10. CANADA 21st Century #2
The Romani witch, meanwhile, was content to live off their wealth, unburdened by mundane responsibilities. His passion had always been magical study and other esoteric pursuits.
“I can’t believe we’re finally seeing this on the big screen,” Aric said with a grin, standing beside his husband as he paid for their tickets.
The theatre’s small but welcoming lobby was quiet as they were the only ones at the box office.
Most people had preordered online, as they usually did, but this outing had been a spontaneous decision.
“Plus, it’s a queer classic, right? Even though Pitt and Banderas don’t kiss. What’s that about? I’ve watched this film a dozen times on TV, but there’s something about watching it here that makes it feel more impactful, you know?”
Cassian’s lips curled into a half-smile. “Sure, my love.”
“Oh, stop, I know you aren’t a huge vampire fan, but you love me, so it evens out,” Aric laughed. “I do appreciate you coming.” Getting close to his husband’s ear, he whispered, “I’ll show you how much I appreciate it later tonight.”
Smacking his husband’s ass with a mischievous grin, Aric turned toward the restrooms. “Grab our seats, hon!” he called over his shoulder, already moving through the soft glow of the lobby lights. “Back in a sec!”
Cassian got their popcorn and drinks and went into the theatre to search for their seats.
Inside, the subtle chatter of fellow moviegoers filled the air, the collective excitement for the film almost tangible.
Cassian appreciated how The Revue retained much of its historic character, with a single-screen auditorium featuring sloped floors, a balcony, and a high ceiling with original architectural details.
Plush red seats and heavy velvet curtains framed the screen, preserving the atmosphere of a bygone era.
Cassian appreciated history; he sometimes felt like a relic himself.
The Romani witch scanned the crowd, noting people of all ages in attendance—but when he turned to his left, the true extent of that range struck him like a jolt. His breath caught. He blinked twice, unsure if his eyes were playing tricks on him.
They were not.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” he said under his breath, a smile beginning to form.
Sitting on the left side of the theatre, about halfway down, was the immortal Gian.
Cassian’s heart thudded erratically with excitement at the sight of his old friend. This was a reunion he had longed for since their last chance at an encounter, more than two centuries ago, was stolen by the sudden appearance and interference of a monster.
Instead of announcing himself with a telepathic greeting, Cassian thought he would surprise his old friend in person. He would figure out what to say about Aric on the fly. Unsurprisingly, Aric bore a strong resemblance to Rufus, which Cassian was sure would shock the immortal.
He set his refreshments down on a chair, but just as the Romani witch stepped forward to cross the aisle, Gian bent down to retrieve something, revealing in that moment that he was not attending the movie alone.
A smaller male figure, until now completely obscured by Gian’s imposing frame, sat silently beside him.
Cassian’s blood ran cold as he watched Gian sit back up, turn and kiss the figure on the mouth, full and deep.
No, this isn’t happening—it isn’t possible! Am I going mad?
The man Cassian saw Gian sharing an intimate moment with was none other than the blood-drinking monster of his nightmares. It was the very creature he had vanquished in Madrid, but which had escaped entropic destruction through divine intervention.
And for the first time in centuries, as blinding rage surged through him and the sting of betrayal pierced deeper than any blade, Cassian felt the forbidden pull of darkest magic stir within him.
Suddenly and violently, the theatre lights began to burst in a fierce cascade of sparks, with glass shards raining down like shrapnel.
The cool air twisted into a howling vortex, causing the heavy movie curtains to thrash about like laundry in a windstorm, snapping against the walls and straining against their metal rods.
Cassian, the ancient Romani witch, was unravelling emotionally. And the storm inside him had begun to break loose.
Gian and the other blood-drinking immortal, both able to see clearly in the dark, scanned the now dimly lit room, confusion etched across their faces.
“Cass, what the hell are you doing?!” Aric shouted, grabbing his husband’s arm and tugging him back toward him. “Get a hold of yourself!”
“It’s him,” Cassian seethed.
As people screamed and ran past them to escape the bedlam that had taken over the screening room, Aric tried valiantly to shake his husband back to his senses.
“Please, Cass, stop! I don’t understand what’s happening. Please, talk to me!”
Gian turned abruptly in their direction, his gaze fixing on the Romani witch; he was so focused he completely overlooked the man’s husband clasping his arm.
“ Cassian? How is this possible? ”
As his ancient name echoed in his mind psychically, Cassian instantly recognized the voice—it was the same one that had once invaded his thoughts uninvited, long ago in a Britannian tavern. But this time, there was no British accent. Now, it sounded unmistakably Italian.
The Romani witch chose to act first and ask questions never. Betrayal deserved nothing less. “Dolor!” [“Pain!”]
Gian roared as he grabbed his head in agony; his strong fingers ran through his blue-black hair as he tried to futilely press out the stabbing, torturous pain.
Cassian’s gaze seethed with bitterness as he looked upon the writhing immortal, the one who had betrayed him. His hair! That colour, so much like the demon’s now! They were working together all this time!
In the blink of an eye, the smaller immortal appeared at Cassian’s side, his speed so unnatural it seemed like teleportation. In one fluid, brutal motion, he seized the Romani witch by the neck and squeezed.
“Let him go, witch, or I’ll rip your fucking head off!”
Aric, completely ignored by the ancient immortal, reached out and grasped the god’s arm. Channelling every ounce of his will into a spell, he shouted, “Laisse aller, démon!” [“Let go, demon!’]
The immortal’s hand recoiled from Cassian’s neck, not by choice but by force. Still holding on, Aric pressed the advantage, his voice ringing with command. “Retire-toi, démon!” [“Get back, demon!”]
The immortal shot across the room like a thunderbolt, but just inches from impact with the movie screen, he froze, suspended in midair.
Power rippled around him as he righted himself, levitating with effortless grace, untouched, unbroken, and burning with fury.
The darkness in the room thickened and shifted, flowing like water, as liquid shadows coiled and writhed around the god like serpents.
“Not bad, witch, but you’ll have to do much better than that to best the Lord of Shadows and Darkness! I have your measure now. Neither of you is a match for me, mortal children of Hecate.” The god laughed mockingly as he showed his fangs.
Then, with a sharp flick of his right hand, the immortal sent Aric flying out of the screening room into the lobby. He slammed hard against the wall beside the window, where the Interview With the Vampire poster was taped up. The impact knocked the wind clear out of him as he crumpled to the floor.
The lobby was empty; everyone had fled outside, standing in stunned silence as they watched the impossible chaos unfold through the glass.
Then, one by one, the windows blackened, as shadows poured over the glass, blotting out all light and turning the theatre into a sealed void.
The door was not spared either, for the living darkness crept over it like a thick, choking veil, locking it shut and trapping everything supernatural inside and keeping the mundanes out of their business.
“No, Olympius, please don’t hurt them! This is all a misunderstanding, it has to be! I know him! Cassian would never attack unless he thought we meant him harm! Let me talk to him.”
Gian had fought back against the pain, eventually overpowering the spell with his godly will.
He moved slowly toward Cassian, unsure how best to proceed.
He wondered how Cassian could possibly be here, in this time, in this century?
Gian felt no anger at being attacked; he was only confused by the situation and concerned for his old friend’s mental and emotional state.
Cassian clutched his throat, coughing hard.
A dark bruise had already spread across his neck, a stark reminder of the immortal fiend’s uncanny strength.
“Olympius, is it?!” Cassian stared daggers at the floating god.
“So, you have a name, monster, slaughterer of innocents, killer of children, murderer of witches! Are you named after the dark god of hate and vengeance?”
“I am no longer that god, witch, and I have never done anything of the sort,” Olympius stated matter-of-factly.
"Liar! Monster! Fiend!"
That coldly spoken lie was more than Cassian could bear.
To him, it rang not only false, but cruel, an insult flung without feeling.
Rage surged in his chest, and with it came the call of dark power.
The urge to unleash the foulest of magic upon the gods swelled within him, clawing its way to the surface.
The Romani witch’s eyes turned a ghostly white, then sank into a void of black.
“No, my love!” Aric cried, his voice shaking. “Don’t let it take you. This isn’t who you are, no matter how dire things have become. You have to stop! Please, come back to me!”
Aric, breath ragged, had regained his senses and sprinted back into the screening room just in time to see his husband beginning to surrender to the powerful darkness long buried within him.