Blood of the City Read online

  Jason smiled. “You’re right about that.”

  Sparky smiled too. It was faltering and strained, but hopeful and wrong.

  Jason launched at Sparky to push him back on the bed. He opened his fanged mouth and slammed it against Sparky’s neck, piercing skin and arteries so blood spewed into his mouth. His gulps were loud and thick, and Sparky’s cries were soft and defeated.

  Jason gasped between mouthfuls and blood spouted over the bed. He clamped his mouth on the wound again and pressed his hand against Sparky’s chest. Jason drank until Sparky’s heart slowed then sputtered, fading to nothing when the blood was but a dribble from his throat.

  Standing above the two corpses, Jason wiped his mouth then took a deep breath of carnage-tinged air. His heart raced and his mind flew, but he just nuzzled in to the body and lapped at the dripping blood while he wondered how to find Mack.

  Chapter Five

  Nowhere to Hide

  Pushing open the trapdoor sent a rain of dirt over Mack’s naked shoulders. Behind him, Allen brushed it away as they ascended into the darkness. The trees were silent but for the wind through the leaves, and only the faint sounds of boats on the water broke the illusion of being alone in a vast wilderness. Mack in the lead, they traversed the landscape, silver with moonlight before them.

  “I need to stretch my muscles. Do you mind?” Allen nodded at the distant sky and headlands sheltering the harbor from the open ocean beyond.

  “It’s a free country.”

  Allen ruffled Mack’s hair and smiled then planted a small kiss on Mack’s head. He sniffed at the air, dropped his hand from his son and started running ahead. His naked, muscular body rippled with the exertion and also with change as it sprouted long, white feathers and elongated arms into wings. A couple more steps and he leaped into the air, flapping and gliding for moments at a time. When the change was complete and he had become the giant cockatoo Mack had first been introduced to, he took off toward the open water.

  Mack ran to keep up at first but ground to a halt close to the edge of the foliage. He stepped out onto bare rocks, facing not the city, but the twinkling suburbia on the land between the harbor and the ocean. Most was darkened parkland, a reminder of the land that had once been, but the beauty of both the present and past was not lost on him. He watched a receding figure flit between the headlands then vanish into the night. Slumping against a gnarled, sun-bleached piece of driftwood, Mack sat and watched for the almost-forgotten figure from his past to return.

  Waves hit the rocks with endless rhythm while Mack sat on the sandstone edge of the island. He heard small animals rustling around him and the swooping sound of flying foxes and seagulls in the air. Muted music drifted over him from a passing boat, reminding him of his new life abandoned, but its revelry and the painful nostalgia it triggered was soon forgotten.

  In the distant, darkened water, something large loomed under the surface. The great, white hunter sped through the bay, its fin slicing through the air. It was fast. As Mack took a tentative step back from the edge, the creature beneath the surface jumped into view.

  For a breathtaking second, the enormous, gray shark was suspended in the air. Its maw opened, rimmed with serrated teeth and gore as if in an upside-down smile. Its body curled, spraying salt water around in spectacular arcs that slapped onto the stone and leaves around Mack. He struggled to his knees, watching as the shark began to spin and change as it came in to land. Its tail split and elongated into two legs, and its fins became hands and arms. Its dorsal slid up its back and exploded into a mane of hair and its pointed head shrank to human proportions to reveal Allen’s rugged, familiar face reflecting the monster that had been. Allen shook his hair, flicking it back before smiling at his son. His eyes were dark and brooding. His mouth dripped with saltwater stained with blood. He smiled with perfect, polished teeth and sat beside Mack on the rocky bank.

  “How did you do that?” Mack asked.

  “The same way we change into anything.”

  Mack shook his head. “It was incredible.”

  Allen wiped his forearm over his mouth, removing the blood. “I feel a bit better now I’ve eaten. Are you hungry? What do you normally eat?”

  Mack shrugged. “Whatever, really. Sometimes we steal blood donations from the hospital.”

  “You like the taste of human blood?”

  Mack nodded. “You don’t?”

  Allen shook his head. “I haven’t killed anyone since I escaped from Zoran. Jo was very against it, obviously, being human. And I didn’t crave death or care enough to pursue it. And we had other ways of satisfying urges.”

  Mack licked his lips. “When I was alone out there—when I thought you were all dead—I used to eat people, whenever I could find them. I didn’t eat much of the time, so I thought I needed them, like they were the best prey, you know?” He lowered his head. “I still, sometimes… I still crave it. There’s just something so filling about human blood.”

  Allen nodded. “It’s good you don’t kill them. The hospital idea is a good one as well. Jo used to… Well, I fed from her. Mostly while we made love, actually.”

  Mack squirmed. “Do I need to know this?”

  Allen laughed. “It’s perfectly natural. I’m sure you and Jason also do it.”

  Mack opened his mouth. “You’re okay with that?”

  “With what?”

  “Me and Jason. Being gay.”

  Allen took a deep breath. “When I was human and everything happened to you, I had a sense about you, you know. You were always a bit of a dreamer. Don’t get me wrong. I love you completely. I did then and I do now. But your mother and I talked about it once and agreed that you might have some trouble when you grew up.” He shrugged. “But I guess the trouble came a bit earlier. I suppose what I’m saying is, yes, I’m okay with it. If I can accept you as a vampire, I can accept your lifestyle choices.”

  Mack sighed. “You sound like them,” he said.

  “Like who?”

  “Like everyone.” Mack clenched his jaw. “It worries me, that I’m so out of touch with everything.”

  Allen laughed. “You’re very old,” he said. “And these things come with time. Don’t let it bother you.” He put his arm around Mack and hugged him tightly. “You’re my son, and I’ll keep you safe now.”

  Mack smiled and sank against his father’s cool skin. He looked out over the rolling waves. “Do you want to see him again?”

  “Who?”

  “Jason.”

  Allen nodded slowly. “I didn’t, to be completely up front with you. I blamed him for what happened for a long time. Even though he was a prisoner, something like us. But if you want to spend your life with him…”

  “I do.”

  “Then, yes, I want to see him again.”

  Mack smiled, got up and stretched. “Tell you what. You show me how to become a shark and a cockatoo and all these amazing animals, and I’ll show you our city.”

  Allen grinned, interlaced his fingers and cracked his knuckles. “You have yourself a deal, son.”

  ****

  The city didn’t spread far beneath them, but as they began their descent through the cool air and it grew to encompass their vision, its spectacle was revealed. The towers were marked with bright, neon logos of companies Mack had no understanding of. They shone like brilliant flowers on a darkened meadow, catching the last rays of the sun. Beneath, hundreds of empty offices glowed fluorescent for none but his eyes and those of other night dwellers. And on the streets below all that, lines of red and orange blinked and beeped their way around convoluted streets, finding ways out of and into the confused city of Sydney.

  Mack flapped his huge, black, feathered wings and veered toward Kings Cross in the east. Allen, like a negative shadow in white, followed along. They swooped over the park on the edge of the city and the fountain spraying fa
ns of water in the center. Past long, busy streets and up to the garish neon billboard that marked the entrance to Mack’s sleazy, sexy suburb. They passed the sign and flew down the main street, slipping in parallel up the side of the great casino he and Jason lived at, past Fuel on the roof and up to the utility elevator above. Mack landed and shook off the black feathers on his body, running a transforming hand through the red crown he had grown on top of his head. He shrank back into his naked human body with very slight disappointment. Beside him, Allen went through a similar transformation. Mack watched as Allen’s resplendent white feathers and yellow crest receded back into his skin.

  “I told you it was easy,” Allen said.

  Mack recalled the colors of his father and compared them to his own that almost mirrored the night. “It wasn’t quite the same as yours.”

  “We weren’t born to be the same.” Allen stretched and peered down at the bar below. A few people were milling around, but it was far from busy. “Is this where you work?”

  “Sometimes.” Mack went for the small door on the roof, but stopped when he saw the cracks in the wall. He looked back at his father in curiosity but pushed it from his mind and wrenched at the handle. The lock swung, broken on the door, but again Mack ignored it and held the door for Allen. The two of them went inside where a couple of boiler suits were hanging on the wall. They were greasy and smelled of body odor. Mack wrinkled his nose, but Allen insisted that he put one on, holding it up until Mack snatched it away in defeat.

  “We can’t go around naked,” Allen said.

  “I have clothes inside…” Mack called the elevator and pulled his suit up over his legs and crotch, zipping it up to cover his abdominals and chest. Allen did the same.

  “Very funny.”

  The elevator arrived and they got in. Mack noticed a lingering smell of Jason and Greg but it was gone before he could register it completely. He pressed the button for the thirty-third floor, and they descended the building.

  “What’s on this floor?” Allen asked, as the doors opened on a red-lit, velvet hallway.

  “A surprise. You said you’re okay with my lifestyle choice, so I’m gonna throw you in the deep end and see if you can swim.”

  “Sounds interesting,” said Allen. “And a little cruel.”

  “Think of it as payback for all that time apart,” said Mack. He led Allen out and to the right, passing huge oil paintings of men posing as if reclining but with every muscle in their bodies accentuated, as if in action. They had flowing, black hair and full lips, oiled skin and perfect, flaccid cocks dangling between their legs. Mack ignored them, but figured he’d made the right decision as Allen examined each and every visage without appearing to falter.

  The corridor ended in a set of double, wooden doors. Mack knocked on them and waited for the peep window to open. When it did and a pair of angry eyes looked out, they softened in recognition and the latch opened to allow him entry.

  “Evenin’, sir.” The guard nodded at Mack then glanced at Allen. “You workin’ tonight?”

  Mack shook his head. “Just here for the show.”

  The guard nodded and moved aside. He addressed them both, but his words were mainly for Allen. “Welcome to Herd.”

  Past the velvet rope between the guard and the bar were hundreds of men. They were in various states of undress, but none more so than the two men gyrating together on the catwalk that ran through the center of the room. Tables and bars dotted the spectacle, covered in drinks and small, red lamps. The clientele was a mixture of young and old, fit and chubby and everything in between. Allen’s gaze was locked, however, on the couple lit up on the stage. Indeed, most of the audience were watching them. It was hard not to be drawn to such a sight.

  The two men on stage were tall. Fake tan, sweat and oil dripped from their bulging muscles as they thrust their crotches against each other. Their faces contorted in snarls of simulated pleasure, giving hints of blinding white teeth and pierced tongues. They each had hair slicked back behind their ears and their eyebrows were plucked to perfect proportions. Their bulges were accentuated by matching red thongs and in the right light, at the right angle, what remained beyond their modesty was on display for the audience to see.

  Allen stepped toward the spectacle, openly marveling at the screaming crowd, the money being thrown and the drinks being poured down throats, on tables and spilling over the floor. It stank of cigarettes and beer, steam-cleaned carpet and aftershave. It was repulsive and yet—to Mack—a second home.

  “You work here?” Allen asked, eyes showing nothing of his thoughts.

  Mack nodded. “Some nights.” He leaned on a railing beside the bar that lined a mezzanine above the pit of fanatics. “Most nights I work upstairs, at the bar you saw there.”

  “Do you dance?”

  Mack nodded again. “It’s surprisingly liberating.” He laughed. “If you had asked me to do this a hundred years ago, I would have died of shame, but these days, nothing seems very shameful.”

  “Because of your experiences?”

  “More than that. Because of the way the world has grown. Things are no longer as simple as they once were.”

  Allen wasn’t paying attention. He was spellbound by the dancers. They fell to their knees in tandem, thrust once, twice then tore their thongs from their crotches. Two huge cocks flopped out, bouncing around under tight, leather cock rings. The crowd screamed, grabbing for the thongs, for the tantalizing cocks and for the dancers’ oiled bodies. The dancers each waggled their fingers in mock discipline of the fans, pulled themselves up from their haunches and walked back to the curtain. Their firm buttocks bounced in just the right way before they vanished behind metal beads and black gauze.

  “And Jason?” asked Allen.

  “He dances too.”

  Allen nodded. “Is he here?” Allen asked.

  “I doubt it,” said Mack. “I dunno where he’ll be.”

  As they spoke, the two strippers on stage caught Mack’s gaze and beckoned him. One of them directed the lighting person to shine it on Mack and caught in the spotlight, he had no choice but to follow it up to the stage.

  The strippers were similar in appearance—stocky, oiled, with dark hair and features. They pretended to be brothers, but were in fact unrelated. One grabbed a microphone and addressed the audience.

  “You all havin’ a good night?” he asked to roars of appreciation. He grinned and clapped. “Well have we got something special for you. This here’s the notorious Mack Daddy. It’s his night off, but he’s here with a friend.” The stripper shielded his eyes and looked for Allen, pointing him out so he was also lit by the spot. “There he is. Wave hello.”

  Allen gave a sheepish, uncomfortable wave.

  “You wanna give him a show?” asked the stripper.

  Mack shook his head a little. “Not really,” he said under his breath.

  The other stripper whispered to him. “What? We got you up here, though. You can’t disappoint them now.”

  “He’s my father,” whispered Mack.

  “Oh fuck. Shit, sorry man. I dunno if we can—” The stripper tried to cut off his comrade, but it was too late. Lights dimmed and focused on Mack and the music started pumping in time to the cheers of the crowd. Mack tried to apologize to his father with his eyes, but he saw placid calm in Allen’s face and felt it wash over his body before he began.

  Swallowing his terror, Mack began to sway to the music. He thrust his hips around in slow gyrations, spinning his body at the same time so his back was to the audience. He flexed his bare arms and dropped to his knees to thrust the air in front of him, moving back with each motion until he was looking at an upside-down crowd. But the only face he was watching was his father’s.

  Mack planted his hands on the stage and lifted his body up and over to a handstand before flipping back onto his feet. He rubbed his stomach and che
st over the boiler suit and unzipped it, revealing the valley between his pectorals, the bumps of his abdominals and the trail of fine hair leading to his cock. He shifted off the arms and tied them around his waist, just above the bulge of his shaft. He flexed and hardened his chest, writhing to the music and cries of the crowd. As he did, hands reached out to stroke his legs and feet, throwing money at him. He bent to his knees again and undid the sleeves, pushing his suit down to reveal more and more of his cock. He caught his father’s gaze at the same time and held it as he rose to his feet, flopped out his cock then pulled off the suit. He grasped it, barely concealing it with one hand, and did slow, swaying circles to show every part of him to the crowd. When he faced them again, his father was smiling.

  The two other strippers marched on from either side and started pumping at Mack’s sides. They pushed their bulges against his thighs and licked his neck and chest in unison. One whispered in Mack’s ear, “We’ll take it from here. I’m really sorry.” He turned and winked to the crowd and Allen. “But he seemed to like it anyway…”

  Mack smiled and pulled back into the shadows, pulling the boiler suit with him. He hurried to put it back on, slipped around the stage and found his father again.

  Allen nodded. “So that’s what you’ve been doing with yourself.”

  Mack hung his head, somewhat shamed. “Yeah, I didn’t mean to show you that straight away—or at all, actually.”

  “Well, you did want to punish me, didn’t you?”

  Mack felt something flicker inside him at the words, but it went as quickly as it came. “I guess so.”

  Allen squeezed Mack’s shoulder. “Well, consider me punished.” He pulled him into an embrace, pressing his body against his son’s. “I love you, Mack.”

  Mack buried his face in his father’s shoulder. “I love you too.”

  One of the strippers from the stage came up and clapped Mack on the back. “Hey, mate. Sorry about before. This your dad?” He held out a hand for Allen to shake. “Hey, man, you like the show? You know, we love Mack here. He’s like a big brother to us all. So good to meet the man responsible for him, you know.” The stripper spoke fast.