Date: Mon, 19 Mar 2001 02:05:46 -0000
From: Nathan Wolf <realityreflection@hotmail.com>
Subject: Blood Angel (Chapter 6)

   Well, this part took a while to write, and mostly because I had to think
about a creative short story that was due on friday. I am absolutely
convinced that my professor will hate it, but that's not my problem.

Thanx for support everyone... special thanx to Colleen and David. Colleen
because she supports me and helps me push the limits in writing, and David
because he inspires me, and of course makes me blush like an idiot.

Up-date on my favorite stories:
1) Running Thoughts
2) Studio In The Country
3) N'Sync JC and Lance
4) Different Type Of Love
5) Utopia

Now the usual crap.
BSB are not gay.
Go away if underage.
Offended? Tough luck.

         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   Pulling into a narrow driveway surrounded by trees, Brian frowned:
"Are you sure this is it?"
They have been driving for the past hour or so, and although Robby didn't
seem to be getting worse, he wasn't getting better either. His directions
were hazy, and they had taken a wrong street more than once. Now, being
parked in front of a well-designed, old century house, Brian couldn't help
but wonder if they were in the wrong place after all. Not that many people
could afford to live in a similar house; come to think about it, Brian
actually did not know anyone who really lived in a house that was as old and
beautiful as the one in front of him.
Robby seemed to be struggling with the back door:
"Yes, this is the one. My friend lives here... she will help us."
Quickly getting out of the car, Brian scooped Robby up from the back seat
and made his way to the front door. Robby's complaining were persistent but
quiet, and they ceased as his head found Brian's warm shoulder. Stepping up
on the porch made of hard wood, Brian positioned himself in front of the
door and awkwardly knocked, refusing to put Robby down even for a minute.
After a minute the door squeaked, and a girl, probably in her late twenties,
frowned suspiciously at Brian. Her voice was soft but strong and firm, like
steel covered in finest silk:
"Can I help you with something?"
Then her eyes fell on Robby's weak and exhausted body, and her eyes
instantly widened while she pushed the door wide open. Moving aside, she
hissed impatiently:
"What are you waiting for? Get him inside!"
Trying not to stumble over rich rugs in soft pastel colors, Brian made his
way inside. The girl closed the door shut, and made sure that every safety
lock around it was put in its place. The hallway was wide and decorated in
the ancient style of the house, while everything held this soft, graceful
smell of early spring flowers.
Leading Brian through the door on her right, she took him into a living
room, and motioned for him to place Robby on the wide, fur-covered couch.
Gently laying Robby down, Brian kneeled next to him focusing on blond boy's
face. Robby's eyes were squeezed shut, his face white as if drained of all
the blood that was there. The girl had disappeared for couple of minutes,
but returned quickly with a small black bag and a bowl with steaming, hot
water. Under her left armpit, she had stacked couple of cloths and bandages,
while some more cloths were carelessly thrown over her left shoulder.
Kneeling next to Brian, she placed everything on the brightly colored
carpet, and frowned at Robby:
"What did you do now?"
Robby's eyes were open but misty, as if there's something silvery white
pulling over them. He made an attempt to grin; on his white, drained out
face, it looked more depressing than anything else. His voice was cracked
and quiet:
"I killed Daniel... the hunt is after me."
She was biting her lips furiously. It seemed as if she had hundreds of juicy
comments on Robby's behavior, and she found it very difficult to keep them
for herself.
Robby looked at Brian for a second, and then said:
"I didn't introduce you guys... Colleen, this is Brian, from the band BSB...
and Brian, this is my best girl friend Colleen."
Brian and Colleen looked at each other for couple of seconds, as if
rearranging their thoughts. Then they smiled; a large, friendly smile
followed by a warm look. Brian didn't think about it. It just seemed a
natural thing to do.
Focusing back on Robby, she trailed her fingers over his clothes discovering
holes from gun shots. There was altogether five of them, two shot so
precisely that, had Robby been alive, he wouldn't have survived. Brian
started to rise, in order to move away from the couch and not be in the way,
but even before he managed to rise off the floor, Robby's hand gripped his.
Robby's expression seemed to pleading, and the note of need in his eyes made
Brian quickly sit back down. He squeezed Robby's hand and smiled at him:
"See, I told you we'd get here eventually. Everything is gonna be OK now."
Robby's voice was barely audible:
"Thank you."
Before Brian could respond, a loud ripping sound left him with his mouth
wide open. Colleen had pulled out a long kitchen knife, and ripped Robby's
pants with skilled hands. There were two wounds there, a deep wound in the
inner thigh, and a flesh wound right above the knee. There was no need of
washing the wounds, since there was no blood on them, but Colleen wiped them
gently with warm towel anyway.  Taking a pair of polished, metal tweezers
out of the black bag, she lighted a candle on the small desk next to her,
and heated the tweezers. They were very small, which means that they heated
more easily, and were more likely to burn someone's fingers if they weren't
careful.
Colleen took a deep breath, and pushed the tweezers inside of the thigh
wound, trying to get it over with as soon as possible. Robby's dull screams
echoed the empty living room, and he gripped Brian's hand as if was a life
vest on which depended his life and death. Brian held his hand with both of
his, almost being able to feel Robby's pain. Pulling the tweezers out,
Colleen dropped the bullet on piece of cloth and gently bandaged the wound,
tying it tightly. After doing the same thing with the flesh wound, she
pulled a blanket from the back of the couch, and covered his legs. Placing
the tweezers on another piece of cloth, she stood up:
"Help me take off his shirt."
Brian swallowed, his breath suddenly irregular, as if he's fighting for air
20,000 miles under the sea. She frowned at him:
"Are you gonna help me, or am I gonna have to do this by myself."
Robby's eyes were closed, and he was taking deep breaths, still fighting
with pain in his leg. Brian rose reluctantly, his eyes on Robby's pale face.
Colleen quickly unbuttoned Robby's black shirt, and slowly pulled him to a
half-sitting position:
"Take the coat and shirt off while I'm holding him."
Brian hesitated for a second, then gently pulled the coat and shirt off
Robby's shoulders, and helping him pull his hands out of the sleeves,
lowered him back down throwing the clothes on a nearby armchair. One of the
wounds was deep, where the bullet had entered the right side of his chest;
the other two were flesh wounds, one bruising his left shoulder, and the
other pierced through the far left of his waist. Apparently, Adam was aiming
for the heart.
Brian didn't have the time to observe the wounds.
His eyes slid down Robby's strong shoulders, smooth chest, and muscled flat
stomach, with skin just slightly tanned and softer to the touch than the
finest silk. His heart pounded wildly, and he had no way of stopping his
train of thoughts. He could see himself running his hands over Robby's body,
kissing his smooth skin, pressing his body against Robby's, and losing
himself in the feeling of that warm body touching his.
Colleen touched his shoulder making him snap out of the fantasy:
"Are you OK? You don't have to watch this if you can't take it."
"I'm fine... don't worry about me. Help Robby."
She just nodded as if that was the answer she was expecting, and heated the
tweezers again. Finding Robby's hand, Brian squeezed it for support, and got
a painful smile in return. Robby's dull scream echoed the walls for the
second time, and another bullet found itself on the white cloth. Robby's
eyes closed, and he released his grip on Brian, his hand lifelessly dropping
on the couch. Brian felt his stomach painfully sink:
"What's wrong?!... Is he?!..."
"He's OK."
Bandaging his chest and waist, she pulled a blanket up to his chin, tucking
it around his shoulders. Standing up, she motioned for Brian to do the same:
"He's just unconscious. I suppose I should have used something to numb the
wounds, but that would have take some time. This needed to be done quickly.
He'll wake up in couple of hours... don't worry."
Picking up the leftover bandages and cloths, she also picked up Robby's coat
and the shirt from the armchair:
"C'mon. Let's leave him alone. He needs to rest now."
Taking one last look at him, Brian followed Colleen out of the room.

   The kitchen, surprisingly, had a modern touch to it. Everything was in
dark, polished wood, that looked newly made, although the wallpaper was
designed with the type of flowers that Brian's grandmother would love. The
chairs and kitchen table were also newly made, but they showed the beauty of
old design, maybe even older than the house itself. Motioning for him to sit
down, Colleen filled the teapot with water:
"Tea?"
"Uh... um, no thank you."
Putting the teapot on the stove anyway, she opened the dishwasher and
started pulling out the clean dishes:
"So. Are you 'that' Brian from Backstreet Boys?"
She wasn't looking at him, and he couldn't decide if she would be pleased or
put off by the truth:
"Yeah, I am."
"Interesting."
He just stared at her. She sounded indifferent, and that was the last thing
he expected. Observing her carefully, he started noticing things he had been
too upset to notice while she was helping Robby.
She was tall, around his height, with slim built but nice curves despite
that. Her long brown hair held couple of soft blonde highlights, curving
slightly at the end. It was neatly tied on the nape of her neck. Something
about her seemed so... different. All of the sudden, a thought occurred to
him:
"Are you...?"
"A vampire? No. But I'll take that as a compliment."
"Then how do you know Robby?"
Pulling the last plate out, she closed the dishwasher and turned to face
him:
"I could be asking you the same question."
Finally sitting down at the table, Brian leaned back tucking his hands into
his jacket pockets:
"He saved my life. Twice."
Taking a seat across from him, she folded her hands across the table and
looked him straight in the eyes. The whole thing made him feel as if he's in
psychiatrist's office, but somehow not nearly as uncomfortable. Her voice
was flowing and soft, like ripples of a newly formed mountain stream:
"I know Robby... he wouldn't have left you with a memory of what he did.
Unless..."
A smile spread across her lips, and bright green eyes glittered amusingly.
Brian felt his cheeks grow red although he had no idea what she was talking
about; the way she looked at him had so much understanding and knowledge in
it, that Brian was sure she had read his mind. Swallowing, he managed to
speak:
"It was an accident actually. He killed another vampire to... to save my
life. He stayed with me to protect me until I'm strong enough to leave...
Then we got attacked again, and, um... now we're here."
"I see."
Slightly leaning forwards and letting his hands rest on the table, Brian
asked:
"What about you? Where do you know Robby from?"
Pushing her hair behind her ears, she seemed to be remembering... as if she
was trying to recall something that had happened hundreds of years ago:
"I knew Robby since he started high school. His freshman year, I was a
junior... I noticed him right away. He was always.... well, let's say
antisocial, although that's an understatement."
The loud hissing sound interrupted her, and she stood up to remove the
teapot from the stove. When she sat back at the table, there was a large cup
of tea in her hands, which gave off that same gentle aroma of early spring.
She continued talking as if she was never interrupted:
"I guess I felt sorry for him... so we got to be friends. Even after I
graduated from High School, we still stayed in contact; phone conversations,
e-mail, hanging out on weekends, etc. he was like a brother I never had... A
perfect, bratty, unbearable little brother..."
She smiled slightly into her cup... the smile disappeared as fast as it
came:
"When he died I was 22 years old, fresh out of college and eager to step out
into the world. His death changed everything."
Lifting her head up, she smiled again:
"But that's not what you wanted to know."
Brian could not figure out if the smile was genuine or fake. Or maybe both.
There was hundreds of questions piling up in his mind:
"So he has been dead for what? About 5 years? And how do you know him
now?..."
Taking a sip of tea, she smiled again:
"Why such interest in Robby?"
"I asked you first."
After staring at him for couple of seconds, her eyes still twinkling in
amusement, she answered:
"He has been dead for 10 years now... He came to me, right after his
death... It took a while to... um, I guess you could say adapt to the
situation. But the things have been fine since then."
Taking another sip, she mused on:
"He'd get himself in trouble, come to me to take care of him, and then go
out to get into more trouble. It's always been that way."
Brian gaped:
"You're 32 years old?!"
"You're not supposed to ask a lady question like that. But since your mouth
is half open and you look like a fish, and I'm definitely no lady, then yes,
I am 32 years old."
Brian still gaped. The fish comment didn't touch him. The girl... no, the
woman looked as if she barely reached the late twenties... Brian wouldn't
have given her more than 26 or 27. She looked way too young and beautiful
for a 32 years old.
She was grinning widely now, flashing snow white teeth:
"If you don't close your mouth, you're gonna swallow a fly."
Snapping his jaws shut, he rubbed his forehead trying to consume and arrange
all the information he received.
Moving a cup in circle in front of her, so that steam would rise directly to
her face, she asked casually, and a touch absently:
"Are you in love with Robby?"
For a second, Brian's mind did not function at all.
Love Robby? a vampire?... a  MAN?!...
It was wrong. It was completely ridiculous... something Brian would not do
in his wildest dreams.  Something he should consider disgusting and
repulsive...
Burying his head in his hands, he knew it was hopeless. Robby had showed him
caring and need in the way that no one had ever been able to do. Robby had
almost kissed him... and Brian tried to feel disgusted by that memory. But
all he felt was a need... a need so strong that it ached somewhere deep
inside of his chest, as if reminding him which part of his body he needed to
listen to. His heart.
Looking up at Colleen, he found her intently staring at him, as if she could
find the answer to her question through his eyes. Cleaning his throat, he
intertwined his fingers on the table:
"I... yes, I'm in love with him. I don't... I have no clue how... I just
know that if he had died... I would have died with him."
Hearing those words out of his mouth shocked him for a second, since he had
never intended to say them in the first place. He wasn't even aware of that
thought until it left his mouth. But that didn't make it any less true.
Still staring at him, Colleen nodded slightly:
"I knew you were... I wanted to see if you'd deny it."
Finishing her tea, she stood up to place the cup in the sink, then turned
around and leaned on the dishwasher crossing her hands:
"He loves you too."
Before he could completely comprehend that sentence, a wide smile appeared
on his face, his heart beating like it's trying to get out. Colleen smiled
back gently:
"He deserves someone to love him... someone to take care of him. He had been
alone for too long. I hope you can make him happy."
"I hope so too."
Suddenly frowning, Colleen asked:
"What about your friends... the bandmates. Will they be upset when they find
out? Or even more reasonable question... are you going to let them know what
happened to you?"
Brian jumped up as if waking from a dream:
"Is there a phone I can use... right now if possible?"
Colleen motioned towards the door to the kitchen:
"There is one right next to the door in the hallway."
"Thanx."
Before she could say anything else, Brian was already in the hallway,
dialing Nick's hotel number.

   It hadn't even occurred to him that it was close to 4am, since his
sleeping system was already distorted. When Nick's groggy voice answered,
Brian just then realized that he had no clue what he could say:
"Nick? Hey... it's... it's Brian."
"Brian!?! Oh my GOD! Where have you been!?! What happened?!..."
"Shhh, don't wake up the entire hotel. I'm OK... but it's hard to explain
what happened. I have to see you... do you think you could sneak out without
letting anyone else know?"
There was a silence. Nick's voice came very quiet:
"Brian... if you're in trouble again, maybe we should let the other guys
know. In the case that... that you need help."
Brian bit his lips. He didn't want to face the other guys yet; he didn't
know if he was even capable of coming out to all of them at once:
"They can't do anything to help, and this time, I'm not the one in trouble.
I need you here Nick... I have to talk to you."
Another silence.
"OK Bri... give me the address, I'll be there."
"Promise not to tell anyone else?"
"Promise."
"OK... when you get on the Main Street, go east towards the worst downtown
parts. When you pass that and get out of the city, take Anry Road, and just
keep going straight. It's a crapy road, but it will bring you to White River
Hills... that's where I am. I'm on the Rocky Road, number 45... it will
probably take you a while to find it."
"Brian... that's far... are you sure you're not in trouble? Why are you
there...?"
"Nick... please. I'll tell you everything when you get here, I promise. Just
hurry up."
"OK Bri... I'll be there soon. Love ya."
"Love ya too Nicky."
Replacing the receiver, he turned back towards the kitchen door and found
himself face to face with Colleen. Staring at her for a second, he frowned:
"How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough to hear you inviting a guy over. Do you tell every guy you know
that you love him?"
Brian's face was red in the matter of seconds, burning painfully as if on
fire. Even though a realization suddenly hit him, his face stayed red, like
an uncomfortable reminder:
"I do love Nicky... he's like my little brother. I love all of my bandmates.
I'm in love with Robby."
She smiled suddenly, her eyes returning to their usual linger of amusement:
"So you are... welcome to our family."
Leaning in, she gave him a warm, comforting hug, and Brian hugged back,
knowing that he just had made another friend.

   Nick couldn't find a clean pair of socks. So many pieces of CK underwear,
and some of the most expensive clothes in country lay thrown all around the
room; but there was no socks. Sighing, he decided to leave that problem
alone for the time being. Pulling on a pair of loose fitting Levi's, he
grabbed his favorite sweatshirt and raced into the bathroom. He had no time
for a shower, but then again, he got no more than an hour of sleep anyway.
Brushing his teeth and splashing his face with cold water, Nick tried not to
think about the type of trouble that Brian could be in. Not that he though
Brian was lying... he just thought that Brian probably didn't tell the whole
story. Nick wasn't about to wake up the others though. He had made a
promise, and promises became something very sacred to him over the years.
Brushing his hair without even looking at the mirror, he made sure his
wallet was in his pants, as he went to search for his sneakers. When he
finally found them, he put them on without bothering to search for socks
some more, but frowned right away at the uncomfortable feel of sneakers
covering his bare feet. Having no time to let that bother him any further,
he shut all the lights out, and slowly left the room, locking the door
tightly behind him. It had occurred to him that he should leave a note, so
guys wouldn't be worried, but he blew it off quickly, figuring that he would
just call them later.
Leaving the hotel, he walked a block or so down the street, then caught the
first taxi driver. Making himself comfortable in the back seat, he gave the
driver an address Brian had given him. The driver was short and dry... as if
life had laundered him out more than once. His face resembled a mouse... a
really gray and hungry little mouse. He had a squeaky voice to match it:
"45 Rocky Road? The house of Mr. Parroti's daughter? No one had lived there
for years, boy... what would you wanna go there for?"
Nick swallowed hard. He pretended to be greatly interested in tying his
shoe:
"Yes... well, I heard property might go on sale soon. My father is looking
forward to buying it. Ah... my mother seems to be greatly interested in the
neighborhood too..."
There Nick decided to stop... just in case he should go too far; he didn't
want to tangle himself in his own lies. The driver nodded, accepting Nick's
story easily, and stepped on the gas. With a deep sigh of relief, Nick
leaned back. He had been hoping to catch on to some sleep while driving, but
his eyes were already wide open, and all of his dreams involved Brian,
covered in blood, screaming for Nick to help him.
He woke up from those dreams with such fear and pain, that he was sure it
had to be something unnatural about them.
Leaning forwards, Nick asked the driver:
"So who IS Mr. Parroti?"
The driver almost turned around to look Nick in the face, but at the last
minute remembered that he IS the driver, and his hands were supposed to stay
on the wheel. With his voice high pitched and bewildered, he answered the
question with a question:
"You don't know who Mr. Parroti was?!"
"Well, so far, I figured he is dead, because you said 'was', and I figured
that he has a daughter. There, my knowledge about Mr. Parroti just seems to
hit a wall. Care to give me more information?"
Nick really wanted to know what he was getting himself into. He wasn't about
to walk into the lion den with a blindfold on... he didn't know how much of
a chance he had without it, but at least the odds seemed better. The driver
grinned to himself:
"Well, pretty boy, you seem plenty educated and fine talking. That usually
comes with money... information is never for free."
Sighing to himself, Nick pulled out his wallet. Stuff like that, he had only
seen in movies... buying information, driving around in a cab at 4am...
things that don't happen in real life. But they were happening to him.
Handing a the driver a $20 bill, he leaned closer, determined to catch every
word of what he was about to be told.
Stuffing the money in one of his numerous pockets, the driver cleared his
throat, and started:
"Jack Parroti was a... well, he started as a worker on the waterfront, on
the west side of lower Manhattan. When he was about 20 years old, the dock
boss simply disappeared... and Jack took over the docks. It was a profit
making job in those days, and Jack used it the way anyone else would...
anyone else with any brain for good business. He started simple, with small
illegal stuff... some gambling, drugs, prostitution... after couple of
years, Jack's so-called Family, was into legal businesses AND the illegal.
It got to be a series of businesses through which the consumer was non-stop
being milked... and that consumer my boy, was Parroti Family."
Stopping for a second to cough loudly, the driver continued his story:
"Mafia my boy... that's what I'm talking about. It wasn't called so... not
out loud anyway, but it was Mafia alright. Jack got married to Leslie
Parker... an actress. She was very well known and loved back in '50... I
remember seeing her first movie 'The Purple Trees' just as if it was
yesterday..."
Nick started getting impatient:
"Yes, I've seen the movie... what happened afterwards?"
The driver shook his head:
"What happened? Justice happened... Jack was an old man then... he was
reaching his late 40's, and the world was changing. It crushed him, crumbled
over him... handing his place to Matt Anthonelis, his closest friend, Jack
left the town and moved from New York to New Jersey taking his wife with
him. No one had seen him since, except at his funeral some 20 years later.
Leslie showed up carrying a small child, barely a year old... her and Jack's
daughter. No one really knows when Leslie died or where she was buried.
Their daughter lives though, and she owns a chain of houses and apartments
through the state... what she does with them?... well, if it is anything
illegal, she hides it well. One thing I know... she had never sold one of
them. I wonder what would make her sell now?"
Nick leaned back feeling a headache coming on. Daughter of an ex Mafia
boss... Brian always knew how to pick them. Rubbing his forehead, he asked,
simply for conversational purpose:
"What happened with the Parroti Family?"
Scratching his head, the driver shrugged his shoulders:
"They lasted for a while, but Jack was the one who kept it all together.
With him gone, they were bound to fall apart. So they did... Anthonelis was
shot in the head by one of workers in Family... the fight for his place
ended up in so many murders that they had to build a special cemetery for
it. The Family grew careless, and soon all the ones left alive were behind
the bars."
Nick's headache came on strong, pounding in his forehead. Trying to make
himself relax, he mumbled softly, 'Brian... what in the God's name did you
get yourself into?'
As an answer, a lightening shot across the sky followed by deafening
thunder. It was starting to rain.


OK, I know it seems like the story is getting out of the hand, but trust me.
I DO know where I am going with this.
Comments... comments... comments...
Good or bad... all are welcome.