"I wrote this story for a friend in the States who wanted a Vampire tale just for himself. Marc was the same age as me at the time I wrote this story. (ie: 33) Rayne views him as the "Boy" because he's about 48 years old by this time, although he has not aged past his 30th birthday.
"My friend is no longer with us, but the story survives him. This is for Marcie. God Bless... xxx J"
CALIFORNIA ZEPHYR an observation in three parts
by Josh & Sadie Rose
NOTE: "No part of this story may be used or re-published without the prior permission of Josh or Sadie. Violence will be meted out to those who transgress!" *grr*
Chapter One: BOY ON A TRAIN
The Vampire tapped idly at the keys on his laptop, pretending to be engrossed in whatever he was doing... or, at least, not appear to be obviously doing nothing more challenging than play Minesweeper whilst he watched the guy in the berth opposite. What had begun as an intriguing challenge, to come out here and write a column on his travels in the States for Grant Jackson's 'Zipped' magazine was rapidly turning into a series of featureless rail and bus journeys which made touring his band, Whipsnade, look like a cakewalk by comparison. He was tired and ill humoured and if it hadn't been for the fact that the guy across the aisle was as cute as hell he would have sloped off into the corridor for a cigarette several millennia ago! Having blown himself up for the hundredth time he yawned and dropped the lid on his machine in despair... gazing at his reflection in the window as they thundered into a tunnel and were plunged into darkness for a time.
He had been staring at the centre of his universe in the darkened glass for a minute or so when he realised that the reflection of the dark-haired guy on the other side of the carriage was watching him via the medium of the window. Frowning slightly, he sat straighter, then looked around. The young man's head jerked away automatically, and for a few moments he seemed briefly absorbed in trying to read his own palms. In spite of himself, Rayne let a smile twist his full, pale lips and he leaned back in his seat letting his eyelids fall half-shut, watching the watcher through the veil of his lashes.
For effect, he stretched and snuggled down, feigning sleep. Now he sensed a definite prickle of interest, like delicate claws pulling across his scalp beneath his hair. The young man's emerald eyes slid sideways, discreetly and he began to chew on his thumbnail self-consciously; looking, but trying not to look obvious about it. Rayne tilted his cheek against his shoulder and actually drifted for a moment or two, he was so tired. When the train began to slow down, making its next approach, he was jolted into wakefulness again.
The kid was rummaging through his bag for something but Rayne could not tell if he was planning to alight here. He hoped not, sincerely. Even if only for the want of something to write about.
At last the lad pulled a battered paperback from his holdall and wriggled to his feet, stowing the bag back in the rack overhead. He was around medium height, Rayne figured, perhaps in his early to mid twenties, quite lightly made under the layers of clothing which shrouded him; loose t-shirt, fine-knit sweater and open shirt over his dark jeans. Loose, dark hair tumbled around his face as he curled around his book, snuggled against the window with one foot drawn up under him. Now, as Rayne watched idly through his eyelashes, the boy fished an earphone from the neckline of his sweater and tucked it into his left ear, thumbing a button invisible at his waist beneath his clothing.
His large, dark, expressive eyes moved upward once over the top of the paperback in his hands, glancing in Rayne's direction. In response, the singer stretched himself again, and yawned with exaggerated weariness. The artless motion drew up the fine, deep blue acetate of his shirt revealing a brief glimpse of flat belly and sharp hipbones between hem and belt-loops. Rayne did not miss the fact that the boy's eyes shifted down to his midriff and a small, private smile touched his own generous mouth as he pretended to read again.
The Vampire turned his head away and gazed out of the window at Princeton station watching people hurrying back and forth on the platform, pushing trolleys or dragging trunks, scurrying like so many ants to make their connection. Once the Amtrak express was on it's way again, a little fuller than before, he pushed himself to his feet secure in the knowledge that the pretty boy wasn't going anywhere. There was a large guy sitting in the lounge car seat between them now... managing to take up nearly a place and a half, with his equally massive, disturbingly floral wife parked across the table from him. His bulk virtually dwarfed the slender kid by the window, who seemed to curl up even tighter to get away from these giants. Everything about them was vast... down to their voices, which boomed emphatically in an irritating, Texan drawl, which reminded him annoyingly of JR Ewing in Dallas. They had travelled up from Austin via St.Louis to see their son who was at college in Princeton. And seemed to feel the need for the entire car to know about this. Now they were headed out to Salt Lake City to see their daughter and her family.
Rayne felt sorry for her. After all, she had gone to so much trouble to escape in the first place, what with putting a virtual continent between herself and her parents... He shook his head incredulously.
The Vampire needed air... and he needed nicotine more. Slipping into the aisle, he made his way back up the car to the entryway and leaned against the door there, with the window lowered, feeling the hot wind blow through his hair. It felt delicious after the stifling warmth of the carriage. He lit a cigarette from the pack of B&H in his jeans pocket... remnants of his dwindling duty-free allowance, and leaned on the sill, sucking in the smoke gratefully, feeling his senses gradually stop prickling as the nicotine rush did it's work.
"That's not allowed... and it's not good for you anyway," said a low, softly-accented voice behind him and he turned with a guilty start expecting the guard. The wind rushing past his ears had snatched away the sound of the interior door opening and closing and now he blinked at the long-haired boy from the carriage almost owlishly as the kid leaned past him to tap the No Smoking sticker (thoughtfully provided in French and English) pasted over the entryway.
"Right... yeah!" Rayne laughed cynically and took another long drag on the crumpled cigarette between his fingers.
The young man worried his lower lip between his teeth and looked down, suddenly bashful.
"Sorry... it's none of my business really."
"Uh... no. I mean... well, yeah!" Rayne shook his head, still somehow surprised that the boy was American. He had somehow convinced himself that you had to be a European to look as good as he did right now without actually 'trying'. "It isn't good for me, I guess. But it makes me 'feel' a whole lot better!"
Dark green eyes, with a flicker of gold somewhere deep inside, moved briefly back to his face and the kid forced a wan smile. Rayne's expression solemnified for a moment. Something in that look told him that the boy was not as young as he had first thought. Maybe closer to his own age, even. He 'was' extremely pretty; with sharp, delicate features and long, fine, almost feminine hair that waved slightly, cutting in around the line of his jaw then curling out again over his slim shoulders.
Coyly, he glanced towards the closed door of the bathroom now.
"Are you waiting?"
Rayne shook his head and drew on the filter of his cigarette one last time before tapping it out against the wall. His companion nodded in silent acknowledgement but did not move to try the door.
"I think it's empty," Rayne told him at last.
"Oh... right." Another nod. He did not move, save swaying slightly with the motion of the train. "I don't really need it..."
His gaze moved back up to Rayne's face, almost searchingly.
"Are you okay?" the Vampire asked, suddenly solicitous. He thought the kid looked rather pale.
Nod.
"Can I get you anything?"
A little shake of the head was his only immediate answer.
"You look sort of... um..." Rayne groped for a word. Gorgeous.. his mind supplied mischievously.
