The Beast in Man (Vampires in Berlin: Book One)

The Beast in Man Part 9

Paul wasn't sure of what Bob's reaction would be to the news; he didn't want to affect the rest of the band's decision in any way, regarding their changed situation if Bob decided to react violently or with disgust. Paul knew that at the end of the day, Bob was temporary, and the band was permanent. Paul started off gently, stating that both Richard and he needed to record at night now, instead of during the day, with the others. Whilst Bob didn't seem happy at first at the schedule change, he didn't seem surprised, either. Paul remarked upon this, a frown in place that lowered his brows over his eyes.

"The reason why I didn't seem surprised is that this has happened before," Bob said, with a weary sigh.

"Oh?" Paul asked, darkly.

"I take it your partner's not himself at the moment, is he?" Bob asked.

"Depends on what you mean by not himself," Paul said, slowly.

"Changed," Bob said, quietly. "Not quite human anymore."

"You could say that," Paul said, slowly. "We are talking about the same thing here, aren't we? As in changed as in sharp teeth and sudden craving for blood changed?"

"If you mean vampires, then that's exactly what I mean," Bob said, grimly. "Has he bitten anyone else recently?"

"Yes," Paul said, quietly. "Me, actually."

"Okay," Bob said, as he stared at Paul closely. "Make sure this ... infection goes no further, you hear?"

"I'm not planning on it," Paul said, defensively. "And I'll make sure Richard infects no one else, either. I doubt he would, purposefully. I don't think he even meant to turn me, but you know what it's like, heat of the moment and whatnot."

Paul couldn't help thinking of Richard's stricken face when he'd thought that Paul was lost to him forever, dying in Richard's arms after being bitten; his heart lurched with remembered pain and sadness and tried to swallow it away. Bob, however, did not look amused; instead, he looked a little irritated.

"I'm being serious," Paul told him, also unamused.

"Make sure you are. This isn't a joking matter," Bob said.

"Are you going to tell me why you're not surprised? Why has this happened before? Why haven't you done something about it, more importantly?" Paul asked.

"I've tried, believe me, but when my own brother's involved, there's not really all that much I can do," Bob said, and the first hint of helplessness showed in his face and voice at that.

"Your brother?" Paul asked, in surprise. "Why and how is your brother involved?"

"My brother is the vampire who bit your boyfriend," Bob said. "And so it's his fault that you're the way that you are now."

"Jesus," Paul said. "And you say this has happened before? How many times? To who?"

"It doesn't matter to who," Bob said, irritably. "I told the people in question that I wouldn't reveal their secret. As I won't tell anyone about you and Richard, either, if you don't want me to."

"I suppose not," Paul replied, with a shrug. "I suppose that makes sense too."

"Yes, it does," Bob said, angrily. "And I can't tell anyone else, because if I do, what will happen to my brother? People kill and they destroy that which they don't understand and I would do anything to prevent that from happening. H'es my brother and I love him despite everything. If that means stopping people from killing my brother by any means necessary, then I'll do it. That's another reason why I'm honour bound to not reveal the identities of the other people infected by my brother. It would destroy so many lives if I said anything. It could even destroy yours if any of this is made public. You do understand that, right?"

"Yes," Paul said, horror beginning to creep in, then.

"I tried telling the police the first time that it happened, before I knew that my brother was involved; they laughed at me, thought I was mad, raving about vampires and shadows in the night," Bob said, and there was some kind of old bitterness that couldn't be faked, as though old memories would never fade. "And then my brother came to me in the night, old before his time; he was haunted by what he'd become. Of course I had to help him. He's my brother and he always will be. He'll live longer than me, and that's what scares me. Who's going to protect him when I'm gone? That's why I can't go anywhere with any of this shit. I won't be believed or they'd try to kill the one person I'm supposed to protect."

"Why did he infect Richard?" Paul asked. "Why not ... you know."

Paul tried not to think of Richard dying at the hands of a bloodthirsty killer; the thought of it sent sharp pains of fear and anguish through his body.

"I don't know," Bob said. "Sometimes, I think my brother just likes fucking with people, because he knows I can't do anything to stop him. It's a game to him, just to mess me up."

"But why? He's your brother," Paul said, in surprise.

"You know what they say - no one fucks you up quite like your family. Martin always was the eternal rebel and now he literally is," Bob said. "Anything that he could conceivably do to buck the system and send a big fuck-you to anyone and everyone and he'd do it. Countless times I'd bail him out of jail and he'd walk out laughing, as though he'd just gone for a walk in the park. This is just another little prank to him, as though messing with people, changing people against their will is just another hysterical joke."

"Even more reason to try and stop him," Paul pointed out. "If he's hurting people, or worse."

"That's it, though," Bob said. "I can't. Like I said, they'll kill him and I can't have that on my conscience, either."

"Other people are getting hurt though." Paul said, but without true rancour.

"Yeah, but are they really?" Bob asked. "Far as I see it, you're still alive and your partner is, too. It'd be worse if one or both of you were dead, wouldn't it?"

"I suppose," Paul said, but didn't press the issue any further.

Bob's logic, twisted and flawed though it was, did make a certain kind of sense to Paul and the producer could hardly be blamed for wanting to protect and take care of his own family. Paul had lost count of the things he'd done for his own family, both his blood-relatives and the chosen family he'd found in Rammstein, so he could understand Bob's predicament. Despite the fact that he felt angry and that Bob deserved nothing more than a damned good punching, he knew that it wouldn't help matters if he did. All he could do was leave Bob to his anger and his guilt; the producer seemed hell-bent on punishing himself enough.

Bob nodded when he saw that Paul understood, but it was a sharp gesture, and an unhappy one, at that. He agreed, when Paul pressed him further on the matter of the newly changed schedule, to call one of his technicians, to ask her to take a temporary night shift for the few weeks that Rammstein would be there. All Paul could do then was to thank him and return to Richard's side, to wait for the other man to wake up.