[fic] Occult Couture; or An American in America | 5
The light woke Drake.
The curtains of his bedroom were pulled back; the full moon streaming in with all the restraint and subtlety of a lighthouse . He had just a moment to register Bart’s absence before he caught sight of him, perched at the end of the bed, back towards the moonlight. Watching him?
“Bart? You-“
“Vampyres can heal in the light of the full moon,” Bart said conversationally, and although Drake could not see him, he was pretty sure that Bart’s expression did not match his tone. “You said that once.” He paused, then added. “You said it here. To Conner.”
Drake sat up. Years of training at the Director’s guidance had enabled him to hone his reflexes to react instantly to any emergency, whether he was waking from restful slumber, drug-enduced unconsciousness or all manner of mystical enchantments.
He was going to need all that training now. “I didn’t think you remembered.”
“I didn’t think I did either. I’ve been thinking about things. A lot.”
Bart thinking was almost never a good sign. “How long have you been awake?”
“Without waking you?” Bart reached out to nudge Drake with his foot. “Not long at all. You don’t have to worry about your reputation slipping.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
Bart sighed. “I know. I - You’ll think it awfully weak of me. I wanted to feel better and I remembered the moonlight.”
“You miss Conner that much?”
“Of course, I do,” Bart sounded affronted. “He’s - well. He’s important. You know that.”
There was a time - not very long ago in fact - where Bart’s continued insistance on bringing up the American would have rankled. Now -
The house did seem bigger, more empty without him.
“I miss him too, of course. But Bart, you have to accept that even if we find what made Conner leave, and track him down … There’s the possibility that he wants to be somewhere else.”
“Tim!” Bart’s reply was choked, angry. “Don’t joke about things like that!”
“It’s not my habit to joke about such things,” Drake reminded him. “And as much as I miss Conner, I can’t help but remember - he bought very little while he was in London. Nothing that he would have minded leaving. No furniture, and whenever I spoke of replacing that cot in the study with a real bed he talked me out of it. He was never planning to stay-“
“Don’t say it. I won’t believe you even if you do. Kon is - he belongs here. With you, with me. He’s mine-“
Bart hadn’t meant to say that. Maybe he hadn’t even known he would. Tim pressed in quickly.
“Yours? You two never-“
“No,” Bart agreed. “But he did propose to me. More than once.”
“He proposed to Beth. Slight difference.”
“That’s not the point. The point is, he was my friend first. We’ve got the most in common. We like novels, dancing, getting to the Foundation’s monsters before they do-“
“You’ve plenty of friends who share those interests,” Drake pointed out, refraining from commenting on the last. “Even plenty of non-human friends. Lord Queen’s pack includes many young weres-“
Bart shook his head. “It’s more than that. The wolves … they belong. They bicker and argue but when it comes down to it, they’re - well, ‘pack’ as Lord Queen says. It’s the same with you and the Foundation. When it comes to business, you all do the same thing. Close ranks.”
Drake rested his arms on his knees. This was the most honest conversation they’d had on the subject. “You know why. The Director’s methods …”
“I know. And I know that if it was anyone else, you wouldn’t care for method, but when it’s him it’s different.”
It was on the tip of his tongue, then, to tell Bart, but Drake still hesitated. “And you were hoping to find in Conner that sense of - family?”
Moonlight glittered dangerously in Bart’s eyes. “If you laugh at me-“
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Bart’s words had given Drake much to consider. There were aspects of Bart and Conner’s relationship that troubled him, even made him jealous. Put in these terms -
Analytically he could appreciate that Conner was more comfortable expressing sentiment and casual affection than himself - at least publically. But Tim and Bart had developed other ways. Drake stretched out his hand to squeeze Bart’s, drawing him back towards himself and the warmth of the bedlinen. “You know what you mean to me, Bart.”
“I do,” Bart allowed himself to be drawn, resting his head in the curve of Tim’s neck and settling in close. “You promised to decapitate me, after all.”
“You know I will.”
“Mm,” Bart said, and Drake was gratified at the certainty in his tone and the pliance with which Bart shifted into Drake’s touch. “You took the axe with us to Paris. Sharpened and everything. Kon couldn’t do that.” Bart’s finger traced the line of Drake’s jaw with satisfaction - then withdrew. “Kon might not need to.”
This tight fist of emotion wasn’t jealousy. This was far beyond jealous.
“I mean, we none of us know what he is,” Bart continued blithely unaware. “So it’s possible.”
“Possible.”
“He stopped the Vampyre from hurting Anita, you know. Even if he never told me how. I meant to ask her about it, but it was difficult when she flinched every time I moved suddenly, so somehow it never really seemed like the appropriate moment.” Bart mused quietly. “And now she’s gone back to the States too.”
Drake, who had never seen eye to eye with Miss Fite reflected darkly that the States was the best place for her. She’d never taken to London’s strict standards of decorum and he was pretty sure that the dent in the oaken boards of his entrance way was somehow due to her interference.
“Kon got a few letters from her. We could write, see if she’d help us find him.” Bart paused. “You’re awfully quiet, Drake, even for you.”
“Am I?”
Bart stilled. “You’re not going to be provoking about this, are you? Because I would have thought it was obvious.”
“Is it?”
“Perhaps provoking was too mild a word. You know the Vampyre,” Bart sat, leaning over Drake. It was just light enough for Drake to be able to make out his mouth, expressive as always. “Better probably than me. I’ve never actually seen him just the bits after. Anyway.” Bart’s mouth hesitated, then firmed, then continued in one of his rapid transformations. Drake levered himself up on one elbow to listen. “You’re linked to him in blood. You both are. Not many people survive a feeding Vampyre and even fewer make a bond with him. We’re linked, the three of us now, by blood. That’s - well. That’s not the sort of thing you can forget and blithely go off on your own to America. That’s how I know we need to find Kon.”
“Because if we don’t, the Vampyre might go hunting again?” Bart’s words had reminded Drake of just what had happened in that room that night. The memory was sobering, cutting through his anger. It was true, the Vampyre had adopted a very proprietry atmosphere towards the two of them but had seemingly been satisfied merely by their presence. Surely him being jealous of Conner was as fruitless as … a blanket envying a pillow. He got more of Bart after all. “Bart, do you suppose that’s it? The Vampyre influencing you subconsciously?”
Bart hesitated. “I don’t know,” he admitted finally, mouth drooping in defeat. “All I know is that I don’t feel right without him here. I feel anxious. Restless.”
“If you wanted to look for Conner,” Drake said slowly. “I wouldn’t stop you.”
Bart paused. “That’s not what you’re supposed to say. You’re supposed to say, “Well, I would not be a responsible member of the Foundation if I let you run amok amongst our American cousins with no warning,” Bart poked Tim in the ribs. “Are you sure you’re you? I mean - I know the Foundation doesn’t use magic for its own ends but maybe they scienced you into thinking you’re an obedient Foundation golem or something.”
“It’s worse than that,” Drake said slowly. He thought he saw a pattern. “Lord Wayne’s adopting me.”
--oOo-
The clicking of the lock stirred Kon from deep sleep. He grumbled, trying fruitlessly to burrow deeper into his hammock. “I swear, morning gets earlier every morning …”
Dubbilex’s usual caustic opinion was unforthcoming - and Kon had yet to find himself dumped onto the hold floor. Aware that something was very wrong, Kon raised himself from the hammock. Some instinct told him that the First Mate had not decided to take Kon’s advice on his bedside manner to heart, so what-
Someone was standing right beside him.
Kon started, but the hand slammed into his mouth before he could scream.
“Me,” Cass said, the only noise she’d made so far. “You. Going.”
Kon went.
It wasn’t until they were both on deck that his ability to breathe reasserted itself. “And here I thought I would never be glad to have Dubbilex loom over me,” he muttered, leaning against the mast to steady himself. “I hate to be the one to say it, but your method of flirtation might need a little fine-tuning-“
Cass said nothing, merely radiated disapproval. It was astonishing how palpable her look could be, even in moonlight and Kon glared, still not happy about being pulled from sleep - only to abruptly reconsider.
In the moonlight Cass’s attire was visible. She had discarded her usual tunic and trousers for a tight fitting suit of - something dark. Leather? What it was wasn’t as important as what it did - and what it did was silhouette Cass’s feminine curves perfectly against the light of the moon.
“So-“
“Later.” Cass beckoned him along the deck towards the poop deck and the officer’s quarters. “Now.”
Sneaking through the officer’s quarters was enough to put an end to any idle conversation. Cass stopped in front of a room that sported not one but two locks. Kon was wondering what the reason for her pause was when she made a twisting motion with her hands.
Now I get it - not me, but my little parlour trick. Kon tried to feel annoyed but as he touched his hand to the door all he felt was nervous. Cass had made him open and close the pickle jar for a good half an hour until she’d been satisfied, but this was the first test of his … whatever it was … under duress. One mistake and the entirety of the ship’s officers would be on them. I hope she knows what I’m doing … because I don’t.
He didn’t need to think about unlocking. He just willed and felt and the locks clicked open. Locks and something else. “Was that a mechanism on the inside - alarm triggered if both locks aren’t opened simultaneously?”
Cass didn’t answer, slipping through the door. Kon followed, careful to push the door shut behind him. “Two locks. Two people with a key each - Wilson and his daughter? Just dandy. The two people on this ship we most don’t want to anger and we are breaking into a room they clearly don’t want anyone getting into - why?”
Cass - as was her usual wont - was ignoring him. She seemed to be carefully considering the room around her. It was - Kon had to admit - quite the collection. “Sea-charts, yes. Scrimshaw, logical - if odd.” He paused a moment to study the representation of The Aquaman carved painstakingly into the whale tooth. “The diving suit … well, better the Captain and his lovely daughter than me. But the rest of it …” Kon trailed a hand along the meticulously created map to crouch before the vials that currently had his companion’s attention. “This looks like poison. And more poison than needed for even the lengendary Aquaman. This is enough-“
Kon glanced over his shoulder to the table with the map behind them.
“For a city. An - underwater city.”
Cass’s silence spoke volumes.
Kon sighed. And here he’d thought he’d left the histrionic adventures in London. “For most explorers, finding Atlantis would be the pinnacle of their life’s work. Not the legendary Slade Wilson, though. No, he has to go and want to murder it.”
“I suppose it was inevitable. Talk for long enough, and eventually even you might say something of sense.”
Kon started but before the exclamation could leave his throat, Cass shot out an arm and muffled him. She never took her eyes from the figure in the doorway.
“Contact?”
Dubbilex glanced at the door still partially ajar behind him and as Kon watched with an increasing feeling of being well out of his depth, it swung quietly shut. “It was I who asked for help. Wilson is - I believe that in his craze for vengeance he no longer cares what he will sacrifice.” He studied the two of them thoughtfully. Unless either of you object, perhaps we should communicate this way.
Cass had let go but not relaxed her guard. She stood ready, waiting - whether to fight or for some signal. “Which way would that be?” Kon complained. He realized at once he heard his own voice, strangely loud in the tense atmosphere of the small room. Before, was that--?
In your head? Dubbilex lowered his head in acknowledgement, and Kon was surprised to make out horns. I am gifted psychically. Communication through the medium of thought is one of my abilities. The other … Dubbilex glanced at the door behind them. I believe we share.
He did the pickle jar thing with the door too!?
Yes, he did. Perhaps you should take a moment to concentrate on separating your stream of consciousness from those thoughts you wish to project.
Kon swallowed and nodded. Good idea. Do not want to go public thinking about how shapely our silent companion looks in her night ensemble. Wait, had that been … ?
Concentrate, Kent.
The room was still dark but while it was hard to make out the details of its contents, his companions stood out as clearly as day. An effect of the telepathic link? Kon glanced at Dubbilex, his grey skin and horns making himself look even more like he’d been hewn from stone. When no reprimand was forthcoming, Kon realized that he’d managed to keep that thought private, and glanced to Cass.
Cool and impassive as ever with her arms folded, Cass held herself tightly in check, even now. She thought as deliberately as she spoke but under running her words were images - or memories - of the way people moved. Wilson. Dangerous. The man’s posture radiated his satisfaction and impatience. Whatever was coming he was confident it would be sufficient to attain his goal. The closeness of the way his officers stood together, their smirks indicated they were aware of part of his plan - and deliberately held back from the men.
The crew - cannon fodder? Or worse-bait?
I fear both, Mr Kent. I am employed to run a tight ship, and keep the crew docile and obedient, but I dare not probe deeply enough to ascertain Wilson’s exact plans. Dubbilex confessed. He knows what I am. He knows what I am capable of. He will have taken precautions.
Precautions, is it. Kon remembered the conversation in the hold. Wilson didn’t seem at all bothered about having me on board, even knowing--
Dubbilex and Cass regarded him impassively. Kon found he could not continue. So. I believe we were making plans?
Watch. Cassie’s instruction was followed by a blindingly fast burst of information; movements remembered and matched against previous encounters and studied fighting styles. Learn. She shifted stance, much as a fighter would in readying himself for battle. Ready.
Agreed. Working as a team we can gather more information. Until then, wait, watch. When the time comes to act, we will know it. Dubbilex lowered his head once more in a more formal bow. I’ll say farewell now. It is not wise for me to be absent from my post … And Mr Kent has an early morning ahead of him.
It would be too much to hope that now that we’re on the same side, I’d be allowed to sleep in?
Dubbilex’s smile was so faint that Kon might have thought he’d imagined it. Indeed. The telepath raised one gnarled hand and the door unlocked and swung inward at his command. We should not want Wilson to become suspicious at this late stage.
No, we would not. Kon sighed, then stepped forward to follow Dubbilex out the door. Even knowing that they had an ally on board, he did not feel easy about the discovery that Wilson’s obsession went way beyond what Kon had anticipated. Likewise, he had more questions than answers about both of his companions.
Cass left the room noiselessly as a shadow. Typical. No matter whether it was an infestation of imps, Drake and Bart having one of their unbelievably convulated arguments or putting dinner on the table, it was always left to Kon to get things done.
I really owe Ma some thanks, Kon thought, focusing as the doors double locks slid back into place. Never really appreciated all she did -
The sudden awareness of another presence in the corridor was a shock, but the telepathic link must have left a few echoes. Kon relaxed as he recognized Cass, though immediately annoyed at himself for allowing himself to be spooked yet again. Look, I’m all for being a gentleman and indulging a lady, but this is getting a little ridiculous, Kon thought as loudly as he could. I know where the hold is.
The telepathic connection might not have still been functioning, but it seemed his meaning was communicated. Cass simply pointed.
It was not until he had once again reached the hold door that he realized that if Cass had not needed to escort him through the officer’s quarters and across the decks, then she definitely had not needed to safeguard his passage down the deserted corridor that led to his isolated room in the hold. Turning to quiz his second shadow about this, Kon got perhaps the biggest shock of the evening.
“You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were enjoying this.”
Cass’s arms were folded and she tilted her head at him quizzically.
“The watching me move part. I know that’s how you operate, Miss Dark and Dangerous, but you keep that up and a gentleman might get the wrong idea,” Kon rested his arm against the doorway and leaned into it. “I might even think you liked me for reasons other than my considerable skills with a lock.”
It was not the words he’d have spoken to Tana, but Tana had belonged to a different time. His ideals had been almost as high flown as his expressions of love. Beth had been puzzling, forced him to be honest but he’d never escaped the feeling of playing games. Mia - what they’d had was too brief for subtlety.
Now - he was still raw. Too raw for promises.
It wasn’t about words anyway. It was the shift in posture, the challenge inherent in a slow, drawn out smile, the direction of a look-
“After,” Cass said, adjusting her posture to meet his. She moved fluidly to meet him, battle ready, and Kon had just a moment to wonder if he’d misjudged things before she was in, under his guard and his own body reaching treacherously to pull her closer. “Not ‘no’.”
The kiss was fierce as everything else she did, but Kon could take some satisfaction in knowing that he gave back almost as good. There was a slight difference in her breathing as she disappeared down the corridor to her pallet in the galley, and the placement of her hands during their kiss had left no doubts as to exactly where her attention had been during their return to the hold.
In short, Kon was in a very self-congratulatory mood as he shut the hold door behind himself. About time something went his way - and what a thing to go right. He was not only enamoured with but enamouring a girl who was not only a tidy piece of goods in her own right but-
Kon paused.
He was enamouring a girl who made Drake look sane.
“Oh, h---.”