Welcome!! Our prompt this month is awesome. I’ve been waiting for it very impatiently. Instead of it being dialogue or a few lines, it’s actually a situation we’re writing to. The prompt says: You’re in an interrogation room. A man walks in and throws a bunch of photographs on the table in front of you. The photos are old and taken at different points in history. You’re in each one. He demands to know who you are.
So, here we go:
Detective Jason Davis walked into the interrogation room and stared hard at the man sitting at the table. He didn’t know his name, but he certainly knew his face. High cheek bones, up-tilted eyes, long patrician nose, and full lips. Shit, no, not full lips. Couldn’t think of him like that. He was a suspect . . . or something. Jason just didn’t know quite what yet.
The man looked up and raised one eye brow. Green. The man had pure green eyes. The pictures hadn’t shown that. It also hadn’t shown the bronze skin and white gold hair. Worn longer, Jason thought, unlike the pictures.
“So, are you going to tell me why I’m here or am I supposed the guess?”
The man’s rich baritone filled the room and it took everything in Jason to stop the shiver. Gritting his teeth, he tossed the small stack of images on the table so they spilled across the surface. The man didn’t look at them, but continued to watch Jason.
“Would you care to explain?” Jason asked.
Carefully, the man spread the images out so he could, presumably, study each one. He didn’t betray anything as he looked each picture over then calmly moved it aside. He did this until all eleven pictures were back in a small stack.
“They’re old photos.”
Jason wondered if the accent he had was fake. If almost sounded like the Wakandan accent from Black Panther, but he wouldn’t swear to it. Instead of asking, Jason sat across from the man who had captured his interest almost a year ago. Was it legal for him to bring the guy into interrogation? Probably not. Jason really didn’t have any proof he’d committed a crime. He just knew something was off. Way off.
“The first photo was taken about 1842,” Jason said. “The last about twenty years ago. So, Mr. Jackson, can you explain to me, how you’re in every single picture.”
“Kael,” he finally spoke. “My name is Kael.”
“I don’t see that in any records I have.:
Jason shuffled through the paperwork in front of him, knowing that name wasn’t in any of it. He knew because he had done extensive research on the man across from him. Extensive? Okay, obsessive. He’d done obsessive research. It was as if he couldn’t stop himself. There was something about the man that Jason found compelling. Every time he told himself to stop. To put it away. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. No matter what, Jason had to know, to understand.
Kael folded his massive arms and leaned back in the chair. The piece of furniture groaned audibly, but the man sitting in it didn’t seem to notice or care.
“You have nothing to hold me,” he finally spoke. “I haven’t committed a crime.”
He rose to go, but Jason shot his hand out to grip the man’s wrist. The first thing he noticed was the jolt he received from touching Kael. Jason knew it wasn’t physical, per se, like a lightning strike, but emotional. He immediately got hard. And that never happened. He was an adult male and had control over his body. This man though . . .
Looking down he saw his dark skin next to Kael’s much lighter bronze hue and wondered if he was that color all over. Fuck, he had to stop.
Kael didn’t shake his arm off. Instead, he placed his hand over Jason’s and it was as if Kael had grabbed his cock. Shit, it took everything he had not to moan.
Kael smiled and retook his seat. Jason wasn’t sure what the man had seen . . . sensed, whatever, but Jason was glad he stayed. Because he was right. Jason didn’t have a damn thing to hold him. Hell, if anyone found out he’d asked this man to come in and used the interrogation room he’d probably be fired.
“The pictures,” Kael said. “How did you find them?”
“This one is from my mom’s side of the family.” Saying this, Jason pulled an image from 1885 out of the stack. He knew all about it. He’d studied it as for years. The picture had hung from his grandmother’s wall and Jason was captivated the first time he’d seen it. The image wasn’t anything special, just four white men standing in place dressed in suits. Jason’s grandfather was the second from the left. An unassuming man in a suit. He wasn’t who captured Jason’s attention. It was the man at the far right. The tall, built man with the cheekbones and mouth who had captured his attention. His imagination. His daydreams and, as a boy, wet dreams. Now, here he sat, bigger than life.
“I wanted to know who the men were,” Jason finally said. “So, I did research. And the more I dug, the more I wanted to know. It took me about ten years, but I found all the pictures and now here you are. In the flesh.”
Kael smiled. “Here I am. And you’re curious?”
“No one will believe anything I tell you.”
“I don’t care. I don’t care about anyone else.”
Kael leaned forward and grasped Jason’s wrists in his hands. “There are things in this world that you’re safer not knowing. Though, since you made it this far, I can assume you won’t stop.”
Jason didn’t say anything, but just watched Kael and waited. He had to know.
Finally, Kael nodded. “For millennium, evil has tried to gain an advantage on this planet. It wants humans, needs humans. And, for millennium, those of us who oppose the dark fight. Not all the time. In fact, the last major battle was perhaps four or five thousand years ago. After that have been skirmishes, but nothing major. That’s changed. Evil is rising.”
“That still doesn’t explain the pictures. You.”
Kael nodded. “Yes, it does. I’m a vampire and I have lived for thousands of years fighting the dark.” Saying this, the man opened his mouth and his incisors grew into fangs. Jason blinked his eyes and tried to pull away, but Kael held him.
“Evil is coming Jason. My sire is rising and all I can think about is how delicious you smell. And how very much I want to drink from your vein and fuck you.”
Bronwyn Jessica Kris Siobhan