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With Stronger Light Comes Darker Shadow.

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“You can’t accept the fact that we’re not enemies, can you?” The leech, Reid, said.

Damn you. Geoffrey thought. Damn you for having the nerve to sound like you’re above all this!

“You always have been…” He ground out, gritting his teeth through the pain to look at Reid. “And you always will be!”

Reid’s eyes… they were exactly as monstrous as he’d imagined they would be, a sure sign of a vampire that had been gorging itself on the blood of the living. There was no white to be seen around the iris, just a dark, damning abyss… hideous, and yet still so beautiful. The eyes of a predator, sharp and fierce.

Cursing himself, he glared at Reid, who only looked at him with a calm expression.

Not long before, he’d seen that face in pain, charred from the light of one of Swansea’s experiments. Now, it was as if he hadn’t even done any damage at all; the only proof of their battle lying in the bullet holes and bloodstains on Reid’s outfit. Through the holes, could see smooth, pale skin, so at odds with those evil eyes.

Geoffrey wanted to touch. Oh, how he wanted.

Reid’s eyes narrowed.

Disgusted at himself for having such thoughts, Geoffrey spat at Reid’s feet, trying to regain some sense of balance. These thoughts were not natural. It was… it was the leech’s influence. It had to be.

Right?

“Of all the evils that threaten mankind, your kind are the worst!” He snarled, holding back a scream as his wounds opened again. The blood of King Arthur was strong, no doubt, but even it had its limits. His healing was slowing already, reverting to human speeds. Darkness crept in at the edges of his sight, but he fought it off; he would face his death like a man, not asleep like a coward.

But exhaustion brought with it weakness. His thoughts kept straying to Reid’s eyes, fearsome in their beauty.

The product of fear… perhaps? Geoffrey was no longer sure.

“I was only reborn for a few minutes before you and your men hunted me down like a beast!”

Geoffrey scoffed. “You were only reborn for a few minutes and you’d already taken the life of an innocent woman!”

There was a beat of silence, a flicker of regret in those eyes.

“There is no way you’ll ever let me be McCullum? You’ll always hunt me down, won’t you?”

Reid’s tone was civil, but Geoffrey could hear something dangerous stirring below the man’s smooth baritone.

He felt his cheeks heat and his trousers tighten at the sound, and he cursed his body for choosing now of all times to give in to these unnatural urges.
Disgusting, sinful, damned, destroy it, unnatural, abomination, aberration, hideous-

“There is no escape, leech! Kill me now, for there is no way you can sway me to your ideals!” Geoffrey shouted, desperation clear in his voice. These were not the thoughts of good men. The leech was controlling him, there was no other way-

He had to die. He had to die now, had to escape the feeling and the sensation that the leech brought just by being near him.

Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is an abomination

He hung his head, reciting the lord’s prayer in his thoughts, as he awaited for his death. Imagined Doctor Jonathan Reid, surgeon, leech, standing over him, blade drawn, ready to cut him down; or perhaps with his fangs bared, to give Geoffrey the same end he’d given to so many others.

Footsteps, as Reid stepped closer, and then cool fingers took hold of his chin, gently forcing him to look up at those damnable, hideous, beautiful eyes.
“That’s where you’re mistaken.” Came the words, soft as the caress of fingers on his cheek.

“What do you mean?” He was afraid to ask, afraid of the softness, the gentleness, because it went against everything he knew.

Reid’s lips turned up into a smirk, beautiful and honestly frightening to see, as he drew Geoffrey closer.

“I’ll make you a vampire McCullum.” He said, and Geoffrey’s blood turned to ice. “I’ll make you one of us!”

“No!” He yelled, and struggled to stand as Reid dropped him, but the shadows wrapped around his knees, locking him in place. “Kill me!” The reality of the situation dawned on him, and he began to panic.

nonononononononononononononononononocan’tcan’tnothisisn’thappeningnoplease

“Prepare yourself, hunter, you’re about to be hunted. Just. Like. Me.” With every word, Reid seemed to get more excited, his breath began to come harder, and he gripped Geoffrey’s shoulder roughly as he dragged him upright, his other hand coming to grip his throat.

He shouted, pleaded, struggled as hard as he could, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t escape, forced to stare up at Reid’s face as he spoke.
“When I kissed my poor Mary goodbye,” Reid whispered, his breath cool against Geoffrey’s face “I had no idea what I was doing.”

Geoffrey clutched at his arm, trying, futilely, to pull it off. But the strength of King Arthur had left him long ago, and his own strength was nothing compared to the leech’s.

“But now,” Reid smiled. “I do.” His thumb stroked across Geoffrey’s cheek, unbearably tender, like a predator trying to soothe its prey into complacency.

“You need not be so scared, Geoffrey.” Reid said, staring at him. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy this. Consider it my kiss of Judas.”

And then Reid pushed forward, and placed his lips on Geoffrey’s.

His lips were soft, but the kiss was rough, all because of Geoffrey’s struggling. Reid, the bastard, seemed to enjoy it, and pressed even closer. His tongue slipped into Geoffrey’s mouth, pressing gently on Geoffrey’s own tongue, wet and good and-

No!

Geoffrey bit down, despairing at the way his body sang for more of Reid’s touch, and made a noise of protest when Reid gripped his jaw and tilted his head up more.

Something smooth and liquid slid down his throat, and Reid gave an approving sigh into Geoffrey’s mouth as he fed Geoffrey his blood.

Jonathan’s hand on his throat and the lips pressing against his give him no room to breathe, and so he was forced to swallow it, all of it, and it burned going down.
Geoffrey gagged and jerked but Jonathan held him in place, his other hand stroking at his neck as he continued to explore his mouth.

How long did it last?

A minute? Five?

An hour?

A year?

But eventually it came to an end, sharp teeth nipping at his bottom lip before Jonathan withdrew, releasing Geoffrey, who crumpled to the ground, whimpering and convulsing as he was changed from the inside going out.

Memories not his own flashed through his head, too quick to comprehend; he writhed on the ground, pain flaring out from some place within, and his eyes began to lose focus.

The last thing he heard before he slipped into the darkness was Jonathan’s voice, as smooth and calm as it was before, but also proud.
“Welcome to the world through the looking glass.”

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Smooth lips slid together, his fangs nipping lightly at the tongue moving against his.
Breathless sighs against each others’ lips, fingers flexing against flesh, careful not to shift into claws. The shadows writhed around them, his lover pulling away to offer his neck, pale and unmarred.
He accepted, licking the offered flesh before sinking his teeth deep into Jonathan’s-

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Geoffrey gasped as he woke, sitting up to take in his surroundings.

He was alone. The remote he’d used to activate Swansea’s device was shattered, its remains scattered around the room.

He was thirsty. His throat was – unbearably dry. He needed – needed – something. A drink. Anything to let go of the thirst.

‘You are awake. Good.’

“What?” He muttered, hand coming up to his head. He could have sword he’d just heard…

‘I am not so careless or heartless a sire that I would leave my progeny to suffer.’

Reid.

The bastard had turned him, and then…

“You-“ Geoffrey swallowed. His throat was so dry, so, so dry. “You bastard. Don’t think I’ll let you get away with this!”

'I am sure you will change your mind about my gift, Geoffrey.' He could hear the smirk in Jonathan’s voice. 'I’m quite sure you will change your mind about more than just that.'

“You think that just because you turned me into this…“ Geoffrey struggled to his feet, his body weak as a newborn child. Despite the weakness, he could feel his new power, the strength of his limbs, the sharpness of his sight, smell, hearing…

He slid his tongue against his teeth, searching for the sharpened points that he would use to… to…

‘Yes, Geoffrey. It is time for your first meal.’

Geoffrey shivered as Jonathan’s voice in his head growled out the word meal. Primal hunger present in every word he spoke.

This was his sire. Raw power and hunger, and yet the man in person was the epitome of calm.

‘I have left you a gift, Geoffrey. Just outside the gate. Find it.’

He staggered to the gate, prying it open with a grunt. He stepped out of the building, looking around the building.

‘It is not far. Use your senses.’

He took a deep breath… and staggered at the scent of fresh, living blood. His head snapped to a dark alley nearby, and he breathed in again, trying to get more of the scent, filling his lungs with it, as he stalked toward the source.

A man was laying there, unconscious, his breathing steady and even. A small cut on his arm oozed blood, and it was all Geoffrey could do to stop from licking the blood up like a starving dog. Something also held him back. There was no doubt Jonathan was using every bit of control he had over his progeny to curb his bloodthirsty impulse.

What was it like for Jonathan? Had he been alone, unguided and afraid, as he’d awoken only to find himself a leech? When he'd killed an innocent woman, did he know what he'd done?

At the man’s feet was a neatly folded series of notes.

He read each one.

‘The more you know of your prey, the more sustenance you draw from their blood. What do you know of this one, Geoffrey?’ Jonathan murmured in his mind.

“A murderer.” He growled. “He- he is a murderer.”

‘Then take your prey, and make it swift. The dawn approaches.’

Geoffrey did not hesitate. Jonathan released whatever hold he had on him, and he lunged, holding his prey down before sinking his teeth in, draining the man dry before he even had a chance to struggle. Or perhaps he did struggle, and Geoffrey didn’t notice.

It didn’t matter. The blood… there was nothing that could describe it. The taste, the feeling of it sliding down his throat...

Too soon, he’d drained the murderer dry, and he let go of what was now an empty corpse, a look of horror frozen on its face.

Memories, again, drifted through his mind: a man, stabbed to death, then thrown into the river. A doctor walking up to him, then nothing, then waking in the pier…

The doctor again, a look of quiet fury on his face. An outstretched hand, “Hey, what the fu-“ and then nothing.
Searing pain as teeth sliced into his neck, “no, I don’t, no, I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you I swear…”

Geoffrey opened his eyes, the last of the memories fading into nothing.

He was damned. This was his existence, now.

‘It gets easier the more you do it,’ Came the whisper in his mind.

Something in him mourned the loss of his humanity, mourned what he’d become.

Another, newer part wanted more.

“Don’t think this is something I’ll forgive you for, Reid.” Geoffrey growled.

He’d told Jonathan that he would never be swayed to his ideals.

“That’s where you’re mistaken.” Jonathan had said.

Jonathan laughed in his mind. ‘See? Progress already! You called me by my name!’

Geoffrey shivered.

‘There is shelter nearby. Take refuge there for the day.’ Jonathan said. 'When the night returns, you may do as you wish, even hunt me down, if you are so eager.

Scowling under his breath, Geoffrey followed Jonathan’s directions, disappearing into the welcoming shadows.