand what was going on, but instinctively offered what comfort he could.
Aw. I like Bobbi's friends.
Jack realizes that there'll be more people coming soon for the party, and tells Marza that she'll have to get rid of them. Marza asks what they can do. Jack basically says that they need to stay calm. The police are out, unfortunately.
Then another phone call: Malcolm this time. He has Bobbi, of course. She's unharmed, for now. He gives Jack an address, tells him to come alone. And he notes that while he can't hurt Jack, he CAN hurt the people around him. Jack has ten minutes before Bobbi "goes into surgery" and won't be using mirrors either, for a different reason.
Poor Marza still isn't getting any answers, but Jack gives her Escott's name and his hotel and tells her that Escott can help.
The address led to a warehouse that was a mountain of dingy red bricks and old wood held together by crumbling mortar and rusty nails. The street was deserted, the other nearby structures hollow and silent except for the rats. It was a good spot to kill someone. The river was only ten feet from the back entrance, and a body could easily be slipped unnoticed into the oily water on a black night.
The building was three stories tall, and a faint light shone in one of the top windows, outlining Malcolm’s head and shoulders. He took his hat off and waved it. There was nothing else to do but go inside and see the setup. They knew what I was and what my capabilities were, but Malcolm was supremely confident, and that meant a bad situation for Bobbi. I glared at the grinning, waving figure, then tore open the warehouse door and left it on the walk.
I like this description. Anyway, Malcolm greets Jack, calling him "the death of the party". He takes Jack farther into the warehouse. Lots of bare bulbs, broken glass and so on. He gives Jack a parcel to open: it contains Bobbi's red silk dress. This is a mistake, as it leads to almost getting strangled by vampire.
But he's got a trick up his sleeve:
His eyes rolled toward the window and I followed their path.
The river was night black and smooth, stray lights caught in the surface barely moving. Below the window was a concrete loading pier with metal rings set in it. A length of rope was tied to one, and the other end went to an old flat-bottomed boat floating some thirty feet out. The woman Marza described crouched in the boat, leaning over its near side with her hand in the water. She was looking anxiously up at us.
“Let… go… now,” he gasped out urgently, and his distorted tone suddenly convinced me. I released him and backed away so that we were clearly separated.
The woman in the boat took her hand out of the water and pulled on another piece of rope as though for an anchor, but instead a head broke the surface. It shook and shuddered, water streaming only from the nose, because the mouth was taped shut. Her eyes were bulging with utter terror.
That's not good at all.
Malcolm tells us she's tied up like a mummy and weighted down. With his issues with running water, Jack won't be able to reach her in time. Norma (captor lady) has orders, and if she thinks something's wrong, Bobbi's dead.
“Good,” he murmured. “Real good.” He took the dress from me, folding and rolling it into a ball. “I don’t blame you. She’s a classy twist. Nice, like I always wanted to get for myself. She needed a lot of help getting out of this. I had to hold her down while Norma did the honors. I like ‘em to fight, y’know? That always gets me going. A body like that must feel good under you, huh?”
Oh, I hope this guy dies slowly.
Jack freaks out a little at that:
“Shut up!”
He abruptly stepped away from the window. Norma pushed Bobbi under. I grabbed for him, but he dodged.
“Say you’re sorry.”
“I’m sorry! Damn it, come back! I’m sorry!”
He eased back. Norma brought her up again. Bobbi’s eyes flickered groggily, and her head lolled.
“Again, like you mean it.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered sincerely, but it was to Bobbi.
“You promise to behave?”
I nodded. Tried to swallow. Couldn’t.
His smile returned. “That’s real good.”
So yeah, this is a scary situation with people who really really get their rocks off by making people suffer. So what the fuck is going on.
We find out, as Malcolm tells someone they can come out now:
A door scraped open, a rubbing, grating sound crawled over the floor, and she rolled into sight. The harsh yellow light did funny things to colors and Gaylen’s blue eyes had faded to a pale, cold gray. She was in her wheelchair with the rubber-tipped cane across her knees. She looked up frowning. Malcolm turned to face the window, giving us a kind of privacy. Neither of us spoke, each holding still like actors at the end of a play before the lights go out and the curtain falls.
See, Gaylen really really wants to be a vampire. Maureen refused to do it. Jack realizes, looking at the acid in Gaylen's eyes, what Maureen had really been running from five years ago. She'd left to protect him. If she hadn't, Jack realizes, it would have been him in Bobbi's place, with Maureen in his own.
Gaylen is adamant, of course. Old age sucks, undeath would have to be better. It's almost hard to blame her...IF she wasn't drowning an innocent woman. As it is, I wouldn't want to see someone like this get vampiric powers. Gaylen is sure that, as Maureen's sister, she'll change too.
Jack asks about Braxton. She'd tried to explain, but he was too pigheaded to listen. Jack says that he was a nuisance, but not a real danger and didn't deserve to die. Gaylen says he did if she wanted to make Jack understand how serious she is. It could have been anyone, including Jack's detective friend.
Now both of Jack's loves are in danger.
Gaylen lays out her terms though: do what she wants and Bobbi goes free. He knows what'll happen otherwise.
Jack tries to get her to let Bobbi go first, but Gaylen's got all the cards. And Malcolm is staying to watch and "take steps" if something looks wrong.
And here we reach the point that I warned about...
“Come over here,” she repeated. She extended her left arm, wrist up, blue veins bulging slightly beneath the thin crinkled skin. “Now. Do it now.”
At least I’d be spared the intimate contact with her throat. To save Bobbi I would have done even that, but the thought of touching her in this way was sickening, and it showed on my face. She waited, though, until I moved a few reluctant steps closer. Her eyes took in every movement, as did Malcolm’s. It was worse than being naked.
“Now, Jack,” she whispered.
It really does read like we're watching a man forced to participate in his own rape. I want a shower.
To add to the overtones of the scene, Jack tells us that his body isn't cooperating. He hasn't fed yet, so he's hungry, but he lacks the will to overcome physical revulsion with physical need.
My mouth came within an inch of the crepe-textured flesh, smelling faintly of some kind of soap and with a smear of paint on the upturned wrist. She painted pictures.
“Now.”
Pictures of flowers. What had Pruitt said about flowers? Roses for Bobbi, fading now, and I had to do this or Bobbi—
“Now.”
Damn her. With cattle in the Stockyards it was simple feeding, a necessary chore. With Bobbi it was the only means left to express physical love. With Gaylen it was obscene and humiliating, and blinding white fury was the result. Most of my concentration was on holding in the rage or the old woman would find herself and her chair crashing through one of the walls.
Jack tries something else. He tries to get her to meet his eyes, orders her to look at him. But Gaylen knows how this works and calls Malcolm over. Jack backs down. But he's angry enough that his teeth finally extend. He starts to drink, trying to pretend it's a routine feeding, realizing that if he stopped now, he wouldn't be able to start again.
The sexual assault metaphor continues, as Jack tells us the worst of it. Blood is blood, and his body starts to accept and react to it. He clamps down harder, intending to drain her dry and deal with Malcolm. He plans to break his mind open like a tin can, without caring about any damage as long as he freed Bobbi.
Gaylen tells him that's enough, but Jack tells US, not her: "No, now I make my own choice."
He monologues (mentally) about how he'll drain her to death, until all that's left is a hundred pounds of carcass and a bad memory. But Gaylen isn't alone. She calls for Malcolm, who hits him square in the head with Gaylen's WOODEN cane.
Jack's aware, but unresponsive, as the other two talk above him. Gaylen uses a handkerchief to staunch the blood flow as they stare down at jack. Malcolm drags him by the ankles out of the room and to the stairwell. Malcolm helps Gaylen, "as solicitous as any boy scout helping an old lady across the street".
It's time for the second part of the equation. She cuts into Jack's throat and starts to drink from the open wound. Jack isn't sure how much is necessary, but Gaylen keeps drinking until she physically has to stop. Malcolm asks if he can drink too, but Gaylen promises she'll turn him later.
Yeah, I saw Dracula's Daughter, dude. I know what this means. The male underling never gets the bite. Sorry dude.
But Malcolm isn't as cynical as I am. Gaylen tells him to finish it:
Malcolm’s upside-down image was smiling at me; it grinned, it giggled. A long pole was in his hands, one chiseled end protected by a sharp metal tip to keep the point on the wood from splintering.
Panic roared up and took over. I tried to vanish and felt only a flicker of response brush over the nerves. The shock of the wooden cane had been too much. I needed more time and had none. My hands came up in a feeble effort to push away the tip of the pole. There was no strength in them. I was absolutely, utterly—oh, God… wo…
With all his weight behind it, he rammed the thing into my chest and blood shot up and out. My body shook and bucked as if with seizure, hands clawed, legs kicked. A terrible suffocating weight settled on me, crushing and smothering out the life.
He pushed once more and the shattering, engulfing agony negated all thought and effort as a dying animal’s shrieks filled the building; ugly, frightening screams that shook the walls and went on and on until there was no more air for the lungs to push out. The mouth hung uselessly open, and the last echoes hammered down the stairs and were finally lost in the darkness below.
Well. That was a fucking disturbing chapter. And I'll probably be changing the warning tag eventually when I find one that really seems to fit what happened.
This chapter needs a warning. But to be honest, I'm not really sure WHAT warning would be appropriate here. We have someone forced to take part in an act perceived as sex or nourishment. The latter is clearly not the purpose in this case. Is there a such thing as symbolic or metaphoric sexual assault?
That's not the only awful thing in this chapter either. Brace yourself!
So we rejoin Jack as he's lying on the floor. He's alive, of course, as he's a vampire, but he's not feeling great. Getting shot hurts. He manages to get to his feet, but Malcolm's gone. Braxton is dead. Matheus Webber is still alive though, albeit a bit traumatized looking. Jack goes mist form and tries to chase Malcolm.
He finds someone with Malcolm's coat, but it turns out to be a drunk guy. Malcolm had given him his coat "for a joke", and has gone out another way. Jack finds the doorman, reports that there's been an accident and goes back to hunt for Malcolm. No luck.
Upstairs, things are crowded. And worse, there's no sign of Bobbi or Marza. Everyone is freaked out and panicking. But the elevator operator did end up seeing Bobbi leave with Marza and some others. Jack tries to catch up with them, but fails. He figures Marza dragged Bobbi out to protect her. But when he gets back to Bobbi's hotel, Marza is there alone, and pissed.
“Where’s Bobbi?”
Her body was shaking inside the green frame of her dress. “Who were they?” If looks could kill, I’d be on a slab next to Braxton. She started for me, her hands reaching. One of her inch-long talons had broken, but there were still nine more left and aimed at my face. I dropped the envelope, caught her arms in time, and held her at a safe distance. She kicked and struggled until she ran out of breath, then her knees gave out and she sank to the floor, trying not to sob from frustration.
I really do love Marza.
Jack gets the story out of her. There was a blond man with a gun and a woman with a knife. Jack notices the envelope (Phil the hotel detective had given it to him when he'd come in) and opens it. It's "platinum silk." Bobbi's hair. Damn.
Marza nearly faints, but Jack quickly gets her a straight triple and makes her drink it. I'm not really pro-manhandling here, but I can appreciate that these are dire circumstances. Marza regains composure, and Jack finds a message with the envelope that reads:
Sit tight or we'll give the whore more than just a haircut.
Then there's a phone call. Bobbi's on the other end. She says Jack and Marza's names, but gets caught up quickly. Poor Marza keeps trying to get a straight answer from Jack as to what these people want. Jack can't give her one. Finally he spills: the guy with the gun is Malcolm, he claims to be a private eye and he killed Braxton. He asks about the woman with the knife.
Marza gives a description: about her own age, bony and "hungry" with crazy eyes. They told Marza to go to the hotel and wait for Jack.
Someone knocks at the door. Madison Pruitt. He's completely clueless and Jack was about to make him leave, but Marza asks him to let Pruitt in instead. She even says please, which means she's very thrown.
I didn’t exactly want to, but she looked like she needed him and pulled him inside. She wrapped her arms around him. He didn’t understand what was going on, but instinctively offered what comfort he could.
Aw. I like Bobbi's friends.
Jack realizes that there'll be more people coming soon for the party, and tells Marza that she'll have to get rid of them. Marza asks what they can do. Jack basically says that they need to stay calm. The police are out, unfortunately.
Then another phone call: Malcolm this time. He has Bobbi, of course. She's unharmed, for now. He gives Jack an address, tells him to come alone. And he notes that while he can't hurt Jack, he CAN hurt the people around him. Jack has ten minutes before Bobbi "goes into surgery" and won't be using mirrors either, for a different reason.
Poor Marza still isn't getting any answers, but Jack gives her Escott's name and his hotel and tells her that Escott can help.
The address led to a warehouse that was a mountain of dingy red bricks and old wood held together by crumbling mortar and rusty nails. The street was deserted, the other nearby structures hollow and silent except for the rats. It was a good spot to kill someone. The river was only ten feet from the back entrance, and a body could easily be slipped unnoticed into the oily water on a black night.
The building was three stories tall, and a faint light shone in one of the top windows, outlining Malcolm’s head and shoulders. He took his hat off and waved it. There was nothing else to do but go inside and see the setup. They knew what I was and what my capabilities were, but Malcolm was supremely confident, and that meant a bad situation for Bobbi. I glared at the grinning, waving figure, then tore open the warehouse door and left it on the walk.
I like this description. Anyway, Malcolm greets Jack, calling him "the death of the party". He takes Jack farther into the warehouse. Lots of bare bulbs, broken glass and so on. He gives Jack a parcel to open: it contains Bobbi's red silk dress. This is a mistake, as it leads to almost getting strangled by vampire.
But he's got a trick up his sleeve:
His eyes rolled toward the window and I followed their path.
The river was night black and smooth, stray lights caught in the surface barely moving. Below the window was a concrete loading pier with metal rings set in it. A length of rope was tied to one, and the other end went to an old flat-bottomed boat floating some thirty feet out. The woman Marza described crouched in the boat, leaning over its near side with her hand in the water. She was looking anxiously up at us.
“Let… go… now,” he gasped out urgently, and his distorted tone suddenly convinced me. I released him and backed away so that we were clearly separated.
The woman in the boat took her hand out of the water and pulled on another piece of rope as though for an anchor, but instead a head broke the surface. It shook and shuddered, water streaming only from the nose, because the mouth was taped shut. Her eyes were bulging with utter terror.
That's not good at all.
Malcolm tells us she's tied up like a mummy and weighted down. With his issues with running water, Jack won't be able to reach her in time. Norma (captor lady) has orders, and if she thinks something's wrong, Bobbi's dead.
“Good,” he murmured. “Real good.” He took the dress from me, folding and rolling it into a ball. “I don’t blame you. She’s a classy twist. Nice, like I always wanted to get for myself. She needed a lot of help getting out of this. I had to hold her down while Norma did the honors. I like ‘em to fight, y’know? That always gets me going. A body like that must feel good under you, huh?”
Oh, I hope this guy dies slowly.
Jack freaks out a little at that:
“Shut up!”
He abruptly stepped away from the window. Norma pushed Bobbi under. I grabbed for him, but he dodged.
“Say you’re sorry.”
“I’m sorry! Damn it, come back! I’m sorry!”
He eased back. Norma brought her up again. Bobbi’s eyes flickered groggily, and her head lolled.
“Again, like you mean it.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered sincerely, but it was to Bobbi.
“You promise to behave?”
I nodded. Tried to swallow. Couldn’t.
His smile returned. “That’s real good.”
So yeah, this is a scary situation with people who really really get their rocks off by making people suffer. So what the fuck is going on.
We find out, as Malcolm tells someone they can come out now:
A door scraped open, a rubbing, grating sound crawled over the floor, and she rolled into sight. The harsh yellow light did funny things to colors and Gaylen’s blue eyes had faded to a pale, cold gray. She was in her wheelchair with the rubber-tipped cane across her knees. She looked up frowning. Malcolm turned to face the window, giving us a kind of privacy. Neither of us spoke, each holding still like actors at the end of a play before the lights go out and the curtain falls.
See, Gaylen really really wants to be a vampire. Maureen refused to do it. Jack realizes, looking at the acid in Gaylen's eyes, what Maureen had really been running from five years ago. She'd left to protect him. If she hadn't, Jack realizes, it would have been him in Bobbi's place, with Maureen in his own.
Gaylen is adamant, of course. Old age sucks, undeath would have to be better. It's almost hard to blame her...IF she wasn't drowning an innocent woman. As it is, I wouldn't want to see someone like this get vampiric powers. Gaylen is sure that, as Maureen's sister, she'll change too.
Jack asks about Braxton. She'd tried to explain, but he was too pigheaded to listen. Jack says that he was a nuisance, but not a real danger and didn't deserve to die. Gaylen says he did if she wanted to make Jack understand how serious she is. It could have been anyone, including Jack's detective friend.
Now both of Jack's loves are in danger.
Gaylen lays out her terms though: do what she wants and Bobbi goes free. He knows what'll happen otherwise.
Jack tries to get her to let Bobbi go first, but Gaylen's got all the cards. And Malcolm is staying to watch and "take steps" if something looks wrong.
And here we reach the point that I warned about...
“Come over here,” she repeated. She extended her left arm, wrist up, blue veins bulging slightly beneath the thin crinkled skin. “Now. Do it now.”
At least I’d be spared the intimate contact with her throat. To save Bobbi I would have done even that, but the thought of touching her in this way was sickening, and it showed on my face. She waited, though, until I moved a few reluctant steps closer. Her eyes took in every movement, as did Malcolm’s. It was worse than being naked.
“Now, Jack,” she whispered.
It really does read like we're watching a man forced to participate in his own rape. I want a shower.
To add to the overtones of the scene, Jack tells us that his body isn't cooperating. He hasn't fed yet, so he's hungry, but he lacks the will to overcome physical revulsion with physical need.
My mouth came within an inch of the crepe-textured flesh, smelling faintly of some kind of soap and with a smear of paint on the upturned wrist. She painted pictures.
“Now.”
Pictures of flowers. What had Pruitt said about flowers? Roses for Bobbi, fading now, and I had to do this or Bobbi—
“Now.”
Damn her. With cattle in the Stockyards it was simple feeding, a necessary chore. With Bobbi it was the only means left to express physical love. With Gaylen it was obscene and humiliating, and blinding white fury was the result. Most of my concentration was on holding in the rage or the old woman would find herself and her chair crashing through one of the walls.
Jack tries something else. He tries to get her to meet his eyes, orders her to look at him. But Gaylen knows how this works and calls Malcolm over. Jack backs down. But he's angry enough that his teeth finally extend. He starts to drink, trying to pretend it's a routine feeding, realizing that if he stopped now, he wouldn't be able to start again.
The sexual assault metaphor continues, as Jack tells us the worst of it. Blood is blood, and his body starts to accept and react to it. He clamps down harder, intending to drain her dry and deal with Malcolm. He plans to break his mind open like a tin can, without caring about any damage as long as he freed Bobbi.
Gaylen tells him that's enough, but Jack tells US, not her: "No, now I make my own choice."
He monologues (mentally) about how he'll drain her to death, until all that's left is a hundred pounds of carcass and a bad memory. But Gaylen isn't alone. She calls for Malcolm, who hits him square in the head with Gaylen's WOODEN cane.
Jack's aware, but unresponsive, as the other two talk above him. Gaylen uses a handkerchief to staunch the blood flow as they stare down at jack. Malcolm drags him by the ankles out of the room and to the stairwell. Malcolm helps Gaylen, "as solicitous as any boy scout helping an old lady across the street".
It's time for the second part of the equation. She cuts into Jack's throat and starts to drink from the open wound. Jack isn't sure how much is necessary, but Gaylen keeps drinking until she physically has to stop. Malcolm asks if he can drink too, but Gaylen promises she'll turn him later.
Yeah, I saw Dracula's Daughter, dude. I know what this means. The male underling never gets the bite. Sorry dude.
But Malcolm isn't as cynical as I am. Gaylen tells him to finish it:
Malcolm’s upside-down image was smiling at me; it grinned, it giggled. A long pole was in his hands, one chiseled end protected by a sharp metal tip to keep the point on the wood from splintering.
Panic roared up and took over. I tried to vanish and felt only a flicker of response brush over the nerves. The shock of the wooden cane had been too much. I needed more time and had none. My hands came up in a feeble effort to push away the tip of the pole. There was no strength in them. I was absolutely, utterly—oh, God… wo…
With all his weight behind it, he rammed the thing into my chest and blood shot up and out. My body shook and bucked as if with seizure, hands clawed, legs kicked. A terrible suffocating weight settled on me, crushing and smothering out the life.
He pushed once more and the shattering, engulfing agony negated all thought and effort as a dying animal’s shrieks filled the building; ugly, frightening screams that shook the walls and went on and on until there was no more air for the lungs to push out. The mouth hung uselessly open, and the last echoes hammered down the stairs and were finally lost in the darkness below.
Well. That was a fucking disturbing chapter. And I'll probably be changing the warning tag eventually when I find one that really seems to fit what happened.