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“But I told him…”
“You couldn’t help telling him what you knew,” Maddox said. “Just get some rest. All is well.”
Reassured, Lorien closed his eyes. Maddox squared his shoulders, took another one of those breaths he did not need, and went back downstairs. He had been on the back foot since Gideon rose, plan-less, plotless, and somewhat hoping the whole situation would simply resolve itself. That was no longer the case. Gideon had to be confronted.
“I know you do not consider anybody worth considering,” he said curtly when he found his maker. “But I would thank you to take better care of those who come to me for help if you are going to interject yourself into our affairs.”
There was a brief hiss, then Maddox felt himself snatched off his feet by Gideon’s clawed grip. He was not surprised, and he was also unable to stop what was going to happen next. The beating had been coming since Gideon rose. He was going to be hurt now.
“You’ve lost respect,” Gideon intoned. “I will help you rediscover it.” His grip tightened on Maddox’s throat, threatening to cut off air Maddox didn’t need anyway. It was not meant to hurt him. It was meant to humiliate him, to teach him a long-forgotten lesson. But Maddox had been starting to consider that perhaps Gideon was not actually as powerful as he had been in the past. A lot of time had passed since their respective strength was tested.
“What do you have to say for yourself?”
Gideon put him down and loosened his grip enough to allow him to speak. A moment of truth was upon them, and Maddox was not going to let the moment pass.
It had been well over a thousand years since Maddox had even thought to test his strength against Gideon. He had become so convinced of Gideon’s dominance that the very idea of fighting him seemed impossible. Suddenly, it was possible.
“I am not the broken man who just killed his lover. I am not weak. I am not young. And I. Am not. New.”
Maddox punched Gideon square in the face. It might be the last thing he’d ever do, so he put his full force into it. He expected it to have little effect, but to his surprise, Gideon staggered backward. It was a slight stagger, but it was a sign of weakness, and Maddox had never detected one of them before.
Gideon’s shock did not last long. He lunged for Maddox and what ensued was something between a fight and a beating, a brutal conflict of two powerful beasts. They slammed into the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling. Gideon was barely bound by the laws of physics.
Maddox discovered that he was not as strong as Gideon, still. But he was not nearly as weak as he had imagined himself to be, either. Though he was taking damage, the thrill of discovering that he was no longer the little puppet toy Gideon could control at will was worth the pain. And there was a lot of pain. Limbs twisted, bones snapped, blood flowed. The once cold but elegant entrance to Maddox’s home was coated in sanguine essence, in splatters and arcs.
Gideon pulled him all the way up to the ceiling and pile drove him down to the floor in a brutal slam that knocked the wind out of Maddox and gave Gideon the opportunity to pin him. Maddox felt the embrace of his maker, light cut out by the curtain of dark hair that fell around him. In this moment there was only him and Gideon, Gideon and him. The two of them were the world.
The world was ending.
He felt Gideon’s teeth sinking into his throat, two sets of teeth biting deep into his flesh. It was a brutal pincer motion that tore through what would have been all the essential passages of life, blood and air severed. They were not what Gideon was trying to take. He wanted something more essential. He wanted Mads’ voice.
The fight was ended with that bite. Maddox lay on the floor, looking up at his maker. He saw his own flesh trapped between the fangs of the beast. As he stared, he saw Gideon swallow. He was being consumed alive, or at least a small part of him was.
Gideon did not seem to take much pleasure in the act. If anything, he was solemn. Maddox writhed, attempting to maintain something like dignity. It was almost impossible to be dignified in his current state. His legs were broken, and his throat was all but gone. He was like a wingless fly being tortured by a sadistic small boy. He felt truly powerless, just as Gideon intended.
“I wish you hadn’t made me do that,” Gideon said. “But for a little while at least you will not be able to speak works of impetuous disrespect. It was easier to discipline you when you were weaker. I am sure you think your strength now is a benefit. I tell you now, Madis, it is not. It only means I must be more brutal to subdue you. Meditate on obedience. It will save us both this pain.”
The disturbance had gotten Lorien out of bed. Though Maddox had just finished putting him in there, his leg had healed swiftly thanks to the maker’s blood running through his veins. He had thought, briefly, about intervening in the domestic dispute, but as soon as he saw Gideon tossing Maddox around like a ragdoll he knew there was nothing he could do. A battle between two supernatural ancients was no place for someone yet to see their first millennium.
Lorien knew what it was like to have his throat torn out, but he had never seen it from this perspective. Maddox had been made pitiful, like a half-squashed bug. Lorien felt rage and pity on his behalf.
Having humiliated Maddox, Gideon stormed off. Lorien didn’t know where. He knew he had a very small window in which to be very brave and very stupid. He knew he should go back to his bedroom and let the maker do as he pleased. He knew that would make him safe. Maddox would heal, after all. Gideon didn’t want to kill him. He just wanted to rule over him.
Maddox made a groaning sound. It was pitiful. And weak. And it made Lorien feel ashamed for reasons he couldn’t quite understand. He couldn’t leave him like that. He had to do something.
12
Maddox woke up. He expected to be in pain, and he was. He did not expect to be lying on a floral couch in a room that smelled of cheese crackers and boys’ feet. That was… strange.
The curtains were all drawn, a courtesy that was unnecessary for him, but not for the other vampires in the house. He felt at least two others. In his broken state, he could feel a lot more than he usually could. He had become beaten and tenderized, or sensitized.
He could not speak. Not a word. His throat was bandaged, and he knew that beneath the bandages there was a horrific gaping wound. The bandages were for everybody else’s benefit. Not his. He had become grotesque and unseemly. He had been humiliated.
“Hey, boss.”
Candy appeared in his field of vision. She wore a reassuring smile. He’d seen that smile directed at victims of crime before. Never at him. He did not like the way it felt to be pitied, though he knew she was doing her best.
“Lorien brought you here,” she said. “I did what you told me to do. I got Chuck and the kids out of the city. They’re with… well, doesn’t matter where they are. Anyway, you can stay here as long as you need.”
