Selective Memory

	The tang of mana on Zendikar was unmistakable.  Jace Beleren shivered slightly as he felt it, stepping out wearily from within the Blind Eternities.  The journey had been more difficult than he had expected, and he had not felt any traces of Garruk.  That was something of a pity, since he’d mostly been traveling in the hopes of finding Garruk—maybe discovering what Vraska had meant when she referred to him.

	He sighed, sighting his way across the mounds of worn, broken stone.  Expecting to see nothing but a wild landscape, he was surprised to see a dark-clad figure wending its way toward him.  Jace watched the man approach uneasily, wondering if he had been seen transitioning out of the Eternities.  He would have tried to leave, but there was nowhere really to go.

	“Jace Beleren, I believe?” the man called as he came closer, and Jace took a step backward.  He wasn’t used to being at a disadvantage.

	“Um,” he said intelligently.  “Who are you?”

	The white-haired man gave him a thin smile but ignored the question.  “Ah, excellent,” he said.  “I’ve been looking for you.”
	He crooked one hand slightly, and Jace recoiled at the wave of black mana he felt traveling toward him in the wake of the other’s motion, but it was too late.  The tide of darkness that washed over him stopped his breathing and carried him into unconsciousness before he could even summon a spark of blue to save himself.

									~

	Jace’s arms and head ached fiercely, dragging him precipitously back from oblivion.  He opened his eyes to see nothing but shadowy blackness.  His hands were anchored somewhere above his head, his toes barely dragging on the ground.

	“Welcome back, Beleren,” said the smooth voice of the stranger from Zendikar.  He thought he caught a flash of two round, yellow orbs in the darkness, but it might have been his eyes playing tricks on him.  “I have some questions for you.”

	“Where am I?” Jace demanded, then felt a cold hand on the back of his neck.  It squeezed tightly, nails digging in, and he gasped in shock.

	“Normally I am not quite this uncouth,” said the stranger.  “You really must forgive me, but I was in something of a hurry, and it isn’t easy to track down a planeswalker, as I’m sure you’ll agree.”

	Jace choked, once again disoriented by the unpleasant sensation of someone having more information than he did.  Screwing up his concentration, he reached out feebly with his mind, but the man behind him moving swiftly, bringing something down with stinging force across his shoulders.  He cried out in shock, his concentration dissipating.  “None of that,” said the other man.  “I have some questions that I would prefer you to answer, and then I will let you go.  Unless you really feel it necessary to be stubborn about this.”

	Jace blinked against the prickling pain radiating outward from his shoulders, steeling himself to endure more, but none came.

	The man circled in front of him, and this time, he could see that the other’s eyes were indeed yellow and faintly luminescent.  “What are you doing on Zendikar?” asked the other man.  “This time, I mean, we’ll get to previous visits later.”

	Jace turned his face away, loath to give away anymore information.

	“I was hoping you would make this easier on yourself,” said the dry voice, once again circling around behind him.  Another blow landed, this time high on his ribs—a cry tumbled from Jace’s lips again, but, to his chagrin, it was closer to a moan than anything else.  The feel of the whip curling around his body had reminded him forcibly and strangely of Liliana.  There was a sudden pause, and then a low chuckle sounded near one of Jace’s ears.  He flinched away, startled, frustrated, and starting to get really frightened now.

	“An interesting thought,” said the low voice, and the hand pulled his head back to where it had been.  “Not the way I expected this interrogation to go, perhaps, but I’m not averse.”

	One hand grasped Jace’s hair; the other his shoulder, and his head was yanked brutally to the side so suddenly that he caught his tongue between his teeth.  Something wet brushed against his neck; his toes curled of their own volition.

	“Let me go,” he said, trying to sound angry, but it came out pleading, and one of the man’s hands slipped down his stomach and squeezed roughly at his groin, drawing a moan from him, half of protest and half—not.  Twin pinpricks of pain in his throat; he thrashed and tried to move away, but could not.

	The man’s—the vampire’s—tongue lathed over his throat; truly panicked now, Jace tried to throw him off, but only succeeded in brushing his rapidly hardening member against the hand on his thigh.  Stars burst in front of his eyes, and his breath keened in his ears.  The vampire continued to drink for another few moments, then drew his lips up Jace’s throat and nibbled on his ear.

	“Please,” Jace choked, trying and failing again to reach out with his mind, scrabbling for a foothold on the vampire’s psyche, anything he could use to stun or hurt the man, but it was like trying to hold onto a greased apple.  The vampire hummed almost jovially in his ear, then both hands slid down and dragged Jace’s trousers off.

	The cold hitting him should have been enough to jolt his brain back from the miasma it was trapped it, but before he could gather his thoughts, the vampire’s hand slid down his thigh and grasped him.  Jace threw back his head and moaned, his thoughts scattering almost immediately.  He heard the soft rustle of cloth behind him as the vampire disrobed as well.

	Again that disturbing chuckle, slightly breathier now; a hand caressed Jace’s back and buttocks, then Jace yelped and whimpered as a finger slid inside him.  “Let me go,” he pleaded again, starting to babble.  “I’ll—guh—I’ll tell you why I was on Zendikar—or—whatever you wanted to know.”

	“But we were just beginning to get friendly,” protested the vampire.  A second finger joined the first, pumping in and out, and Jace let his head fall back, panting desperately.  The vampire’s other hand slid up and down his shaft, and he thrust up into it, completely unable to stop himself.

	Inside him, the fingers crooked, and Jace gasped and moaned again, saliva trickling down the corner of his mouth.  He tried to push himself against the fingers, but they slid away and out.

	The vampire’s hands moved onto his lower thighs, holding him up.

	“Don’t,” Jace tried to whisper, but all that came out was a guttural moan, as the vampire pressed into him with a grunt.  There was a white burst of light behind Jace’s eyes, and the world fell away, everything but the slick hot feeling of the stranger inside him, thrusting roughly—the vampire’s teeth closed in his neck again, with a grunt—Jace felt his throat vibrating as he mewled desperately, helplessly.  A hand, back on his shaft, working it.  Jace tried to thrust as well, but he had no foothold; he was completely helpless, moving up and down erratically at the whim and mercy of the other.

	The vampire hissed through his teeth, his hands clenching as he climaxed inside Jace.  He panted against the mage’s shoulder for a moment before withdrawing, then began to work Jace’s shaft again in earnest.

	He had barely touched it when Jace convulsed in his own orgasm, both body and mind opening in a terrifying flood of fluid and information as the world dissolved into snowy whiteness.

	He hung limp from the chains, panting.  The vampire patted him on the shoulder.  “Yes.  Thank you, that was most enlightening.”  Moving into Jace’s view, he tapped his forehead.  “Certainly a novel way of procuring the information—and quite enjoyable, as well.”

	How much had he broadcast?  Jace’s head was swimming too badly for him to know.  The vampire leaned forward again.  “Let me get you down,” he said, in a strangely solicitous tone of voice.  He reached up and made a few movements, and the manacles about Jace’s wrists dissolved, dumping him to the floor.  He tried to stand and found he couldn’t.

	“I’ll just let myself out then,” said the vampire, his voice rich with amusement.  He squatted in front of Jace, tipped his head up, and kissed him on the lips with his bloody mouth.  “And if you ever happen to be bored, feel free to find me.  The name is Sorin Markov.”

	Jace was left staring after Sorin as the vampire turned and walked away, trying and failing to gather the remaining tattered shreds of his dignity.