Title: The Blood of Helios – Vampire World Chapter XII – What Will Be the Price of TruthAuthor:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodanFandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters: Neal Caffrey, Sunlight Agent, Captain Peter Burke, Elizabeth Burke, Prince Mozziel, a/k/a, Moz
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~ 3100
Summary: Vampire Peter, Shapeshifter El and Neal, who is something more than he ever expected to be.
Chapter XII – Full Disclosure and an Old FriendThis story is dedicated to
gyzym who has held my hand and encouraged me when I felt this was all turning to shite. I couldn’t ask for a better friend. Beta’d by the awesome lj user=riazendira>. All mistakes are mine. Feedback is adored.
Prologue |
Chapter I |
Chapter II |
Chapter III |
Chapter IV |
Chapter V |
Chapter VI |
Chapter VII |
Chapter IX |
Chapter X | < ahref=
http://elrhiarhodan.livejournal.com/63575.html>Chapter XI
____________________ The Blood of Helios – Vampire World Chapter XII – What Will Be the Price of Truth____________________“Well, you told me the work would be interesting.” Neal turned to face Captain Burke as the stood in front of the Summer Queen’s palace. The full moon had crossed the sky and sunk behind the trees and the Winter Triangle, the trio of stars that had sung out to Neal the night Peter first brought him here were still in ascendancy. Yet the pre-dawn gloom and the starlight and the mundane city lights did nothing to dim the blue-white shimmer that outlined Peter. If anything, the surrounding darkness made it all the more obvious.
Peter laughed at Neal’s comment. “Believe me, not every night is quite so exciting. I don’t think you’ll be encountering other vampires going off the deep end anytime soon.”
Keeping his face expressionless, Neal agreed. The altercation with Lauren, and Peter’s subsequent attempt to execute her had slipped from his mind. He had been thinking of the strangeness that happened while Peter was with the Master. He would have to ask Diana or Jones if either of them could see anything different about the Captain.
“Get your rest, Neal. And don’t forget to get me the information about Hagen’s location.” Peter’s voice was terse and he seemed anxious to depart. Perversely, Neal tried to draw out the encounter, to make the Captain linger.
“What will you do with Hagen when you catch him?”
“Why do you care?”
“Peter - he tried to recruit me once, and he’s going to figure out how you got to him. He’s smart, vain and vindictive.”
“What exactly are you trying to ask me, Caffrey?”
“Are you going to offer to make him a vampire if he works for
Whryccrid? I really don’t want to be watching my back for the rest of my life.”
Peter’s eyes narrowed. It was fairly common practice for the Kisses to convert criminal talent for their own use, but he was damned how Caffrey knew that bit of information. There was no question, though. No matter how talented he was, if Hagen represented any sort of threat to Neal, he would be eliminated. Quickly, quietly, but not necessarily painlessly. The human authorities would protest, but they had no influence with him.
“Hagen will be dealt with, and that’s all you need to know. Your safety is assured - after tonight, that shouldn’t be any question.”
This time, Neal didn’t forget about Peter’s rush to justice against Lauren.
“Any other questions or can we call it a night?” Peter’s temper and the new aura flared.
Neal resisted the urge to continue to push Peter’s buttons, and instead held out his hand. “See you tomorrow, just after sunset, Captain?”
“Without question, Neal. Your studio will be ready, so be prepared to work. My anniversary is in two weeks.”
Peter took Neal’s hand and tried to give it a perfunctory shake, and both men almost got knocked to the ground from the brief surge of power. It felt way too close to the energy that the Master had tried to push through Neal earlier in the evening - and too familiar in too many other respects. He looked at the Captain for an explanation.
Peter muttered something sounded like “static electricity” before he dematerialized.
Neal stood on the street for three seconds, watching the curl of black mist dissipate before turning to the block of light coming from the open door.
Elizabeth sat at her dining table, a cup of coffee - the fifth or sixth of the night - nestled in her palms. Satchmo rested his chin against her knee, his mournful dark eyes never leaving her face. She was still trying to make sense of everything that happened the day before yesterday. Most of her memories were intact - both as a woman and a really big cat, but she was confused. To lose control like that - to change into a form that large and retain it for so long required more energy than she could ever possess. Nearly two days later, Elizabeth still ached, as if she were finally recovering from a long and debilitating illness.
She wanted to confront Neal Caffrey - there was a deep urged within her to knock him to the floor, hold a blade to his throat and demand answers. But she knew that he had none. The man was as clueless as a newborn babe, and the one who did have the answers wasn’t going to share them. She knew that, after nearly thirty years of trying to pry those answers out Peter, it would be useless to ask.
Elizabeth looked down at her faithful hound and ruffled his ears. Satchmo panted in doggie pleasure and she sighed. “I’ve got to snap out of this.” The dog nudged her hand with his head, seeking more caresses. She gave in to the begging and stroked the graying muzzle before getting to her feet.
“Satch, I love you, but I stink.” He looked at her, dark liquid eyes full of understanding and disagreement.
“Okay, you may like the way I smell, but I don’t.” The dog barked lightly and Elizabeth smiled for the first time in days.
By the time she finished her shower and got dressed, the last of the change-induced physical distress disappeared and she felt much like her normal self. That was a good thing, because Peter was home. Elizabeth came downstairs to find him sitting by the fire. His uniform jacket lay discarded on a dining chair and his white shirtsleeves were rolled up to display his strong forearms. He had a bumper of Calvados warming in his hand, and Satchmo was resting his head on his boot. She watched him take a sniff and then a very small sip of the spirit. He didn’t swallow as much as allow the liquor to be absorbed into his palate. If it wasn’t for his troubled expression, this would have been the perfect picture of Vampire domesticity.
Elizabeth schooled her face into a welcoming smile and greeted Peter with a peck on the cheek before taking the glass out of his hand and draping herself over his lap. She felt his smile in the kiss he pressed into the crown of her head. She took her own sip of the apple brandy, enjoying the bite of the well-aged spirit, set the glass aside and held up her face for another kiss. Peter didn’t need any further encouragement and she hummed in pleasure as he gently brushed her lips with his. She opened her mouth and he deepened the contact, sweeping his tongue into her mouth. Elizabeth replied with her own teasing forays, toying with the sharp points of his second set of incisors. They sat there, entwined and enjoying each other until Peter pulled back and looked at her.
“Are you okay?” Like his eyes, his voice was grave.
She ran a hand down his cheek, her lips curving into a smile. “I am now. And knowing that you you’re home safe and well makes me feel even better.” When a shadow of something passed across his eyes, Elizabeth tried not to let her concern show. “How was Neal’s first night?”
Peter grinned. “Oh, honey - where should I start?”
“That bad? Or that good?”
“Let’s see - he was rather upset at my collection.”
“What upset him about the DaVinci and the Raphael?”
“Not those - he rather liked the DaVinci and I haven’t shown him the Raphael yet. It was the collection of enamelwork that disturbed him. He accused me of stalking him”
El smirked. “Well, you have been.”
Peter chuckled. “Yeah, I freely admitted that.”
“What else happened?”
El had a hard time containing herself as Peter told her about the staff meeting with his cadre and Hughes, the incident with the tapestry and Neal’s wild ride off of the credenza. She was impressed, but not surprised that Neal solved their counterfeiting problem so easily.
Peter agreed. “That alone has earned him his full parole.”
Elizabeth slid her hand under his shirt, enjoying the cool-warmth of his flesh. The contrast of the external coolness of Peter’s vampire flesh and his core body heat that she could so easily call to the surface was an endless source of fascination. They sat together, quietly enjoying each other and the fire until she pinched Peter hard.
“Ow! What was that for?” Peter looked down at her, his expression filled with mock injury.
“What else happened? That can’t be it.”
Peter shook his head, his lips twisting into a grimace of self-disgust. The more he thought about it, the more he came to realize how badly he handled Lauren - from the very beginning. The incident with Neal was not something he felt comfortable discussing with Elizabeth, not because it was cadre business, but because it reflected so poorly on him, and she would be angry at him. But Elizabeth needed to know - it was time to end all of the secrets between them.
And he was right. By the time he got done with the story, she was on her feet, pacing back and forth, glaring at him. If she were in cat-form, her hackles would be up and her tail snapping.
“Lauren’s all right? I can’t believe you … she’s young and stupid and worships the ground you walk on and you treat her like that?”
Peter shaded his eyes and didn’t even try to defend himself.
“You have no problems with me seeing her tomorrow, I trust?” That wasn’t a question.
“No, El. I don’t.”
She stood there, the rush of anger draining out of her. Truth was, she could understand Peter’s behavior. Despite his progressive outlook, he was a Vampire, a very territorial creature. She climbed back into his lap and sunk into his embrace.
“That’s not the whole of it. Not by far.”
“What else did Neal do?” Her voice was muffled as she kept her face buried against Peter’s chest, but he could hear the laugher in her voice.
He pulled her upright and gently brushed the hair out of her eyes and cupped her cheek.
“It’s time you know everything, El. Everything that you’ve tried to get me to tell you for almost as long as we’ve been married.” Peter’s eyes weren’t white, but they were glowing with a terrible intensity.
“About Neal?”
“Neal and a lot more.” And then Peter slowly, haltingly revealed the secrets he’d been keeping from her for over forty years as well as the ones he only learned about that night.
As Neal went inside. “
My home” he thought with a pleasurable intensity, as he was greeted by the thundering sounds of a piano coming from the depths of the Summer Queen’s palace. Neal following the music to the grand salon. June stood with her back to the door, next to a large and ornately decorated Bechstein. The lid was raised, hiding the player, but Neal didn’t have to see who was at the keyboard to identify the performer. Neal recognized the composition. Even though he had heard it played only once, it was unforgettable. And it had been written expressly for him.
The music built in intensity and then trailed off, ending like a summer rain storm. Neal clapped and June turned around, startled.
“Neal - look who’s come to visit.”
A small man, bespectacled and bald stood up and stood there, a grin on his face bright enough to light up several City blocks.
“Mozzie!” Neal wanted to sweep the smaller man into a hug but held back, his friend wasn’t big on physical contact. Instead he held out a hand, but Moz grabbed Neal and pulled him close. Tears clogged Neal’s throat and nose. The touch of another - particularly an old and treasured friend, something he had been deprived of for so long, felt so good that he ached.
Moz pushed him back and gave him the once over. “For a man who just got out of prison, you look pretty good.”
“Captivity - not prison.” Neal didn’t know why he bothered correcting Moz, but the distinction seemed important.
“Whatever.” Moz waved it off and his cherubic face took on a sad and serious note. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t visit you. The iron…”
“I know, I know. You came once and it nearly killed you.”
“Yeah - but the thought of you there, alone.” The little man sniffed. “I’ve lost so many friends to the cold and the dark.”
Neal rubbed a comforting hand across his friend’s shoulder. “I’m here now and I’m safe and I’ve got questions.”
Moz perked up instantly. “Information, that’s my stock and trade. What do you need to know?”
Neal laughed to himself, ten years since they laid eyes on each other and it was as if they parted yesterday. Well, maybe for Moz it could seem that way.
They were interrupted by the Summer Queen. June cleared her throat, a delicate but emphatic sound. “Neal, Prince Mozziel - if you will excuse me. It’s almost dawn and I need my beauty sleep.”
Neal started to make a gallant and nonsensical comment, but Moz bowed gravely to the Summer Queen and bade her good dreams. June swept out of the room with a regal air that Neal had never seen before and he suddenly realized that his friend must have been long acquainted with his hostess, since she addressed him by one of his royal names, and he wanted to slap himself for his stupidity.
“How long…?”
Moz smiled. “Oh, several centuries. Her Majesty gave me shelter when I was first exiled. I probably stayed in the room you’re occupying now, my friend.” Moz sat back down at the piano and began playing a soft, melancholy piece that Neal hadn’t heard before.
“That’s pretty … one of yours?”
Moz looked at him. “You don’t recognize Kreisler?”
“Fritz Kreisler was a violinist.”
Moz scowled. “Okay, okay, it’s one of mine. Though I think it would work better in a minor key and maybe a bit more up tempo.” He improvised a bit and the sad, almost elegiac piece became a jazzy two-step. “All right, enough with the musical virtuosity. What do you need to know?”
“Hagen. I need an address for Curtis Hagen.”
“Last time you crossed paths with Hagen, he swore he’d kill you for turning down that engraving job.” Moz was oddly phlegmatic about that.
“Well now I have the chance to return the favor. The vamps are after him for the counterfeit Canadians c-notes.”
Mozzie shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re working for the bloodsuckers. I though you got sick…”
Neal interrupted his friend. “Not any more, it seems. And frankly, even if I did, I still would have taken Captain Burke up on his offer. I was dying in there.” Neal stared out into the of the inner courtyard, still in deep shadow, the scene of his adventures with Burke’s lady wife. “Almost anything would have been better than spending another day in that hell hole.”
Moz reached out to pat Neal’s arm in sympathy, but stopped just shy of touching him.
Neal turned back to Mozzie. “Hagen’s address?”
Moz blinked and rattled off a location on the City’s west side docks.
“That’s impressive.”
“Ummm...yeah.” Moz’s eyes shifted back and forth, as if he didn’t know quite what just happened.
“Listen, if you know June – then you must know all about Peter Burke, right?”
“I’ve met him enough times to know I need to stay away from him. And so should you.”
“That’s going to be hard, since I work for him now. Sunlight Agent and personal artist.”
“Huh? Sunlight Agent... you? I had heard that Frank was retiring, but I didn’t know you were his replacement.”
“Why do you think that Peter – Captain Burke – took me out of captivity.”
“Not to replace Frank, that’s for certain. I would have heard that.”
“Moz – I have a contract and this.” He lifted his leg onto the piano bench and flashed the anklet.
“Nice piece of jewelry, but it doesn’t change the fact that I heard nothing about it until now.”
“Maybe
Whryccrid is more discreet than your sources would like to admit.”
Moz said nothing and started to tinker at the piano again.
“Anyway – what do you know about Captain Burke?”
Moz kept playing and tried to keep his lips shut, but when Neal ran a long finger across the back of his hand and whispered “please,” he couldn’t contain himself. “Burke’s the most influential vampire in the City, and maybe on the continent. He doesn’t seem to have as much personal power as some of the other vamps I know. Ones that can kill you between one breath and another. But it may be that Burke holds back.” Mozzie shugged. “I’ve never gotten close enough to find out. But he’s got authority in spades, and no one would ever dare consider him weak. He’s made his Kiss into a formidable power – and I doubt there’s another clan that can approach
Whryccrid for prestige, wealth and territory.”
This confirmed what Neal had already sensed – though he disagreed with Moz about Peter’s personal power. Especially after tonight’s demonstration.
“He’s married to a shifter. Which strikes me as something very, very wrong.” Moz shivered at the thought.
“I’ve met Elizabeth Burke. Interesting lady.” That was an understatement. “She’s devoted to her husband.”
“They live in Brooklyn.” Moz spat that out like it was a capital crime. He blinked again and rattled off an address on DeKalb Street.
“Mozzie – you’ve become a regular White Pages.”
“Look – I don’t know what you’ve heard, but it wasn’t me.” Moz’s voice went up three octaves in a panicked shout.
“What?”
Moz sighed. “Never mind. I think I need to go now.” The little man got up and shuffled around. “It’s been good seeing you.”
“Don’t be a stranger, please.” Neal hated that he sounded like he was begging, but he needed a friend, someone he could trust.
“Don’t worry, Neal. I’ll be back tomorrow. Or the next day. You’ll be needing my help to get that tapestry repaired.”
Neal was startled. “I didn’t say anything about a tapestry.”
“You didn’t. Hmmm. Someone did. Well, anyway – I’ve got connections but I don’t know if they are available or will work for
Whryccrid.”
“You can tell your ‘connections’ that Burke will pay very well. And there may be steady work – I’m sure that there’s more than one tapestry in that fortress that will need their help.”
Neal walked with Moz to the front door. “It is good to see you here.”
Moz nodded and looked out onto the the brightening sky. “Be careful, my friend. Don’t fly too close to the sun. Your wings will get burned.”
At that, the little man walked eastward, and disappeared into the dawn light.
GO TO
CHAPTER XIII - THIS IS WHAT I ASK OF YOU ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
elrhiarhodan 
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