Gankutsuou Fan Fiction ❯ Gankutsuou Reborn ❯ New Acquaintances ( Chapter 3 )

GANKUTSUOU REBORN
© August 23, 2005 By Rory V. Pascual


CHAPTER THREE: New Acquaintances

Etienne sat at his dresser, running his brush through his silken mane with listless strokes. He had long since lost count, uncertain whether he was still lacking or had already exceeded the prerequisite hundred strokes necessary to maintain the health of his crowning glory.

There was a soft humming behind him, and he jerked hard on the brush in surprise, painfully yanking out several strands in the process. Slowly, he turned to look at the huge dressing mirror on the wall. Dark shadows flitted across the mirror's face like a turbulent maelstrom.

"Etienne…"

That cold voice caused him to drop the brush on the floor.

"ETIENNE!"

Terror made him stand up. Fleeing was never an option. He had to obey or else he would incur the wrath of the being that lived behind the mirror.

Etienne quietly padded towards the mirror. Within that glass, a dark shadow was also walking towards him. At first, he thought it was his reflection – same height, same build, the same long flowing mane, except the clothes the wraith wore were pitch black, with red flames running up the long sleeves. The being's face was shrouded by shadows. He knew that he was not looking at his own image, but someone else's entirely.

Someone he had known…

Someone he should know…

"Sing to me, my Angel of Music! Sing! I want to hear that beautiful voice that I had created for you and you alone!"

Etienne's trembling lips parted, but what came out was not a song, but a question. "Who are you?"

"I am the Phantom who haunts your deepest psyche, and I have come to demand that you fulfill your oath to me!"

"What oath?" he cried, shaking in fear. "I don't understand! Erik…."

The Phantom slowly lifted his head as he muttered, "My name is not Erik! I am…"

To Etienne's horror, the entity in the mirror had no face. As he watched, strange markings blazed with crimson fire where its face should be. From the graceful curlicues, malevolent golden eyes opened.

A long pointed tongue snaked out of its gaping maw, and Etienne screamed.

~~~~~~~~~~

"ETIENNE!"

With a strangled cry, the singer awoke from his nightmare and threw himself into a warm, protective embrace.

"Sister Bertrille! It was terrible!" Etienne sobbed, his whole body quaking in sheer terror. "I saw the face of the Devil himself!"

"It's all right!" a kind voice soothed him. "It was just a nightmare. You're safe now."

The singer stopped at once. That voice was most definitely male.

Etienne pulled away with a start, only to behold the gentlest face he had ever seen in his life. Wavy short brown hair, bright blue orbs with a small mole at the corner of his left eye, a charming smile… A blushed rushed up his cheeks.

"I'm sorry," he said, deeply embarrassed, as he turned his gaze away. "I thought you were Sister Bertrille."

"Oh, you mean the Mother Superior? She went to get some tea. I told her she didn't have to." The young man scratched his head sheepishly. "She was rather insistent."

"Yes, it's so difficult to say no to her."

"What happened to you? I must confess we nearly ran you over."

At that moment, Sister Bertrille entered the room, bearing a tray with tea. "Did you suffer another attack, child?" To their guest, she explained, "Etienne often gets these terrible headaches, you see."

Etienne nodded. "It was awful this time, Sister! For awhile there, I thought I heard voices."

"Must be because of all the activity and excitement of the past month. You should really get more rest." The kind nun pressed a small box of pills into his hands. "Here. This will help you sleep. Take no more than two every night."

"As if sleep were possible for someone in my profession." The singer said this with a wry grimace.

"Then take them during your sleep time even if it's during the day," the young man put in. "A good sleep is always the best cure for headaches."

Etienne gave him a dark scowl, offended that a complete stranger would offer him advice. "What are you anyway – a doctor?"

"Etienne Delacroix!" Sister Bertrille declared sharply. "You're being rude to the man who just saved your life!"

Mismatched eyes blinked in confusion. "He saved my life? But he just said that he nearly ran over me!"

"Actually, it was my carriage, although I was riding my motorcycle when the horses went out of control."

"You should have seen him, my child," the Mother Superior gushed excitedly. "It was a scene straight out of an adventure novel! He stopped the horses with a crack of his whip and gentle words before they could trample you."

There was a dubious expression on Etienne's face. Surely this boyish-looking young man couldn't have done something that heroic. "You did that?"

Again, their guest scratched his head, grinning. "Yes, I think I did. I just acted. I really didn't know what I was doing actually."

"Oh, stop being so modest, boy!" Sister Bertrille chided him.

"What's your name? I mean…" The singer struggled for politeness, seeing the nun shoot daggers at him with her eyes. "You already know mine."

"I'm Albert Herrera. Pleased to meet you." Albert then revealed, "You know, never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I'd end up saving the life of the Nightingale of Luna. Truth be told, you're the reason why I came here in the first place. I heard that you were a fantastic singer and I wanted to see you perform."

"Albert Herrera…" Etienne thought for a long moment. "I don't recall seeing your name among the reservations at the club."

"That's because I just arrived here today."

"Sorry to say, Monsieur Herrera, but you'll have to wait two whole months before you could get to hear me sing. La Decadenza is fully booked."

"You would let the man who just saved your life wait for two whole months?" Sister Bertrille asked incredulously. She patted Albert's shoulder. "I'll tell you what. Why don't you come to oour humble church this Sunday for the morning Mass?"

Albert hastily interrupted, "Sister, I'm really not a churchgoer and…"

"Etienne here always sings during the morning Mass. If you're lucky and his employer is in a good mood on that day, he might be permitted to stay longer to teach the children some hymns during Bible class."

"Sister Bertrille!" Etienne exclaimed. He couldn't believe what the sly nun had just said. "You told me earlier that I could skip a few Masses. You even said that the Good Lord would understand!"

"Oh, but you'll be here THIS Sunday. If I need to get Signore Tintoretto's permission, I will do so." The Mother Superior whispered to Albert like an accomplice in crime, "Don't worry, my boy. I'll make certain that Father Tretini keeps his sermons short and the distribution of Communion slower for you to be able to hear Etienne sing longer. Hmm… Maybe we should have the Mass in the traditional form, with all the Readings, Psalms and prayers sung."

"Do that and Father Tretini will die before he even makes his sermon," Etienne snorted. "That old priest has emphysema from all those foul-smelling cigars he's been smoking."

"Etienne! Where are your manners?" Sister Bertrille lost all patience with the singer. "I can't believe you could be so hostile to Albert! Apologize this instant!"

Chastened by that fierce rebuke, Etienne turned to Albert with a not-so-sincere look of apology on his face. "Forgive me, Albert. It's just that I'm not used to talking to someone who's the same age as I am. You also said that you wanted to hear me sing, and I readily assumed that…after the performance…we would… All my so-called admirers would…."

The sexual connotation in his words was painfully apparent to Albert. Before he could offer a reassurance, someone interjected at the doorway, "You are right not to trust young Albert here."

It was a grinning Baptistin. Going towards Albert, he draped his arm over the now scowling younger man's shoulders and pointed a finger at him.

"He's a pirate, greatly feared in all four quadrants of the galaxy. Why, that rogue Luigi Vampa would piss in his pants – Sorry about that, Sister – at the mere mention of the name 'Albert Herrera'!" He even stated the name with an exaggerated sweep of his right hand.

"I don't think my fingers would even twitch at a pirate with that ordinary, harmless sounding name," Etienne muttered under his breath, warranting a heavy heel on his toes courtesy of the nun.

Bertuccio, who had been listening to the amusing conversation outside, entered the room. "You have nothing to fear from Albert, Monsieur Delacroix. Despite his youth, his amorous attentions are always focused on men older than him. You should see how passionate he gets with men more than half his age."

"Don't listen to him!" Albert cried out to the singer. To his two friends, he glared. "As for you two, shut up!"

But Baptistin continued, "His last affair was with a country nobleman. Poor Albert's heart was broken when…"

Both Albert and Bertuccio throttled the knave before he could go on.

"Is that true?"

That soft query escaped Etienne's lips before he realized he had said it.

It was Albert's turn to blush. Seeing no reason to lie, especially in front of a nun, he admitted, "Yes. I fell in love with an aristocrat, but…"

"Oh, I see," was Etienne's quiet answer. Somehow, he could not understand why it hurt to hear that admission from Albert's own lips.

Sister Bertrille noticed the thoughtful, but sad expression on the singer's face. "Does that bother you, Etienne?" she asked in seeming innocence.

At that query, Etienne's cheeks burned and he shot to his feet in an instant. Clearly flustered, he stammered, "I must go! Signore Tintoretto must be looking for me by now!" Hastily, he added to all, "I cannot promise that I'll be here on Sunday. Forgive me!" Without saying another word, the singer fled from the room.

Albert's eyes fell upon the book sitting on the table. Grabbing it, he hurried after the singer, calling, "Etienne! Wait!"

By the time he went out the front door, however, Etienne had already crossed the street and disappeared into the crowd.

Groaning, Albert flopped his hands to his sides, still holding the book that the singer had left behind. Turning his forlorn blue eyes heavenwards, he complained, "What did I do wrong?"

Baptistin, who was coming up behind him, heard his lament. "I think you lost your boyish charm when you grew up..."

"I'm not THAT old!"

"Or maybe he really is not the Count. The Master always said that there's something about you that he found irresistible."

Bertuccio went towards them. "Well, this is just our first meeting. I'm sure you'll see each other again. Better take the good sister's suggestion and attend Mass on Sunday here."

"But he said he's not going to show up," Albert argued helplessly.

"He only said that so you wouldn't attend the Sunday service." In his frustration, Baptistin scratched his head furiously, messing up his hair. "For heaven's sake, you sound as if you haven't been in love before."

Sorrow crossed Albert's boyish features. "Actually, I have…twice. And I messed both up pretty badly."

Bertuccio laid his arm over the younger man's shoulder, smiling reassuringly. "Then don't mess this one up this time."

~~~~~~~~~~

Etienne dropped to his knees, holding his aching belly where Tintoretto had punched him. The Italian towered over him, shaking in fury. He reached down and grabbed a fistful of the singer's hair, yanking his head up. Despite his promises that he would never damage his star's face, Etienne was terrifyingly certain that his Master would do so now.

Tintoretto shook the younger man's head hard, causing hair strands to be pulled out by the roots. "Where the hell have you been? I thought I forbade you from leaving the club without me or a bouncer with you!"

"I wanted to go to church to pray," cried Etienne, tears filling his eyes from the stinging pain in his scalp. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

"You've been gone for three hours! You met one of that bitch pianist's friends, didn't you? Tell me the truth!"

"I did nothing, I swear! I…I suffered another attack! That's why I took so long! You can ask Sister Bertrille!"

"That damned nun will only cover up for you! Now tell me! Where did you go? Do you have a lover I don't know about?"

"Please, Master! You're hurting me!"

"TELL ME!"

Etienne's hands flew up to pry those brutal fingers lose from his hair, but when pain tore through his head all of a sudden, he found himself gripping his forehead instead. To Tintoretto's horror, blood started pouring from the singer's nostrils.

"ETIENNE!" the Italian exclaimed as he felt the young man fall limp in his grip like a wilting flower. He picked the singer up before he could totally collapse. Beholding the anguish on that beautiful face, Tintoretto clucked his tongue, remarking, "I guess you really were telling me the truth."

The club owner carried his ailing star into the lift, going up to their suite at the top floor. Laying Etienne on the large four-post bed, Tintoretto unbuttoned the shirt and stripped off the trousers and gloves. He also wiped away the blood from the singer's face with a washcloth.

When he was done, Tintoretto found himself gazing down at the siren on his bed. He could never get tired of looking at the exquisite beauty of his star attraction. Those strange markings all over his body only served to heighten his allure. It was a temptation he could never resist, no matter what state the singer was in.

Loosening his trousers, the Italian climbed on the bed, straddling those slender hips. Spreading the long legs, Tintoretto positioned himself in between and penetrated that puckered opening. Like a bull overwhelmed by the heat of its mate, he thrust repeatedly into the singer's body until he was spent. Throughout the plundering of his flesh, Etienne never awakened.

Taking the insensate young man was not as satisfactory as he had expected. Buttoning up his trousers, Tintoretto left the chamber in silence, locking the door behind him, and pondering whether or not he should cancel the show later that evening.

Ten minutes passed since the door to the suite clicked shut. Then, those dark pink marks blazed with unearthly fire on Etienne's brow, and those malevolent eyes opened.

The entity snorted in disgust at the sight of the semen and blood on the bed sheets. :That fool Italian doesn't know how to bring a hot-blooded young man such as this to the heights of ecstasy. My poor Etienne! How about I let you enjoy yourself this time?:

From those strange marks, tongues of red and orange liquid fire poured out, slowly licking down Etienne's cheeks, eliciting a mumble from the singer. The flames descended the long graceful neck, then the right shoulder followed by the left, going down further to his chest and his back. Etienne moaned in pleasure as the flames licked his tender nipples, making them tighten into sharp points. Unconsciously, the singer's hands went up to fondle those taut nubs.

On and on, those flames trailed down Etienne's body, teasing him, fueling him with desire so overwhelming that it demanded to be sated. When the fire finally concentrated at the area of his groin and his just battered entrance, Etienne could no longer endure it.

With his legs splayed to its widest extent, Etienne seized his burgeoning erection in his right hand, while the fingers of his left hand plunged into his opening. The singer cried and moaned in carnal excitement, as he pumped himself vigorously, his fingers thrusting into his bleeding channel at the same frantic rhythm.

:Say my name Etienne,: the entity whispered insidiously, feeling the young man about to reach the peak. :Say it!:

The name that the singer uttered with such passion, however, was someone else's.

Etienne sat bolt upright in bed with gasp, just as he spilled his release. His body shaking, he pressed his hand to the darkening bruise on his right cheek that had just received a fierce slap, only to discover his fingers wet and slimy. The bile threatened to rise up his throat, seeing his thighs spattered with semen and blood. In the end, the tears poured from his mismatch eyes, realizing what he had done.

Tintoretto had been bedding him while he lay insensate, and he had, unwittingly, spoken another man's name. A man he had just met…

Etienne shook his head as his mind was filled by image of bright blue eyes so like the morning sky. This is nothing but foolishness! I cannot jeopardize my existence here, not when salvation is so close! I WON'T!

But even to his ears, that mental declaration lacked firm resolve.

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