"Rain"
Part 3
by Beryll & Osiris Brackhaus

 

- Colin -

What a dreadful night, I thought, as I crouched on the edge of the roof, head ducked low, ears flat against my skull, paws and tail tugged underneath myself. Not that it helped much, I was wet to the skin anyway, my black pelt shiny with rain, not with natural gloss. What a horrible, disgusting night.

And the worst possible night for hunting. My sharp ears were deafened by the constant sound of raindrops hitting various surfaces, my keen nose was rendered useless by ungodly amounts of water drowning any scent. The only sense serving me right now were my eyes and there truly wasn't much to see.

The gray veil of water rushing from the sky covered everything. The streets of the Beaubourg lay deserted. Obviously the local hookers had finally heeded the police's warning to stay off the streets and had moved elsewhere. Probably because customers had grown scarce as well.

Still I was here and my instincts told me that my quarry was out on the hunt as well. He had killed two nights in a row and somehow I knew that he would crave blood again tonight. He would not stop now until he was caught or there was no warm body to be found in all of Paris. And I wanted to find him before he moved on to another quarter, making it even harder for me to hunt him down.

The decision to actually go out and hunt had been made, after Michael had left my boat this evening to go out and work. The thought of seeing him in the news broadcast soon, as dead as all the other, had made my skin crawl.

At least Michael had asked me where he would find wealthy customers and I had safely send him to Montparnasse, where he would not be in danger. For now.

I had expressly warned him away from the Beaubourg, explaining about the killer, giving him one of the old newspapers with a picture of one of the victims. He had looked appropriately scared. Hopefully he was not one of the guys who had to prove how brave they were by facing unnecessary danger head on.

Thoughtfully I started chewing on one of my wet paws, cleaning the claws with a canine.

Why was I thinking about my latest house guest so much, when I should be considering how to find a mad bloodsucker in this equally mad weather?

Granted, the fuck this morning had been spectacular. But there had been others before him and it was not that unusual for a human to completely lose himself when he was with me. Nothing charms as thoroughly as a cat.

Maybe it was because he was not a docile little thing, but a strong willed - and muscled - man himself, somebody I actually had to use a little effort to dominate. My ears twitched nervously at the thought of how it would feel, to let him be on top, to let him fuck me with those strong hands holding me down, with his cock moving inside me forcefully. It was an enticing thought indeed. And I was rather sure he would be inclined to oblige.

Maybe when I got back in the morning. After all I deserved a treat after braving this weather to save the city from a mad killer. If he wasn't too tired or worn out.

Or maybe we could curl up in from of the fireplace and he could scratch my chin and belly, making me forget feeling wet and uncomfortable. I sighed deeply. That wouldn't happen. He'd probably run from the boat screaming in panic if he ever found out what I really was, if he ever saw me in my panther form. But what a nice thing to dream about...

I got up from my crouching position, my tail flicking nervously. Time to move on to another roof, check another street. This one would probably remain deserted for the rest of the night.

Mentally I cursed myself. Why had I not used last night to try and find the killer. The rain had relented sometime after Michael had fallen asleep on my couch and listening to nothing but my grumbling stomach I had headed out of the city to hunt.

The wild boar I had killed had been delicious but still it would have been more sensible to spend the night looking for the mad bloodsucker. Especially as he had been out last night and there would have been a good chance I would have been able to put him out of his misery.

I lengthened my stride till I was jogging along the edge of the roofs at a leisurely pace, jumping the gaps in between without paying much attention to them.

I was at home on the roofs of Paris as much as one of my entirely feline brethren would have been at home in the jungles. It was a vastly different hunting ground - yes - but it had become as much a home as a place build and crowded by humans could be for somebody with a nose as delicate as mine.

Scanning the streets below seemed futile, as there was nothing to be seen but parked cars and water, rushing towards the ground and than along the streets in tiny streams.

I was close to giving up when a movement near one of the old fashioned street lamps caught my attention. Crouching low again I took a closer look and immediately felt the wet fur on my neck bristle.

The idiot. The fucking idiot!

It was Michael, leaning against the pole of the lamp, his leather jacket open and revealing smooth naked skin underneath, his jeans wet and clinging to his skin so tightly I could make out the curve of his cock even from the roof. He really did not leave any doubt of what he offered. And as he was the only living, breathing thing in the streets of the Beaubourg tonight he would certainly draw the bloodsucker's attention sooner or later.

And I had hoped he was one of the brighter kids. Silly me.

Then something else moved on the other side of the street. Only a shadow twisting revealing something that might be a dark coat but it was enough to be picked up by my keen and alerted senses.

Pressing my body flat against the rooftop my eyes turned to angry slits as I concentrated on the figure, swatted in shadow, lurking in the mouth of a dark alley across from the circle of light the street lamp cast.

There he was. The prey I had been looking for, lured out into the open by the delicious bait displayed in front of him. I couldn't have said what made me so sure it was him but there was no doubt in my mind. All my instincts practically screamed at me to jump the bloodsucker and tear him to shreds.

I felt like hitting Michael. Repeatedly.

It would have been so simple to wait for the bloodsucker to make his move. To wait till he was happily feeding on the poor, wet human.

But no matter how hard I tried, no matter how clearly I could hear my brother Orlando's mocking voice in my mind, chiding me for caring for a mere human, I could not bring myself to sacrifice Michael to complete my hunt tonight.

So I quickly and soundlessly moved along the edge of the roof and jumped over to the next and then down to the street well outside of sight or hearing of Michael and the bloodsucker.

Having jumped from a three story building the impact reverberated through my paws, leaving an unpleasant burning sensation for a moment but I ignored it, instead quickly shifting back to my human form. I had to get my house guest out of this place. Quickly.

Shoving my fists into the pockets of my jacket I walked down the street, making sure that both Michael and the bloodsucker could hear me approach well before I was in sight. I fervently hoped the bloodsucker would withdraw and search for another prey instead of attacking the two of us. The very last thing I wanted now was to fight the nuthead right in front of my cute pleasure boy. That would have meant shifting to feline form.

I could not completely ban the grim and angry expression from my face, as I stepped into the circle of light. I saw something like shock flicker across Michael's face. So he was scared. Good. Maybe that would keep him away from the Beaubourg from now on.

"What are you doing here?" he asked before I could voice the exact same question.

Fuck. What was I to say to that? 'I'm hunting a mad serial killer' did not sound like a wise answer. Better to ignore the question altogether.

"That's what I should be asking you!" I replied, my anger showing in my voice. "Didn't I tell you to fucking stay away from this quarter?"

Anger sparked in his eyes too and he stared at me for a moment, his expression cold and hostile.

"I don't remember you being my boss or something." he then snarled. "If I decide to work these streets then I do. What's it to you?"

Stupid little shit.

I glanced over at the alley mouth where I still felt the bloodsucker hiding. His gaze was practically drilling holes in my back. He really, really wanted me to leave. But I would not do him that favor, not without my boy.

"You think I want to have the cops come knocking on my door tomorrow when they find your dead body on a rooftop? You'll come with me right now. And you'll not work in the Beaubourg again unless they catch that killer or you leave my boat. Is that clear?!"

Please make him be a good kid, I prayed silently, please make him listen.

But Michael just glared at me, planting his feet in a definite 'I won't budge' position. Well, if that was how he wanted to play it...

I grabbed his arm and forcefully hauled him along the street, ignoring his struggles. After a few steps he relented and just walked beside me.

"You little idiot," I chided him in a more conciliatory tone, "don't throw your life away like that. Please."

"Nobody's out here anyway." he grumbled. "So I can just as well try my luck elsewhere."

Thank goodness, I thought.

Then I glanced over my shoulder. Just as I had expected the bloodsucker had emerged from the shadows to glare after us. A long dark coat concealed most of his body, but I could clearly make out the gleam of elongated fangs and the yellowish white mane of hair. For a tiny moment, I let myself shift partially, canines extending, eyes growing green and catlike, showing my fangs in a predatory snarl to him. The message was clear: Keep away from what's mine! With satisfaction I watched as the bloodsucker quickly withdrew.

"I can take care of myself." Michael continued his complaints.

Yeah, sure, I thought, if you were able to take care of yourself you wouldn't be selling your body in the streets. But of course I didn't say that. I knew full well how touchy boys like him were when it came to topics like 'freedom' and 'pride'.

So I said: "I'm sure all the other boys thought they could take care of themselves, too."

That at least gave him some pause and we walked through the rain quietly.

Slowly my own anger receded and I sneaked my arm around Michael's hips, drawing him closer to me. He only resisted for a moment, then put his arm around my shoulders.

"Hey," I said, more worry than I would have expected creeping into my voice, "sorry for shouting at you. I was just really scared to find you here. Don't want to see you die too."

He just nodded, thoughtful and slightly distant, even though I could feel the warmth of his body against mine. Hopefully he wouldn't just pack his stuff and leave the boat now. In the few hours he had been there I had already grown to like him. Curse my soft heart. I just fell for the pretty boys too easily.

We continued in silence, crossing the river over the Isle de la Cite and entering the Quartier Latin. I knew that here he would be safe. This was my territory and the other not entirely human creatures that shared the city with me knew full well that hunting here would get them in deep trouble with an extremely angry werepanther.

I stopped when we were just over the bridge. "I'll be heading home," I said, as my houseboat was close by and it would therefore sound credible, "please promise you'll not go back, will you?"

He again nodded. "Yeah, okay, I won't go back tonight." he agreed.

The defiance in his voice was obvious and daring me to put on more pressure. But I didn't let him lure me. I didn't want to argue with him, I just wanted to see him stay alive.

"Take care." I told him in parting and then turned to head down the river towards my boat. Just like I had felt with the bloodsucker, I could now feel his eyes following me till the veil of rain had swallowed me.

I continued a few more paces, then turned into one of the small alleys and quickly shifted to my catform. I had not intention whatsoever of returning to the boat. With only three leaps, using a fire escape and a balcony as stepping stones I was up on the roof, jogging back along the rooftops to where I had left Michael.

No matter what his promise, I didn't trust him to keep it. I would keep an eye on him to see him safely returned to the boat in the morning. How I was going to find the time to hunt the bloodsucker when I had to play bodyguard for a hooker was beyond me right now, but I didn't care.

He was still standing where I had left him, thoughtfully staring in the direction where I had disappeared, sucking on his lower lip. He didn't look happy. Not at all. The cold expression had left his face and now he looked thoroughly unhappy and a bit scared.

My heart did a little leap of joy. So he did feel something for me. And just maybe he wasn't that angry either. Maybe he even felt a bit bad for upsetting me even if he would never admit it to my face.

Finally he turned around and headed deeper into the Quartier Latin to find himself a customer. There were plenty of tourists here, even in the god-awful weather, so he would have a selection to chose from.

I studiously ignored the pang of jealousy I felt at that thought.

Prowling along the edge of the roof I followed him, till he stopped at a corner under the canopy of a closed street cafe. There he leaned against the wall, again assuming his 'offering posture'.

I made myself as comfortable as I could on the cold, wet rooftop, again tugging paws and tail underneath myself. This really was not a nice night. And the thought of having to watch him service some fat customer in a car was anything but pleasant.

My ears flicked in irritation. Maybe I would have done better to have fed him to the bloodsucker. I was dangerously getting attached here. Falling in love with a whore never was a good thing, as the Argentinean in 'Moulin Rouge' had so aptly explained.

For more than an hour, nothing happened and I allowed my eyes to drift nearly shut, dozing, dreaming of pleasant things like sleeping in front of my fireplace, chewing on a big fat rat, having my fur groomed by one of my sibs...

Still I was awake immediately when finally a car stopped in front of Michael and he walked forward to talk to the driver. I could make him out well enough to be sure that it was not the bloodsucker. So I resigned myself to watching while they agreed on a price and Michael then got in on the passenger side.

Then I followed as the car slowly made its way through the streets. I expected it to stop somewhere in some parking lot or maybe even at a house or cheap hotel if the customer wanted more than a quick fuck, but instead they kept driving around the Quartier Latin and I could catch glimpses of them talking now and then.

Now what the hell was this? Who was this guy who was obviously friends with my current house guest?

My curiosity sparked and so did my distrust. Michael had said he had just come to Paris. So why did he have a regular customer who just wanted to talk instead of fuck? It couldn't be a friend after all. They could just as well have met in a bar then. Or at least have gone to one instead of driving around.

Obviously my dear kid had something to hide a well.

I wasn't really sure what to make of this but damn me if I just let it rest.

When they stopped in front of the same cafe where the guy had picked up Michael, I pricked up my ears to maybe pick up a shred of conversation as they said goodbye.

But all I caught was Michael saying: "See you, Alain." as he closed the car door.

I snarled softly at the rain. Alain, huh? So they called each other by first name. This time the pang of jealousy was too strong to be ignored.

I watched as Michael watched the car drive away. Then Michael turned, obviously heading home towards my boat. For a long moment I was not sure what to do. Just run ahead and pretend I had been there all along or corner him right now and demand an explanation. Probably the first would have been the wiser but my curiosity was killing me.

So I again jumped down from the roof, shifting back to my human form. This time I waited for him behind a corner, extending my foot just in time to have him tripping over it. He caught his balance again quickly, just stumbling a pace. Then he turned around, falling into a well practiced fighting stance. Interesting.

He quickly abandoned that when he recognized me, but his lips pressed together and there remained a tension in his lean body that assured me that he was quite ready to defend himself. He was angry again.

"Who is Alain?" I asked before he could regain his calm.

He blinked at me in as much surprise as I had hoped. Then his eyes narrowed. "You followed me!" he accused angrily.

There was no use in denying it. "Yes," I said, "I followed you. So who is Alain? And why did you just go for a cruise?"

It was like a shutter closed, his eyes suddenly cold and flat, displaying no emotion whatsoever. "That's none of your business." he answered coldly. "What were you doing in the Beaubourg?"

For a long moment we stared at each other and I had to fight really hard to keep myself from growling at him. What the hell was he thinking who he was to glare at me that accusingly. The killer?

That thought made me pause. Maybe he did think I was the serial killer. After all I didn't have a plausible explanation what I had been doing in the quarter I had so vehemently warned him away from. Fuck.

I closed my eyes, drawing a deep breath, and fought to regain my composure. There was no sense in snarling at him. He wouldn't tell me what I wanted to know anyway. I would have to find out myself. In less obvious ways.

"I'm sorry I followed you." I said when I was able to trust my own voice again. "I shouldn't have. I was just worried about you." I gave him my best cute smile.

Immediately his eyes softened and suddenly he hugged me fiercely. Not really sure how I had earned that change in behavior I wrapped my arms around him too, holding him against me with a healthy dose of apprehension.

"It's okay," he whispered, nuzzling my ear, "I'm not angry." Then his tongue licked along the shell of my ear, teasing it seductively.

I gently separated from him. I was absolutely not in the mood for that right now. But looking up at him I saw the same hunger gleam in his eyes that had been there this morning. Little slut.

"Let's go home," I said before he could move closer again, "we're both wet to the bone and need some sleep."

"It's not sleep I want." he purred throatily.

Yeah, I can see that, I thought. "But it's what I want, honey." I said.

He pouted prettily. "I'm a whore, I can't deal with rejection." he complained, licking his lips invitingly.

I felt like shaking my head in disbelieve. What a cocky little shit. I dug into the pocket of my jacket and pulled out some ten Euro notes, then took his hand and deposited them there. "Here," I said, "just imagine we fucked, okay?"

He stared at me in open mouthed indignation. I just smiled and finally he got over it and laughed too, though it did sound a bit fake. He did shove the money in the back pocket of his jeans, though.

I was relieved when he again draped his arm around my shoulder, snuggling close to me for the walk back to the boat. Somehow I would have hated for him to be angry at me. Even if he wasn't telling me everything about himself and was an ungrateful little bastard.

 

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Osiris Brackhaus & Beryll

go to PART 4

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