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porcelainseashore · 2 months

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Into the Ether (2)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Taglist: @admirxation @xoxostarlet ��️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 2: Dead City Blues

8 years ago…

Claire rapped loudly on an inconspicuous black steel door, one among many within a dreary, gray slab building. The sound echoed off the concrete walls, but there was no answer.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, checking the address written down in marker on the palm of her hand again. Yeah, this was the place, alright.

Banging on the door a second time for good measure, she whipped her head from side to side, skittishly surveying her surroundings while she tapped her foot on the ground impatiently. After what had recently happened, she was on edge, wanting to make sure she hadn’t been followed. Unfortunately, she was met with nothing but silence.

Where the hell was this guy? Trying the door handle, she rattled it and it clicked open, unlocked. Gingerly, she took a step inside, closing the door behind her. Well, she didn’t come all the way here for nothing. Might as well snoop around and see what she could find.

On the other end of the room stood a work desk overflowing with papers, some neatly stacked in piles, others scattered across its surface which was haphazardly littered with sticky notes. The desk lamp shone brightly, illuminating the dust motes circling lazily in the air, and a laptop lay open beneath it, the text cursor blinking on a blank document, seemingly mocking her. Next to the desk were a bunch of filing cabinets with some of its drawers open, as if someone had been rummaging through them but had left in a hurry. There was a worn leather couch to the side, along with a large potted plant and a couple of cushioned chairs. For clients, she presumed.

The laminated wooden floors creaked underfoot as she moved forwards cautiously. She sensed that she wasn’t alone, but wherever she looked, there was not a single soul in sight. Everything was completely still. Too still, she thought, playing with the rings on her fingers nervously. This wasn’t her territory. She was risking her undead skin, but there was no other choice.

“You have some balls, showing your face here,” a voice from the shadows taunted.

With a jerk, Claire pivoted sharply to confront the source of the disturbance, leaping backwards as she bared her fangs and hissed aggressively.

The voice tutted, “Defiant brat.” A man with dirty blonde hair and icy blue eyes appeared from the corner of the room. “You Anarchs really live up to your name.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Leon Kennedy?” she questioned, the name spilling out from her mouth like a foreign object. However, she regained her composure, relaxing her stance as she smirked, unable to resist another one of her sassy comebacks that often got her into trouble. “Tell me, Camarilla pretty boy, how’s it like being the Prince’s lapdog?”

With blinding speed, Leon raced in front of her, holding her neck in a vice-like grip as her feet lifted off the ground. “You have ten seconds to explain before I rip your fucking throat out!” he snarled, while she choked and sputtered, struggling to break free from his grasp.

Summoning her strength, she tucked her chin, raising her arms up before using the momentum to swing her hips to one side, while simultaneously slamming her elbows into his forearm. A deep growl escaped his lips as he let her drop to the ground. “I need… your help,” she coughed violently. “My brother…”

He squatted down beside her, eyeing her with barely masked contempt. “And why should I help a filthy lick like you?”

“Please,” she begged, even though groveling in this manner made the hairs on the back of her neck stand. “They said you were one of the best. That you’d know how to find even those who don’t want to be found.” Tears lined her lashes as she looked away in humiliation, willing them not to fall.

His features softened in reflex action, as he saw brief vignettes of the past flash before his eyes of people coming to him for help, and the despair seeping through their pores. Their silhouettes morphed with Claire’s, blurring reality with fiction. It was inherent in him to help others. He hadn’t forgotten it, even though he was no longer human.

“Fine,” he managed to make out through gritted teeth. “I only take payment upfront though.” Reaching his hand out towards her, he helped her to her feet, as she dusted off her red leather jacket.

“Yeah, about that…” she scratched the back of her head sheepishly.

“Let me guess, you’re not exactly rolling in riches, are you?” he sighed, his expression drooping suddenly in weariness.

Claire bit her tongue, trying to hold back on making another snarky remark about the elitist Camarilla sect and its bullshit Ivory Tower. Leon cocked his head, staring at her curiously, unveiling his fangs deliberately like a shark. Shit, maybe he was one of those Kindred who could read minds.

“Look, wait—” she raised her hands in front of him as though placating a raging bull. “If you find him, Chris…” There was a long, pregnant pause, as she shuffled her feet anxiously. “I’ll owe you a life boon,” she breathed, sealing her fate.

A life boon. She must be completely desperate, he thought. He’d never been owed one before, seeing as how he was just another mundane neonate in the underworld of upper class Kindred, which meant that he’d graduated from being a fledgling under the wing of his sire without fucking up. He was good enough to be considered a cog in the machine for his elders to use like a pawn in their silly games. But for the past 15 years, give and take, of his unlife, he always played by the rules, or around them, never going beyond the point of no return.

Life boons were rare in these nights and he wasn’t about to say no, but at the same time there was that nagging conscience within him that wondered if he was taking advantage of her. No, the Kindred world worked differently from the Kine’s… well, actually they were pretty similar, but— he shook his head to snap out of it before he could sink deeper into the rabbit hole.

Clearing his throat, he extended his hand again, offering it to her. “You got yourself a deal then, uh, miss…?”

“Claire.” She grabbed his hand and shook it firmly, nodding tersely at him. “Claire Redfield.”

“Right, Claire, tell me everything you know so far.” He gestured towards a pair of seats near his desk.

After he had gathered all the information he needed, he sent her off to the door like the gentleman he had been raised to be. Before heading out, she turned around, unclasping the silvery chain that hung around her neck. Attached to it was a matching pewter feather and a robin’s egg blue gemstone set within it.

“Take this.” She released it in his hand. “Show it to Chris and he’ll know I sent you.”

With that, she disappeared into the cool, dead of night.

The next time they saw each other was a week later, inside an abandoned motel. There was trash strewn across the entire floor and an overhead light buzzed and flickered.The plaster had been torn apart from the ceiling board and loose cables hung from its opening.

A gruff, bulky man leaned against Leon’s shoulder which acted like a makeshift crutch, as Leon steadied him with a firm grip, half-carrying and half-guiding him to a soiled mattress in the middle of a room. The man patted Leon’s arm, indicating that he wanted to take a break. He slid down against the wall, resting in a sitting position on the mattress. His clothes were caked with mud and half of his face had been severely burnt, as charred black flesh curled at its edges. There was a gaping bullet hole in his thigh, and rusty colored blood soaked through his tactical pants.

Apart from the scratching and scampering of rodents, the place was silent. Though the uncanny peace was disrupted just a split second later, when a screech could be heard from the other end of the room. “Chris!”

In a blink of an eye, Claire dashed forward and knelt in front of her brother, grasping both of his shoulders as tears streamed down her face.

“Some FIRSTLIGHT agents got him real bad, but he managed to get out of the thick of it,” Leon explained. “They were searching for him, so he was stuck there for a while.”

Chris brushed his sooty fingers against his sister’s cheek, leaving charcoal marks in their wake. “Don’t worry, we got them back,” he rasped, shifting his gaze between Leon and him, as he grimaced through the pain.

“Shhh, don’t speak.” She brought a finger to his lips, trying to hush him. “Fucking SI bastards,” she seethed.

The Second Inquisition. The bane of every Kindred’s existence. They targeted everyone indiscriminately, regardless of sect, and had been around in one form or another since the beginning of time. Today, they were a conglomeration of intelligence agencies who made it their life mission to eradicate the undead. Apparently, even the Vatican was involved, Leon scoffed at his internal monologue, before directing his attention back at Claire. “Your brother’s had a blood bag, he’ll need—”

“Shit’s fucking disgusting, 10 out of 10 would not recommend,” Chris warned hoarsely, before erupting into a coughing fit.

Claire groaned, shaking her head in exasperation. “I swear, it’s like talking to a brick wall with this one.”

Leon peered around the room, double-checking to ensure that no one else was there. He shouldn’t stay any longer than necessary. “Since my job here is done, I’ll take my leave,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets, as he turned towards the exit sign.

“Leon?” Claire called out and he looked back at her in puzzlement. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” He shrugged, flipping his bangs away from his face.

“I owe you,” she declared, her serious demeanor reflecting the sincerity of her words.

Chris glanced between the two of them. “We owe you,” he chimed in.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Present day…

Jasmine incense and fruity puffs of shisha smoke wafted throughout the room he had just entered. Translucent red silk sheets draped around the ceiling and the side walls, giving off the illusion of being in the hull of a ship, as well as a false sense of security. The beaded curtain he passed through made a tinkling sound as the pearls clacked lightly together, alerting others to his presence. This was a place where gossip was woven, secrets were spilled and deals were made. Leon knew this all too well, especially since he had his share of many such dealings with his sire in the past.

He was in luck today. Apart from her, there were only ghouls here, ordinary humans whom she recruited into her service and imbued with her strength. One of them nodded at him in acknowledgment, offering him a cordial glass filled with claret liquid. “Our finest.”

Clearly, they had anticipated his arrival. How nice of his sire to inform them, he ruminated sarcastically. Taking the glass from her, he swirled it, noting how smoothly it strained down the sides before sniffing the rim faintly.

“We also have live vessels, if you prefer,” she suggested.

He frowned slightly, signaling with a subtle hand wave to decline her proposal as he drank from his glass. She backed off, allowing him to walk past towards a majestic set of marble doors, lavishly decorated with ornaments and intricate figures carved into them. Tracing an outline of a distorted face of a child with his finger, he recalled how in his early years, he’d been so enraptured by everything in this godforsaken place, and most of all, her. He lifted the aged bronze knocker, tapping it twice before pushing open the double doors.

And there he saw her, in all her terrible glory, basking like a queen in an elegant kimono robe on her opulent, plush bed, adorned with a velvet headboard and its frame crafted from the finest woods. Every inch of it was covered in luxurious fabrics, from the embroidered duvet to the pile of sumptuously soft pillows. Kneeling beside her on the ground was a half naked ghoul, lapping hungrily at the crimson fluid flowing from her wrist. A blood-stained dagger lay on the bedside table.

Ada caught Leon’s gaze and smirked at him.

“That’s enough for now,” she commanded, and immediately, the ghoul straightened himself, averting his eyes as he retreated from the pair of them.

The gash on her wrist closed up on its own. “Just the monthly top up.”

Leon made a face at her elaboration; the betrayal and hurt were still raw in his memory, as if they had only occurred yesterday.

“Oh, don’t be so sour, Leon,” she laughed. “You can’t possibly be still hung up about that?”

“You used me, Ada,” he simmered. Despite the infrequency of their meetings in the recent years spent apart, she knew how to push his buttons. “So, I’m sorry if it’s a little hard for me to act like nothing ever happened between us.”

She let out an irritated sigh. “You sound like a child throwing a tantrum right now,” she retorted, picking at her nails in growing boredom. “And tell me, which sire doesn’t use their own progeny?”

He clenched his fists in anger but held his tongue. This wasn’t the hill he wanted to die on. He reminded himself of the purpose of his visit and chose not to let her snide comments ruffle him.

“Good boy,” she cooed approvingly. “I see you haven’t lost all of your manners. Blood bond, or no blood bond.”

He winced at the term, as a sudden wave of nostalgia, combined with ensuing nausea, hit him. The visions were so vivid:

“Do you love me?” She stroked the side of his cheek tenderly as he lay naked and panting on top of her pale breasts.

“Yes, yes, of course,” he fawned.

“Prove it.”

Cradling her hand, he brought the underside of her wrist to his lips. “I’ll do anything! Say the word and I’ll die for you, a thousand times over.”

“Then drink, my love.” Her eyes glowed violet as her mouth shaped into a cruel, yet alluring smile.

And he sank his teeth into her, like a good little boy.

Back then, she only needed to say “Jump,” and he would ask, “How high?” without realizing that drinking from her so often would result in a nearly unbreakable blood bond. He committed despicable acts in her name, things he would rather scrub from his mind and forget about, but they continued to haunt him.

When he lost his shine and the appeal of being something new, she discarded him like yesterday's newspaper, chasing after the next high she could find. The problem with the bond was that he was obsessed with her, often breaking out into insanely jealous fits that tormented him for days when she took on a new lover. He had almost killed one of them, which, in turn, could have resulted in his Final Death at the hands of the Prince, had he been successful. Time away from her was all it took for the bond to wear off, though it was not without its difficulties. He whined like a lovesick puppy during the moments he was alone, rotting like waste on the stone cold floor. His vulnerability was like a disease; he hated every bit of it and swore never to descend to such a state.

When he returned to the Court like a new man after an agonizing period of being weaned off the bond, he suddenly found himself no longer in vogue and stumbling his way through the dark, seeing as how it was always his sire who called the shots around town. In a twisted turn of events, he ironically ended up falling back on the career he had originally given up to be with her, in order to be of use to the Camarilla, or polite vampire society, if you will.

And then, there was the vessel business. To keep up with the expectations and obligations impressed upon him due to their formal relationship as sire and childe, he continued to bring her the vessels she requested. The only requirement was for them to be of ‘exquisite taste’ and he obliged whenever he could, though this time, he put in just the bare minimum to get by. Yet, some part of him still cared for her, in spite of what she had done, even if he would never let himself admit that.

Coming back to his senses, his eyes adjusted to the scene before him. Leaning back on her bed and propped up by the pillows, Ada patted the empty side next to her, inviting him to take a seat, and he followed her lead.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Negotiating was never one of his strong suits, especially not with Ada, but he had to try. He gulped the rest of the liquid down, fiddling with the glass in his hand. “Ada, since I joined you, you know I’ve never asked you for anything…”

She cast him a prolonged sideways glance. “You’ve piqued my curiosity. Go on.”

“I want to Embrace one of my own.” The words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush. Better to get it done and over with.

“You? Becoming a sire?” she snorted in disbelief before bursting into giggles. “I mean, you’ve always been a bit of a mommy’s boy, haven’t you?”

“I can handle it,” he responded curtly with a cold and unbroken stare.

“Hmph.” Pulling herself into a seated position against the headrest, she folded her arms and turned to face him. “I have to say though, this is even more interesting than when you joined the Anarchs.”

A disgruntled noise escaped his throat. “I didn’t join the Anarchs—”

“No matter.” She raised a hand to silence him. “Wesker seems to think it useful of you to be our unofficial emissary. And what the Prince says, goes, after all.” A sly grin spread across her cheeks, barely concealing her fangs.

Clearing her throat, she continued her line of questioning. “So, who is this prospective childe?”

“One of the owners of Café Noir on Blake Street, just east of Circular River,” he mentioned, racking his brains for any viable excuse to make you sound like the best possible candidate for the Clan of the Rose, the Toreador. His and Ada’s clan. Like sire, like childe.

There were some who thought of them as divas and perverts, but these Kindred were wrong — they were so much more than that. Passion and obsession were their greatest strengths. They could make or break minds with it, crushing you until you were nothing but a tiny speck on the Earth, to be shunned and forgotten. Everyone had something to bring to the table, and let’s just say what counts as an art has always been a purely subjective matter.

“I was tipped off that the Anarchs are looking for ways to claim the area as their domain,” he explained further. “She’ll give us the edge we need to prevent that.”

“Anything else?” she probed.

“She’s young, idealistic—”

“A lot like yourself, back in the day.” A rueful laugh escaped her lips.

Leon continued forward without missing a beat, he needed to convince her without letting her statement get to him. “Hot-blooded, but not to the extreme like those Brujahs, just the right amount of fight in her. I’m sure you’ve heard of the events they’ve hosted over there—”

“Ah, yes,” she nodded. “Very underground and avant-garde.” There was a twinge of dismissiveness in the way she said it.

“Yet pandering to the people,” he added quickly, attempting to cram in even more noteworthy achievements he had recognized in you. “Well, you can’t deny that she can stir quite a crowd—”

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Ada interrupted him for the third time in a row, and he was struggling to maintain his composure in response to her accusation. “How predictable.”

“That’s besides the point,” he snapped, turning away from her to avoid her mocking scrutiny.

She tutted, stretching herself out leisurely like a cat who had a mouse trapped between its claws. “The real question is, why don’t you ask the Prince yourself?”

“You know why,” he muttered, still unable to look her in the eyes.

“Say it.”

Swallowing his pride, he pursed his lips before speaking. “I’m just a simple whelp. But you, as an esteemed Harpy, know how to please him.”

“Very good.” She reached out and ran her lithe fingers through his silken locks of hair as he shuddered at her touch. “Just like I taught you.”

Curling her fingers under his chin, she turned his face back towards her. “You know this won’t come for free…”

“I am well aware.”

The look of determination in his eyes nearly startled her. She hadn’t seen that fire in him for a while. “Sometimes, you surprise me,” she admitted. “No wonder I keep you around.”

“Do we have a deal?” he pressed, trying to keep the conversation on track.

“If I were you, I’d be careful what I wished for.” She trailed one of her taloned nails along his bottom lip. “In any case, I’m counting this as a major boon, so you better be ready to pull your weight when the time comes.”

She was always playing games. With him. With everyone. It was what she thrived on. But his choices were limited. “Have I ever failed you?”

“Don’t make it the first,” she warned, a gleam of danger flashing across her eyes. “Well, come then, kiss me.”

Suppressing his reluctance, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers as she asked, submitting to her entirely as the deal was sealed.

━━━━━━━━━━━

“Leon?” he heard you call out from behind the bar the minute he’d stepped through the entrance. You looked like you had seen a ghost.

It had been a while since he had returned, but there were other more urgent matters he had to attend to in the meantime. Did you miss him? Was this what it was all about? He strolled over, watching you chew your lip apprehensively.

He tried to place his hand on your shoulder in concern, but you shrank away from him like a wilted flower. There was a pang in his chest. He didn’t know how you had the power to unintentionally hurt him in this way. “Is something wrong?”

You were trembling so badly, the cup you were holding rattled noisily against its saucer. “What did you do to me back then?”

A pained realization swept across his face. You had remembered the last words he had said this time, waking up confused to find yourself unsullied, not a hair out of place, wondering what on earth he meant by his remark. God, he wanted to hold you now and beg for your forgiveness, but it was too late.

“You know, I liked you…” Your mouth had contorted in anguish. “If you wanted something, you could’ve just asked.”

“Please, I can explain,” he pleaded, finding himself on the opposite end of the table for once. “I swear, I won’t do anything to harm you. I just need you to trust me, please.”

Your forehead creased as you pondered your next move, eyeing the man in front of you with suspicion. He seemed so earnest and had treated you with nothing but kindness before. Yet, beneath the surface, there lurked a predatory nature intrinsic to him. Although it scared you, you found this side to him fascinating, and it drew you in at the same time.

Finally, you came to a decision. “Patrick?” you motioned towards your curly-haired brunette colleague while not once shifting your gaze from Leon. “I’m gonna take the night off and spend some time with this gentleman here.”

Sliding Leon’s business card along the counter towards him, you made sure to talk loud enough for the blonde man to hear it. “If you don’t see me in the next day or two, you know what to do.”

You tried to laugh it off as a half-serious joke, just so they wouldn’t worry… too much. And with that, you grabbed your jacket and headed off into the night with him.

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