Come Feed the Rain

From: Lara Raith <lara@houseraith.com>
To: Thomas Raith <godofcologne@livejournal.com>

Subject: Our Mutual Problem

Brother-mine,

I know how much you adore our dear father’s presence, but several matters of business have arisen here that require his personal attention. I’m sure your presence as a companion will soothe his nerves. Papa does hate to travel alone.

I’ll see you soon,
Lara

*****

Thomas stared at the computer screen for a long, long moment, sorting through his thoughts. The idea that his father was leaving (for good, if he hadn’t misread between Lara’s oblique words) was a relief, but why he had to be the one to escort the old man back was a troubling thought. Was her message a means of simply reasserting her influence over both him and his father, or an attempt to pull Thomas into some unknown game? He tried not to think of the possibility that it was an attempt to remove him from a game in motion, because that meant betrayal, and from a source he had wholly considered safe.

He sighed again and hit print on the screen, taking the moment to stand up as the printer spat out a single page, the contents of his sister’s email. Gesturing to one of the crewmen for a pen, Thomas added a few lines to the page:

The Bitch Queen calls. I’ll be back whenever she lets me off the hook.

He left the message pinned to the kitchen counter and headed out.

Within a thick envelope on Thomas' bed were two objects. A letter on familiar cream coloured parchment, and a sheaf of glossy magazine pages.


( My dearest Thomas, Yes, I am still watching your show, and I am glad to see that whatever mistakes you have made are slowly being made right. )

From: Sgt. Karrin Murphy <kmurphy@si.chicagopd.com>
To: Thomas Raith <godofcologne@livejournal.com>

Subject: You owe me…

Thomas –

Harry stormed in this morning, threw a piece of paper at me, and ran off before he managed to completely fry my computer. As it is, you owe me: a new cell phone, a new radio, and repairs on the office copier. You may also want to start saving up, because if even half of what his letter (attached) is saying is true, you are going to owe me at least one computer and maybe a new car.

The SI guys have cooled a little on your show, so take heart that you are now only occasionally a laughingstock around Chicago PD. Harry gave up altogether sometime around the second week’s worth of episodes. I still watch, for research purposes, since there are more kinds of you than even Harry knew and God knows SI could use every advantage it can get out there. Harry asks about whatever dumbassery you’ve gotten up to, and I tell him, most of the time. The thing with your sister and that pompous ass from St. Louis though… I didn’t tell Harry that one, figured you wouldn’t want him to go burning your family home to the ground.

There have been some interesting tidbits coming off the internet about your show, Thomas. The fact that you and your little harem seem to drop off the grid has fans turning detective, and some of what they’re claiming to have found is… concerning. I won’t ask about hotel rooms; trust me, I do NOT want to know. But there’s been some hidden camera footage leaks from a nightclub.

Thomas. Heroin is illegal. Just saying.

Try keeping yourself out of trouble,
Karrin

*****

Thomas –

Just talked to Bob. You’ve managed to get your idiot self roped into the priesthood of some ascending mad goddess?! You IDIOT. Seriously, you MORONIC IDIOT. Do we remember how bad Arctis Tor was?! And Mab is only a demigod. You are going to get your ass KILLED if you stay. I told you Drusilla wasn’t Justine. And now she’s a budding goddess. One who can probably KILL YOU just by looking at you. Damn it all Thomas. I can’t come hauling you out of this one.

Get OUT.
Harry

PS – Where did you take Bob? He’s been a gibbering idiot for days, and keeps talking about glittery lesbians.

There was a cream coloured envelope on top of Thomas' dresser when he woke up in the late afternoon, and if it had been put there with more care than his letters were normally delivered, well, it wasn't as if anything had happened the night before to change his crew's opinion.

( I cannot help but want to make things better, bcause I cannot make them right. )

Two flights of stairs might have been Everest as far as Thomas was concerned as he staggered out of the basement. He barely noticed the stragglers being dragged back into the house as he made his way up the stairs. The blissful numbness that had filled his mind started to fade, as if being burned away by the slowly rising sun, and his stomach threatened secession with every move. Thomas made it to the first floor without falling and was about to reach for the banister on the second floor stairs when Lara’s instructions rose unbidden over the disappearing numbness. Something between a sob and a scream passed his lips as Thomas forced himself to turn from the stairs, and the promised refuge of his room, and make for the computer room.

Hoping the void that kept the threatening maelstrom at bay would hold for a few more minutes, Thomas turned it on and pulled up his email program.


The numbness was fading fast as Thomas hit send and began making his way up to the second floor. It disappeared utterly when his foot hit the second floor landing, in sight of his room, and Thomas dragged his body inside by sheer force of will, locking the door behind him with fumbling hands. He leaned against the door heavily as the emotions that he’d numbed with alcohol, the memory of what he’d done, rose up in Thomas’ mind in a confused conflagration. An overwhelming sense of defilement, as if something thick, dark, and oily covered him, just under the surface of his skin, filled Thomas and he ran for the bathroom connected to the bedroom.

He had just enough sense left in him to lock that door too before he was on his knees, pale hands gripping the porcelain god. The patron of college students everywhere was used to hearing simple prayers muttered as the night’s revelry turned sour in stomachs; this prayer, however, was different, beyond its ability to grant. Every limb, every muscle, every square inch of skin felt tainted, as if marked by some dark stain, and Thomas’ hands tightened against the cool white porcelain, his only anchor in a sea of guilt and shame, as he tried to wretch up everything inside himself.

When Thomas woke up in the late afternoon, it wasn’t to the sun in his face but to the warm scent of food, of spice and freshly cooked meat and vegetables. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he looked around to find two things on the floor next to his bed: one was ( a cardboard box and a plastic bag full of Chinese takeout containers )

From: Thomas Raith <godofcologne@livejournal.com>
To: Sgt. Karrin Murphy <kmurphy@si.chicagopd.com>

Subject: Re: Worried about you

Karrin,

You're worried about me? I'm flattered, but I hope you'll keep it our little secret. I wouldn't want Harry to get jealous. As for Harry getting antsy, it's client confidentiality. Don't worry, I'm not going to drag Harry into any trouble, and I'm not planning on getting into anything big either. I just needed him to do some research for me into the spooky stuff.

If you could send me the rest of my gear, I would really appreciate it. I'm not looking for trouble, but the housemates are significantly more powerful than me. A little insurance wouldn't hurt.

Thomas

PS - Are you kidding? The teen set is terrifying enough. I'm staying as far away from the wannabe cougar set as possible.


*****

From: Thomas Raith <godofcologne@livejournal.com >
To: Alice Cullen <projectrunwayrules445@sparklecullen.com>

Dearest Alice,

Any favour you want is yours.

Thomas

PS - I hope you two enjoy my little present. Tell Jasper I hope it'll keep him entertained until I get my hands on a copy of the infrared camera footage from your visit.

*****

Dear Vlad,

Have you been sneaking around my bookcase? It's on Edward's bed. And thanks for the boxers. I have a feeling they'll come in handy. You and Alice really should coordinate a visit together. It'll be fun.

Thomas

From: Sgt. Karrin Murphy <kmurphy@si.chicagopd.com>
To: Thomas Raith <godofcologne@livejournal.com>

Subject: Worried about you

Thomas --

You doing okay? I haven't heard from you in more than a week and Harry is getting antsy. He keeps muttering about you and a job and sleeping potions. I did some research of my own on the Internet about your show and, first off, let me say the fans are terrifying. God, the teen set is understandable, but the forty-somethings making elaborate plans to stalk places near that house and get a chance to be bitten or fed from? Those women are fucking lunatics. Half of them seem to think you're really great actors and the other half seem to think you're real vampires. Thomas, those are real people. If you run into them and they get hurt... You might be out of my jurisdiction right now, but I will kick your ass when you get back to Chicago.

Where was I again? Right. The Internet. There are rumours that you disappeared for three days and came back shot. I noticed you weren't on the show for a couple of days but assumed you were just hiding from the camping fall-out. Thomas, did you really jet off somewhere and get shot? I hate to do it, but do I need to mail you the rest of your gear? Your clips are illegal in that state, but there are enough spooks in your house that you might need them.

Karrin