The Unholy Trio - Chapter two: Monster
Title: The Unholy Trio - Chapter two: Monster
Author: onthethruway01
Genre: horror, smut, angst
Pairing: JYJ
Rating: NC-17 to be safe
Length: chapter 2 of ?
Summary: Three unnatural creatures find solace in each other’s company.
The apothecary was about to close his shop for the night when his door was abruptly opened.
“I’m sorry sir we are…”
The word “closed” never escaped his lips. Instead the old man stood motionless as he was greeted by a pair of blood red eyes.
The door was bolted from the inside; window shade drawn by hands covered in fine leather gloves. The elegant vampire, who called himself Yoochun, encircled the hapless shop keeper, now caught in his evil spell.
“Take me to your back room; the one with all your special items.”
The young man watched as the apothecary pulled back a tapestry from the wall, revealing a door to a hidden room. The apothecary took a chain from his neck; a skeleton key suspended from it. The key was turned in the lock, opening the door to an ante chamber full of secrets.
“Excellent,” the vampire praised his willing slave.
He took a piece of parchment from his pocket and handed it to the apothecary.
“I need these items. Put them in a satchel for me. That one will do.”
The vampire pointed to a carpet bag that hung from a hook on the wall.
“Is that bag magical?” he asked the apothecary.
“Yes, sir,” the old man answered in a monotone voice. “It is a bag of holding.”
The vampire examined the bag.
“Fascinating.”
The apothecary gathered the items the vampire requested; a cream to block the sun; spectacles to protect his eyes and a roll of special bandages. As he placed them in the carpet bag, the old apothecary gave the young gentleman instructions.
“Use the cream generously,” he told the vampire. “Spread it all over any areas that may become exposed to sunlight. The bandages are magical; unravel them and they will instantly adhere to your body like a protective layer of skin. But be wary; the magic will not last long, only a few hours.”
The vampire nodded. It was risky business going out in daylight, but the gypsy woman had told him it was the only way to find the creature of fire and smoke.
Still in a trance, the old man waited for his next command. The vampire walked aimlessly around the room, curiosity getting the better of him. The shelves were lined with ingredients for making potions; there were cauldron’s and vials bubbling with foul smelling liquids; vapors permeating the air. Heads in jars, bat wings and other unmentionables were strewn across tables. But it was the old man’s collection of books that caught his attention.
“What do your tomes say of a creature made of fire and smoke encased in a golden vessel?”
The apothecary seemed to know exactly what the vampire meant. His gnarled hands pulled a small journal from the pile.
“Arabic?”
The old man nodded his head.
“A creature of fire and smoke encased in a golden vessel could mean only one thing. Djin.”
“Djin? Wait. You mean a genie in a magic lamp?”
The apothecary nodded his head. He put the book in the bag of holding and stood waiting for his next order.
The vampire sighed. What the blazes did he need with a genie? Was the gypsy woman mad? Was she toying with him?
Magic. The very word made him shiver. Just being in this room with all its witchery made his skin crawl. Magic users and vampires had an ancient hatred of each other. Yoochun didn’t want to come here, but he had no choice. The only way a vampire could seek protection from the sun was by using potions and incantations. The old apothecary was a wizard who had gone legit many years ago. Hiding behind the façade of an apothecary shop allowed him to continue his dirty business on the side for those who practiced the dark arts. No doubt in his youth, the wizard would have been a formidable enemy, but old age made him soft and easy to dominate.
The vampire exited the secret room followed by the apothecary who locked the door behind him.
“Here’s your payment,” the vampire told him as he tossed a bag of coin on the counter.
He unbolted the door and gave the apothecary one last command.
“I was never here, you understand. The money is from an old woman who had a nasty cough.”
“Yes sir,” the old wizard bowed as the vampire left the store.
A few minutes later, the spell wore off, the old man completely oblivious to the fact that he had just done business with the undead.
The vampire hurried to his lair. He emptied the carpet bag and laid out the items carefully along with a fresh set of clothes. These garments would cover him completely from head to toe; full length shirt and breeches, knee length riding boots, a heavy frock coat and a pair of thick, leather gloves. He dug around and found a woolen scarf and to top it off, a wide brim hat. He would no doubt look ridiculous, but his life was at stake, and he was quite willing to risk a fashion faux pas to save his skin.
He sighed deeply, realizing he had one more thing to do before he ventured out into the sun.
He needed to feed.
Leaving the safety of his underground sanctuary, the vampire Yoochun found himself on the streets seeking a meal. Normally one victim would do, but he sensed he needed more if he were to survive his ordeal in the sun. The smell of human blood filled his nostrils and made his pulse race. Despite his better judgment, the vampire decided to go on a killing spree.
A man abusing a doxy was his first victim; a few blocks down a local thug met his demise. Next was a drunk sleeping in an alley. The vampire lost count of his victims that night; his blood lust clouding his own mind causing him to become intoxicated. He gathered what little wits he had left and stumbled home; barely able to stand, the vampire stripped himself of his clothes and stood naked in front of his mirror.
He did not like what he saw.
“Animal,” he cursed himself; monster.”
Yoochun laughed until he cried; collapsing to the floor, he curled up in a little ball. After a few moments, he stopped sobbing. Crawling on all fours he gazed once more at his comely visage and smiled.
“You are beautiful,” the arrogant creature spoke to his mirror image.
He stood up and admired himself in the looking glass. He was thin; skin like alabaster; his wide shoulders and broad back off set by a set of delicate and perfectly aligned collar bones. His waist was narrow; arms and legs well muscled, but not too bulky. He stretched back his head accentuating the line of his long, elegant neck; flowing mane of black silken hair falling perfectly at his shoulders. He licked his lips in delight as if he was admiring a courtesan whose services he had purchased for the evening.
Leaning his head against the mirror, his hot breath fogging up the glass, he touched his image and spoke softly.
“You love me, don’t you?”
One hand held fast to the top edge of the standing mirror; the other grasp his sex which hung fully engorged between his legs. He stroked himself long and hard; his swollen shaft aching as his blood pumped through the great vein which ran the length of him. He pressed his cherry red lips to the mirror as if to kiss it; the narcissistic vampire in love with himself; as if his wits were blown away with the wind.
His dark eyes narrowed and turned blood red; fangs extending and dripping with saliva. He had become a rabid dog. He licked the mirror and hugged it tightly, all the while still fisting his rigid length. His pulse increased with every stroke; 100, 200, past 300 beats per minute; a deadly pace for a human being. But this was no mere mortal; this was Nosferatu; an undead creature whose black heart was fuelled by the blood of countless victims; a heart that pumped pure evil.
He cried out as his release came; the sound reverberating off the lonely walls of his abode. He didn’t give a damn if anyone heard him. Gasping for breath, heart still painfully hammering in his chest; the foul, undead creature stared at himself in the mirror and snarled. A sound, foreign and frightening escaped his lips, like a banshee he shrieked at his image; the force of the sound shattering the mirror; shards of broken glass falling at his feet.
The vampire staggered backwards; and fell onto his bed. Grasping the sheets in his fists; he stared at the ceiling, waiting for the tremors which shook his body to subside. He caught his breath; heart rate steadily decreasing until it beat at a slow and steady pace. He released the sheets and let his slender frame sink comfortably upon the bed. Pulling the covers over his body he hugged his pillow tightly. As his eyes fluttered closed, he would not soon forget the exhilaration of the blood lust that night, or the shame he felt afterwards, knowing he was weak and vulnerable.
But the Nosferatu had more challenges ahead of him. For on the morrow he would face one of his deadliest enemies, the burning sun.