(no subject)
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It was certainly one of the strangest entrances that Alfred had ever experienced at the castle.
Encountering Herbert without some kind of molestation had left him reeling almost as much as seeing the golden-haired vampire kissing and embracing the woman who was his father’s lover. That he and Sarah had gone virtually ignored was also rare.
Well, him at least. Sarah and Herbert were only cordial at best.
Then, there was the strange blue-skinned female demon that had stood and watched them, as they had watched Herbert scoop up the mortal girl and carry her away. Sarah had stared at it, but had looked away when solid eyes gazed blankly back at her.
It had turned and walked away, leaving them standing in the lobby, damp from the misty rain, alone but for one another.
Gathering up their bags, he had made his way up the stairs towards their room, Sarah following, a frown fixed in place on her face. Upon their last visit, she had befriended the mortal, so Alfred was certain that wasn’t the trouble here.
However, when she had tossed her bag and coat onto a chair, arranged her hair more neatly and started towards the door, he had realised what it was.
“Sarah, the Graf is occupied.”
“I’m sure he won’t mind,” she called over her shoulder, striding into the hall as he hurried towards the door after her.
“Sarah! Herbert said...”
The gesture she flung over her shoulder still had meaning enough to almost make him blush, and he sighed, turning back. Why she and Herbert simply could not get along was something that never failed to aggravate him, when he loved them both so.
Still, it gave him time to arrange the room better, sorting through their luggage without his lover directing him and changing her mind a thousand times a minute.
At the table, Alfred carefully removed a book from his canvas haversack. It was an early edition of a theology textbook, wrapped carefully in a stolen pillowcase, and he unfolded the cloth carefully, laying the book on the table.
While he knew it was likely to have a twin or an elder sibling in the Graf’s library already, he had wished to get the Graf something special. When they had been to an auction in Stockholm, he had seen it, fallen in love with the hand-carved cover and spent a substantial sum on it.
Sarah had rolled her eyes, then laughingly dragging him out into the summer evening with his prize. Even now, she couldn’t understand his lingering fascination with learning and books.
She preferred to experience everything first-hand, taking every moment and draining it of all it could grant her, moving on, trying anything and everything that crossed her path, for better or worse.
Sometimes, he mused as he gingerly opened the aged pages, travelling with Sarah could be quite exhausting. Though he would never admit it because he would rather hack off his own hand than confess to anything that might hurt her, he was glad of the respite the castle could provide.
The echo of a door slamming several halls away made him look up from the book.
Again, the scent that had been faint down in the lobby assailed him and he closed his eyes, unable and perhaps a little unwilling to force down the images it conjured. The Graf was not an unattractive man, and William and Herbert had both caught his attention in more ways than one. The heady combination of their scents lined up an array of images that made him tremble.
Now, though, it was more focussed and Herbert’s scent was fading somewhat. The Graf and William and burning pine...
His hands caught the edge of the table, stabilising him, his eyes fluttering between open and closed.
In the hall, he could hear the clatter of Sarah’s high-heeled boots, her pace rapid and turning a moment before she launched herself at him, their mouths meeting with a ferocity that shocked him.
His shirt was torn open, pushed off his shoulders, and he pulled her against him as she steered them both towards the bed. They barely made it and she pushed him onto his back, his wrists snagging in the cuffs of his shirt, restraining his arms.
“Sarah...”
Pinning his body with her own, Sarah stared wildly at him, then kissed him again and he forgot all about his trapped arms. Her hands slid into his hair and they tumbled onto the blankets, one then the other on top.
Only a few moments later, his lover sprawled on top of him, panting against his chest, Alfred licked his lower lip. His own breathing was stilted, his eyes half-closed. He had his arms around Sarah, the ripped sleeves of his shirt dangling from the cuffs still tight around his wrists.
“So, what did you see?” he murmured against the curl of hair that had fallen against his lip.
Tilting her head, she whispered in his ear. Alfred’s eyes widened as imagination was confirmed with solid fact. Together, they lay in silence for several minutes. Alfred stared at the canopy of their bed thoughtfully.
The Graf and William and Herbert. Three of the most beautiful creatures Alfred could recollect encountering in his century and a half of existence. The fourth of their number, the one he could claim as his, lay against his chest.
“So they...”
“It seemed so,” Sarah murmured. He could hear the note of bitter envy in her tone and smiled briefly, indulgently. Always so predictable, his beloved Sarah.
Slipping from beneath her, he nudged her onto her back and slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, started to kiss his way down her pouting, petulant body, so familiar, so beloved, always his.
His greatest love was making that pout fade, and as she arched against his lips, he smiled again.
Ah, Sarah.
____________________________
Reaching out blindly, Herbert ruffled William’s hair. It was still loose, how Herbert preferred, so soft and wavy and infinitely tousleable. Hmm. Tousleable. While that word sounded utterly wrong in every way, it fitted William and his tawny thatch so well that Herbert made a note to add it to his father’s dictionaries in bold red pen.
A hand swatted at his and he opened one eye lazily to see William glowering at him, but it was belied by the small grin that was struggling to break onto his face.
“You always complain so when others toy with your hair, Kleines,” his father’s voice added fondly to William’s wordless protest and Herbert smiled happily as his father kissed the top of his head. “It is only manners to treat those as you would be treated yourself.”
Making a face, Herbert shifted slightly. “Yes, but it’s William,” he said, a half-smile creeping onto his lips. “He doesn’t deserve any such courtesy.”
“You,” William said. “Are an arse.”
Together with Dawn, they had all regrouped in the large living room as evening had fallen, and now he was comfortably settled on the couch, half-reclined against his father’s side, a dark-sleeved arm draped about his shoulders.
By the couch, kneeling at Herbert’s father’s feet, William had his arms folded on von Krolock’s knee, his chin resting on his crossed wrists. He and von Krolock had been deep in conversation until Herbert’s roaming hand had assailed poor William’s hair.
“Can’t let anyone else be the centre of attention, can you?” Dawn’s voice was little more than a breath. She was sitting a chair close to the couch, her hand resting in his father’s, that his father might temper the power which the girl had been forced to channel to continue to heal herself. “Attention whore.”
Tilting his head back, Herbert made a face at her. “At least I didn’t feel the urge to get stabbed to ensure I get all the attention for weeks on end, you little hoyden,” he retorted. “I play fairly.”
In a clumsy overhand, she managed to smack him squarely across the face with a cushion, drawing a chuckle from his father and a yell from William when that same cushion ricocheted and landed on his head.
Half-sitting upright, Herbert indignantly smoothed his hair with a hiss at her.
“Kleines,” von Krolock murmured, tensing his arm slightly and drawing Herbert back against his side again. “Do not aggravate her. She has quite the temper and she will heal sooner rather than later.”
Turning until he was almost sprawled on one side, that he might better glare at the girl, Herbert rested his arms on his father’s thigh, then his chin upon them. However, his glower gave way to a happy sigh as his father’s long fingers combed through his hair. He tilted his head into the touch, flexing his fingers contentedly.
“Just like a cat, innie?” William observed with a grin, receiving a swat to the nose for his insolence.
“Wouldn’t want that kind of kitty snuggling on my belly,” Dawn said, opening her eyes a fraction.
While he felt he should defend his honour or some such nonsense, Herbert was quite happy to ignore her and let his father continue to stroke his hair. It had been years, centuries even, since such a thing had happened when they had company, and with his dear William so close at hand and his father so content, Herbert was feeling far too comfortable to complain.
“William?”
From his new position, Herbert was in the perfect place to see William blink, startled out of gazing at Herbert to look up at von Krolock. “Sir?”
“You have finished reading Une Saison en Enfer?” As he gently prompted William back to their earlier topic of conversation, Herbert could hear the quiet satisfaction in his father’s voice and could easily imagine the multitude of reasons. Not least because William’s pretty lips were still charmingly swollen from lavish attentions.
Unfolding one hand, Herbert lazily ran the tip of his index finger against the fuller lower lip, muffling whatever dear William’s answer was, a smile crossing his own lips as William nipped on then - with a sweet look - sucked on the tip of his finger.
“Herbert.” His father tapped him lightly on the head and though he could not see it, he could hear the smile. “William and I were trying to converse.”
William’s tongue was doing thoroughly naughty things to the tip of his finger and Herbert shifted, opening his eyes a little wider to gaze at his darling boy. “He has a wonderful mouth...”
“Question.” Two pairs of eyes looked towards Dawn, though Herbert could feel William’s eyes linger on him. “Do vampires come with crazy amounts of stamina or are you guys just really, really horny all the time?”
Withdrawing his damp fingertip from William’s lips and tracing his lover’s lips and eyebrows with it, Herbert smiled slowly. “Cherie, look at him,” he murmured. “If you had something so beautiful with a tongue so deft, would you not wish to have every excuse to accost him?”
Dawn looked down at William. “Y’know... not so much...”
Herbert sighed woefully, then grazed his thumb on a fang and swept a smear of crimson along William’s lower lip.
“You, cherie, are notably blind to the most beautiful of things,” he chastised, his own eyes closing and his hips shifting as William lapped and sucked on the end of his thumb.
Against the back of his neck, he felt the press of his father’s fingers and knew he was watching William. Opening an eye, he could not truly blame his father. William’s lovely eyes were closed with pleasure, his lips curved so beautifully, his cheeks hollowing just so...
“I could get naked...”
If anything was to break the spell, it was that.
Herbert gaped at her. “I... what?”
“Injured party, here,” the girl replied, pouting, though her eyes were dancing. “My first night out of my room in weeks and you wanna go and get all groiny with your boytoy again? You guys suck.” Herbert’s lips twitched, his shoulders shaking silently, and he saw her roll her eyes. “Herbert!”
“Well, it is true! And very efficiently, if I may dare a boast.”
“Oh, please! Hasn’t done anything for me!”
Smirking at her, Herbert shrugged, still chuckling under his breath. “Well, cherie, I am afraid that is because you are notably lacking...”
“Oh, but she compensates beautifully in other areas, Kleines,” von Krolock murmured, lifting her hand and bowing forward to kiss her knuckles softly. The girl positively glowed.
“Do they give lessons in smooth talk?” she inquired, rich colour blooming across her cheeks. “Or do you practise when no one’s looking?”
Von Krolock smiled and the warmth radiating off his father made Herbert beam all the more. “It is my gift, Liebling,” he murmured, kissing each of her slim fingertips, then gently lowering their joined hands to rest on the arm of the chair once more and sitting back.
“Your gift?” Tilting her head and shifting against the thick cushions of the couch, her body relaxed, the girl was smiling, genuinely amused. “I think you were a very good boy one Christmas, because you got way more than anyone else.”
His fingers closing lightly around hers, von Krolock smiled again. “Many of them through hard work and sacrifice, Liebling,” he murmured. “The greatest things seldom come easily.”
“Unless you kill their owner and steal them,” Herbert said sagely, then yelped indignantly as he was rapped on the head and had his thumb firmly nipped. “Deny it if you like, but it is so much more practical than working.”
“You,” William said, grasping his hand. “Are a berk.”
“And a poof and a wanker and a miscellany of delightful other colloquialisms, I have no doubt...” Herbert’s lament, however, trailed off as the door of the room opened and he twisted to peer over the arm of the couch.
Oh!
Turning back to look up at his father, Herbert smiled weakly. “Alfred and Sarah arrived earlier, father.”
“I know,” von Krolock replied lightly, gazing down at him. Herbert found himself gazing back up at his father, a rather idiotically happy smile curling his lips as his father continued to gently stroke through his loose hair.
Without thought, he scrambled up onto his knees and pressed against his father’s side, wrapping an arm over his father’s middle. He felt the kiss touch his forehead and couldn’t crush down the simple sound of joy that escaped him.
Nuzzling his father’s throat, he felt his father’s arm about his shoulder, felt those long fingers drawing his hair back from his cheek with such gentleness and affection that he wondered how he could ever have believed that any lover, be they mortal or otherwise, could steal his father from him.
Vaguely, he was aware of William’s hand squeezing his thigh. It wasn’t meant to interrupt his moment with his father, he knew. In fact, he was sure it was more to compliment it, assuring Herbert of his continued affection as well.
A glance told him that Dawn had threaded her fingers through his father’s as well, a gesture as silent but as significant as William’s was to him. Oh, such generous little darlings.
“Johannes?”
Alas, that his father’s other lover could not seem to take a hint.
Laying his head against his father’s shoulder, Herbert rolled his eyes. His indignation was forgotten, though, when he felt his father’s cheek gently rubbing against his hair, the arm around his shoulders tightening.
The smile was irresistible and he looked up at his father’s stern face, and found von Krolock’s dark eyes gleaming with such love and utter devotion for him that he found his breath completely stolen away.
Bowing his head until his brow touched Herbert’s, von Krolock traced a nail down the side of his son’s throat and Herbert trembled. He remembered the first time he had felt his Sire and father’s bite there, knew that while all else faded as years slipped by, it was something he would never forget.
Lifting his hand to cover his father’s, he tilted his head just slightly, invitation unspoken if that was his father’s wish. He saw the soft smile, saw his father tilt his head also. It was made all the more noticeable by the fact that, for the first time in centuries, his father’s hair was drawn back from his throat.
Drawn down, Herbert’s eyes lingered on that point, where he had bitten, bitten and marked his father for the first time, tasting and claiming and loving his father in the only way he’d been able to think of in that moment.
Then his father’s lips touched his throat, so softly, and he let his head fall back with a quiet sigh. The bite barely broke the skin, little more than grazing his flesh, but a gesture enough as he was gathered in his father’s arms once more.
Running the top of his head beneath his father’s chin, Herbert crooned quietly, happily to himself, utterly ignoring the imperious footsteps that were approaching across the polished floor.
“Johannes!”
Twin growls rose, William’s almost perfectly attuned to Herbert’s, both of them throwing warning looks at the girl. Before the couch, William rose on his knees, a hand stretched over von Krolock’s leg to touch Herbert.
Sarah was standing over them, ignoring them as perfectly as she was being ignored by Herbert’s father, who was idly twining strands of his son’s hair through his fingers, his eyes closed peacefully.
“Johannes!” she repeated, taking a step closer. William was halfway to his feet with a low snarl in his throat when Herbert saw a hand touch William’s narrow shoulder, gently pressing him back down.
Dawn had risen.
Straightening up, his father’s arm still about him, Herbert’s eyes were on the mortal girl’s face. Everything in her expression spoke of ice, her features deathly calm, her freed hand by her side.
“You’re interrupting,” she said, so deceptively calm, so quiet.
Sarah rolled her eyes. “I have every right to see my Sire,” she said, chin proudly in the air.
Dawn took a slow, deliberate step forward. “And I’ll say it again,” she said, her voice soft. “You’re interrupting. Johannes is busy at the moment.” There was a faint, vague suggestion of a smile. “You can wait a while.”
“Busy?” Amber-brown eyes looked down at Herbert. He couldn’t help himself; a smug smile edged onto his lips as he nestled closer to his father. His brows rose in silent challenge. Sarah stared at him incredulously. “Busy?”
“Busy.” Dawn caught the vampire girl’s arm. “Now, I’m gonna be nice and explain this to you: You have two choices. Either you sit down and enjoy the moment, or you go back to your room and wait there for Johannes to finish here.”
His head on his father’s shoulder, Herbert felt his father’s cheek resting on his hair, wondered if von Krolock was watching the scene before them with as much morbid curiosity and amusement as he was.
Sarah looked down at the hand on her arm, then shook it off. “You have no right,” she hissed, her eyes flashing.
Dawn laughed, but it was mirthless. “Oh, sweetie, you have been out of the loop,” she said, softly as poison. A finger pointed at the Graf. “He is mine. He is also busy right now and if you even try to interrupt...”
And Herbert had to admit, Dawn took the blow well.
It was brave and exceptionally stupid of Sarah to risk striking the girl and, had it been any other day, Herbert knew his father would have risen instantly, but this girl had mettle and spirit and would take offence at being defended like a damsel.
Even so, against his ribs, Herbert could feel the low beginnings of a growl in his father’s chest, stifled most likely by sheer curiosity about what Dawn would do.
Rubbing her reddened cheek, her face half-turned away, Dawn made a thoughtful sound. “Y’know, that was really dumb,” she said. Ice-cold blue eyes turned back to Sarah, who seemed torn between backing away or striking again. “You don’t wanna piss me off.”
No mortal had any right to look that frightening when smiling so quietly.
“You have no right...” Sarah’s voice was trembling, but she couldn’t seem to look away from Dawn’s face.
Lifting her chin, Dawn gazed at the vampire girl coolly, extending a hand towards the three gathered at the couch. Three hands reached out to brush against her fingers and the smile twitched the corners of her mouth again.
Her backhand blow seemed to come out of nowhere.
Sarah was spun by the force of it, staggering back against the couch. She tossed her hair back with a snarl, her hands flexing angrily by her sides. “You bitch!”
Dawn laughed. “Oh, just you wait,” she said, stepping closer. Her eyes were fixed on the vampire girl, and Herbert saw them flash with fury as Sarah lashed out again. The mortal hands moved in a pattern he had seen only Illyria use, blocking Sarah’s blows and catching her wrists. “Sarah, trust me, you don’t wanna do that again.”
“What right have you to tell me what to do?” Sarah demanded shrilly, jerking her wrists free of Dawn’s grip and shying back. “You’re just a human!”
There could be no mistaking the growl that rumbled in the Graf’s chest and Herbert looked to his father’s face with concern. Black eyes were fixed on the two women and von Krolock lifted one of his hands, wordlessly pulling aside his own collar.
What he was showing Sarah, Herbert had no doubts. His eyes darted back to the vampire girl and he saw what colour she had fading from her face, her eyes round and wary as she looked at Dawn once more.
Dawn’s smile was that same quiet, calm one. “Go play, Sarah.” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “He’ll find you when he wants to.”
With a rebellious look and an interesting choice of curse on her tongue, Sarah turned and stalked away, towards the door. Her heels clattered on the floor, all the louder for her anger and indignation.
Looking over the end of the couch, Herbert saw Alfred hovering uncertainly in the doorway, looking between them and his angry lover, as she stalked past him. With a jerk of his head, Herbert offered a wordless invitation, but Sarah’s voice rang out in the hall, summoning him shrilly.
Regretfully, Alfred bowed his head to them, then retreated from the room, closing the door after him.
Standing, motionless, Dawn closed her eyes. Colour was draining from her face, leaving her ashen. For several seconds she neither spoke nor moved, then uttered a faint sigh and crumpled to the floor.
“Nibs!” William had her in his arms in a moment.
“But she did nothing...” Herbert heard himself say as the girl was gently lifted into his father’s embrace, her legs draped over Herbert’s.
Touching Dawn’s cheek, von Krolock looked at his son. “She borrowed a little strength from each of us, that she could defend herself,” he said quietly. “I felt it when she touched us.” His lips brushed her brow. “This is mere fatigue.”
“I’ll take her back to her room,” William said, squatted before them, watching her face anxiously. The Graf nodded, letting William lift her up in his arms again. “Can’t leave her lying around for anyone to trip over.”
He was halfway to the door when von Krolock’s voice hailed him again.
“If she wakes,” he said softly. “Tell her to reach for me and I shall be there at once.”
William nodded. “Will do,” he said. “C’mon, lazy bones...”
As the door closed, Herbert felt his father’s arm around his shoulder and settled back comfortably against his father’s side. “I think we have a boiling pot to watch here, father,” he murmured.
“Mm,” his father agreed mildly. “I suppose I ought to warn her.”
“It would only be fair.”
“But then,” von Krolock murmured and Herbert was sure he could hear the laughter in his father’s voice. “I am sure we would miss some exceptional fireworks when she pushes Dawn too far.”
Herbert chuckled and nestled close to his father. “I think,” he said. “I will need to sell tickets for this.”
___________________________
The moon was on the rise and the bed was empty.
Sitting in the bathroom, Alfred carefully cleaned the bite on his throat and tended to the scratches and bloody marks scattered on his body. It was times like these that he appreciated the absence of a reflection. If he could see himself, bruised and battered, he knew he would shy from her.
But he could not see what damage she wrought on him and thus, it did not matter.
Waiting for the blood to cease seeping from his flesh, Alfred distracted himself by watching the way the clouds crept across the face of the moon, the night clear and sharp as a blade. Slowly he dressed, a loose shirt selected to hide the choicest marks on his body.
Sarah was elsewhere and he was unsurprised.
It had become a call-and-response pattern for them. She could be brutal, but the instant her ire was spent, she would burst into horrified tears at what she had wrought upon him and flee.
He was too tired to chase her down, knew she would return when she was ready.
Lifting a hand to his bruised face, he gingerly palpated his cheek. Nothing was broken, though he had tasted blood. Her punch was remarkable, and somehow it always surprised him.
Making his way back through to the main chamber, he ignored the empty bed. It would not do to rest upon it without her there. Instead, he approached the table, where his gift for the Graf still lay, untouched.
That, at least, had escaped her wrath.
Carefully wrapping it in the linen pillowcase once more, Alfred lifted it up. If Sarah was elsewhere, he would rather not stay in the rooms without her. The library was calling him and, if the Graf was still occupied, he could leave the book there when he was finished, somewhere his Excellency would find it.
Making his way out of the room into the moonlit halls, he walked in silence, his precious burden cradled against his chest, only hesitating when he heard voices close at hand.
Drawing back into the shadows, he saw Herbert at the far end of a corridor, greeting William who had emerged from a door that lead to one of the tower chambers. They shared a kiss and Alfred found his fingertips had lifted to his own split lower lip.
“Is she well?”
William laughed, so happy, so natural. “Told me to piss off,” he replied, his voice laced with fondness. “I figured she’d had enough shouting at people for one day. Did what I was told.”
“A first time for everything, hmm?” Herbert draped his arms around the other vampire, held him so fondly that Alfred almost sighed aloud. “You know, I believe my medicine is what that child needs.”
“Chained to the bed and force-fed chicken soup?” William suggested with a laugh. “Don’t think she’d appreciate it, love.”
Herbert sighed. “If she keeps straining herself so... there is only so much a mortal body can take, supernatural enhancement aside...” He lifted a hand and tenderly caught an errant strand of William’s moon-silvered hair. “Tomorrow, I shall find my chains, I think.”
“And I’ll bring the popcorn,” William replied. “C’mon. I want to get to bed. I’m knackered.”
“Knackered?” Herbert’s voice echoed down the corridor as they walked away. “I hope not too knackered, cheri...”
Even as they faded into the distance, Alfred could hear William laugh again. “We’ll see, won’t we?”
For several minutes, he remained there, hidden in the shadows. His grip on the book in his arms was almost painful as he looked towards the doorway from which William had emerged. If he had heard correctly, that was the Master’s mortal lover’s chamber, and she was the one who had driven Sarah to such ill behaviour.
Biting his lip until it broke open again, he hesitated, then approached the open doorway, cautiously stepping into the room. If William had left her alone, then he could approach her without fear of the Graf’s wrath at Sarah overflowing.
Silent footfalls carried him across a dark living room to a staircase that curved up the wall. On the open upper level, a soft golden light was visible, indicating that the girl might yet be conscious, if bed-bound.
As quietly and carefully as he could, he crept upwards, startled to the point of almost dropping the book when a drowsy voice murmured, “Hey.” Looking around wildly, wondering how he had been spotted, he heard a tired chuckle. “Alfred, I can feel you worrying from up here.”
Ascending the last half-dozen steps, he managed to smile weakly. “I-I did not mean to disturb you,” he said, hovering at the top of the stairs, a dozen paces from the bed where the girl was lying, alone and pale among the pillows.
“I was awake,” the girl said, pushing herself further upright in the bed. Her eyes were ringed with shadow and she looked exhausted, but she was smiling genuinely, warmly. “Did you want something?”
Alfred licked his lower lip uncertainly, then said quietly, “I wanted to apologise for Sarah.” He took a faltering step closer, saw her eyes squinting, and lowered his face, letting his hair fall over his brow. “She... she meant no harm. Her temper... it gets the better of her sometimes...”
“Alfred.”
“She... she has not had someone challenge her for some...”
“Alfred.” There was such firm authority in her voice that Alfred felt it right to his toes, shuddering at the force. “Look at me.” He shook his head, turning to hurry down the stairs, wondering why he had thought this a wise move. “Alfred.” It was softer now, like a gentle net of silk on his senses. “Please?”
He had felt that kind of voice before, had found such comfort in it, but now, such a tone in one of such authority only made his insides freeze with terror.
Yet he could not refuse.
Turning, he hesitantly raised his face towards the light, forcing himself to feign indifference when the girl swore. That should have been the end of it, but she beckoned and he found himself unable to resist, approaching the bed.
“What happened?” she asked, staring at him.
He returned her stare. “We argued, also,” he lied. Her blue eyes bored into his and he saw her trembling. Drawing rapid breaths, she averted her eyes, her hands pressing into the bedding on either side.
“I’m sorry.”
His brows drew together. “You have done me no harm,” he said, then gasped as the girl jerked back against the covers, her hands leaping to clamp at her temples, a cry of distress escaping her. “Are... what...” Dropping the book, he rushed towards the bed, reaching for her, looking for some hidden hurt. “What can I do? What can I do?”
Grabbing the front of his shirt, making him wince as her nails grazed already bruised flesh, the girl’s eyes were wide and staring at nothing. “Johannes...” she gasped out, arching in his grasp. “Johannes!”
“I will get him.” Alfred broke free of her grip, and was halfway across the floor when he heard the Graf whisper, “Wait.”
Whirling around, he saw the Graf gently cradling the girl in his arms, his fingertips pressed to her temples, his eyes on her wide ones. The girl gasped, tension radiating through her, then it was as if wires holding her were severed and she sagged in his arms, trembling.
“J-Johannes...” she breathed, lifting a shaking hand to touch his face.
“Liebling, you said you would not...”
Her shivering lips smiled weakly. “I didn’t mean to...” she whispered. “Johannes, he’s hurt... she...” Nodding towards Alfred heavily, she touched the Graf’s lips. “He... he hurts...”
“Liebling, you are not unhurt yourself.” There was such gentle reproof in his words that Alfred found himself staring, rapt. “You must stop doing this, else you will destroy yourself.”
Blue eyes flickered closed. “Was worried about him,” she whispered faintly. “Had... can’t stop it... I can feel it... he’s scared... even now... of you... of me...” A tremble rippled through her. “Too much...”
The Graf gently lifted her hand to his lips and kissed his palm. “Liebling, if you will allow it... I can aid you to slumber as I do.” He gazed down at her tenderly. “It will allow you to heal and recover your strength, though it will mean you will be unconscious for much of the next few days.”
Without hesitation, the girl nodded. “Don’t wanna worry anyone...” she whispered. “Need to get better.”
The Graf’s hand released hers and touched her face, long fingers uncurling. “Then look at me,” he whispered. Heavy eyes slowly opened and Alfred saw the weary but grateful smile a moment before her eyes fell closed once more and she went utterly limp in the Graf’s arms.
Laying her down with the utmost of gentleness, the Graf slipped his arm from beneath her, watching her motionless face, as if to assure himself that she was truly safely slumbering.
He was still watching her when he quietly murmured, “What happened, Alfred?”
Alfred hastily ducked down to pick up the linen-wrapped book, futilely brushing some dust from the white cloth, his eyes down. “I wished to apologise for Sarah’s behaviour earlier,” he said quietly. “I-I did not mean to distress your lady.”
“I know you did not.” Turning, the Graf gazed at him, and Alfred saw the moment the Graf saw his face. Hastily lowering his chin, hiding his face in shadows, he clutched the book more tightly. “Alfred, come here.”
Arguing would be pointless, he knew.
His eyes on the floor, he approached the broad bed, only raising his face when the Graf tilted his chin up gently. Black eyes roamed his features and he saw the flicker of emotions, too swift to identify.
“She was upset,” he said quietly, averting his gaze.
The Graf said nothing. Alfred’s gift was liberated from his arms and he almost protested until he saw the Graf rise from the bed. Long hands curled over his bruised shoulders and a shiver of emotion ran through him as he was drawn closer. He wanted to shy back, deny that such affection - only reserved for the most distressing of times - was required, his hands pressing futilely against the Graf’s chest.
“Alfred...”
Against the Graf’s chest, his hands trembled and he felt his eyes stinging. “She was upset,” he whispered faintly, his resistance breaking against the Graf’s gentleness, his voice shrill as glass. “She was upset...”
Then he was crumbling, falling, wanting to hide, wanting to be hidden, tears on his face and blood on his lips. And the Graf knelt with him, wrapping him in his arms, his cloak and the darkness.
How long he clung to the Graf, he could not say, his body shaking with the force of his emotion. His fists were clinging, his face wet, and he was more aware than ever of the hand gently stroking his hair.
“If she harms you so again,” the murmur was soft against his ear. “You will be Herbert’s. She will have no claim to you.”
Alfred recoiled as if struck. “No!” he exclaimed, fresh tears springing to his eyes. “No, please, Excellency...” He clutched at the Graf’s shirt, shaking his head. “She... she does not mean to do this... she... her bloodlust... she never means...”
Black eyes scrutinised him. “This has happened before,” the Graf said quietly, not a question and Alfred knew he did not need to give an answer. “More times than we know.”
“She hates that she does it,” Alfred whispered. “She never intends...” He lowered his eyes. “She is afraid of herself... when she is upset, she loses all reason...” Wiping his cheeks with the back of one hand, he whispered, “I love her, Excellency. Don’t take her from me.”
The Graf gently lifted his chin, his expression grave. “If it appears that you may be harmed, I am afraid I may have no choice,” he said softly. “You are of my blood and my kin, Alfred. She is too. She knows that such behaviour will not be tolerated.”
“I-I will talk to her,” he whispered. “Please...”
The Graf gazed at him for several moments, then nodded slowly. “Your heart is truly noble, brav Alfred,” he said softly, lifting a stray tear from Alfred’s cheek with a fingertip.
Alfred tried to smile, but it was weak, faded fast. “I-I should return to our room.” He stammered out the words as he scrambled to his feet, hastily smoothing his shirt back into place. “Tell... can you tell your Lady I am sorry?”
Rising, the Graf laid a gentle hand on Alfred’s shoulder. “There is nothing to apologise for, Alfred,” he said. He bent, lifting the book, offering it to Alfred. “This is yours?”
Alfred’s lips twitched. “I-I... it is for you,” he whispered, shuffling his feet as the Graf arched a brow and unfolded the cloth wrapping. Admiration and appreciation vied for place on his face.
“This is too great a treasure to gift me,” the Graf said softly, looking down at Alfred. “It is far too beautiful.”
Brown eyes looked up at him. “I got it for you,” Alfred whispered.
The rare smile that crossed the Graf’s lips made all the aches and misery in his body vanish for a moment. The Graf bowed his regal head and the light kiss was enough to make Alfred tremble. “Thank you, Alfred,” the Graf said softly. “This means a great deal to me.”
Unable to think of anything else he could say, Alfred bowed his head. “Good night, Excellency,” he whispered.
And as he hurried down the stairs, he heard the soft murmur behind him. “Rest well, Kleines. Rest well.”
It was certainly one of the strangest entrances that Alfred had ever experienced at the castle.
Encountering Herbert without some kind of molestation had left him reeling almost as much as seeing the golden-haired vampire kissing and embracing the woman who was his father’s lover. That he and Sarah had gone virtually ignored was also rare.
Well, him at least. Sarah and Herbert were only cordial at best.
Then, there was the strange blue-skinned female demon that had stood and watched them, as they had watched Herbert scoop up the mortal girl and carry her away. Sarah had stared at it, but had looked away when solid eyes gazed blankly back at her.
It had turned and walked away, leaving them standing in the lobby, damp from the misty rain, alone but for one another.
Gathering up their bags, he had made his way up the stairs towards their room, Sarah following, a frown fixed in place on her face. Upon their last visit, she had befriended the mortal, so Alfred was certain that wasn’t the trouble here.
However, when she had tossed her bag and coat onto a chair, arranged her hair more neatly and started towards the door, he had realised what it was.
“Sarah, the Graf is occupied.”
“I’m sure he won’t mind,” she called over her shoulder, striding into the hall as he hurried towards the door after her.
“Sarah! Herbert said...”
The gesture she flung over her shoulder still had meaning enough to almost make him blush, and he sighed, turning back. Why she and Herbert simply could not get along was something that never failed to aggravate him, when he loved them both so.
Still, it gave him time to arrange the room better, sorting through their luggage without his lover directing him and changing her mind a thousand times a minute.
At the table, Alfred carefully removed a book from his canvas haversack. It was an early edition of a theology textbook, wrapped carefully in a stolen pillowcase, and he unfolded the cloth carefully, laying the book on the table.
While he knew it was likely to have a twin or an elder sibling in the Graf’s library already, he had wished to get the Graf something special. When they had been to an auction in Stockholm, he had seen it, fallen in love with the hand-carved cover and spent a substantial sum on it.
Sarah had rolled her eyes, then laughingly dragging him out into the summer evening with his prize. Even now, she couldn’t understand his lingering fascination with learning and books.
She preferred to experience everything first-hand, taking every moment and draining it of all it could grant her, moving on, trying anything and everything that crossed her path, for better or worse.
Sometimes, he mused as he gingerly opened the aged pages, travelling with Sarah could be quite exhausting. Though he would never admit it because he would rather hack off his own hand than confess to anything that might hurt her, he was glad of the respite the castle could provide.
The echo of a door slamming several halls away made him look up from the book.
Again, the scent that had been faint down in the lobby assailed him and he closed his eyes, unable and perhaps a little unwilling to force down the images it conjured. The Graf was not an unattractive man, and William and Herbert had both caught his attention in more ways than one. The heady combination of their scents lined up an array of images that made him tremble.
Now, though, it was more focussed and Herbert’s scent was fading somewhat. The Graf and William and burning pine...
His hands caught the edge of the table, stabilising him, his eyes fluttering between open and closed.
In the hall, he could hear the clatter of Sarah’s high-heeled boots, her pace rapid and turning a moment before she launched herself at him, their mouths meeting with a ferocity that shocked him.
His shirt was torn open, pushed off his shoulders, and he pulled her against him as she steered them both towards the bed. They barely made it and she pushed him onto his back, his wrists snagging in the cuffs of his shirt, restraining his arms.
“Sarah...”
Pinning his body with her own, Sarah stared wildly at him, then kissed him again and he forgot all about his trapped arms. Her hands slid into his hair and they tumbled onto the blankets, one then the other on top.
Only a few moments later, his lover sprawled on top of him, panting against his chest, Alfred licked his lower lip. His own breathing was stilted, his eyes half-closed. He had his arms around Sarah, the ripped sleeves of his shirt dangling from the cuffs still tight around his wrists.
“So, what did you see?” he murmured against the curl of hair that had fallen against his lip.
Tilting her head, she whispered in his ear. Alfred’s eyes widened as imagination was confirmed with solid fact. Together, they lay in silence for several minutes. Alfred stared at the canopy of their bed thoughtfully.
The Graf and William and Herbert. Three of the most beautiful creatures Alfred could recollect encountering in his century and a half of existence. The fourth of their number, the one he could claim as his, lay against his chest.
“So they...”
“It seemed so,” Sarah murmured. He could hear the note of bitter envy in her tone and smiled briefly, indulgently. Always so predictable, his beloved Sarah.
Slipping from beneath her, he nudged her onto her back and slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, started to kiss his way down her pouting, petulant body, so familiar, so beloved, always his.
His greatest love was making that pout fade, and as she arched against his lips, he smiled again.
Ah, Sarah.
____________________________
Reaching out blindly, Herbert ruffled William’s hair. It was still loose, how Herbert preferred, so soft and wavy and infinitely tousleable. Hmm. Tousleable. While that word sounded utterly wrong in every way, it fitted William and his tawny thatch so well that Herbert made a note to add it to his father’s dictionaries in bold red pen.
A hand swatted at his and he opened one eye lazily to see William glowering at him, but it was belied by the small grin that was struggling to break onto his face.
“You always complain so when others toy with your hair, Kleines,” his father’s voice added fondly to William’s wordless protest and Herbert smiled happily as his father kissed the top of his head. “It is only manners to treat those as you would be treated yourself.”
Making a face, Herbert shifted slightly. “Yes, but it’s William,” he said, a half-smile creeping onto his lips. “He doesn’t deserve any such courtesy.”
“You,” William said. “Are an arse.”
Together with Dawn, they had all regrouped in the large living room as evening had fallen, and now he was comfortably settled on the couch, half-reclined against his father’s side, a dark-sleeved arm draped about his shoulders.
By the couch, kneeling at Herbert’s father’s feet, William had his arms folded on von Krolock’s knee, his chin resting on his crossed wrists. He and von Krolock had been deep in conversation until Herbert’s roaming hand had assailed poor William’s hair.
“Can’t let anyone else be the centre of attention, can you?” Dawn’s voice was little more than a breath. She was sitting a chair close to the couch, her hand resting in his father’s, that his father might temper the power which the girl had been forced to channel to continue to heal herself. “Attention whore.”
Tilting his head back, Herbert made a face at her. “At least I didn’t feel the urge to get stabbed to ensure I get all the attention for weeks on end, you little hoyden,” he retorted. “I play fairly.”
In a clumsy overhand, she managed to smack him squarely across the face with a cushion, drawing a chuckle from his father and a yell from William when that same cushion ricocheted and landed on his head.
Half-sitting upright, Herbert indignantly smoothed his hair with a hiss at her.
“Kleines,” von Krolock murmured, tensing his arm slightly and drawing Herbert back against his side again. “Do not aggravate her. She has quite the temper and she will heal sooner rather than later.”
Turning until he was almost sprawled on one side, that he might better glare at the girl, Herbert rested his arms on his father’s thigh, then his chin upon them. However, his glower gave way to a happy sigh as his father’s long fingers combed through his hair. He tilted his head into the touch, flexing his fingers contentedly.
“Just like a cat, innie?” William observed with a grin, receiving a swat to the nose for his insolence.
“Wouldn’t want that kind of kitty snuggling on my belly,” Dawn said, opening her eyes a fraction.
While he felt he should defend his honour or some such nonsense, Herbert was quite happy to ignore her and let his father continue to stroke his hair. It had been years, centuries even, since such a thing had happened when they had company, and with his dear William so close at hand and his father so content, Herbert was feeling far too comfortable to complain.
“William?”
From his new position, Herbert was in the perfect place to see William blink, startled out of gazing at Herbert to look up at von Krolock. “Sir?”
“You have finished reading Une Saison en Enfer?” As he gently prompted William back to their earlier topic of conversation, Herbert could hear the quiet satisfaction in his father’s voice and could easily imagine the multitude of reasons. Not least because William’s pretty lips were still charmingly swollen from lavish attentions.
Unfolding one hand, Herbert lazily ran the tip of his index finger against the fuller lower lip, muffling whatever dear William’s answer was, a smile crossing his own lips as William nipped on then - with a sweet look - sucked on the tip of his finger.
“Herbert.” His father tapped him lightly on the head and though he could not see it, he could hear the smile. “William and I were trying to converse.”
William’s tongue was doing thoroughly naughty things to the tip of his finger and Herbert shifted, opening his eyes a little wider to gaze at his darling boy. “He has a wonderful mouth...”
“Question.” Two pairs of eyes looked towards Dawn, though Herbert could feel William’s eyes linger on him. “Do vampires come with crazy amounts of stamina or are you guys just really, really horny all the time?”
Withdrawing his damp fingertip from William’s lips and tracing his lover’s lips and eyebrows with it, Herbert smiled slowly. “Cherie, look at him,” he murmured. “If you had something so beautiful with a tongue so deft, would you not wish to have every excuse to accost him?”
Dawn looked down at William. “Y’know... not so much...”
Herbert sighed woefully, then grazed his thumb on a fang and swept a smear of crimson along William’s lower lip.
“You, cherie, are notably blind to the most beautiful of things,” he chastised, his own eyes closing and his hips shifting as William lapped and sucked on the end of his thumb.
Against the back of his neck, he felt the press of his father’s fingers and knew he was watching William. Opening an eye, he could not truly blame his father. William’s lovely eyes were closed with pleasure, his lips curved so beautifully, his cheeks hollowing just so...
“I could get naked...”
If anything was to break the spell, it was that.
Herbert gaped at her. “I... what?”
“Injured party, here,” the girl replied, pouting, though her eyes were dancing. “My first night out of my room in weeks and you wanna go and get all groiny with your boytoy again? You guys suck.” Herbert’s lips twitched, his shoulders shaking silently, and he saw her roll her eyes. “Herbert!”
“Well, it is true! And very efficiently, if I may dare a boast.”
“Oh, please! Hasn’t done anything for me!”
Smirking at her, Herbert shrugged, still chuckling under his breath. “Well, cherie, I am afraid that is because you are notably lacking...”
“Oh, but she compensates beautifully in other areas, Kleines,” von Krolock murmured, lifting her hand and bowing forward to kiss her knuckles softly. The girl positively glowed.
“Do they give lessons in smooth talk?” she inquired, rich colour blooming across her cheeks. “Or do you practise when no one’s looking?”
Von Krolock smiled and the warmth radiating off his father made Herbert beam all the more. “It is my gift, Liebling,” he murmured, kissing each of her slim fingertips, then gently lowering their joined hands to rest on the arm of the chair once more and sitting back.
“Your gift?” Tilting her head and shifting against the thick cushions of the couch, her body relaxed, the girl was smiling, genuinely amused. “I think you were a very good boy one Christmas, because you got way more than anyone else.”
His fingers closing lightly around hers, von Krolock smiled again. “Many of them through hard work and sacrifice, Liebling,” he murmured. “The greatest things seldom come easily.”
“Unless you kill their owner and steal them,” Herbert said sagely, then yelped indignantly as he was rapped on the head and had his thumb firmly nipped. “Deny it if you like, but it is so much more practical than working.”
“You,” William said, grasping his hand. “Are a berk.”
“And a poof and a wanker and a miscellany of delightful other colloquialisms, I have no doubt...” Herbert’s lament, however, trailed off as the door of the room opened and he twisted to peer over the arm of the couch.
Oh!
Turning back to look up at his father, Herbert smiled weakly. “Alfred and Sarah arrived earlier, father.”
“I know,” von Krolock replied lightly, gazing down at him. Herbert found himself gazing back up at his father, a rather idiotically happy smile curling his lips as his father continued to gently stroke through his loose hair.
Without thought, he scrambled up onto his knees and pressed against his father’s side, wrapping an arm over his father’s middle. He felt the kiss touch his forehead and couldn’t crush down the simple sound of joy that escaped him.
Nuzzling his father’s throat, he felt his father’s arm about his shoulder, felt those long fingers drawing his hair back from his cheek with such gentleness and affection that he wondered how he could ever have believed that any lover, be they mortal or otherwise, could steal his father from him.
Vaguely, he was aware of William’s hand squeezing his thigh. It wasn’t meant to interrupt his moment with his father, he knew. In fact, he was sure it was more to compliment it, assuring Herbert of his continued affection as well.
A glance told him that Dawn had threaded her fingers through his father’s as well, a gesture as silent but as significant as William’s was to him. Oh, such generous little darlings.
“Johannes?”
Alas, that his father’s other lover could not seem to take a hint.
Laying his head against his father’s shoulder, Herbert rolled his eyes. His indignation was forgotten, though, when he felt his father’s cheek gently rubbing against his hair, the arm around his shoulders tightening.
The smile was irresistible and he looked up at his father’s stern face, and found von Krolock’s dark eyes gleaming with such love and utter devotion for him that he found his breath completely stolen away.
Bowing his head until his brow touched Herbert’s, von Krolock traced a nail down the side of his son’s throat and Herbert trembled. He remembered the first time he had felt his Sire and father’s bite there, knew that while all else faded as years slipped by, it was something he would never forget.
Lifting his hand to cover his father’s, he tilted his head just slightly, invitation unspoken if that was his father’s wish. He saw the soft smile, saw his father tilt his head also. It was made all the more noticeable by the fact that, for the first time in centuries, his father’s hair was drawn back from his throat.
Drawn down, Herbert’s eyes lingered on that point, where he had bitten, bitten and marked his father for the first time, tasting and claiming and loving his father in the only way he’d been able to think of in that moment.
Then his father’s lips touched his throat, so softly, and he let his head fall back with a quiet sigh. The bite barely broke the skin, little more than grazing his flesh, but a gesture enough as he was gathered in his father’s arms once more.
Running the top of his head beneath his father’s chin, Herbert crooned quietly, happily to himself, utterly ignoring the imperious footsteps that were approaching across the polished floor.
“Johannes!”
Twin growls rose, William’s almost perfectly attuned to Herbert’s, both of them throwing warning looks at the girl. Before the couch, William rose on his knees, a hand stretched over von Krolock’s leg to touch Herbert.
Sarah was standing over them, ignoring them as perfectly as she was being ignored by Herbert’s father, who was idly twining strands of his son’s hair through his fingers, his eyes closed peacefully.
“Johannes!” she repeated, taking a step closer. William was halfway to his feet with a low snarl in his throat when Herbert saw a hand touch William’s narrow shoulder, gently pressing him back down.
Dawn had risen.
Straightening up, his father’s arm still about him, Herbert’s eyes were on the mortal girl’s face. Everything in her expression spoke of ice, her features deathly calm, her freed hand by her side.
“You’re interrupting,” she said, so deceptively calm, so quiet.
Sarah rolled her eyes. “I have every right to see my Sire,” she said, chin proudly in the air.
Dawn took a slow, deliberate step forward. “And I’ll say it again,” she said, her voice soft. “You’re interrupting. Johannes is busy at the moment.” There was a faint, vague suggestion of a smile. “You can wait a while.”
“Busy?” Amber-brown eyes looked down at Herbert. He couldn’t help himself; a smug smile edged onto his lips as he nestled closer to his father. His brows rose in silent challenge. Sarah stared at him incredulously. “Busy?”
“Busy.” Dawn caught the vampire girl’s arm. “Now, I’m gonna be nice and explain this to you: You have two choices. Either you sit down and enjoy the moment, or you go back to your room and wait there for Johannes to finish here.”
His head on his father’s shoulder, Herbert felt his father’s cheek resting on his hair, wondered if von Krolock was watching the scene before them with as much morbid curiosity and amusement as he was.
Sarah looked down at the hand on her arm, then shook it off. “You have no right,” she hissed, her eyes flashing.
Dawn laughed, but it was mirthless. “Oh, sweetie, you have been out of the loop,” she said, softly as poison. A finger pointed at the Graf. “He is mine. He is also busy right now and if you even try to interrupt...”
And Herbert had to admit, Dawn took the blow well.
It was brave and exceptionally stupid of Sarah to risk striking the girl and, had it been any other day, Herbert knew his father would have risen instantly, but this girl had mettle and spirit and would take offence at being defended like a damsel.
Even so, against his ribs, Herbert could feel the low beginnings of a growl in his father’s chest, stifled most likely by sheer curiosity about what Dawn would do.
Rubbing her reddened cheek, her face half-turned away, Dawn made a thoughtful sound. “Y’know, that was really dumb,” she said. Ice-cold blue eyes turned back to Sarah, who seemed torn between backing away or striking again. “You don’t wanna piss me off.”
No mortal had any right to look that frightening when smiling so quietly.
“You have no right...” Sarah’s voice was trembling, but she couldn’t seem to look away from Dawn’s face.
Lifting her chin, Dawn gazed at the vampire girl coolly, extending a hand towards the three gathered at the couch. Three hands reached out to brush against her fingers and the smile twitched the corners of her mouth again.
Her backhand blow seemed to come out of nowhere.
Sarah was spun by the force of it, staggering back against the couch. She tossed her hair back with a snarl, her hands flexing angrily by her sides. “You bitch!”
Dawn laughed. “Oh, just you wait,” she said, stepping closer. Her eyes were fixed on the vampire girl, and Herbert saw them flash with fury as Sarah lashed out again. The mortal hands moved in a pattern he had seen only Illyria use, blocking Sarah’s blows and catching her wrists. “Sarah, trust me, you don’t wanna do that again.”
“What right have you to tell me what to do?” Sarah demanded shrilly, jerking her wrists free of Dawn’s grip and shying back. “You’re just a human!”
There could be no mistaking the growl that rumbled in the Graf’s chest and Herbert looked to his father’s face with concern. Black eyes were fixed on the two women and von Krolock lifted one of his hands, wordlessly pulling aside his own collar.
What he was showing Sarah, Herbert had no doubts. His eyes darted back to the vampire girl and he saw what colour she had fading from her face, her eyes round and wary as she looked at Dawn once more.
Dawn’s smile was that same quiet, calm one. “Go play, Sarah.” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “He’ll find you when he wants to.”
With a rebellious look and an interesting choice of curse on her tongue, Sarah turned and stalked away, towards the door. Her heels clattered on the floor, all the louder for her anger and indignation.
Looking over the end of the couch, Herbert saw Alfred hovering uncertainly in the doorway, looking between them and his angry lover, as she stalked past him. With a jerk of his head, Herbert offered a wordless invitation, but Sarah’s voice rang out in the hall, summoning him shrilly.
Regretfully, Alfred bowed his head to them, then retreated from the room, closing the door after him.
Standing, motionless, Dawn closed her eyes. Colour was draining from her face, leaving her ashen. For several seconds she neither spoke nor moved, then uttered a faint sigh and crumpled to the floor.
“Nibs!” William had her in his arms in a moment.
“But she did nothing...” Herbert heard himself say as the girl was gently lifted into his father’s embrace, her legs draped over Herbert’s.
Touching Dawn’s cheek, von Krolock looked at his son. “She borrowed a little strength from each of us, that she could defend herself,” he said quietly. “I felt it when she touched us.” His lips brushed her brow. “This is mere fatigue.”
“I’ll take her back to her room,” William said, squatted before them, watching her face anxiously. The Graf nodded, letting William lift her up in his arms again. “Can’t leave her lying around for anyone to trip over.”
He was halfway to the door when von Krolock’s voice hailed him again.
“If she wakes,” he said softly. “Tell her to reach for me and I shall be there at once.”
William nodded. “Will do,” he said. “C’mon, lazy bones...”
As the door closed, Herbert felt his father’s arm around his shoulder and settled back comfortably against his father’s side. “I think we have a boiling pot to watch here, father,” he murmured.
“Mm,” his father agreed mildly. “I suppose I ought to warn her.”
“It would only be fair.”
“But then,” von Krolock murmured and Herbert was sure he could hear the laughter in his father’s voice. “I am sure we would miss some exceptional fireworks when she pushes Dawn too far.”
Herbert chuckled and nestled close to his father. “I think,” he said. “I will need to sell tickets for this.”
___________________________
The moon was on the rise and the bed was empty.
Sitting in the bathroom, Alfred carefully cleaned the bite on his throat and tended to the scratches and bloody marks scattered on his body. It was times like these that he appreciated the absence of a reflection. If he could see himself, bruised and battered, he knew he would shy from her.
But he could not see what damage she wrought on him and thus, it did not matter.
Waiting for the blood to cease seeping from his flesh, Alfred distracted himself by watching the way the clouds crept across the face of the moon, the night clear and sharp as a blade. Slowly he dressed, a loose shirt selected to hide the choicest marks on his body.
Sarah was elsewhere and he was unsurprised.
It had become a call-and-response pattern for them. She could be brutal, but the instant her ire was spent, she would burst into horrified tears at what she had wrought upon him and flee.
He was too tired to chase her down, knew she would return when she was ready.
Lifting a hand to his bruised face, he gingerly palpated his cheek. Nothing was broken, though he had tasted blood. Her punch was remarkable, and somehow it always surprised him.
Making his way back through to the main chamber, he ignored the empty bed. It would not do to rest upon it without her there. Instead, he approached the table, where his gift for the Graf still lay, untouched.
That, at least, had escaped her wrath.
Carefully wrapping it in the linen pillowcase once more, Alfred lifted it up. If Sarah was elsewhere, he would rather not stay in the rooms without her. The library was calling him and, if the Graf was still occupied, he could leave the book there when he was finished, somewhere his Excellency would find it.
Making his way out of the room into the moonlit halls, he walked in silence, his precious burden cradled against his chest, only hesitating when he heard voices close at hand.
Drawing back into the shadows, he saw Herbert at the far end of a corridor, greeting William who had emerged from a door that lead to one of the tower chambers. They shared a kiss and Alfred found his fingertips had lifted to his own split lower lip.
“Is she well?”
William laughed, so happy, so natural. “Told me to piss off,” he replied, his voice laced with fondness. “I figured she’d had enough shouting at people for one day. Did what I was told.”
“A first time for everything, hmm?” Herbert draped his arms around the other vampire, held him so fondly that Alfred almost sighed aloud. “You know, I believe my medicine is what that child needs.”
“Chained to the bed and force-fed chicken soup?” William suggested with a laugh. “Don’t think she’d appreciate it, love.”
Herbert sighed. “If she keeps straining herself so... there is only so much a mortal body can take, supernatural enhancement aside...” He lifted a hand and tenderly caught an errant strand of William’s moon-silvered hair. “Tomorrow, I shall find my chains, I think.”
“And I’ll bring the popcorn,” William replied. “C’mon. I want to get to bed. I’m knackered.”
“Knackered?” Herbert’s voice echoed down the corridor as they walked away. “I hope not too knackered, cheri...”
Even as they faded into the distance, Alfred could hear William laugh again. “We’ll see, won’t we?”
For several minutes, he remained there, hidden in the shadows. His grip on the book in his arms was almost painful as he looked towards the doorway from which William had emerged. If he had heard correctly, that was the Master’s mortal lover’s chamber, and she was the one who had driven Sarah to such ill behaviour.
Biting his lip until it broke open again, he hesitated, then approached the open doorway, cautiously stepping into the room. If William had left her alone, then he could approach her without fear of the Graf’s wrath at Sarah overflowing.
Silent footfalls carried him across a dark living room to a staircase that curved up the wall. On the open upper level, a soft golden light was visible, indicating that the girl might yet be conscious, if bed-bound.
As quietly and carefully as he could, he crept upwards, startled to the point of almost dropping the book when a drowsy voice murmured, “Hey.” Looking around wildly, wondering how he had been spotted, he heard a tired chuckle. “Alfred, I can feel you worrying from up here.”
Ascending the last half-dozen steps, he managed to smile weakly. “I-I did not mean to disturb you,” he said, hovering at the top of the stairs, a dozen paces from the bed where the girl was lying, alone and pale among the pillows.
“I was awake,” the girl said, pushing herself further upright in the bed. Her eyes were ringed with shadow and she looked exhausted, but she was smiling genuinely, warmly. “Did you want something?”
Alfred licked his lower lip uncertainly, then said quietly, “I wanted to apologise for Sarah.” He took a faltering step closer, saw her eyes squinting, and lowered his face, letting his hair fall over his brow. “She... she meant no harm. Her temper... it gets the better of her sometimes...”
“Alfred.”
“She... she has not had someone challenge her for some...”
“Alfred.” There was such firm authority in her voice that Alfred felt it right to his toes, shuddering at the force. “Look at me.” He shook his head, turning to hurry down the stairs, wondering why he had thought this a wise move. “Alfred.” It was softer now, like a gentle net of silk on his senses. “Please?”
He had felt that kind of voice before, had found such comfort in it, but now, such a tone in one of such authority only made his insides freeze with terror.
Yet he could not refuse.
Turning, he hesitantly raised his face towards the light, forcing himself to feign indifference when the girl swore. That should have been the end of it, but she beckoned and he found himself unable to resist, approaching the bed.
“What happened?” she asked, staring at him.
He returned her stare. “We argued, also,” he lied. Her blue eyes bored into his and he saw her trembling. Drawing rapid breaths, she averted her eyes, her hands pressing into the bedding on either side.
“I’m sorry.”
His brows drew together. “You have done me no harm,” he said, then gasped as the girl jerked back against the covers, her hands leaping to clamp at her temples, a cry of distress escaping her. “Are... what...” Dropping the book, he rushed towards the bed, reaching for her, looking for some hidden hurt. “What can I do? What can I do?”
Grabbing the front of his shirt, making him wince as her nails grazed already bruised flesh, the girl’s eyes were wide and staring at nothing. “Johannes...” she gasped out, arching in his grasp. “Johannes!”
“I will get him.” Alfred broke free of her grip, and was halfway across the floor when he heard the Graf whisper, “Wait.”
Whirling around, he saw the Graf gently cradling the girl in his arms, his fingertips pressed to her temples, his eyes on her wide ones. The girl gasped, tension radiating through her, then it was as if wires holding her were severed and she sagged in his arms, trembling.
“J-Johannes...” she breathed, lifting a shaking hand to touch his face.
“Liebling, you said you would not...”
Her shivering lips smiled weakly. “I didn’t mean to...” she whispered. “Johannes, he’s hurt... she...” Nodding towards Alfred heavily, she touched the Graf’s lips. “He... he hurts...”
“Liebling, you are not unhurt yourself.” There was such gentle reproof in his words that Alfred found himself staring, rapt. “You must stop doing this, else you will destroy yourself.”
Blue eyes flickered closed. “Was worried about him,” she whispered faintly. “Had... can’t stop it... I can feel it... he’s scared... even now... of you... of me...” A tremble rippled through her. “Too much...”
The Graf gently lifted her hand to his lips and kissed his palm. “Liebling, if you will allow it... I can aid you to slumber as I do.” He gazed down at her tenderly. “It will allow you to heal and recover your strength, though it will mean you will be unconscious for much of the next few days.”
Without hesitation, the girl nodded. “Don’t wanna worry anyone...” she whispered. “Need to get better.”
The Graf’s hand released hers and touched her face, long fingers uncurling. “Then look at me,” he whispered. Heavy eyes slowly opened and Alfred saw the weary but grateful smile a moment before her eyes fell closed once more and she went utterly limp in the Graf’s arms.
Laying her down with the utmost of gentleness, the Graf slipped his arm from beneath her, watching her motionless face, as if to assure himself that she was truly safely slumbering.
He was still watching her when he quietly murmured, “What happened, Alfred?”
Alfred hastily ducked down to pick up the linen-wrapped book, futilely brushing some dust from the white cloth, his eyes down. “I wished to apologise for Sarah’s behaviour earlier,” he said quietly. “I-I did not mean to distress your lady.”
“I know you did not.” Turning, the Graf gazed at him, and Alfred saw the moment the Graf saw his face. Hastily lowering his chin, hiding his face in shadows, he clutched the book more tightly. “Alfred, come here.”
Arguing would be pointless, he knew.
His eyes on the floor, he approached the broad bed, only raising his face when the Graf tilted his chin up gently. Black eyes roamed his features and he saw the flicker of emotions, too swift to identify.
“She was upset,” he said quietly, averting his gaze.
The Graf said nothing. Alfred’s gift was liberated from his arms and he almost protested until he saw the Graf rise from the bed. Long hands curled over his bruised shoulders and a shiver of emotion ran through him as he was drawn closer. He wanted to shy back, deny that such affection - only reserved for the most distressing of times - was required, his hands pressing futilely against the Graf’s chest.
“Alfred...”
Against the Graf’s chest, his hands trembled and he felt his eyes stinging. “She was upset,” he whispered faintly, his resistance breaking against the Graf’s gentleness, his voice shrill as glass. “She was upset...”
Then he was crumbling, falling, wanting to hide, wanting to be hidden, tears on his face and blood on his lips. And the Graf knelt with him, wrapping him in his arms, his cloak and the darkness.
How long he clung to the Graf, he could not say, his body shaking with the force of his emotion. His fists were clinging, his face wet, and he was more aware than ever of the hand gently stroking his hair.
“If she harms you so again,” the murmur was soft against his ear. “You will be Herbert’s. She will have no claim to you.”
Alfred recoiled as if struck. “No!” he exclaimed, fresh tears springing to his eyes. “No, please, Excellency...” He clutched at the Graf’s shirt, shaking his head. “She... she does not mean to do this... she... her bloodlust... she never means...”
Black eyes scrutinised him. “This has happened before,” the Graf said quietly, not a question and Alfred knew he did not need to give an answer. “More times than we know.”
“She hates that she does it,” Alfred whispered. “She never intends...” He lowered his eyes. “She is afraid of herself... when she is upset, she loses all reason...” Wiping his cheeks with the back of one hand, he whispered, “I love her, Excellency. Don’t take her from me.”
The Graf gently lifted his chin, his expression grave. “If it appears that you may be harmed, I am afraid I may have no choice,” he said softly. “You are of my blood and my kin, Alfred. She is too. She knows that such behaviour will not be tolerated.”
“I-I will talk to her,” he whispered. “Please...”
The Graf gazed at him for several moments, then nodded slowly. “Your heart is truly noble, brav Alfred,” he said softly, lifting a stray tear from Alfred’s cheek with a fingertip.
Alfred tried to smile, but it was weak, faded fast. “I-I should return to our room.” He stammered out the words as he scrambled to his feet, hastily smoothing his shirt back into place. “Tell... can you tell your Lady I am sorry?”
Rising, the Graf laid a gentle hand on Alfred’s shoulder. “There is nothing to apologise for, Alfred,” he said. He bent, lifting the book, offering it to Alfred. “This is yours?”
Alfred’s lips twitched. “I-I... it is for you,” he whispered, shuffling his feet as the Graf arched a brow and unfolded the cloth wrapping. Admiration and appreciation vied for place on his face.
“This is too great a treasure to gift me,” the Graf said softly, looking down at Alfred. “It is far too beautiful.”
Brown eyes looked up at him. “I got it for you,” Alfred whispered.
The rare smile that crossed the Graf’s lips made all the aches and misery in his body vanish for a moment. The Graf bowed his regal head and the light kiss was enough to make Alfred tremble. “Thank you, Alfred,” the Graf said softly. “This means a great deal to me.”
Unable to think of anything else he could say, Alfred bowed his head. “Good night, Excellency,” he whispered.
And as he hurried down the stairs, he heard the soft murmur behind him. “Rest well, Kleines. Rest well.”