This story is rated NC17 as there is violence of the vampiric sort. Blood sucking and stuff ...
THE CURSE OF APOLLO
BY MAGGIE
PART ONE
Iolaus had seen war. He had seen men die, sometimes horribly, witnessed their suffering and felt it himself. He had also been witness to darker things, such as the spite of the gods; all in all, he had thought he was pretty wise to all of the ways of pain that humanity could do and be done unto.
What he had just witnessed had been something different. Something so incredible and so unnaturally cruel a hand, dealt seemingly by fate itself, that he could find no comfort for the sickness that roiled in his stomach, nor for the horror which sought him out in every nook and cranny in which his heart tried to hide.
Burned to a crisp, burned to ashes ... Just open the door, let in the sunlight ... and condemn her to death. They hadn't needed to lay a hand on her; it seemed they hadn't even needed a reason, as no crime had been committed so far as Iolaus could tell. She had been little more than a small child, perhaps no more than eight years old, but the village had howled after her blood like demons.
Perhaps that was the answer. The village had been taken over by emissaries from Hera or Ares and sent after an innocent victim, because it was the blood and the suffering of the innocent that these gods craved the most.
The merest touch of the sunlight on her skin and the smoke, along with the child's rising screams, had risen up, carried away by the slight breeze; and then the flames, out of nowhere, and the little body was a flaming torch, the crackle of the fire not quite drowning out the fading screams of torment ...
A cry of revulsion was torn out of him by the memory and he turned his back and walked away from the scene, not trusting himself to act sensibly from this point on unless he put some distance between himself and the village.
How could it be that that same sunlight which until now had so brightened the days of his life and the lives of all other mortals, could deal out death to one small child? Was it a curse from the gods then? Something the villagers obviously knew about; he had seen the way they had flung open the door of the barn and dragged the girl out, held outstretched in the full face of the sunlight. When the smoke had risen from her flesh and she was too hot for her captors to hold, they had dropped her like a pile of washing, making sure first that the door to the hut was firmly shut so that she couldn't retreat from her torment.
Oh, they knew alright.
But how could they do that to a young child? And why? Was it because she was different; had these people thought her a demon just because she couldn't live in the light?
No light ...
Iolaus tried to imagine how anyone could spend their entire lives hiding in the shelter of shadows and the safety of night, denied the warmth and happiness of sunlight? He understood now why she had begged story after story from him the previous day; to keep him there as long as she could -- company for her loneliness, locked away from the rest of the world during daylight hours through no fault of her own. It seemed to him an eternal punishment inflicted for no reason, as it seemed there was no crime.
No; there WAS a crime. It resided in the hearts of the villagers and Iolaus could think of no immediate way to make them pay for what they had done. But he could at least find out why.
For now, he needed to spend a little time on his own; if he returned to the village to begin his quest now, there would, more than likely, be blood spilled and then he'd have trouble of his own. No, it was best if he let his temper cool first, so that he could do what he had to with a clear head. He had spotted a woodland pool a few miles back, on his way into the village; he would hole up there until he felt ready to tackle this mystery.
It was definitely time to eat by the time he arrived at the pool; his stomach was sending him 'urgent refill' signals, but before he couldn't even give thought to eating. Instead, he decked his clothes and plunged into the cold, clear water, diving deep down towards the bottom, before surfacing once more near the centre of the pool. He had hoped that this would help to clear some of the horror from his mind, but as he had entered the water, somehow the sound as he pierced the surface seemed to echo the girl's screams, and as he swam deeper and deeper it had felt like there was a monster on his heels, determined to drag him back into the painful memory. Heading for the surface, apart from the fact that he didn't fancy drowning, seemed to be the only way to get free of the darkness that was threatening him.
The light, growing stronger as he headed for the surface, drew him like hope, and as he burst through into the air once more and he took a deep breath of it, he became aware of the warmth of the sunlight on his skin. For him, as it was for all people, that warmth was a blessing; but now he imagined it the curse it had been for that young girl. Imagined the warmth intensifying until it was too hot to bear, his skin blistering and curling away, the flesh beneath cooking like a pig roasting over an open fire, his blood boiling ...
Such a hideous death; and to never know the sun, to never bathe in it's light, unable to know the gentle warmth on her young skin ...
Hot, salt tears were soon mingling with the rivulets of the pool water which meandered down over his cheeks; they were dashed away before he struck out for the edge of the pool, only to be replaced by more, so that he was swimming almost blindly by the time he struck the muddy bank. For a moment he didn't even have the strength to pull himself out, and could only hold on until the intensity of the emotions running through him slowly ebbed. Hauling himself up onto dry land finally, he lay back exhausted, both warmed and somehow shamed by the heat of the sun. He had never realised until now, just how lucky he was by being able to receive the blessing of Apollo; it had never occured to him that there might be someone, somewhere, who would be denied even this simple pleasure.
"Oh, gods, that poor kid ..."
"What poor kid?"
Iolaus turned sharply at the sound of the other voice, scrubbing ineffectually at his tears, and saw Hercules, striding somewhat tiredly into the campsite. Iolaus had only just remembered; he had arranged to meet him later on today. The incident at the village that morning had completely put it out of his head.
He waited until Hercules came up to him and sat down on the bank of the pool beside him, and was pulling off his boots so that he could dabble his hot, tired feet in the cool water, before he tried to explain. The demi-god listened quietly, and it was only when he nodded his head slightly, that Iolaus realised that Hercules had come across this phenomenon before.
"Herc!? You know about this? How!?"
The big man, seeing the pale face and reddened eyes of his best friend, laid a gentle arm across his shoulders and squeezed slightly. "A temple; three years ago," he began slowly, his gaze focussing inwards as he remembered the horror he had seen there. "I was on my way back from Macedonia when a storm hit; hit bad. I wasn't in any mood at the time to try and weather it; there was still so far to go to get home, I didn't see the point. There was a temple to Apollo nearby, so I took shelter there, planning to move on in the morning, if the weather had cleared by then."
Iolaus by now, had dried the last of his tears and was listening intently to Hercules' tale.
"There was a niche at the back of the altar," Hercules continued, "and a bed there - I guess the place wasn't in use, because there was no-one there to tend it - so I used it to try and get some sleep. I was just dropping off when I heard some shouting outside. I went to look to see what was going on, and there was a young man there, yelling for Apollo. I was about to go and put him straight about dealing with the gods, but there was something about what he was shouting about that stopped me. He talked wildly about a hunger for blood, and a deeper hunger for the sun, and an endless loneliness. And when he opened his mouth ... his teeth ... they were like an animal's ..."
Iolaus' eyes narrowed suspisciously. "You didn't ...!?"
Herc hurriedly calmed his fears, with a shake of the head. "No, no, I didn't confront him; he felt dangerous, in a way that I had never come across before. Once he'd gone, I called to Apollo, but he couldn't be bothered to show up. Aphrodite did though. She told me all about what the young man was, and how he got like that."
Close to some real answers now, Iolaus shook off some of his depression and sat up straighter, wanting to come to grips with some facts that he could deal with and act on.
"Herc; what did happen back there? Why did those people ... why did they treat her like that?" The memory was still too close, and his voice, only barely steady now, betrayed the intensity of his indignation as he continued. "She was only a kid, and as far as I know she hadn't done any harm to those people! And what happened to her? Do you know?"
"It's a curse," the demi-god explained . "For centuries mankind has sought for some way to become immortal; to steal some of the power of the gods. When someone finally succeded, it was decreed by the gods that he should be put under a curse."
"What kind of curse?" asked Iolaus, trying to dig a little deeper.
"The blood of this man was made tainted; it meant that he was unable to eat or drink in the same way as other mortals. Instead he became forced to constantly replenish his blood with that of other mortals."
"WHAT!?" Iolaus stopped in his tracks and flung his shocked gaze in Hercules' direction. "You mean ... he had to ..."
"He fed on the blood of other people. It was either that or suffer intolerable hunger." The pale mien of Hercules' face betrayed the horror and pity he obviously felt. "Unfortunately, the taint in his blood passed on to his victims and they became like him; tainted, immortal ... cursed. Such people have a total allergy to sunlight, too; well, you saw what happened to the girl ..."
"Gods!" Iolaus' head was whirling with this revelation; once more, in his mind, he was back in the hut, telling the girl the stories, and remembering only her thin, pale enchanted face, and yet he could remember now, how haunted she had looked, as if Hera herself were after her. Knowing Hercules' step mother as he did, he had little doubt that Hera had been amongst the chief instigators of this horrible crime. "But why should all the victims be made to suffer for a mistake that someone else made?"
"At first, this man's victims came to this sacrifice willingly, lured by his tales of immortality; they themselves offered up their blood to him in exchange for what they thought must be a blessing, at the time. Obviously, they didn't realise the truth of their awful existence until it was too late." In augure of his next words, Hercules' expression fell into a sadness, laced with compassion. "Later, of course, the courting of the victim fell into disuse, and the victims were taken at random and without warning. Any spell the vampire - that's what these poor unfortunates call themselves, by the way - uses to trap it's victim is usually hastily performed, although quite effective. If a vampire can manage to hold you with its gaze, it can hypnotise you into obeying its every wish."
Iolaus was speechless now, before the shocking weight of the terrible tale, struck with the full force of, what must have been, the hell of the now dead child's existence. "Eventually, she would have had to ..." he murmured, but couldn't complete the thought, except in his mind, where the conclusion played itself out relentlessly, with horrifying clarity.
Suddenly, he remembered something which sent a cold chill down his spine and galvanised him into action once more. "She had a friend, a boy, who was asleep in a corner of the barn. Would he be a ... a vampire too? I don't know what happened to him; when I saw what happened to the girl, I ...." he trailed off.
Hercules clapped a hand to his shoulder in reassurance. "Don't worry, Iolaus; we'll find the boy. Sort this out. Now," and here the big man looked down at his friend, with an assessing eye. "Have you had breakfast, or is that a silly question?"
"I wasn't hungry ..." Iolaus tailed off, his mind still focussed on ascertaining the fate of the boy at the village.
"I thought so," the demi-god returned, almost proprietorily. "C'mon, let's go catch us something, and then we can -"
"Herc!? Can't we just go now? I really need to know if that boy's alright ..."
The grip that Iolaus had on his forearm convinced Hercules that he wouldn't get a bite past his friend's lips until his mind was put at ease on this matter, so shrugging, he gestured towards the village. "Okay, Iolaus; c'mon, let's go see to this thing ..."
They managed to get into the barn through a window in the back of it, without being seen. Having searched it thoroughly and not discovered the boy, Iolaus was unsure of what to do next. If they went to the villagers to find out whether the boy had been discovered and been given similar treatment to the girl, and he hadn't, then they would have alerted the people to the fact that there was someone else to vent their ignorance and fear on. They might even go out looking for him which would mean he and Hercules would have to try and talk them out of it, which might or might not work.
However, if they left the village on the assumption that the boy had awakened, seen what was being done to his companion and fled, probably the same way the two of them had gotten in, and the boy had in fact been caught and immolated, then they would be wasting their time searching for him elsewhere.
Hercules was all for the former option.
"Iolaus; we really ought to give these people a chance to redeem themselves from their earlier behaviour. How did you come to be in the village in the first place anyway? And were those kids prisoners or what?"
"The village was a layover for the night. It wasn't too far from the campsite, but I was tired and the blacksmith offered to let me use his barn so ... The kids were hiding. I wanted to buy them a meal, and take them home in the morning, but they wouldn't let me. I guess now I know why," Iolaus exclaimed tiredly.
Lines furrowed across his brow as his thoughts returned to what he now knew about the children; and how that knowledge made him feel. "The villagers didn't know they were there until the blacksmith went in in the morning and found them - well, at least the girl," he continued softly, his eyes scanning the village constantly, though what he was searching for, he wasn't sure. "I was already on my way to the campsite, up on that ridge there," and he indicated a pathway part way up the hillside which was visible from the window at the back of the barn. "I heard the hue and cry and saw them open the doors and drag her out ..."
Hand to his mouth, Iolaus began to scramble through the window, eager to get away from that place, the familiarity making the memories too sharp. Hercules' hand on his shoulder stopped him momentarily.
"Iolaus; look, we can do it this way. You go and search the area; see if you can find any tracks that might belong to this boy. I'll stay here and pretend I'm just passing through and see if I can get anyone to tell me exactly what's been going on here. That way we've got both the angles covered."
Iolaus nodded in agreement and continued on out the window.
"We'll meet back here at noon," Hercules called softly after him, and a hand raised in acknowledgement told him that Iolaus had got the message. Crawling out of the barn window himself, Hercules began to make his way back up the hillside aways, so that he could appear to approach the village from outside it. "I really hope these people don't have two kids' deaths on their conscience," he murmured to himself. "C'mon Iolaus, find something ... please ..."
The tracks led off to the North, towards Parthus. Another village where the boy would only find trouble unless he kept himself hidden. Iolaus had only gone a short way before he found something else; the corpse of a rabbit. It was sucked dry.
"Oh, gods ..."
How long could the boy exist on animal blood? Hercules had told him that the boy might find it more and more difficult to resist taking human blood, the longer he went without it. He had to get back to Hercules to tell him about the tracks, and he had to do it now and fast, lest he let the boy get too far ahead of him.
He ran into him before he got to the village, as Hercules had, thankfully, come up with nothing there, and had left, to hover, as patiently as he could, on the edge of the hillside above the scattering of huts. He looked as he sensed Iolaus approach.
"Anything?"
"Yeah, he definitely left the village alive, but, Herc ... There's a dead rabbit back there, with no blood; looks like he's been living on animals rather than people up til now, thank the gods ..."
"Iolaus ... He can't continue like that ... he must be weak. The blood of animals doesn't sustain them properly -"
"Ah, damn Apollo!! What right did he have foisting a curse like that on mankind anyway!?" Iolaus was more angry than Hercules could ever remember seeing him. The fate of these children had obviously affected him deeply, and Hercules could tell this was going to be one of those rare times when Iolaus would not be held back, no matter the argument. He reached out a comforting hand to him, but Iolaus shrugged it off, too caught up in his anger to think what he was doing. "Can't you just convince him to remove the curse, Herc!? Please!!? That kid doesn't have a choice, does he? He'll become little more than a living corpse if he doesn't feed off a human soon, and if he does ..."
"I know; we won't have a choice either." This time, when Hercules reached out, Iolaus didn't pull away, just pulled in a sobbing breath, fighting against the pull of the sadness at the pain and the waste and the injustice that so affected this one small mortal, and yet meant nothing to the god of Truth.
"God of Truth! I'd like to give him some truth!! Just give me five minutes - ah, damn him!! Damn him ..."
Eventually, when Iolaus had cried himself out, he remembered the boy, and wasted no time explaining that they needed to get after him. Hercules merely nodded, and gestured ahead, down the trail. Iolaus needed no more agreement and took off down the trail like a hunting dog on the scent. It was all Hercules could do to keep up with him.
They trailed him for another two hours and then suddenly, Iolaus pulled to a halt, his head questing around for more sign, every sense straining to ultimate sensitivity.
"Iolaus ...?"
Seeing the growing anxiety on Iolaus' face, Hercules layed a hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezed gently. Iolaus looked up at him, biting his lower lip in frowning deliberation.
"Herc ... we need to quarter the ground if we're going to find him. He's close, I know he is ..."
A narrowing of the tired, blue eyes indicated an idea had occured to the hunter. He pondered a moment and then voiced his thoughts.
"I think he's taken to the trees," he murmured quietly. "NO! Don't look up, I don't want to frighten him off," he warned Hercules, who had raised his eyes to the thick covering of leaves and branches above them. "You go off to the West for about thirty meters and then circle back. I'll head off North and then ..." and raising his own eyes momentarily, he gave Hercules the clear message that he was going to investigate that cover a little more closely, himself.
Hercules nodded. "Okay. I'll see you in a little while ..." he whispered, and with one more squeeze to the broad shoulder, took off to Iolaus' left. Iolaus himself, scanning the ground carefully, as if looking for sign there, carried on the way he'd been going.
Once he was in the thickest part of the forest and it was getting difficult to make any more headway on the ground, he climbed the nearest tree and looked around him. Although the cover was thick, Iolaus was still able to discern some unnatural movement over to his left, off in Herc's direction. Calming his breathing and centering his focus inward, he began to move, slowly, quietly, like some creature of the arboreal world, used to stalking its prey, unnoticed by it.
The boy was only a few meters away, halfway up a large tree, clutching the trunk, shaking, probably with a combination of fear and fatigue; Iolaus drew closer, closer ...
Suddenly a branch, which had seemed solid enough, broke beneath his weight, and Iolaus was on the deck. He struggled to rise, and was suddenly gasping with pain that shot through him, from a sprained wrist and twisted ankle. He cussed roundly, and then hissed in even more pain, when something landed on him and bit into his neck.
Iolaus struggled to grapple with whatever or whoever it was, but his blood was being sucked greedily and so quickly, that before he could get a grip on his assailant, his sight grew dim, and his limbs lost all strength. He was dying ...
Just as suddenly as he had been attacked, the blood-sucker was gone, and Iolaus was left, fainting and weak, as his blood still pulsed, sluggishly from the two identical wounds over his jugular. He thought he heard someone calling his name, and then knew no more.
PART TWO
Hercules knew what he had seen; he just didn't want to admit it to himself. The boy had drunk Iolaus' blood; that was why his friend was so weak now. Worse than that - much worse - it meant that Iolaus had already been sentenced by the curse of Apollo. He was a vampire now.
Gods, what was he going to do?
Gathering the unconscious Iolaus into his arms, Hercules raised his eyes to the sky and called out. "Apollo! Apollo, you get your ass down here, now!! Apollo, you selfish, uncaring, shallow, -"
"Alright, alRIGHT, already! Gods, man, when you get going ... Waddaya want?"
Apollo - for once, as far as Hercules was concerned, outshining Iolaus - stood brazenly a few feet off the ground, floating lazily on his golden skateboard, arms crossed over his chest, looking mildly disgruntled. "C'mon, gooder, spill it man! I've got a hot date waiting for me back on Olympus."
He was so busy chuckling over how funny he was that he didn't see the punch that sent him thirty feet away and fifteen in the air. The next thing he knew he was hanging upside down, caught in a tangle of branches, perhaps a tad too close to a bee's nest. The strength of the blow to his side had actually shaken him up to the point where he wasn't quite sure what to do next.
Which gave Hercules just enough time to get over to where Apollo was hanging and shake the tree. Just hard enough to ensure the god returned to the ground the quick way. The look on Apollo's face told the demi-god that he wasn't best pleased, but Hercules didn't care. He was so damn tired of the gods being the time-wasters of the universe, and of this particular god, he had had more than enough.
Picking up Apollo by his golden jerkin, Hercules dragged him roughly to his knees and thrust his face down until it was mere centimetres from the god's now, not so clean visage. The rage inside him had already reached boiling point, and was well on its way to white hot. The higher the tempreture, the more still he became, the softer his words issued forth.
For once, Apollo was genuinely scared. Like most of the gods, he had an ego the size of Mount Olympus, and therefore never considered that he could be beaten by anyone. But he knew enough to realise that Hercules was probably the exception to that 'anybody'. From the look in his half-brother's eyes, he could tell that now would be a good time for even someone like Ares to capitulate; and god he may be but he certainly wasn't Ares. Decision made, he gave in, stopped struggling and waited to hear what his fate would be.
Seeing Apollo back down, Hercules hauled him up onto his feet, his fist still firmly in his vest. Dragging him over to Iolaus, he issued his demands.
"Iolaus has been bitten by one of your vampires; I need you to remove the curse, Apollo, and you'd better do it now."
Now Apollo was wishing he hadn't bothered to answer the summons. He looked warily back at his half-brother, hoping that he wouldn't take the news too badly. "Well, now, Hercules, it's not exactly that simple, man. I mean, technically there is no cure for this."
Hercules drew him up closer to his face, the rage flooding him again, and Apollo shrunk inside his godly skin a little, thinking quickly. "That's not to say he can't be cured; it's just a little ... well, difficult, is all ..."
"LIKE WHAT!?" The hand clutched a little tighter, the blazing eyes drew a little nearer. Apollo shrank a little more.
"Well, you're a god, well, half a one, anyway. Actually that's perfect, 'cos the blood of a full god would kill him. Your blood being half mortal would provide the perfect cure and still leave blondie there -" The rest was choked off by Hercules fist twisting the jerkin up around Apollo's throat, cutting off his speech.
"Sorry," Apollo managed to squeak out, and the hold slackened off a little.
"Keep talking," Hercules told him, suddenly realising that time was going to be a telling factor in keeping Iolaus alive. He was aware of a soft groaning sound, signalling that Iolaus was returning to consciousness, and he needed to have an answer for his best friend by the time he did that.
"Your blood; it'll ensure that ... Iolaus ... doesn't die."
"What are you telling me, Apollo? Spit it out; now!!"
Considerably paler than a god should be, Apollo gave him the bad news.
"You have to let him drink your blood."
Hercules just looked at him for a second. "That's it!? Just drink some of my blood and -"
Apollo shook his head, nervously. "Well, more than just some."
"Well HOW MUCH?"
Apollo was looking a little blanched now. Blanched and more nervous than a virgin on her wedding night. "Er ... that's just it, Hercules. I don't know. Hey, no-one's ever asked me before! Far as I know, no-one's ever done this before."
"You mean it might kill me."
"I thought you two were best buddies, ready to die together 'n' all that crap," Apollo responded, saying the wrong thing yet again, but this time Hercules ignored it, anger subsumed by heartsickness.
"I would willingly give up all that I am, to save Iolaus' life; but he would never let me do that. He would rather trick me and sneak off and remain the way he is, slowly starving until he went mad or died, than take my life - in any way!"
Apollo considered the knotty little problem. Actually considered it. Hercules was amazed; this was the most serious work he had ever seen Apollo do. Either he was becoming more responsible or he was really scared, and Hercules didn't care which it was, so long as it was instrumental in saving Iolaus.
"Okay. What you can do is drink his blood at the same time. And it probably won't need to be all of it, for either of you. He hasn't been completely drained or he'd be dead, so he still has untainted blood in his veins. You'd better hurry though; the taint spreads fast."
There were probably a thousand questions that Hercules should've asked at that moment, but in the face of Iolaus' pressing need, he couldn't think of a one. Well, maybe one ...
"Apollo, how do I get Iolaus to do this? Like I said he'd rather die than -"
"I'll spell him for the duration," Apollo assured him, cutting him off. "Now if you're going to do this, brother, it had better be now ..."
Kneeling next to a slowly rousing Iolaus, Hercules drew his friend's knife and sliced his wrist open and held it to the lips of his friend, letting the blood drip down into the warm depths of his mouth. Only vaguely aware of Apollo muttering something into Iolaus' ear, Hercules leant down and, fastening onto the double wound in the pale skin of Iolaus' throat, gently began to suck.
How much blood the two exchanged between them, how long it took, Hercules had no knowledge of. It felt like far too long, but suddenly, just as he was about to pull away, unable to do this any longer, Apollo was pulling the two of them apart.
"That's enough, Hercules. Iolaus will be okay now." The god, considering his way-out-of-character good deed, done, looked around for his skateboard and prepared to leave.
A hand reached out and grasped his ankle. He looked down.
Iolaus. Out from under the influence of the supernatural persuasion that Apollo had used to get him to drink Hercules' blood, there was an awful knowledge in the blue eyes now and a million questions. He asked only one.
"What happens to Hercules? Will he be a vampire now?"
Apollo, appearing to be back to his insouciant self, replied carelessly. "Ah, he'll be a bit sick for awhile, but it won't kill him; he'll be okay."
"Wait!" Iolaus called out, seeing that the god was about to wink out. "What about the boy? Can he be saved the same way?"
"Not unless you can find another half-god willing to provide the same service," Apollo almost laughed. Hopping onto his hovering skateboard, he took off and vanished, leaving Iolaus feeling angry and sad.
He looked back at Hercules; there was a certain puzzlement, and concern directed towards him, and Iolaus reached out to the demi-god.
"Just for the record, Hercules, don't you ever do that again! And don't look at me like that, you know damn well, what! You didn't know the consequences, did you!?"
Hercules, saying nothing, looked away.
"Thought not. Now Apollo says you're going to be a bit sick. That could mean anything from throwing up tomorrow's lunch, to a full-blown, life-threatening, fitting fever. What if I'd been cured but not completely? What if I hadn't been up to looking after you? Don't you think you mean as much to me, as I do to you!?"
Reaching for the hand which had fastened almost too tightly onto his arm, Hercules laid one of his over it for a moment, before, pulling away and attempting to get to his feet. Once there, he felt a little dizzy, a little nauseous, but apart from that, nothing out of the ordinary.
"I'm sorry, Iolaus, but ... no dammit, I'm not going to apologise for saving your life! There was no time! I had to do it before the taint in your blood spread too far. If it had been me, would you have done any different?"
The sudden silence coming from Iolaus' direction was a good enough answer for the demi-god. Iolaus wouldn't normally have said anything, as this was old territory rehashed. He rather suspected that Iolaus knew he'd been put under involuntary 'coercion' by Apollo, and was less than happy about that. Still, if he wasn't going to say any more about it, they had more important things to do ...
"Herc, we have to find that boy ..."
"I know, Iolaus, but ... if and when we do; what then? I don't think Apollo's cure is really an option, not if we have to find a fresh demi-god."
Iolaus, more reluctant to let go of this possibility, worried at the idea for a few moments longer. There were minotaurs, and other monsters who, in payment of a debt they doubtless already owed to society, might be considered ... mightn't they?
"And you propose to find, trap and drain one, how?"
Iolaus was still chewing on that one when Hercules promptly squashed the prospect. "Iolaus, the boy has already fed on a mortal once; I don't think we have the time to do all this before he strikes again. You know what we have to do."
"But Herc, he's a child! Can you kill a child!?"
The tremble at the demi-god's mouth said not. The determination in the eyes, covering sadness, anger, and resentment, said otherwise. Biting his lip and closing his eyes, Iolaus turned away.
From the way his back moved in large, slow heaves, Hercules could tell he was struggling with his emotions again. When he finally turned back, Hercules almost misgave his hard intentions.
"Herc, he hasn't seen the sun ... for the god's know how long; hasn't tasted ordinary, honest-to-goodness food, hasn't felt safe or loved, probably for as long as he can remember. How can we? Are you sure there's no other way?"
His heart torn in two at the impassioned plea, Hercules nevertheless could see one thing that evaded Iolaus even now.
"Iolaus; you think the boy doesn't realise what his life has to be like? You think he wants that? He might thank us ..."
But Iolaus shook his head, still unwilling to accept this. He stepped back and hugged himself, feeling suddenly cold. "I ... I don't think I can do this, Hercules."
"Gods, Iolaus, look ... I know, I can see, how hard this is for you, but we've got to think about the next person he attacks! And the person he'll attack, and so on and so on! We haven't any other choice, Iolaus! Please don't make me do this on my own ..."
The despair in the plea, more than the words themselves, made Iolaus realise he was being selfish in wanting to stand back from this sad and repugnant duty. Coming back to Hercules he took his arm and held it firmly in a warrior's clasp. "I'm sorry, Herc," he managed to choke out. "Of course I'll come with you. I was just being -"
"No you weren't," cut in Hercules, setting off with Iolaus, following the boy's tracks before they grew entirely cold. "It's just your loving heart going a little wild with the injustice of it, that's all."
"Herc, let's get going, shall we?" The words were hastily spoken and urgent, but the look in his eyes said he was grateful for the sentiment that Hercules had just expresssed. Smiling in return, the demi-god set off after the scampering hunter.
PART THREE
The boy knew what it was to starve; he had been homeless before he became as he was now, and thusly had missed many a meal. But this ... weakness, this nerve-crawling obsessive ... craving, was impossible to ignore, impossible to resist. He had to feed. Feed now ...
Footsteps echoed in his sharpened hearing and he looked down from the branch, halfway up the tree where he was hiding. With his night vision he could see, quite plainly, a young man, no more than twenty or so years old, knife in hand, on the prowl for game. At last ...
Something deep in his gut made the boy's gorge rise at the thought of what he was about to do, but in his present state it was a mere inconvenience. His vision of himself was nothing compared to the insatiable hunger he was driven by.
He waited until the hunter had just passed beneath him, and then sprang, already sinking his fangs into the unprotected neck when he landed across the leather clad shoulders, forcing the young man to the ground.
A red haze filled his vision as the boy sucked, hard and strong, feeding on the lifeblood of the mortal, finally sating his thirst. At least for now.
The weakening cries of the young hunter went unnoticed by the boy as he fed. It was only when the craving began to ebb and he rose from the body, wiping his bloody mouth on his sleeve, that the memory of the cries, like those of a helpless child in terror, impinged on his conscience, and he realised what he had done.
Flinging himself away from the body, the boy ran, without thought to direction, tears blinding his eyes. 'Oh, gods, I can't go on like this, I want to die, just let me die ...' Such miserable thoughts and others of similar ilk, filled his mind as he ran. It seemed he had no choice but to burn. Burn, even as his sister had ...
It hadn't taken long for the taint in the blood that Hercules had taken in, to affect him. Although he would not die, he was robbed of his godly strength and fell sick within a matter of less than an hour.
Now, he was vomiting uncontrollably at the wayside, Iolaus doing his best to ease the physical discomfort by supporting his shoulders and rubbing his back, as Hercules painfully emptied his stomach. Even when there was nothing left, the dry heaves still wracked him; it seemed as if every breath he attempted sparked the involuntary impulse, clenching the internal muscles in a vain attempt to purge the taint which was already coursing through his system.
The heaves went on and on ... Iolaus had suffered similarly himself, usually due to badly cooked or game meat, but this seemingly undending and useless bout of purging worried even him. The trick he knew was to get the person to relax, at least long enough to for them to swallow whatever remedy could be made to calm the stomach.
Thinking quickly, he pushed Hercules gently over onto his back and massaged the twitching abdomen, trying to soothe the muscles into quieting, and at the same time encouraging Hercules to try to breathe.
The spasms subsiding, and Hercules once again being able to take an uninterrupted breath, Iolaus looked around for anything he could make a tea out of to quiet his friend's tortured stomach, but there were no herbs or flowers in the immediate area which would help.
"Iolaus ... it's okay, let me just ride this out, it won't last for ever. It's not like it's going to kill me or anything."
The hunter looked back at his friend and sighed, still worried. Hercules was still sweating freely and looked as grey as clay paste.
"Maybe if I can get you some milk, Herc - we passed a field of cows not so far back - that might help?" he offered hopefully.
Hercules regarded his friend silently for a moment. Dammit, Iolaus was so good to him, and he was all too aware of how he took the hunter for granted sometimes. Forcing a smile to his face, although it was the last thing he felt like, he nodded slowly. "Yeah, thanks Iolaus. That would be good."
Whilst he waited for his friend to return with the milk, Hercules tried to concentrate on something other than his stomach. His mind returned to seeing the rabbit that Iolaus had showed him, drained of blood, that the boy had left, and felt the nausea begin to take a hold once more. Backing away rapidly from that subject, he took a deep breath to put his roiling stomach on hold, and cast around in his mind for something else.
Iolaus returned, unscathed, with the milk in quite a short time and Hercules wondered what trick his resourceful friend had managed to pull this time, considering the last time he'd tried to milk a cow he'd practically been kicked to death.
Taking the sloshing water bag from Iolaus, the demi-god did his best to get some of the warm, sweet liquid into his stomach. However the taste alone, not to mention the warmth were enough to make him start gagging again, so he gave it up for a bad job.
"I'm sorry, Iolaus; guess I'm just going to have to wait this out. You went to all that trouble too," he finished, apologetically.
"Wasn't any trouble, Herc; I just let the milkmaid do it."
"Milkmaid ... Ohhh!" and before Hercules could expand on his enquiry, the little milk he had swallowed, came back up. "Dammit ..." he groaned, rubbing his hands across his midsection and heaving dryly once more. Iolaus went through the massaging process for him once more, managing to get the heaves to stop this time and finding that they went away quicker if he hauled Hercules into an upright position.
"Maybe if I start walking and just try and breathe ..." the demi-god suggested, raising himself gingerly to his feet. He tried a few steps and found that he was able to do at least that. "C'mon; I don't feel great, but if I can do this, we might as well keep on the move. We still have to find that boy."
Iolaus, watching his friend's slightly shaky steps, nodded slowly. He knew that the longer they left it, the more chance there was that the first thing they would come across when they managed to get going would be a dead body, drained of blood. It could already be too late. "Alright, Herc, if you're sure you're up to it. Just take it at your own pace, okay?"
"Don't worry, Iolaus; I feel better now I'm moving again. Not much, but it's better than I felt five minutes ago."
"Maybe if we can find a stream to cool that milk down with, you could try it again," Iolaus threw back over his shoulder. Hercules pulled a face and made a rude noise, amply expressing his opinion of that suggestion. "Just a thought," the hunter continued, stopping for a moment to inspect a patch of ground over to his left, and then carrying on again, walking at a slightly faster pace now. With the aid of a hunter's moon he'd managed to pick up the boy's trail again.
Hercules just 'hmmph'd' and taking careful steps and breathing slow and deep, just concentrated on keeping up with the hunter.
Practically tripping over the man's body that the boy had left, banished any thoughts of Hercules attempting the milk again. "Iolaus ..."
Collapsing to his knees, his whole upper body heaving, Hercules was once more caught in a paroxysm of strength-draining muscle spasms. Iolaus held him up with his deceptively strong arms until the fit quieted somewhat. With the last of his strength, Hercules forced himself upright and leant against a nearby tree, just trying to breath deeply, whilst Iolaus took on the less than pleasant task of examining the body.
When he was satisfied as to cause of death, he returned to the demi-god's side, silently, biting the side of his lower lip abstractedly.
Hercules looked at him, reading the grim expression, without the need for clarification. Out of habit he asked anyway. "Same as the rabbit?"
Iolaus nodded, barely, his mind obviously already tussling over their next move. If the boy's hunger had reached this stage of insatiability, they would have little or no choice but to -
Shaking his head fiercely, he swung away suddenly, voicing his disquiet over their self-appointed task. "Herc, he's a boy, there has to be something we can ... I mean, I just don't think I can ... kill him; it's not his fault, couldn't we -"
"What? Keep him locked up somewhere?" Hercules reminded him of territory they had already covered. "Feed him animals until the boy's too ill himself to sustain himself that way?" When Iolaus dropped his gaze, Hercules nearly stopped himself from saying anymore, knowing that he had said enough - this time - to put Iolaus' doubts on hold. Nevertheless, he realised that, like other times, there might be more objections when it came to actually doing the deed, and if he tried to argue them out with Iolaus then, the boy might gain the opportunity to escape again.
Hercules couldn't let that happen; they had to find him and soon, before he attacked again. Find him and kill him. He had already decided that he would do it himself. He needed to know that Iolaus wouldn't fight him on this, but he couldn't conscience sharing the burden with the hunter.
Iolaus still looked extremely unhappy and the demi-god could tell by the way the hunter was shifting his weight restlessly, his eyes darting around as if trying to find something that would provide an answer that he could live with, that he hadn't completely accepted Hercules' answer. Ah, hades ...
"He wouldn't die, Iolaus; once a victim they become immortal and they can't starve to death. Eventually, he would just go mad ..."
That was more than enough to settle the matter. Iolaus looked back up at his friend for a moment, looking as trapped as the boy must be feeling by now, and then, like the release of a tight spring, he swung into action, picking up his pack and rummaging through it for one of the stakes that he had been cutting and almost mindlessly sharpening as they followed the boy's trail. When he looked past Hercules to the body of the man the boy had drained, his eyes widened. "Er ... Herc ... move!"
Understanding that the victim was 'reviving', Hercules pushed off away from the tree and joined Iolaus on the other side of the small clearing. The corpse was beginning to stir, and Iolaus was obviously steeling himself to finishing it off for good, the way Hercules had told him. "Straight through the heart, right?"
"You sure you want to do this, Iolaus?" Hercules asked him doubtfully.
"No, I don't; but if we've gotta kill that boy - for his own sake as much as for anyone else's - then I'd better get some practice in," and not giving Hercules a chance to reply, he moved in quickly, raising the stake high in his hands, ready to bring it down through the body, which was trying to push itself up off the ground. Once in position, he raised up on his toes and threw the whole of himself behind the downward stroke. It went through the bone and tissue in just the right place, but not before one of the slowly groping hands had managed to find and grasp hold of Iolaus' ankle. With a shout of revulsion, Iolaus pulled himself free and backed all the way up into his friend's solid torso.
Hercules took a hold of his shoulders and steadied Iolaus, who was trembling with a mix of emotions that no-one outside of Tartarus should have to deal with. And next time it would be a child ...
'And me,' Hercules confirmed to himself. This one incident would bring forth nightmares that would rob Iolaus of many a good night's sleep to come, he knew, which Hercules wouldn't wish on anyone, let alone his beloved friend. That he might suffer from such himself didn't even occur to him. There was certainly no way that he would allow the hunter to repeat this horrible despatch, especially on a child. He didn't want to do it himself, but having witnessed the results of the later madness himself, he knew that he would be doing the boy a favour.
Turning Iolaus away from the now quite dead victim, Hercules took up the pack with the remaining stakes in it and shouldering it, led his friend back on up the path they had been on, and gently urged him to try and regain the boy's trail.
Still shaking, Iolaus nevertheless managed to find the sign again quite easily and it wasn't long before Iolaus was loping along, almost at a run.
The thrill of the chase was deeply embedded within Iolaus' psyche and it tended to kick in no matter what the circumstances, when he was on the hunt. It wasn't until he was almost on top of his prey, and he was warning Hercules to slow down and keep quiet, that he remembered who he was trailing, and why.
His face paled as he pulled Hercules down into the foliage and told him to stay put. "Just be ready to -"
An insistent hand on his shoulder cut him off. Looking up into his friend's face, Iolaus read the truth of what Hercules intended without the big guy having to say a word.
"Oh, no, Herc, please, I can -"
"Iolaus! Not this time. I've seen the consequences of being left like this, I understand just how much of a curse this is. I'll make it quick; he won't suffer, I promise," but Iolaus pulled away at the last minute, his face a picture of confused apology and something akin to hurt pride. Hercules somehow managed to steel himself against the hurt and, seeing already the possible consequences of not making the next necessary move, with a mental apology, he hit Iolaus on the point of the jaw, just hard enough to knock him out. He knew that he would pay for that later ...
The boy was curled up under a dark cloak, smoke coming from beneath it, as the dawn's rosy fingers invaded the forest, bringing the deadly light and heat to seek out the unfortunate creature of the night.
As Hercules approached the boy raised his head, the sunlight already raising ugly blisters on the boy's skin. "You've come to finish the job," the boy stated. "Please, make it quick," and with a short, quick movement the boy flung the cloak aside. Hercules didn't hesitate, driven forward by the smoke, the boy's body on the edge of igniting into flames; he thrust his whole body forward behind the stake he held in his hands and pierced the heart unwaveringly.
The sensation of eyes on his back made him turn; Iolaus was struggling with a myriad of feelings, one of them disgust. Hercules felt that sink into him, travelling too quickly to his heart; it speared him, leaving him with guilt and fear. He was about to turn away, but something in him wouldn't let him; this was one of those times when their friendship was tested - he couldn't run away. If he did, something would be gone and it would not be easily retrievable.
Straightening, he returned the tortured gaze. "Iolaus ... I'm sorry, but you know it had to be done."
"Yeah ... I know ..."
The words were light and barely audible, and the demi-god could feel the tension in his own chest, understanding that Iolaus had barely been able to get the affirmation out.
He wondered what his friend would do now; move away from him for awhile to deal with his pain alone, or allow Hercules to share it with him. Iolaus held his gaze, long moments ... and then turned and walked away from him, his back expressing the desperate need to be alone.
Hercules respected his wishes, although he wished for once, that Iolaus would let him in. His heart heavy with conflicting emotions of his own, Hercules began preparations to bury the boy's body, or what remained of it. There was nothing else that he felt he could do, but he really didn't have a good feeling about this ...
EPILOGUE
It had taken time, but Iolaus had finally managed to wrestle the dark feelings into submission; enough, anyway, to bury them where they would never see the light of day again. He had returned to the camp fire that Hercules had started and kept alive for his return, and even found a smile from somewhere to let his friend know that he was alright. He had almost automatically bagged a brace of grouse on the way back, and they had fed well.
He smiled at the memory of Hercules' face when he realised that he was wolfing the bird down without the slightest trace of nausea. Now they were bedded down, and dozing in front of the slowly ebbing flames of the camp fire.
Slipping into sleep, he turned away from where Hercules slept, and unconsciously snuggled a little nearer to the fire ...
Sleeping, he drifted down deeper into oblivion ...
He dreamt ...
... There was darkness and fire and more pain, anger and resentment than he had ever known. It gnawed at his insides like a rabid wolf, and he couldn't move, much less run; couldn't face it, much less fight it.
A tiny spark of light was all he could see, and wheezing and crawling on his belly, he moved towards it, inch by outstretched inch, second by slow second getting nearer ...
... it would take forever to reach ...
Somehow he reached it. He had no energy left and could only barely get enough air into his lungs to stay alive, while the wolf devoured him from the inside out ...
The light was just above him and he reached up a hand, slowly, so slowly, until he touched a surface, cold and hard. He looked up ...
... into the face of evil. Malevolent, pale and dark-eyed, blood dripping from it's open mouth ...
His own face.
His own darkness.
Frozen in absolute horror, he could do nothing, couldn't even breathe. It opened its mouth to speak ...
"Soon, Iolaus .... S-s-s-s-oooon ..."
~finis~
(for now. See you in the 5th season .... Hehehehee!!!)
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