Chapter 24
CHAPTER 24
“ W ow, this is certainly a lot bigger than the warehouse — and bigger than I remember!”
Mario sounded impressed, stopping abruptly as he stepped into the performance space where Capriccio would debut in all its glory. Ilya looked around the cavernous theater, registering the differences in the decor. The theme of Phantasma had been dreams and nightmares, so the theater had been done up in abstract shapes and ethereal hues of silver, blue, and purple to reflect the mood of the show. But once Phantasma had ended the previous month, the designers had completely revamped the space, and Ilya had to admit they’d done an incredible job.
In place of the sharp angles used in Phantasma, Capriccio was almost wildly organic. Vines with enormous, fantastically hued three dimensional flowers covered cabling and the niches which held speakers and spotlights. The ceiling was almost hidden in a welter of leaves and more of the flowers, along with equally gigantic butterflies with shimmering wings. Even the seats of the auditorium had been replaced, the once deep blue upholstery now verdant green. Ilya was impressed they’d accomplished so much in only four weeks, but then Circo had money to spend since the shows were constantly sold out.
“It’s because there aren’t any people,” Ilya replied. “Come on, the green room is back this way. Prepare to be impressed.”
He led Mario toward the stage. There were still workers moving set pieces around, and testing things like lights and trapdoors. He noticed Mario watching in fascination. “Didn’t you have to do this kind of thing at the Carnival?”
Mario shook his head. “No, it’s practically bare compared to all this, and everything was done with magic.” He pointed to where a stagehand was testing a set of lights in one of the vines that seemed to writhe its way up the proscenium. “When I go back to the Carnival again, I’ll have to see if Errante can do something like that for the show. It would look amazing to have the poles of the big top look like trees, and the trapezes like vines.”
The words slammed into Ilya, and for a moment robbed him of breath. Go back to the Carnival? Mario had said when, not if — did he intend to leave Vegas and leave Ilya behind?
The thought was a stabbing pain, and Ilya realized that while they’d shared much about their pasts, they’d never discussed the future. Hell, he hadn’t even told Mario how he felt, because he couldn’t speak the words.
It was irrational, and he knew it, but there was some mental block he hadn’t been able to move past. The superstitious part of his mind that still remembered the stories and omens his baba had told him of in childhood was stupidly afraid that since he’d loved Derek and lost him, telling Mario how he felt might somehow curse him as well. There was enough danger from unknown quarters swirling around them as it was, and Mario seemed content for now with the way their relationship was going.
And he had to admit their relationship was amazing. Physically, they were perfectly matched, and the sex was mind-blowing. Perhaps it was because Mario wasn’t fully human, and there was a thrill in knowing a hint of darkness lay beneath his surface. What he’d shared with Derek had been pure joy, but with Mario, there was an added element that called to another part of Ilya’s nature. It was something raw and primal and feral that resonated with a primitive part of Ilya he’d never even known he’d had.
Everything outside the bedroom was just as good. Mario was as tidy as Ilya himself, and his playful sense of humor and insatiable curiosity were a delight. Ilya enjoyed a rediscovery of the mundane, when Mario puzzled over how certain things functioned without magic. Apparently in the Carnival electricity wasn’t something they plugged things into, but generated by someone named Nik who managed all the workaday runnings of the entirely magical Carnival. There seemed to be hundreds of questions Mario had been bottling up ever since his arrival and that he hadn’t had time to run through internet searches, so he would unleash them on Ilya at random times, much to Ilya’s amusement.
In short, they were good together, and for the first time since Derek’s diagnosis, Ilya found himself genuinely happy.
However, now wasn’t the time for a discussion of their feelings, so Ilya headed toward the door which separated the house proper from the even larger area that was backstage. Here they dodged moveable set pieces, cables, stagehands, and third assistant directors as Ilya led him toward the greenroom.
Unlike the locker room at the warehouse, the area where the performers got ready and rested before and after their performance was enormous and multi-purpose. On one side, there was a seating area complete with screens to show what was happening on stage, a catering counter for light snacks and drinks, and a warm up area with mats, barres, and mirrors. The other side contained lockers, dressing cubicles, and a huge make-up area with lighted tables. The entire back wall was given over to the costume department, with rack upon rack of neatly sorted and labeled garments and individual shelves for headpieces. There was even a door emblazoned with a red cross where an entire small medical suite was manned by trained emergency personnel, who even had access to an ambulance if someone needed to be whisked away to a hospital.
Even at this early hour, there were dozens of people scurrying around, from make-up artists to performers warming up on the mats. It was surprisingly quiet, however, with no one shouting and no music blaring as there had been at the warehouse. The discipline of professional performers and crew held even when there wasn’t an audience in the venue.
Mario was gazing around with his mouth open, obviously never having seen anything like it. He grinned at Ilya with the delight of a small boy. “Okay, I’m a yokel, I suppose, but this is a kind of magic all on its own, isn’t it?”
Ilya nodded. “The magic of training, organization, and more money than you can shake a stick at.” He pointed toward the lockers. “Come on, we’re over here.”
They’d both brought the contents of their warehouse lockers. Frankly, Ilya was fine with not going there any longer, since it was Gordon’s domain, even if the man had been scarce in recent days. Despite the logic of what Mario said and his assurances that he’d not felt any magic connected to Gordon, Ilya still didn’t like the man and would never trust him. Part of him was sure that anything shady going on with anyone on the board had to have Gordon involved. In Ilya’s opinion, cockroaches always sought the darkest corners.
After the realization at Halloween that someone among the highest levels at Circo was likely behind everything, Ilya and Mario had done as much research as they could on the members of the board, and even on some of the show patrons, which fortunately Circo had listed with names and small vanity style headshots on their website. It was a daunting list, even though information was scarce, with brief bios but little beyond basic facts. No doubt that was for privacy, but it made trying to identify who might want to kill or kidnap paranormal beings a difficult and time-consuming process. Many of them seemed to have enough money to keep their internet footprint almost non-existent, and for a few, the only information they had beyond their names on the Circo website was a news article from the day of Derek’s funeral, showing those who had been in attendance standing around the gravesite. It was a painful reminder, and Mario had quickly clicked away from the picture, no doubt to spare Ilya’s feelings.
They hadn’t expected anything to jump out and scream supervillain, but digging into public records alone had taken a lot of the free time he and Mario had. It didn’t help that while Gordon was the “senior” assistant to the board, there seemed to be many others who functioned in lesser capacities, any of whom could be involved in what was going on.
It was daunting, and Ilya had even brought up to Mario again the thought of him — as well as his friends — leaving Circo, and letting Ilya handle it. But Mario and the others had adamantly refused, insisting Ilya couldn’t do it alone and that Ilya’s inability to sense magic put him at a disadvantage. They were all certain that whoever had kidnapped the others had to be magical themselves or be using magic to do it. He learned that taking down shapeshifters who could shrug off any wounds from non-magical weapons or rend people to shreds with their hands wasn’t an easy feat for even a large group of normal humans. Not to mention that a couple of dozen people ganging up on a single individual desperately fighting them would attract a great deal of undue attention.
“You look far away,” Mario said, and Ilya smiled and apologized. He pushed away the intrusive thoughts that pressed in on him and unpacked his gym bag into the large locker that was labeled with his name. Mario did the same, and then they headed to the dressing cubicles to change into practice clothes. They first would be a run-through of their routine, then the directors in charge of timing would hustle sections of the show in and out. Ilya had to make sure that he and Mario were where they were supposed to be, when they were supposed to be there, and he was well aware the first few days were going to be chaos.
They got through the first run-through of their routine, which went smoothly despite the new venue and the different feel of being on stage as opposed to a practice space. It was also the first time they’d performed it with lowered lights, though not as dark as the actual performances would be. As they went back to the green room, Mario was grinning.
“That was amazing!” he said, as they made their way to the mats to cool down. “It’s so different from the warehouse, or being in a big top. I can’t imagine how it’s going to feel once we’re completely in costume with the final lighting.”
“I have no doubt it will be fantastic.” Ilya couldn’t help but smile at Mario’s enthusiasm.
They were still stretching out their muscles when a subdued yet excited set of voices reached them. A small crowd had gathered near the catering area, where a sort of community bulletin board was located so that performers could share information. Circo management also used it to post information, and while they also emailed things, usually the bulletin board was the first place information was displayed for all to see.
“What’s going on?” Mario asked, inclining his head toward the crowd. “It’s not lunchtime yet.”
“Some announcement or other,” Ilya said, shrugging as he bent down to touch his toes. “They put up all kinds of information, but we can wait and find out after everyone is done gawking.”
But they didn’t have to wait that long; Terry broke away from the buzzing crowd and came over to them. “They posted the picks for the premiere party,” he told them pensively. “You two are at the top of the list.”
Ilya frowned. He knew where Terry’s concern was coming from, and he wasn’t thrilled about it, either.
“Patrick mentioned something about those parties,” Mario said, looking between Terry and Ilya. “That’s where people pay to see some of us, and they give out the fudge?”
“Yeah.” Terry bit his lip. “And a lot of times people from the board come, too — you know, to mingle with the money and try to get more sponsors for the show.”
“A lot of money is negotiated at those parties,” Ilya confirmed. It wasn’t strange that their act had been chosen, since it was one of the highlights of the entire show. But he couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about it. Even if it would be completely idiotic to try anything against Mario at such a well-attended event — and where he and Mario would be the center of attention — it still felt like more than a coincidence. It meant that Mario might be in the same room as the person or persons who’d tried to kill him.
But Mario’s sudden smile of satisfaction was directly at odds with Ilya’s concern.
“That’s perfect.”
“Perfect?” Ilya spoke louder than he had meant to, and heads turned toward them. He stared everyone down with cool indifference until people looked away. But when he spoke again, it was almost a whisper. “Are you out of your mind, Mario? We can’t do it. It’s too dangerous.”
“Dangerous for them, not for us,” he whispered. Then he glanced at Terry. “Just Ilya and me? Or are the rest of you also in?”
“No,” Terry said. “Just the two of you.”
“Good.” Mario’s grin became fierce. “They can’t do anything to us there, right? It would be too public. Maybe they want to get a feel for me, but they won’t learn a damned thing.”
Before Ilya could snap back about it not being worth the risk, an assistant director started announcing time for the next run-through. Terry hurried away to join his act, while Ilya and Mario had to move away from the mats to make room for the gymnasts who needed the space for their warm-up. They needed to have a discussion about the party, but this wasn’t the time or place.
Once they finished for the day, they showered and changed before Ilya drove them back home. Mario was uncharacteristically silent, but he seemed to be thinking deeply, rubbing the sun and moon amulet slowly between his fingers. Ilya left him to it, hoping Mario was reconsidering any crazy idea of working the party, while Ilya himself was preoccupied with figuring out how to avoid the party without losing his job, and therefore losing his ability to protect Mario while he was at Circo. He was still in favor of just walking away, but he knew it was a selfish desire on his part. So he had to remain where he could in order to do everything in his power to keep Mario safe while Mario did what he felt he had to do.
They entered the house, and Mario smiled, taking Ilya’s hand and leading him toward the kitchen. “I’ll heat up that leftover lasagna from yesterday, and while we eat, I’ll explain to you what I’m thinking.” When Ilya would have interrupted, Mario placed gentle fingers on his lips. “I’ll listen to you, but let me get this out first. It might change your mind — in fact, I hope it does.”
“I’ll listen,” Ilya said slowly. Then he gave Mario a stern look. “But you’re going to have to come up with something pretty compelling to convince me this isn’t the most dangerous thing you could do.”
After that Mario refused to say anything more. Instead, he made Ilya set their normal places at the island, then set about gathering salad, making garlic bread, and reheating the promised lasagna, which Ilya had made. Mario wasn’t much of a cook, since he’d never needed to learn much beyond the basics, but he insisted on doing half the chores. Fortunately, Ilya had a housekeeper who came in to handle the heavy cleaning, so when Mario had first moved in and looked in puzzlement at a toilet brush, Ilya hadn’t had to explain.
Soon enough, Mario joined him, taking a deep breath. “You eat, I’ll talk. Then we’ll switch,” he said, pointing at Ilya’s salad. “I figured something out that has been bothering both of us. Why kidnap the others, but try to kill me? And it suddenly dawned on me: they weren’t trying to kill me or you. They were trying to see what I can do.”
Ilya didn’t even bother to pretending to eat; he had no appetite. He scowled. “A crane sure seems pretty deadly to me!”
Mario snorted. “Oh, definitely, and I’m not saying they would have shed tears or been disappointed if either you or I had been hurt or killed. But yeah, I had to ask myself, why me? What did I ever do to them? But I think it’s because they saw that first video, then one with Patrick. The one where I did something I shouldn’t have been able to do.”
For a moment, Ilya was still. He remembered that video and the impossible way Mario had been entwined in the straps, and then suddenly he was moving faster than anyone could and landing on the mat. “So you remember what you did?”
“Of course I remember.” Mario gave him a patient look. “I was panicked about Patrick, so I used my full abilities to get to him as quickly as I could. I wasn’t used to having to hide my abilities when they were needed, and after everyone freaked out, I learned to be more careful. Fortunately, everyone seemed to buy my story about not knowing what I’d done or chalk it up to ‘hysterical strength’ or some such. Or at least I thought they had. But I think someone noticed.”
It made sense, though Ilya still wasn’t convinced. “So you think they figured out you weren’t entirely human from that?”
“I think it gave them a clue,” Mario said. “I think that’s why they gave you the chocolates. Maybe the damned things even show them what sort of paranormal people are. I don’t know.” Shrugging, he pushed a hand through his long hair. “I’m not a mage, and even though I’ve used magic all my life, I’ve never given it any more thought that you give when turning on a tap or flipping a light switch. It was there. I used it. How something became enchanted or what it might do beyond just being magical isn’t anything I worried about.”
“So if they knew you ate the chocolate, they would somehow know what you are, right?”
“Actually, no.” Mario held up his amulet. “I told you this was my lucky charm, and it is. But it’s more than that. It was given to me to disguise what I am, so that anyone with a hatred of dhampir wouldn’t be able to spot me. It was mostly meant to protect me from vampires, but in this case, it’s probably frustrating the hell out of whoever is taking my friends. They might have figured out I have some sort of magic, but they wouldn’t be able to figure out what it is.”
“The chocolate didn’t work, so that’s why they dropped a crane on you?” Ilya scowled. “That’s a stretch, Mario.”
“Is it?” Mario leaned closer. “It’s extremely dangerous to tangle with a paranormal of unknown ability. What if I turned out to be a Sphinx, or Rakshasa? Like I said, I don’t think they would have much cared if they killed me, but they knew I was fast and quite likely not human from that first video.” He paused. “You never got to see the videos of the crane drop, did you?”
Ilya shook his head. “They said something about investigations and lawsuits meant they had to keep it private. Why?”
“Because if they had let you see it, I’m sure it would show a lot more than the first video did,” Mario admitted. “I heard a shriek from the metal holding the crane, and I moved on pure instinct. You were in danger, and so I picked you up and flung you away. By then, the crane was almost on top of me, so I jumped backward out of the way. I don’t know exactly how far I went, but probably at least twenty or thirty feet. I was too frantic about making sure you weren’t hurt to notice. But the fact is that if I was purely human, we’d both be dead.”
Ilya stared at him for a long moment, a finger of ice sliding down his spine. His own death concerned him little, but losing Mario would be more than he could bear. He was about to protest that this was exactly the reason they needed to avoid the damned premiere party, but he bit his tongue. Mario had requested to be heard out.
“So you think they still don’t know what you are?”
“I’m positive. They know I’m fast and strong, but I didn’t change form like a shifter or use magic, so they must still be puzzled over what I am. I think that’s why we’re on the list for the party.” He smiled grimly. “I doubt they’d try to take me there, since there are so many people around, right? They’d be stupid to even try. But they’re going to have someone in that crowd that they think can figure it out. Maybe some magic where they have to be close to or even touch me. And they’re going to be really pissed off when it doesn’t work.”
“So they get nothing but more frustration, and then they have to arrange another way to learn what they want to know.” Ilya growled. “There’s something called ‘testing to destruction,’ Mario! What if the next time, it’s not a crane? It’s a bullet, or a car, or a Molotov cocktail? You’re fast and strong, but you’re mortal, right? You can be killed!”
“I can, but this could be the chance to get the information we need to end it once and for all!” Mario looked confident. “While they’re stalking me, I’m going to be stalking them. They don’t know we’ve figured them out, or they would be far more circumspect about getting close enough for me to feel them. They’ll have magic, and when I find it, we’ll know exactly who is behind everything.”
The idea made Ilya want to snap and snarl; he hated feeling caught in an untenable situation. Mario seemed to read his tension, because he reached over, laying a warm hand against Ilya’s cheek, his expression full of remorse.
“You really are worried, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am,” Ilya snapped, then drew in a calming breath. “I have no idea what I’m doing here. You’re in danger, and I’m just a man, Mario. I don’t have any powers or abilities that I can use to keep you safe! Just because I lov?—”
He stopped, eyes widening as he realized what he’d almost said, the fear that speaking his feelings would condemn Mario to death coiling like a cold lump in his gut.
But the expression on Mario’s face was one of such joy and wonder that Ilya felt it wash over him like a healing balm. “Were you about to say you love me? I hope to the gods you were, because I think I’ve been in love with you since the first time I laid eyes on you. I wanted you then, and if I hadn’t looked like a kid, I probably would have jumped you back then, married or not.”
Ilya breathed in deeply, the joy he felt at Mario’s admission at war with the irrational dread he felt from his own. Yet he wanted — needed — Mario so much, and now that the words were spoken between them, he couldn’t call them back. Mario loved him, and he loved Mario. All that mattered now was protecting him at any cost.
“Derek would have objected,” he said shakily, but he leaned against Mario’s hand. “I tried to hold it in, but yes, I do love you. I just can’t deal with the thought of losing you, too.”
“I come from a big family. I would have learned to share. If you found him lovable, I would have as well.” Mario smiled, his expression tender. “But never fear that you’ll lose me, Ilya. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and I swear I’m going to do everything I can to make sure we’re both safe.” With that, he leaned in and captured Ilya’s lips, sealing the words between them like a vow.
Unable to resist, Ilya kissed him back. Desire rose as swiftly as it always did, and Mario seemed to share the feeling. They stood up, then stumbled toward the bedroom, kissing, hands fumbling with clothing as they went.
By the time they tumbled naked onto the bed, Ilya was desperate to be buried in Mario’s body, to feel Mario arching and hear him moaning Ilya’s name. It was as though knowing Mario loved him and having admitted his own feelings made the sheer need overwhelming.
Mario seemed to feel it, too, and in a haze of heat and lust, Ilya fumbled through the preparation. Then he was thrusting, slick and hard, crying out as Mario’s tight heat enveloped him. Mario was clutching his shoulders, flipping them over so that Mario was above him, knees gripping Ilya’s hips as he rode Ilya’s cock with an almost desperate urgency.
He watched Mario’s face, seeing his own hunger reflected there. Mario was beautiful in motion, muscles flexing, skin flushed and gleaming with sweat as he moved, his cock hard as he stroked it with his own hand. Ilya grasped Mario’s hips, then braced his feet on the mattress so he could thrust deeper. All at once the coil of pleasure-tension snapped, and Ilya shouted, slamming Mario’s hips down against him and arching up as he shattered deep in Mario’s body.
He heard Mario’s cry echoing his, felt him clenching hard around him and the pulses of Mario’s pleasure landing hotly on his skin. He opened his eyes, and their gazes locked, the green of Mario’s eyes seeming to glow with an inner light that stole Ilya’s breath.
It went on until a languor stole over Ilya’s limbs, robbing him of strength as Mario melted down onto him, curling up on his chest. Ilya slid his arms around Mario, holding him close, feeling his throat growing tight. He loved Mario, and Mario loved him. Perhaps that would be enough.
After a time, Mario raised his head, looking down at Ilya as he lifted a hand, smoothing Ilya’s hair back from his damp brow.
“You’re still worried.”
“Yeah.”
Mario looked pensive for a moment. “I know you feel out of your depth, and like you don’t have any way to deal with all this. There’s something I can do, but only if you want me to.”
Ilya raised a brow, puzzled. “You aren’t talking about turning me into a vampire, are you?”
Mario chuckled, stroking Ilya’s cheek. “No, I can’t, and I wouldn’t even if I could. But I have some of the same abilities, if to a lesser extent. If I were to bite you and drink a little of your blood, it marks you to vampires and other dhampir as being mine. It also links us. I’ll be able to track you, and you’ll be able to track me. It’s why in some old legends, vampires can always find their victims again, and those victims are drawn back to them, even against their will.”
Ilya’s first instinct was to accept, but he had a question. “Won’t that make me magical? If the people who are after you can sense magic the way you can, won’t that give away what you are?”
“It’s not exactly magical, it’s… chemical?” Mario frowned slightly. “Biological? My family could sense it, but Angel and Terry and the others wouldn’t. It’s sort of a ‘keep away’ sign for our kind, but it doesn’t matter to anyone else.”
“Then do it.” For his part, Ilya liked the thought of being able to keep track of Mario. It meant that if Mario got taken the way the others had, Ilya would have some hope of finding him.
Mario bent his head, and Ilya felt his warm lips pressing against his throat, and then the barest, teasing touch of Mario’s tongue, as though he were stealing a taste. Mario parted his lips, his breath ghosting over Ilya’s skin. Ilya’s heart pounded, and he cried out as he felt a sharp sting and Mario began to suck.
It didn’t hurt after that initial shock; in fact, it was surprisingly pleasurable. Ilya felt his limbs seeming to melt, a sensation like being in a hot shower where tension slid away. He was warm everywhere, relaxed except for his cock, which seemed to pulse and harden every time Mario sucked. It felt amazing, and Ilya gasped and moaned, never wanting it to stop.
All too soon, Mario raised his head, licking his lips. He looked feral again, and the flash of fangs was sexier than it had any right to be. Ilya glanced down, noticing that Mario was hard again as well, and with a growl, he rolled them over to the side, his cock sliding against Mario’s ass and then into his body. Ilya claimed Mario’s lips, prepared for the sting of fangs, but it never came. There was a tang of the coppery taste of blood as Mario’s tongue slid against his, but Ilya didn’t care. He could feel Mario now, not just in the physical slide of their bodies, but in some corner of his mind or spirit. They were connected in a way he didn’t fully understand, but he craved it nonetheless.
Their joining was slower this time, but no less intense, the desperation replaced with discovery. Even as many times as they’d made love in the last few weeks, this was different, with a connection deeper than Ilya had ever experienced. Mario moved with him, their hearts seeming to beat in sync, breath and bodies and souls entwined in a joining that he knew would spoil him for any other lover.
After a time, however, their slow pace quickened as the demands of their bodies for satiation became undeniable. Then they were there together, Mario’s pleasure in his mind, boosting his own to an almost unbearable degree, surging back and forth between them in an echo that only slowly faded away, leaving them both panting and limp in the aftermath.
Mario raised a hand, smiling at Ilya and caressing his cheek with a touch and expression so tender Ilya’s eyes prickled. “I’ve never done that before. I’m so glad the first time was you.”
“So am I,” Ilya replied, feeling a surge of possessiveness. He was selfish enough that he didn’t want Mario to have such an experience with anyone else. It was something he wanted to keep just for them, to know that he alone could share it.
The tilt of Mario’s head told him that Mario could read his expression, but then his smile grew rueful. “Maybe now you’ll feel a little better, knowing you’ll be able to sense me. I don’t believe I’ll be in any real danger at the party, but now, if something happens, you can find me.”
Ilya still didn’t like it, despite the gift Mario had given him. He thought it was risky, but he didn’t know that they had any alternative, and they were dealing with powers he didn’t understand and didn’t know how to fight. But obviously Mario thought he did, and Ilya didn’t want to lose this new closeness between them by quarreling. All he could do was hope Mario was right while doing everything in his own limited power to keep Mario safe.
“Fine, I’m in.” He gave Mario a stern look. “But you’d better not get yourself killed, Mario Gallier. Because if this goes wrong, I’m likely to throttle you myself.”
Mario pulled Ilya close, burrowing into his embrace and holding on as if he’d never let Ilya go. “Trust me, Ilya — I wouldn’t have it any other way.”