Wicked Ones {bxb}

{Chapter 2: Another Dawn} 

His life fell apart after the fire. Everything came crumbling down, like the burnt and battered foundation of the rotting home he left behind. The only people in this world who knew just what he was—the only two who could help him control something more powerful than himself—were gone now. He was left to his own demise, and he was reminded of it every single day.

After many failed attempts to spark a flame, he hissed blasphemy through his teeth, sending his empty lighter smashing against the pavement. He received looks of judgment from those wandering the dawning streets, but he didn't care. In his opinion, this was dealing with his anger in a healthy way.

He resigned the cigarette safely in its pack, and after ten minutes or so, he found his route back home to the university dorms. His room was located on the top floor, and he hated the claustrophobia of the elevator, but it was six in the morning and he was far too fatigued to climb the stairs. Once the metal doors opened up, releasing him from the small room, he was met with a pair of honey-brown eyes. A familiar looking face gazed up at him, but he couldn't put his thumb on it. She was attractive, fit, and her lashes batted together as her expression turned kittenish.

"Hi Vinny." Two soft rose lips folded into a frisky smirk as she brushed past him and into the elevator.

"Hey," was all he could manage—granted, he did flash her his most charming of smiles. She was probably someone he'd fooled around with before.

He tossed the thought aside and instead ambled along the empty hallways until he found his dorm. As he cracked the door open and started to the bedroom, he wasn't necessarily surprised to see half of the room vacant. He had expected a roommate any time now, but it was his own personal preference to live alone, anyway. That said, he relished in that small, private room of his. His bags were still unpacked, his things lying about in a small heap, unlikely to be bothered with anytime soon.

A soft jingle danced at his feet, and Vinny looked down to meet the sharp orange eyes of his feline companion, Archibald. Archibald was a rough, mangled street cat that had found Vinny as only a kitten. He had a habit of picking up strays and homing them until he could find suitable owners, but Archibald was one mean-mugged Persian he'd never part ways with. He'd cared for the cat for three or so years now, forming an unbreakable bond. He loved that cat more than he loved most people, though the furry bastard was hardly appreciative.

Archibald licked at his long gray tuffs and took a seat in front of Vinny with a resting glare. Slowly blinking his crescent eyes, he let out a noisy caterwaul that made Vincent squint.

"Alright, alright. Fat-ass." Vinny stretched his arms over his head with the puff of his chest and let out a tired groan. From his things, he sought out a can of cat food, chinking it open and dumping the contents into Archibald's dish.

The dorms, of course, had a no-pet policy, but that'd never stopped Vinny before. They never did inspections anyway, so he had little to fear. Besides, every freedom he wasn't allowed he could always buy with his riches.

With the soothing rattle of Archibald's purr, Vinny took a gander out of the massive page of windows in front of him, watching the sleepy city streets of Seattle come to life. He couldn't enjoy it without giving off a colossal yawn. It was far too early for him to be awake and functioning properly.

As he closed the blinds and flushed out the light in his room, his cell phone rumbled in his pocket. With sleep in his voice, he rubbed at his eyes and answered the call: "Yes?"

"Mr. O'Connor,"—he recognized her chirpy tone immediately—"I'm calling to inform you that your account balance has been replenished for the month, and this year's tuition paid in full. Please contact me ahead of time before making any large withdrawals, and if you—"

"I know. Thank you, Suzy," Vinny grunted. "I can take care of it myself." He hated being treated like a child. Having his father's assistant call every time there was a fraud charge on his credit card, having his bank account monitored and fed fresh cash every month—it was taxing. Especially because a part of him always hoped it was his father on the other end of the line.

"There were some abnormalities to your bill last month. Your father requested I inform you." Clicking came from the other end of the line—the soft gentle patter of acrylic nails meeting letters on a keyboard. "I'll let him know it was nothing to worry about."

Vinny bit at his lip, then relaxed his angst with a sigh. "My father... no word from him?"

"He said he'd return your call," Suzy replied. "He's meeting with some important magnates in Eastern Europe right now. He's taken up quite the interest in expanding Project Eden overseas."

Project Eden. Vincent bit the inside of his cheek. The damn thing had been sucking out his father's soul for the last ten years.

The project was a plan to create upscale, high-tech hotels in the center of wastelands. His father had made a fortune from his successes in the United States. It was as simple as finding a ghost-town, saving a pretty penny on the land and tearing it all down for renovation. It always started with the hotel, 'Garden Gates'. Or as his father called it, 'The Garden of Eden.'

The buildings were always beautifully crafted, and the accommodations like nothing you'd ever seen. Once Eden blossomed from the dirt, casinos followed. Expensive restaurants, outlet malls, and everything from hair salons to amphitheaters. Johnathan Alexander quite literally created utopias from pocket change, and the profit was bountiful.

Since the day Vincent was dropped from foster care and into the green fingers of Alexander, he'd rarely seen him more than a few dozen times. When he wasn't traveling for business, he was far too busy to mind his own son. He hardly shared an interest in Vincent at all. In fact, the last time they'd met, he was placing roses on a headstone.

"I can take a note for you if you'd like," Suzy stuttered through the silence. "I can't promise he'll call, but I can promise he'll get it."

"Yeah, tell him to burn in Hell, will you, sweetheart?"

"Ah, one of these notes." The assistant laughed leisurely. "Should I add it to the pile with the others?"

"Do what you want," Vinny scorned, "just let the bastard know I'm switching majors this year."

Suzy almost sounded surprised: "That's all you wanted to tell him?"

"Yeah. That's it." His voice was dry as he hung up the call, tossing his cell phone lazily onto his night stand.

That wasn't it. Not exactly. Part of him always hoped he'd manage to spark up a conversation with Johnathan. That it wasn't too late to build a relationship with the person he'd called a father for the last ten years of his life. But maybe it was too late. And maybe it was for the better.

He clawed open the top drawer of his nightstand, emptying the last three painkillers from their bottle and swallowing them down with the same glass of lukewarm water from the day before. And just as the sun began to peek through the cracks of the city, Vincent escaped from the warmth of the windowsill.

Tired and angry, he fell back into his bed, praying that once sleep found him, it wouldn't be carrying a flame with it.