"Rain"
Part 5
by Beryll & Osiris Brackhaus

 

- Colin -

Another cold wet and dreary night in Paris. The rain seemed to have slowed down a little, but weather forecasts for the weekend predicted more water from above.

I raised the collar of my jacket to protect my neck from the icy water dripping from my hair into my shirt. Another terrible night to be outside.

Quietly I swore to myself that it would be the last one. I would find that sicko bloodsucker and end his existence. And then I would deal with the consequences.

Grimly I snarled at the world in general and the rain in particular. The day had not exactly been pleasing.

I had only slept two or three hours, before I got up and heard the news on the radio. Another hooker found dead. Murdered no more than a few yards from where I had found Michael. I had cursed myself long and hard for my idiocy. Why the hell had I followed Michael? I should have headed right back to where I had seen the bloodsucker. I might have been able to catch him. But no, my soft heart had bound me to that little bastard, who didn't deserve my care.

Cause he had sneaked into my home, pretending to be a hooker when really he was a fucking cop. Because he had sneaked into my heart as well. Probably fully on purpose because I was on their list of suspects.

I felt like hitting something but just kept up my brisk pace.

It hadn't even been very hard to find out his real identity. I thought back to the morning again, remembering how he had stared at me in shock when I mentioned the little detail that the bodies had been found drained of blood. I hadn't done that on purpose. It had just slipped. But to him it must have been like a red flag going up, proving that I indeed was the serial killer.

He had stumbled outside wearing nothing but a towel and I had used the opportunity to search his stuff to find any cue on who 'Alain' might be, not yet suspecting that he was a cop. I hadn't found any kind of official ID which was odd in itself. But forgotten in an inside pocket of his jacket there had been his ID card for a Paris public library. Issued 1998. With his address on it.

I am a cat. I smell when something is fishy from a mile away. This was as fishy as a tank of tuna and anger had started to stir in my heart. He had lied to me. Right from the start.

So I had quickly jotted down the address, putting his stuff back into place and sitting at the kitchen table again when he came back in.

Of course he had wanted to leave quickly. Looking back now I was pretty sure that he had made his way to his department to tell them that he was sure I was the killer they were looking for. That he would try and get them hard evidence as quickly as possible so they could arrest me. Bastard. Fucking bastard.

I had gone to the address on his library card. A nice, cozy flat in a nice cozy quarter of Paris. A respectable place. It had taken me about 2 minutes to pick the lock and slip inside. There was evidence of his real life all over the place. Framed certificates on the wall, pictures taken with colleagues.

Still I had felt a strange warmth in my heart that he obviously lived there on his own. That there were no pictures of a 'significant other' anywhere.

I kicked an iron fence hard. Why the fucking hell couldn't I be angry with the bastard?

At least now I knew why he had been in the Beaubourg despite my warning. He had been looking for the killer, too. Of course he couldn't know that this particular killer could rip him to shreds just as easily as he could drain any hooker. And brave cop Michael would probably be heading out again tonight to protect the innocent. Thinking that he was protecting them from me.

Had I been in feline form already, my fur would have been twitching and my tail flicking nervously.

Michael had to be convinced that I was the killer by now. So why had he still come back to the house boat and shared dinner with me?

It had been an odd affair, to say the least. Both of us chatting amiably about how we had spend the afternoon. Me making up funny stories about the kids that I had taken on a tour through the Louvre - I had called in sick right after Michael had left the house boat earlier, just as I had called the Chez Chantale to let them know I wouldn't be playing tonight. He telling me about his stroll through Paris when he had probably spend the afternoon swapping theories with his cop colleagues. Both of us pretending we were a perfectly ordinary happy couple. Which we absolutely weren't - even discounting the fact that he was a cop and I was a werepanther.

That might have been explained with him being send back to watch me.

But that he had again kissed me after dinner couldn't be explained. That he had pressed against me with all the hunger of a predator, his hands roaming my body as if he was afraid it might disappear if he didn't grab it hard. That he had looked at me with pained pleading, whispering: "Fuck me, Colin, fuck me hard!", that just didn't make sense.

What sick bastard would beg a serial killer to fuck him?

It had sparked anger in me. And disgust. And a purely animalistic need to subjugate him. To make him mine. To fuck any thought out of his brain.

So I had grabbed him by the neck, slammed him against the wall right next to the kitchen counter, held him there, flattened against the wooden boards, breathing hard, shaking slightly, smelling of arousal and fear and something I couldn't quite place.

It had taken only moments to open both our jeans, to yank his down violently, making him yelp in pain and anticipation. This time I hadn't taken the time to prepare him. I had pushed into him roughly, cruelly and I had felt disgust at both of us when he pushed back eagerly.

I had fucked him as hard as I could, making him whimper in pain and mindless passion, reaching around him to stroke his rock hard cock in time with my thrusts. He had found his release quickly, howling in mindless pleasure, probably not even noticing that I hadn't come.

Only when I had rested my face against his shoulder, trying to catch my breath had I noticed that I had been crying while I fucked him.

It hurt. It hurt so fucking much. That he had lied to me, that he didn't trust me, that he thought I was a sick monster even though he didn't even know I was a werecreature. Even though it was him who had made me violate him.

It was him who was sick. It was him I loved so much and just wanted to protect.

I had wiped my tears away before I slipped from him, tugging myself away before he even caught his breath enough to turn around. I left the boat quickly, without another glance at him. Without giving him a chance to see how much he had upset me.

If there had just been a way to warn him without revealing what I was and what this serial killer was.

As it was, I would have to find the bloodsucker and destroy it before it could do more harm. Before it could harm Michael. And then - just maybe - I could start to sort out what was between me and that mad cop.

I had reached the Beaubourg. The streets were just as empty as the previous night. But I would fight the monster. And I would teach it that there were worse nightmares to be found in the streets of Paris than 'Jaqueline, the Ripper'.

Effortlessly I shifted to my catform and stretched my limbs. Tonight I would kill.

---

- Michael -

I hated Colin. Gods, how I hated him for breaking my heart.

Walking up and down the streets of the Beaubourg, I felt betrayed, lost and outmaneuvered. With the constant rain soaking me to the bone already, the cold metal of the gun pressing into my back where I had wedged it into my denims' waistband, I felt like crying and screaming at the same time.

Dinner hadn't been as terrible as I had feared, but form there on, things had become even worse than I had ever thought possible.

While sitting at the table, eating, Colin and I had played pretend all was fine, and we had chatted pretty nonsense we both had known to be the plainest lies ever. It all went pretty smoothly, after all.

But I hadn't thought how hard it would be to see it end. When we had finished dinner and Colin started to clean away the dishes, the fear of losing him almost choked me. I didn't want to let him go, for I knew once we left this last mutual dinner, we would only face each other again on opposing sides of the law.
Fuck, we'd probably meet and try to kill each other.

I didn't want to end it like that, couldn't bare the thought of losing the first man I wanted to share the rest of my life with by my own hands. Not this way, not now.

And so, before I realized what I was doing, I had slung my arms around his waist, holding him, kissing him, begging him to fuck me hard. Gods, I was so sick.
And he did, with grim determination, he fucked me hard and rough and violently against his kitchen wall. I would be sore for days to come.
And while I was still leaning against the wall, this bastard buckled up his trousers and left without a goddamn word. He just left me standing there, panting, longing for nothing but his love. He probably hadn't even come while fucking me.

This all was so sick. What were we doing, both of us? Was he appalled of me, of my desire, of my profession? But then, why'd he fuck me anyway? And myself, why was I so devastated when I asked a mad serial killer for love and all I got was an ass-tearing fuck against a wall? And why didn't I actually ask him for love when a hard fuck wasn't really what I wanted? Why was he all the man I ever dreamed of and yet such a monster?

Why was it all hurting so much...

Luckily, no one can see tears in the rain, there's something true to that.

"Sorry?"

A tiny voice got my out of my self-loathing broodings.

"C-can you help me?"

In an archway leading to one of the countless backyards stood a boy, no older than fifteen years old. Wearing tight black lacquer trousers, a cut-off pink T-shirt underneath a matching short black lacquer jacket on his bony frame, he definitely looked like a colleague. Despite the badly lit place, I could make out he was shivering hard, no wonder soaked as he was.

"What's wrong?"

The boy left his nominal shelter and walked up to me. He was pale, his cheaply bleached hair plastered to his head, his wet face showing traces of running make-up. With his big, hungry eyes he looked miserable even for my jaded standards.

"It's, my friend...." He broke off, looking around as if too afraid to speak. "You're the new guy from Marseille, aren't you? The other boys have told me."

I nodded, asking: "Now what about your friend?"

"There was a customer. He - he went with him... He said they'd do it somewhere in the basement, but that's an hour ago now, and I checked, and there's no-one... I- I...."

"What?"

"The stairs were also leading to the roof, and the door was open......"

"Fuck." If he killed that boy, he'd wish I'd only shoot him. Damn that bastard! "Which building?"

The boy pointed right across the street, and I immediately started running. Maybe, if I was very lucky, I'd come in time at least once.

As the boy had described, there was a staircase leading upwards from that house's archway. Gods, how I hated him! I hurried up the steps, hoping this time he wouldn't be gone already.

After I had gathered up myself from the kitchen floor and cleaned myself of tears and blood, I had gone to the Chez Chantale waiting a bit down the road to follow Colin for his nightly adventures. But as at nightfall, Colin hadn't arrived, I got nervous. So I called in the bar, asking if they'd have life music tonight, almost howling in frustration as they told me that unfortunately, their piano player had called in sick this afternoon.

So he had changed his plans right after he had sneaked through my stuff and was probably already stalking the Beaubourg. FUCK! Why hadn't I thought of this? Did I seriously think that because I was the undercover cop, he wasn't able to play double games? Gods, I had been so stupid.

And being in love with the suspect didn't count as an excuse if lifes were at stake.

Arriving at the low wooden door that led to the roof, I stopped and got out my gun. Behind me, I could hear the boy sneak up the stairs as well. My first instinct was to hiss at him and order him to stay away, but then I decided against it. It wouldn't be bad to have a witness around who would keep me from doing something exceedingly stupid.
So as he stepped up onto the small landing in front of the door, I turned around, whispering: "Stay back. This could get rough."

He smelled odd, I noted. Like moldy clothes, or damp cellars. Though, right then, I had more important things on my mind.

Stepping out on the roof, I once more was glad for the predominant style of having only slightly tilted tin roofs here in central Paris. With all that rain, it was a slightly slippery ground, but still pretty easy to walk on. Which, on the other hand, had probably been the reason why Jacqueline had chosen this as his hunting grounds.

Scanning the area, I couldn't spot anything out of the ordinary right away, but that wasn't a surprise. No two roofs were the same yet all interconnected in some way, with broad brick chimneys sticking out of them like monolithic walls, antennas and satellite dishes growing everywhere like alien trees. The roofs of Paris were a landscape all of their own, each block like a circular island separated by the streamlike streets below.

Now where would I go if I was a mad killer intent on gutting a boy? Not right next to the door, but somewhere close by....

Careful not to slip and fall into the abyss below, I walked around the roof, climbed ladders that looked even older than the buildings they connected. Yet, no trace of Jacqueline or his latest victim.

Suddenly, a movement at a chimney caught my attention. I sneaked closer, but before I arrived, Colin stepped out from behind the brick wall, wearing nothing but his standard denims and necklace, his hands raised in a defensive gesture.

"Michael", he urged desperately, "get away from it...."

"What?" What madness was this now?

"Get. Away. From. IT."

His stare clearly indicated something standing behind me. Of course, there was that little street kid, I thought. The boy probably was hiding behind me, not the wisest thing, but way better than getting himself caught by Jacqueline and being used as a hostage.

Though, despite all my training and the plain fact that I shouldn't listen to what mad serial killers tell me, I couldn't resist the urge of turning around and looking. Naturally, there was nobody but the wet boy, standing there, shivering, his eyes huge and staring frightened.

"Listen, Colin", I said calmly as I turned around again, "I think -" Hadn't that boy's hair been short the last time I looked?

Utterly disconcerted, I turned around once more.

He still looked small and frail, but his short bleached hair had changed into a wild, soggy mane, his eyes were still wide, but with anticipation. And his stance was not fearful, he was preparing for an attack.
And most irritatingly, it was an attack from Colin he expected, not me, though I was the one holding a gun.

"Hold it, both of you!" Now what the fuck was going on here? Carefully, I stepped away from both of them, trying to keep an eye on each. "Both of you, raise your hands where I can see them!"

Yet, none of them even so much as blinked at my command.

"Michael, go away, please...", Colin urged once more, never even once taking his eyes off the boy.

Though, the boy didn't look very boyish any longer. There still was the teenage hustler in a way, but like an image overlay, it was fading more and more, revealing some slender guy in a long dark coat with wild eyes and the stance of a predator.

Which, in way, was precisely the same as Colin's.

"I said hands up and look at me!", I yelled, starting to feel frightened as for the first time in my life, I seriously had no control about what was happening.

"So you think you can protect your human toy, don't you, kitty?", the man in the coat snickered at Colin, who bared his teeth in the most impressive imitation of a predator's snarl I had ever before seen on a man.

Both of them were now moving slowly, as if trying to seize up an unknown opponent. In the bad light and the rain, I could have sworn the guy who had lured me onto the roof sported fangs like a vampire.
I seriously was going nuts.

"I said freeze, both of you!", I yelled once more, only to earn another snicker of that guy.

"He's got no clue, does he?" The guy licked his lips as if anticipating something exceedingly tasty. "Is it that why you don't show your real shape, huh?"

What the fuck was that guy talking about?

"Let's see what you'll protect longer", that guy hissed, "your little slut or your big secret!"

And suddenly, with a movement faster than I'd have ever thought possible by a human, he hurled himself in my direction, only to be snatched out of mid-flight by a patch of black as dark as the night before I could even pull my gun's trigger.
Suddenly, there were two dark shapes fighting on the wet tin of the roof, all claws and fangs like in a cheap horror flic, howling and hissing and growling like animals.

I just stood there, transfixed, staring alternately at the fighting beasts and the spot where Colin had been standing only seconds ago. My brain just didn't seem to compute the things happening right in front of my face.

Suddenly, the fight abruptly stopped rolling across the roof, instead halted to a degree I could make out a huge black panther standing on top of a vaguely human shape, his huge teeth buried deep in the neck of it's victim, shaking the man like a cat would shake a rat.

And then, with a sharp snapping sound, the man's resistance stopped, the mangled body crackling and dissolving into a heap of dust. The panther just stood there, coughing, spitting, licking his legs in an all-too-obvious gesture of utter disgust, trying to get the dust off his tongue.

Apparently, the fight was over.

All strength seemed to drain from my legs, and confused and shivering, I slumped down on the roof, watching the huge black feline stand above a pile of ragged clothing filled with dust that was slowly washed away by the rain.

This was madness. Complete mental meltdown.

Only after quite a while, I noticed the panther staring at me. Not like, hungry, but worried, even shyly. I started giggling hysterically. I had gone insane!

Slowly, I watched the big cat approach me, it's huge paws making not a single sound on the roof, though I could see the tin bend slightly under it's massive weight. Right in front of me, the animal stopped, it's immense green eyes full of worry and sadness, it's fur twitching nervously, it's tail swinging as if it had a life of it's own.

With weak, nominally defiant disbelief, I saw a silver necklace dangling around the huge beast's neck, partially hidden underneath it's luxurious fur. A precious necklace of entwined leaves and vines, just like the one Colin had always worn.

Gods, who was I kidding, it was Colin's necklace. This was Colin.

Gently, the big cat stubbed my shoulder with it's nose, a tiny, tender, questioning gesture.

"Colin?", I asked, my voice still shaking in complete confusion. "Colin is that you?"

The panther hesitated for a moment, then nodded in a frighteningly human gesture.

"Oh my god", I whispered, and once more without thinking, I slung my arms around the wet cat's neck, holding it as tight as I could. "Oh my god."

I couldn't tell how long I'd been sitting on that roof, hugging an increasingly soaked panther. But it felt so good. Maybe I had gone completely over the brink, but it still felt good.
In my tiny, delusional world, Colin wasn't the murderer, and I wouldn't have to arrest or kill him. He was a freak, but hey, that's what I've been called a hundred times already.

Only when I felt a rough tongue carefully licking along my neck I looked up again. By now, the cat's, no, Colin's green eyes were sparkling with something like amusement, maybe even hope. As I released him from my embrace, he first rubbed his huge forehead against my cheek in a perfectly feline kiss, then licked my face repeatedly.

And I couldn't help but laugh. Colin could never have been the killer. He'd have eaten the victims, chewed their bones, but never slit their throats and drained them. He loved cat-food, not blood.
Which was pretty outrageous in itself, seen from a neutral point of view, but I had already said this problem would need a really outrageous solution, hadn't I?

So I cuddled back the huge cat that had suddenly turned out to be my lover, scratched his ears and cheeks and laughed dearly as he purred in plain delight. Rolling on his back, he stretched just like a cat would, and I cuddled next to him, scratching the soft fur of his belly until we both were giddy, lying on our backs.

Life definitely had taken a turn for the seriously weird, but as this change had mostly positive effects, I couldn't bring myself to mourn my mundane life for a single second.

"Hey, big boy", I said softly to the panther still lying on his back. "This is no weather to send a dog outside, even less a cat and a man. So what about going home, getting a nice open fire and a pile of towels and rub each other dry?"

The cat growled in ferocious agreement, wriggling on it's back in gleeful anticipation. Unfortunately, neither of us had noticed how close we had come to the edge of the roof's flatter part, and with a tiny growl of surprise, Colin slid across the edge and down a steep decline that led towards the inner yard five stories below.

"Colin!", I yelled and scrambled towards the edge. Down in the murky darkness, I could see three huge claws clinging to the rim of the roof's tin gutter, the old metal groaning and bending under the weight. "Hold out, Colin, I'll come to you!"

But right then, the metal gutter gave way to almost a hundred and fifty pounds of panther and ripped apart with a sickening sound. For a heartbeat, there was nothing, then a cataclysmic shattering noise from the ground down below told me that Colin hadn't found a chance to stop his fall.
My heart felt as if it had stopped beating.

"Colin? Colin?!"

------

- Colin -

Changing back to my human form I quickly took stock of my condition. Sprained ankle, maybe even broken, two or three broken ribs and a sharp pain in my left leg. Nothing that wouldn't heal in the next few minutes.

"I'm fine!" I called back up to the roof, where I had so suddenly deserted Michael.

"Are you sure? I'm coming down to get you!" I heard his voice, slightly muffled by the constant rain that was now really pelting the drowning city.

Still his voice ran through me like an excellent whiskey, warming me to the core. He was worried about me. Even though he knew I was a monster. He still loved me.

"Be careful!" I shouted back. "Don't slip!"

If he followed my way of leaving the roof he would likely break his neck and that would have been a really, really stupid way to end our relationship.

Relationship. Yes. The stupid bloodsucker was ashes, he had seen what I truly was. Now we could have a relationship. A warm shiver ran down my back, remembering how he had vigorously scratched my belly. It had felt... wonderful. Simply and perfectly wonderful.

My ribs and ankle were knitting rapidly but the pain in my leg wouldn't go away. With slight annoyance I looked down to find a glass shard had pierced my thigh. The blasted thing was several inches long and barbed. Blood was slowly soaking my jeans.

Muttering a few choice curses I grabbed it, taking care not to cut my fingers as well, slowly pulling it free of my flesh.

"Oh my god!" Michael's voice was right next to me now. He must have really hurried to get down here this fast.

I glanced over at him and even in the murky darkness of this backyard I could see that he had turned white at the sight of me pulling out that shard.

I smiled at him, dropping the shard to the ground. "No problem, honey. See, it's already healing." I pointed at the rapidly healing wound.

He blinked hard several times and I grinned. "Hey, it takes a lot more to kill me." I said, feeling giddy and elated. "And don't forget, cats always land on their feet!"

He nodded slowly, then was by my side in one fast move, hugging me hard, holding me like I might be washed away, if he let go. I returned the hug with as much fervor. He felt good. He smelled good too.

"Colin, that... that thing was a vampire, wasn't it?" he asked, his face still buried in my hair.

"Yeah." I said, not sure if it was such a good idea to tell him how much he didn't know about the world he lived in. But really there was no way to deny this fact.

He sighed deeply, inhaling my scent as if he wanted to drown in. "There is something I need to tell you," he said, "before another mad something interrupts us. I love you."

I let his words resound in my mind again and again, savoring them. It took me quite a while to get to the point where I realized I shouldn't just enjoy the sensation but answer something appropriate.

"I love you, too, Michael, even though you're just a human. Let's go home."

 

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

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