~~Young~~

Chapter One

   “I assure you I am not lying. His death is imminent.”

   Again, not exactly a lie, Vaughn would die one way or another.

   The thug eyed Gage, taking in his clothes, his looks, “you don’t look like one of his usual…business partners.”

   And Gage was well aware of that. After spending a few weeks in the gutter tracking various other associates of Vaughn, trying to find the one who would break the easiest, he became very aware he wasn’t like the rest of the slim ball crew he surrounded himself with.

   “And what do I look like to you?”

   It was a matter of curiosity really. Gage put quite a bit of effort into trying to blend in with human society, and though he could dress the part, he knew he stood out amongst the crowd for one reason.

   His beauty.

   It was a warning that no one ever heeded, what the world saw on the outside was a mirror of what he was inside. The hard lines of his perfectly sculpted face, the ridges of muscles that looked as if they were created not formed of his body were reminiscent of his more righteous cousins. Inspiration for hundreds of hard, lifeless marble sculptures that stood in museums and private collections to be ogled. His ice blue eyes were an echo of his heart, frozen and cold. And his hair, worn long in the fashion of the Roman times he had been born to, not quite enough to tie back, but enough to hide behind. It was black, just like the blood in Gage’s veins.

   Again Rodney huffed, his eyes dropping to the street as he scuffed a shoe idly along the ground, “a fucking movie star. And last I heard Vaughn wasn’t doing business with movie stars. That’s Jimmy’s bag.”

   Jimmy huh? Looked like Gage was going to stick around on earth a little longer than he had planned, two was better than one after all. This time though Rodney made no sign that he slipped up again. The words leaving his mouth without thought. Seemed he had been the perfect choice in lackeys after all.

   But he could get the rest of that info later, “Are you going to tell me where Vaughn is so I can pass the message on, or shall we continue to stand here and compare nail polish?”

   Rodney shot his narrowed eyes at Gage, his hand moving to the weapon he obviously had tucked in the waist of his too low pants, “You packin?”

   Gage sighed and pulled open the leather jacket hanging on his broad shoulders with both hands, showing the man he indeed was not “packin”.

   “Turn around,” the thug ordered.

   Gage raised his eyebrows but obeyed, there was no way for this man to know that a gun or a switchblade was the least of his worries right now. He lifted the back of his jacket up as well to show there were no concealed weapons there either to placate the man. He wasn’t afraid of being shot in the back. Rodney may carry his own gun but he was too big of a coward to use it, Gage was willing to bet he had never shot a single round off himself. This might lead one to think that there was at least one redeeming quality to him as he wouldn’t willingly shoot another man, but the drugs that he peddled did far worse for people than any one bullet could. He robbed them of their lives, of their will power, no, his weapon of choice was far worse than a gun.

   He heard the man approach him tentatively, and without being asked he held his arms out, knowing the thug was going to pat him down. It was all an expected part of the show.

   The man did the touch and squeeze routine along Gage’s arms and torso, pulling the tails of his black silk shirt from his jeans before moving along. Having found nothing of concern there he crouched and began repeating the movement with Gage’s legs, even pulling the cuff of his jeans up so he could inspect the contents of his boots. Which, of course, was nothing more than Gage’s bare feet.