Menagerie - A collection of Short Stories and Drabbles in the world of White Collar. (I don't own anything but I do like playing with the characters when I can.)

Drabbles #7 - Bloodwork

(Halloween inspired, whump, supernatural)

oOoOoOo

He could smell it, the bouquet just as sweet it seemed to his nose as a fine wine. It didn't make sense to him, his mind fighting to make decisions over the thoughts that threatened to push him over the edge.

"Do it already... You'll feel better once you have." The voice spoke to him, his eyes only turning a moment to stare into dark black orbs. He saw the pale face around it but those eyes are what drew him in. There was a glow behind them that attracted him like a moth to a flame. It's what had trapped him in the first place against his will. With some effort he shook his head and turned away.

"You know you want to do this. You have to." The man speaking made a motion he was only just aware of, the figures holding him, pushing him forward. He was pressed to his knees before another figure that lay sprawled on the floor. He pulled away, pushing back against those holding him but the scent drew him with a combination of want and horror.

"No... Don't make me do this. Please." He felt his tongue flick across his teeth and they felt sharp. He was changing already as they continued to hold him, arms pulled back behind him tightly, head pushed down towards the figure on the floor. The scent grew sweeter, stronger and he was giving in. He watched the figure's eyes twitch but they remained still as he was pressed closer to them.

I can't do this... Peter, help me! Someone...

"Feed before I kill him myself! Take the agent Mr. Halden. Drink his blood and you'll be free of your past." The man's voice was rising in a kind of crescendo, the tone making Neal want to give in to the need. His teeth were feeling sharper by the moment.

Peter moved ever so slightly, eyes fluttering beneath closed lids but he didn't wake otherwise. They had trapped them both but Neal had already been in the group undercover when they initiated him. He'd been distracted by the collection they held. Artworks nobody had seen in centuries were here in NYC in Yosef c's vault. It made no sense till he had been taken. Peter had come to his rescue but Machelli had been prepared even for that as if expecting it.

"I can't... hurt him." He could just barely talk, the smell of blood making him want to move closer. The side of Peter's face was clotted with red from a gash, Neal unable to look away as he was pressed even closer. His lips were parting in anticipation despite the disgust that washed over him.

No... can't... can't give in.

He had never noticed how Peter smelled before at least no more than any other person. He knew how Kate had smelled, her hair like the scent of flowers in Summer, Central Park and so many other things that excited him. But the agent had always been so plain like his taste in clothes. He wasn't a bad dresser but Peter was happy with simplicity. It was now he noticed the man's cologne and a slight hint of what he could only guess was perfume of his wife Elizabeth. He could even pick up small bits of others they knew, people Peter had interacted with. Neal began to wonder if Jones knew where they were or even Diana.

All these aromas filled his nostrils along with others but all it did was draw him nearer despite a part of him still resisting.

"You want incentive, Nicholaus?" The man made a motion and another figure appeared as if from thin air, crouching beside the seemingly unconscious Peter grabbing up the agent's wrist. They held a sharp blade, cutting at the skin slowly, a ribbon of red dribbling out of the wound. Neal felt his breath intake as if someone had punched him. He could barely think as the red took up his thoughts. It's smell was sweet as he licked at his lips without realizing it. The man held the wrist up and moved it towards the consultant's face. Neal felt his lips part in anticipation.

"Drink, child. This wine is our life."

Neal was only giving a cursory glance to his friend, his mind concentrating on the ribbon of red fraying slowly before him. A drop was about to fall from the upheld wrist but he caught it on his finger, uncertain when they had freed his arms. He was now moving closer on his own. He stared at the drop of red on his pale skin, moving it towards his nose and sniffing in the pungent scent of iron. He touched the dot of red to his lips reluctantly at first then the bitter taste of blood made him excited.

"Yes, that's it Nicholaus. Drink more." Machelli spoke enticingly, Neal nodding as he took Peter's wrist from the other man. Warm blood dripped onto his hand as he did so.

"Listen to his heart beating, Nicholaus. Drink till it slows and stops."

Neal nodded without turning, his lips touching the cut as more warmth filled him and his hunger grew. He needed this. Peter had plenty. Just a little, he thought and he would stop. Neal wouldn't actually kill his friend but he kept drinking the sweet liquid sensing a kind of rhythm in the background. It took a moment for him to realize it was Peter's heartbeat quickening. The agent was unconscious but gave a soft groan, pulling weakly at the wrist Neal held without waking.

I have to do this to live. Peter will understand. El...

That's what made him stop as he pulled his lips from the wound. He couldn't do this to her... to them. They were like family. Neal couldn't hurt her like this. He had to protect Peter. Something cold filled him and he turned, staring up at Machelli and the others. The man was smiling, white teeth gleaming.

"Let us leave sweet Nicholaus with his friend." The others seemed to vanish like smoke, Machelli leaving it seemed like the Cheshire cat, his smile the last thing to go and then Neal was left with Peter. He wiped at his mouth and shook his friend once he sensed they were truly gone.

"Peter... Peter wake up!" He was whispering in desperation. The agent seemed sluggish, unresponsive beyond the occasional groan. Neal shook him harder.

"Peter!" Neal slapped the agent's face hard, brown eyes finally looking up at him with a dull expression, pupils huge.

"Ne... al? Where..." Peter's eyes rolled back and closed, Neal shaking him hard but getting no response. They had him under a spell or something or maybe that blow to the head had been harder than he thought.

"Peter..." The agent didn't respond as Neal pulled off one sleeve from his shirt and used it to wrap Peter's wound before lifting the man easily. They were gone for now, Machelli certain Neal would change, convert. He felt the urge to take another drink but resisted as he saw a window and made his way towards it. They were four stories up but a rooftop was obvious across the way.

There was a crash of glass, the room empty as a figure watched them leave, a cold smile on their pale face.

(TBC)

Author Note: Another Halloween oriented story. Enjoy!