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[mamashope.livejournal.com]

Title: The Blood Red Rose 4/?

Author: mamashope

Beta: The wonderful romanabunny Thanks for another great job, and for being my good friend.

Pairing:Viggo/?, OB/SB, eventually VM/OB

Rating: R (to be safe)

Warning: Strong Language, And some angst.

Disclaimer: This never happened, all made up, Do not know any of the people in this fic, nor do I know the sexual prefrence.I am making no money from this fic.

Summary: Orlando gets a present.

Feed Back: Yes please, it gives me hope.

A/N This chapter may be a little longer, But I hope that question will be answered. Also the previous chapters may be found in my memories.

Dedicated: To mesnica Thank you for all your help.



Banner by The awesome and talentedteamane You are such a good friend.



The Blood Red Rose.
Part Four.


The next few nights went by with no sign of the killer. Orlando was finally getting over
his encounter in the alley. He arrived at work around 10:30pm, and had just gotten to
his desk, when he heard the receptionist at the front desk call to him.


"Detective Bloom, there's someone here to see you," the young woman said from the
front desk.

Orlando walked over to the desk and saw the boy waiting.

"Detective Orlando Bloom?" the young man inquired.

"Yes, how may I help you?"

"I have a delivery for you," the young man replied. He handed Orlando a long thin
package.

"Um, thanks." Orlando took the box and handed the boy a five dollar bill for his trouble.

"Thank you sir, you have a good night." With that the young man left and Orlando
headed back for his desk. He opened the box.

"What the fuck?"

"Orli, what's wrong?" Elijah asked him.

Orlando reached in the box and pulled out a single blood red rose and held it up
for Elijah to see.

"Ah, finally got lucky, huh?" Elijah teased. "Come on now, who sent you a rose?"

"I honestly have no idea," Orlando said with a trace of a grin.

He looked inside the box and found a note tucked neatly under the paper. He pulled it
out and opened it. His face drained of color, his eyes when he looked up at Elijah were
filled with fear.

"Orlando, my God man; what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost or something."

Orlando handed him the note and Elijah read it, then he read it again. The note was
neatly typed, and this was what was written.

A token of friendship, to start our new
relationship.
I am sure you would love to know who
will be next, wouldn't you?
Well you'll have to guess.
I'll see you soon though
Beautiful.

An uneasy silence feel between the two men, both fearing the implication of the card,
until finally Elijah broke the silence.

"What the fuck, is this?" he asked his partner.

"It's him. I remember that was what he called me in the alley that night.
He called me beautiful."

Grabbing the rose and placing it and the card back into the box, the two
detectives headed over to Chief Wenham's office. David was busy with some
paper work when they tapped on his door. Looking up, he signaled for them
to come in.

"Orlando, Elijah, come in," he stopped short as he saw the worry clearly
written on their faces. "What's wrong?" he asked slowly.

Orlando closed the door to his office and placed the box on David's desk.

"Open it," Orlando said.

David looked at them both and lifted the cover from the box. He pulled out the
rose and then read the card. He looked from one to the other of the detectives.

"Are you sure this is the real deal?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," Orlando replied.

"How, I mean, how can you be sure of that, Orli?"

He explained about the night in the alley and how the man had called him beautiful.

"I'm hoping that I'm wrong, because if I'm not....then I somehow know the next vic,"
Orlando said softly.


****

The man waited in the shadows, he saw the lad leave the building. His soft, low
whistle grabbed the lad's attention.

"Did he get it?"

"Yes," the boy replied.

"And you put it into his hand?"

"Of course Viggo, I did just as you told me."

"Good job, baby, now you had better head for home, and remember, not a word
to anyone that you have seen me, right?"

"Of course Viggo; I know the rules," the boy replied with a smile.

"Good boy, now off with you, I have some work to do," he said with an evil
throaty laugh.


****

The night was rainy and cold, a young man walked through the streets, looking
for a warm place to spend the night. He couldn't even find an empty hallway.
He noticed the way his footsteps echoed loudly in his ears, it unnerved him.
He had thought he had heard different footsteps a few times, they sounded out
of step with his own. But when he had turned, there wasn't anybody there.

'Ok Jeff, stop being a pansy ass,' the young man though berating himself for
his over active imagination.

He continued on his way. He knew why he was so worried; it was all the murders,
including his friend Gypsy. The rain kept pouring down on that poor young
man, stealing from him any heat he might have had.

'Damn, I'm fucking soaked through to my skin,' he thought tiredly.

As he turned a corner there was only one place left that he could think of, if this didn't
work he knew his only other choice would be under the bridge.
He saw the old abandoned garage. It was dark and appeared to be empty.
He approached it carefully, and tried the window, that was how he use to get in.

"No, fuck; it's locked; I knew I should have stayed at the fucking bar. I at least
could have stayed dry." he said to himself as he slid down the side of the garage.

****

Tonight he was ready, no more need to hide. He knew they would gather, the
situation would never allow them not to. He walked along the quiet street.

'There,' he thought as the old cemetery came into view, and the old house that
loomed like a vulture over the town. He neared the gate of the cemetary and
sadness grabbed at his very being. He looked toward the house.

'It has been so long now father, but I have returned.'

He then turned and headed into the heart of the long forgotten cemetary.

****

Inside the large old house, Ian was making preparations for that nights meeting.
It would be held in the same place as it had been for hundreds of years. Ian looked
out the window. The cemetary.

'Gloomy old place,' Ian thought to himself.

But as the father of this clan he knew tonight would be the night that they
would decide the fate of one of their own kind. Ian's favorite; his son Viggo.
Viggo had definitely gone rogue, and all knew that there was nothing so dangerous
as a Rogue Vampire. Viggo had endangered the whole clan with his
actions of late. Ian knew that he had to be stopped. But with this knowledge also
came a father's broken heart.

"Damnit Viggo, why must it be this way? You should have just accepted things
the way they were," he said sadly, not realizing that anyone else was in the room.

"Father?" came the soft voice from behind him.

"Billy, I did not hear you enter,"

"You worry far too much about Viggo. He has made his decision, now we must
make ours," Billy said.

"Do you think our decision is that easily made, Billy? I have no desire to destroy such
a splendid specimen. Viggo may be rogue, but I believe there is always another way."

Billy studied the face of the vampire leader. He truly loved this man, both as a father
and a friend.

"Father you know that I was not there, so perhaps if you told me how this all began,
then maybe I could understand. How was it that Viggo became rogue?"

Ian turned to the young man, his eyes softened in the firelight. He slowly sank into
one of the chairs placed by the fireplace.

"Come my boy and I shall try to explain." he said as he motioned for Billy to sit
with him.

The year was 1736.
I remember the night so well, for it was the night that I first laid eyes on the artist.
It must have been raining heavily during the day, because as I stepped outside there
were puddles everywhere. Rain had been scarce that year. The livestock and crops
had suffered dearly for the lack of it. I felt my spirits actually lift as I went in search
of that nights meal. After I had taken care of that, there was another need that consumed
me. I was drawn to the woods which back then would have covered the whole town.
It was there that I first saw him, standing with brush and pallet in hand, his canvas
on an easel before him.

I watched the young man and he never sensed my presence. As I watched him,
I sensed his anger, his frustration. I heard his voice as he angrily cursed his God and
whatever other gods there might be. I heard his gentle sobs as the artist slashed with
angry colors, the stark white of the canvas. Oh how I was drawn to this poor
tormented soul. I longed to comfort him, but couldn't move. Before long his tears
left him, he gathered his supplies and was gone.

Night after night I returned to the woods and watched the beautiful
artist. He would work feverishly at the painting, his eyes blazed with
a fire that no man could ever extinguish. I felt his turmoil as the colors
found the stark whiteness of the canvas. I had fallen into a pattern of
coming to those dark woods, waiting for the moment when I would
allow him to know I was there. I loved this man as I have never loved;
it was such a consuming passion, it burned into my very being. But
alas I waited too long, for there came a day when my beautiful artist
no longer came to the woods.

For months I entered the woods only to find them empty, but thet were lacking the
enticement that they once held," Ian said as he looked up at the picture
hung above the fireplace.

"Is that the picture that you spoke of?" Billy asked.

"Yes," was the only word spoken as Ian went over to the bar, he poured two
glasses of brandy, returned to his chair and handed one to his young companion.

"I had just begun to give up on ever finding my artist again, until one night,
four months later. I was walking in the woods once more, when I heard
whistling. I approached the sound and to my great surprise there was my artist.
His mood was so different, he was happy. No he was more than just happy; there
was a joy so intense in him that I was taken in and could feel the joy within me. Perhaps it
was just at having found him; I knew I would never let him disappear from me ever
again. I emerged from the shadows where I had been watching him. He turned.
Our eyes met. That was the night that I turned him and Viggo became my son."

Ian stirred and shifted position in his chair. He took Billy's hand.
"I made Viggo all that he is, Billy; it was me that caused him to turn on the family.
I have suffered much because of the fatal decisions that I made."

"Father, I don't understand, how are you to blame?"

Ian's eyes were clouded as he continued the tragic story.

"Viggo was very much in love. He would often tell me of the young man whom held
his heart captive. As you know it is natural for a vampire to take a human as a lover.
This young man was Viggo's lover, but much more then just a lover, he was Viggo's
breath. Viggo came to me one night begging me to allow Mark to become one with
the family. I could never deny him anything, not even this.

I first laid eyes on Mark when Viggo was out in the garden with him. What a truly
beautiful man he was. His hair as brown as a chestnut, but I think it was his eyes that
held me. Though they were brown there was a light that burned so deep within them.
Yes, he truly was incredible to look at. I watched the relationship between him and my
precious Viggo grow stronger each and every day and how I envied them.

Several nights a week Mark would sneak off to the village where his brother Craig lived.
We had warned him that he should never go alone but he was a very headstrong
young man. I remember the night as though it were just yesterday. We had been
gathering some wood for the fire when Mark disappeared. We knew he had gone once
again to Craig.

"Viggo, you simply must make him understand, this is very unsafe," I had said as we entered
the house.
We entered the living room and were stacking the wood that we had gathered.

"Father, I have tried, but when it comes to Craig, Mark will not listen, not even to me,"
Viggo spoke softly.

"If they find him out there shall be nothing that we can do."

"I understand," Viggo said as he started to leave, he stopped, he was listening.

"Nooooo!" he screamed as he headed for the door.

I ordered the others to restrain him, to try to calm him but he was crying and quite
out of control.

"Father, no, Mark needs me; I heard him screaming. Please let me go, I have to go to him."

I told the others to take him down into the basement and chain him. I would not allow
him to go, not in the state that he was in.

"No, damn you to hell," he spat out as they dragged him from the room.

I called for my most trusted children to go and find Mark. Many went out and searched the woods as well as the village. They found him. Mark had been beaten and raped, his chest had been cut opened and his heart removed. The children I sent also found the humans responsible and quickly did away with them. They returned with Mark's body. I then had the sad job of
going to my son and telling him. I entered the basement and I removed the chains from Viggo.
Perhaps you may think that to have been a mistake, and you probably would be right.

"Viggo, " I said as I touched his tear stained face.

"Father?"

"I'm sorry, my son, we didn't find him in time."

Viggo ran from the room, ran up the stairs he found what remained of his lover.
The tears he cried, the sweet words he whispered into the ears that no longer heard.
I too was crying by this time. Viggo turned on me at that point, flying across the room.
I thought that he was going to kill me, but he stopped himself. Looking into my eyes he
just lowered his head and left. That was the last I saw of him," Ian said as he wiped the tears
from his eyes.

"So you see my sweet Billy, Viggo felt betrayed, and as far as I am concerned, he was.
I betrayed him, his trust, his love; I betrayed all of the gifts that he gave me freely. I
was suppose to protect him and Mark, but in the end I protected neither of them. This is
the sorrow that I have carried for all these years. But I think that I can make things right
if only Viggo will give me the chance."

Comments

[mamashope.livejournal.com]

Thank you very much, I am glad that you are enjoying. Great fb always inspires me too write faster. I should be handing over the next chap in a couple of days.