Chapter 20

Anthony

A nthony knew he had hurt Freddie, but there was no space in his brain for relationship drama. His mind was overflowing with notes and melodic phrasing and staging and the overwhelming pressure of his upcoming debut.

Gabriela was waiting for him in the costume department. Together, they sorted through each of his outfits to make adjustments and plan out the backstage changes. Freddie trailed behind, silent and brooding. Anthony ignored the mix of frustration and anxiety stirring in his gut.

What if Freddie was right? Maybe he was putting himself in danger by going on. But Freddie couldn't keep him wrapped in bubble wrap. This was the most important day of his career so far! He wouldn't allow anyone to sabotage it.

This was why he didn't date. It wasn't possible to combine his life with someone else's. Opera was his passion, and he wouldn't back down from that for some boyfriend, even if said boyfriend was handsome and caring and annoyingly protective…

Anthony pushed his concerns away and kept moving forward. By the time he returned to the hotel, he was exhausted, jetlagged, and worn out from a long day of rehearsing. As he unbuttoned his shirt, Freddie was in his usual place by the window, looking out onto the city, his eyes scanning the sidewalks below. Now they weren't the streets of San Francisco or Barcelona, but of the sprawling metropolis of New York.

Freddie turned to him. "Anthony, I think--"

"I need to go to bed. Tomorrow is going to be a lot."

He stripped down to his boxer briefs and slipped into bed. It wasn't a lie. He needed sleep, but he'd be unlikely to get much rest with the weight of the next day on his mind. Even so, he couldn't open up another can of worms, have another conversation that would steal his focus. Freddie could wait until the performance was over to talk about his feelings.

Anthony drifted in and out of consciousness all night, fighting to keep calm. Every time he woke, Freddie was in that same position, staring out the window. Anthony knew he was unhappy, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Anthony dragged himself out of bed at nine, groggy and cranky. He wouldn't even have the crutch of coffee today. He avoided caffeine on show days — he couldn't afford to be dehydrated. Once he was in the opera house, the adrenaline would kick in and help him push through the fog of fatigue.

Anthony had a two-hour window on the actual stage of the opera house to walk through his track with Tara. The spring of the wood under his feet was energizing as his legs adjusted to the angle of the rake. He walked the path of his character, careful to be precise as possible. He wouldn't want to get hit with any moving scenery. After an hour and a half, he was confident. The opera didn't have complicated blocking, thank god. He was getting excited to show off his singing and his comedy chops.

All the while, Freddie stood to the side, silent and watching. He hadn't spoken to Anthony since the night before, instead trailing behind like a noiseless shadow. His focus had narrowed to keeping Anthony out of danger. Anthony could sense Freddie's eyes following him, snapping to any new person who came within spitting distance.

Freddie didn't speak again until the stage manager gave the call for places over the intercom in Anthony's dressing room. Gabriela and Anthony were chatting as Anthony put on his makeup, but Freddie had been standing as still as a statue against the ornate Victorian wallpaper. Anthony had been doing his best to ignore him when the announcement of ‘places' came over the monitor.

"It's time, querida ." Gabriela pulled the costume for Anthony's quick change off the rack. "We should get down there."

Anthony nodded, glancing at Freddie. For the whole day, he'd tried to put his vampire mate out of his mind, but now, at the precipice of what could be a huge moment for him, he felt a deep sadness, like the mournful tune of a cello. He'd wished for this for so many years, and he wanted this man, his boyfriend, to send him off.

Freddie must have sensed it, because he stepped forward and wrapped Anthony in his arms.

"You will be magnificent." He pressed his lips to Anthony, soft and tender. They pulsed with Freddie's care for him.

Freddie pulled back, looking deep into Anthony's eyes. "I love you, Anthony. Go and show everyone the star that you are."

Anthony's breath caught in his throat. "You love me?"

"I do." Freddie took Anthony's hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing it. "And I believe in you."

Tears welled up, and Anthony blinked them away. He had a job to do.

"It's time." Gabriela stood by the door. Anthony nodded and left the dressing room. Freddie followed out but turned in the other direction down the hall, making his way to the front of the house.

"I'll look after him," Gabriela called to Freddie as she and Anthony headed towards the stairwell. When they reached it, she pulled open the heavy door and smiled.

"Ready?"

"Okay. Yes." Anthony stepped through and headed down the stairs, the combat boots he wore as part of his costume thumping on the concrete steps.

They were half a flight down when Gabriela put her hand on Anthony's arm, stopping his descent.

"I forgot the shoes for the change. Let me run up and fetch them. You get into places. I'll catch up with you."

Anthony nodded. He tried to focus on the show, on all the staging he had learned and all the musical phrasing. Instead he heard the sound of Freddie's voice echoing in his mind. I love you.

He took several more steps down when a sharp pain shot through the back of his head. As he collapsed down and his vision went blurry, he glimpsed Gabriela's face hovering over him. Poking through her cruel smirk was a pair of fangs.

Shit.

***

There was a faint drip drop, a trickle of water somewhere nearby, as Anthony returned consciousness. A soft murmuring tickled his ears, and then the memory of the attack came flooding back to him. He resisted the temptation to open his eyes, keeping his breath even and trying to stay still.

"Do not bother with petty deceptions, little human." The ragged rasp cut at his eardrums like a knife. "I have been a vampire for a long time. I sensed it the moment you awoke."

Anthony pondered for a second the possibility of waiting the speaker out, but he doubted it would help. Behind his back, the coarse rope rubbed raw against his wrists. He was tied to a chair.

His eyes fluttered open.

The room was dark, lit by the weak glow of an incandescent bulb peeking through a small rectangular window. The dim light revealed dirty, graffiti-covered walls and a deteriorating concrete floor. Two figures stood several feet away, shadows enveloping their bodies.

One was tall and slender, dressed in a black suit with an old-fashioned cravat. His face was hidden, but the dull warmth of the bulb illuminated his perfectly coiffed hair from behind. He was the spitting image of the stereotypical, aristocratic vampire.

The other was Gabriela.

"Glad to see I didn't do permanent damage, querida. "

His fists balled in anger at her use of the endearment. Anthony pulled against his restraints, testing their strength. There was no give. Still, he strained against them. He had to get himself out of this.

"Gabriela is very handy with knots, little Antonio ." It was painful for Anthony to hear the voice of the effete vamp, damaged as it was. He stepped forward, and the light revealed a strong, olive-skinned face, beautiful, except for a deep scar running across the neck that his cravat didn't fully cover. Quite beautiful, and quite familiar.

"I know you!" Anthony wracked his brain, trying to place the asshole. "Wait. You…you were in that cafe in San Francisco! When fucking Brian attacked me. You were at the next table."

"Ah yes. Brian. Not very bright, but he's dead now, so I suppose it doesn't matter. But yes, I have kept tabs on you, Anthony. Or should I say Tony, as your uncle sometimes calls you?"

"Leave my uncle out of this." Anthony strained against his restraints once more. He knew he shouldn't tire himself out, but his anger was overcoming his good sense.

The vampire smiled, self-congratulatory and malevolent. "But you're here because of your slut uncle, termite. And his bastard husband."

"Fuck you."

A stinging slashed across his face, but he hadn't seen any movement at all. Damn, the vampire was fast. Blood slid down his cheek and dripped off his chin.

"Don't goad him." Gabriela strode across the room and wiped the blood from Anthony's face with a white lace handkerchief. "Do as he says, and you'll leave alive."

"Push me, worm, and the next cut will be deeper." The vampire's eyes flashed with unhinged rage. "You'll be able to smile at your redheaded lover through your open cheek."

Anthony shuddered. The grating voice held no reason or compassion. He only hoped that Freddie would realize in time what had happened. He didn't love the idea of being the damsel in distress, but he liked the idea of dying even less.

Gabriela caught his gaze. Her face was expressionless, almost bored.

"What did I do to deserve this?" Anthony was genuinely hurt. Yes, he hadn't known her long, but he had thought they were friends.

"Nothing, darling." She patted his cheek gently where Charles had cut it. Anthony winced at the sting. "But my son is rebuilding his coven, and your new step-uncle is standing in his way."

"Your son is Charles Azarian?"

The tall vampire smirked at Anthony. "It is always lovely to be recognized."

Anthony ignored him. "You're related? To him ? You look nothing alike."

"Child, I did not birth him." Gabriela smiled, but there was no humor there. "I sired him."

A loud rumble shook the room, growing in intensity and became overpowering, as light and shadow alternated and flickered against the wall. Dirty white flakes of old ceiling paint fell like sparse snowflakes onto Anthony's head. After a long moment, it all died down.

That was a subway train. He was sure of it. He was underground. Perhaps he wasn't that far from the opera house, but there was no way to tell.

Freddie didn't have a way to trace him here. Anthony would be used as a pawn in a vampire war he knew almost nothing about, and then he would die. And it was his fault. Freddie had supported him when his uncle and Oliver were against him coming to New York. Freddie had stood by him.

But when push came to shove, and Freddie's alarm bells were going off, Anthony hadn't trusted his boyfriend's instincts. Anthony had pushed him away, putting his career above his own safety.

Freddie was also at risk. Guilt bubbled up in his gut at the thought. If Anthony died, Freddie would follow. When he'd first heard that, it had seemed like a burden, an enormous price to pay.

Now it was Anthony's greatest concern that his own death might take down the vampire who loved him so much. The vampire who Anthony loved, even if he hadn't said the words out loud. He knew that.

Before meeting Freddie, Anthony believed in himself and only himself. His uncle, the only support system he had left, had moved to London, and Anthony had been truly and completely alone. He was his only advocate. Until Freddie.

Freddie wanted him to have all the success he wished for. He stood up for Anthony, and when it came down to it, Anthony had ignored his feelings. But Freddie hadn't run. He'd been unhappy, angry even. But he'd continued to love Anthony and stand by him.

He was Anthony's mate, a word that had meanings Anthony was only now learning. He'd proved himself worthy of Anthony's trust and his love.

Closing his eyes, he sent a thought towards Freddie. Perhaps there was some kind of mate magic he wasn't aware of that would allow him to communicate, that would let Freddie hear him.

I'm underground, in a room. There was a train. I'm not sure if I'm at a station or not.

He waited for a response, but there was nothing. Maybe a slight twinge in his chest, but that was probably anxiety. He opened his eyes.

"What happens now?" His voice shook as he asked the question. He hated how weak he sounded. "Now, little lanternfly, we wait for Oliver Hughes to respond to our summons." Charles winked at him. "Then we negotiate."

Anthony wriggled again, stretching the knots of the restraints.

"Freddie will come for me."

"We are not novices, maggot-food. The Azarian coven has had control of the abandoned stations in Manhattan for almost a decade now. No one will find you."

We're in an abandoned subway station. Please come for me, Freddie. I…I love you.