The Unholy Trio - Chapter 3: The Day Walker
Title: The Unholy Trio Chapter 3 - The Day Walker
Author: onthethruway01
Pairings: JYJ
Length: 3 of ?
Genre: angst, horror, smut
Rating: NC-17 overall
Summary: Three unnatural creatures find solace in each others company
A/N: This chapter is very long.
The vampire Yoochun only slept a few hours; it was as if his body knew that his ordeal was at hand.
Dawn.
It was a word that every vampire despised, and yet this was one vampire who was willing to face the dawn, and most certainly, his death.
“I must be mad,” he told himself as he cleaned up the broken glass of his shattered mirror.
He breathed deeply, determined to follow the gypsy woman’s fortune, even though it could lead to his demise.
The warm bath he took did little to calm his nerves, but the apothecary’s cream had to be applied to clean skin, so Yoochun washed himself from head to toe.
“If I am to explode in a ball of fire, at least I wont smell,” he laughed, trying to cheer himself up.
He dried himself with a soft towel and approached the bench where he had laid out the magical items the previous night. Opening up the jar of cream, he inhaled deeply. The odor was surprisingly pleasant; it reminded him of something from his childhood; something fruity that his mother had given him to eat; back when he was happy; back before they came and changed his life forever.
Yoochun snapped back into the present; he took a deep breath and tried his best not to let his emotions play with him; not after last night’s debacle. He dipped his fingers in the lotion and began to spread it all over his body. No patch of skin was left bare; every inch of him was coated with the apothecary’s concoction. Every crease and orifice was subjugated to invasion by his fingers and the creamy substance that coated them. He smeared the lotion on his lips and even filled his nostrils. He would breathe through his mouth; that is, if he could manage to breathe at all. The special glasses the apothecary gave him would hopefully protect his eyes.
His hair was next; not an easy task, as it was long and thick. Using the remainder of the lotion he saturated his locks; brushing them up and away from his broad forehead. He emptied the jar completely; after today he would have no further use for the cream, or so he believed. Either death would take him, or, should he survive the experience, he would never venture into the sun again, even if a thousand gypsies told him to do so. He slicked his hair back and tied it into a top-knot, making sure it was secured.
Satisfied that he was completely coated, he gingerly undid the ties on the magical bandages. He wasn’t sure how they worked; the apothecary said they would adhere to his skin and make a secure bond. He wrapped the end around his hand and staggered backwards as the cloth mimicked the color of his skin. It attached itself to his body; twisting and turning, it clung to him like his own flesh, molding onto his limbs and torso. The cloth weaved this way and that; winding between his fingers and his toes, leaving no patch uncovered. He gasped as the bandages reached between his legs; experiencing a moment of discomfort as he felt the fine linen wrap itself around his private parts.
“That’s a bit tight,” he squealed as he felt the circulation being cut off to his scrotum.
Taking a deep breath, he relaxed as his body adjusted to the strange sensation.
When it was over, only his mouth and his eyes remained free. With careful precision, he donned his clothes; a full set of long john’s to start; hosen, breeches, full length shirt and a cravat. A vest, full length frock coat and a woolen scarf followed. Yoochun took care as he put on his thick, leather gloves, then he sat upon the bench and pulled on his best riding boots. The final garment was a wide brim hat. He looked and felt ridiculous, but he didn’t care. He slid the dark spectacles onto his nose and made sure they were secure behind his ears.
He held the Arabic journal in his hands and decided to take it with him. He stuffed it in the carpet bag and slung it over his shoulder. There was one more thing he needed to retrieve before leaving his chambers. In a large chest at the foot of his bed, was a coffer of gold. The vampire had accumulated much wealth over the years, but he kept it all under lock and key within his secret abode. Banks, he found, could not be trusted; plus they were rarely open at night. Yoochun was a lone vampire; he had no human servant to do his bidding. He preferred it that way. He grabbed a pouch full of coin and stuffed it into the carpet bag. Yoochun took one last look around the simple chamber he called home and blew out the candle. He picked up his key and with shaking hands, turned the door knob and walked out in to the sun.
It was overcast.
The sky was gray; a light rain falling. It was surprisingly cold.
“You lucky bastard,” he told himself; a slight grim forming beneath the woolen scarf.
He closed the door and locked it, securing the key in a pocket.
Yoochun meandered onto the streets, head bowed so no one would make eye contact with him. Pretending to have a cold, he faked a cough, keeping any curious onlookers from coming too close. The vampire ducked into an alley; hand retrieving the Arabic text from the carpet bag. He struggled to read it, even though he had lived more than one human lifetime and travelled the world; his Arabic was a bit rusty.
The text went on about the history of the Djin; the different types; good versus evil; their magical powers and how they could be summoned. The difficulty was not calling the genie from the lamp, but finding it. No doubt the text had many spells and incantations that could be used to bring forth a genie from its vessel. But finding the damn thing in a city thousands of miles away from its origins was another trick all together. The book was tucked back into the bag and Yoochun once again started down the city streets.
There was a section of the city known for its curiosity shops and antique stores. He stopped in front of many windows and made a few inquiries of the shop keepers, fabricating a story that his wife’s birthday was coming up and she had a passion for collecting things from the mystic east. But there were no magic lamps to be found, and the vampire was getting discouraged; that, and the warning of the apothecary continued to plague his mind.
“The spell will only last for a few hours.”
The vampire wandered the streets for two hours and still found nothing. Then, his worst fears came true.
The rain stopped.
The sun began to streak through the clouds and he panicked. He had to find that magic lamp or go home; otherwise he was going to die. He continued on his way, staring in every shop that catered to collectors of rare items. The pressure was getting to him; he swore he could feel his skin beginning to fry. His paranoia increased; thoughts that people could see behind his façade; that they knew he was a foul undead creature roaming the streets in search of his next victim.
“Must find the lamp,” he told himself over and over again.
It was getting hot. The urge to strip himself of his outer clothing was killing him.
Killing him.
His mouth was dry; lungs constricted; thoughts racing in time with his pounding heart.
Something made his head hurt and he shielded his eyes. A streak of light penetrated his protective glasses and it made him squint. There, across the street in a tiny storefront window, a small shiny object stood out among all the others.
The vampire crossed the street, avoiding the throng and horse drawn carriages. He stopped in front of the small window and stared.
His undead heart skipped a beat.
The golden lamp called to him.
“Yoochun…”
Could it be? Was he hearing things?
He pushed his way into the store, frightening its owner who was literally asleep behind the counter.
“The lamp,” the strangely garbed gentleman panted heavily. “I want the magic lamp.”
The store owner raised an eyebrow and got off his chair. He retrieved the lamp and placed it on the counter.
“It’s very expensive sir; pure gold from the mystic east.”
A heavy pouch laden with gold was tossed on the counter.
“Is that enough?”
The store keeper opened the bag, his eyes gleaming as he counted the coins.
“More than enough Sir, thank you.”
“Keep the change and have a nice day,” the vampire replied as he stuffed the lamp into his carpet bag and stormed out of the store.
The shop keeper shrugged his shoulders and went back to his nap.
Yoochun wanted to sprint through the streets to get out of the midday sun, but he knew that a strangely dressed man with a carpet bag over his shoulder would surely bring the crushers after him. So, despite his intense desire to run like a gazelle, the vampire strode slowly, but with purpose. He could feel the heat seeping through his clothes and his bandages; even worse, he could feel his very life essence draining from him.
Exhausted, he stopped to try and catch his breath. Instead, he was gripped by a spasm. He coughed violently; looking down at his hands, he gasped. He was in big trouble.
Blood stained his gloves; he wiped his nose, only to find that it was bleeding too. His lungs were filling up with blood on the inside while his skin was burning on the outside.
He didn’t have much time.
Pulling the scarf around his face he raced home, not caring if his behavior would be considered suspicious.
“Dear G…”
He almost said “God,” but he changed his mind. It had been years since he believed in any deity, and a vampire invoking the Lord’s name was simply ludicrous.
Despite his agony, the vampire Yoochun sprinted across the city streets.
“Only a few more turns.”
Running around a familiar corner he arrived at the door to his home. He fumbled for his key; it fell to the ground in a puddle. He stared; mesmerized by his own image reflecting back at him as a trickle of blood dripped into the water. Slender fingers grabbed the key, opened the lock and slammed the door behind him. He slid to the floor, his body shaking like a leaf.
Dizzy and unsure on his feet, the sickly vampire stumbled to his bed. He collapsed upon the covers, his body trembling and gripped with pain. Yoochun managed to open the carpet bag and hold the lamp in his hands. He hugged the golden treasure tightly as he felt himself falling into unconsciousness.
But sleep did not come to the vampire. Instead, he began to mutter strange words; words old and mystical. Startled, Yoochun put the lamp on the floor. The words continued to spew from his mouth. Inside the carpet bag, the Arabic text began to glow; and, much to the vampire’s surprise, so did the magic lamp.
Within moments, a trail of smoke appeared from the spout; it trailed upward and spiraled. The vampire soon forgot his pain as the smoke took shape. The creature appeared to be a young and beautiful male from the waist up while it’s lower half remained a cloud of smoke. He was the loveliest creature that Yoochun had ever seen. The vampire stopped speaking in tongues and stared at the magnificent Djin; it’s hair long and tied up in a pony tail. It seemed to shimmer and glitter like gold. His face was flawless; his body well developed and covered in tattoos and piercings.
“It’s about time you released me from this tin can,” the Genie spoke with a voice like a heavenly angel.
“Fuck me,” the vampire whispered; his eyes fluttering closed as he passed out on the floor.