Chapter 38
Previously:
“Oh!” Arthur says immediately, and crouches down to look at Quincy’s feet and find out if they need to pull any glass out. “Doesn’t that hurt?!”
“Well, yeah!” Despite that answer, Quincy is only giggling more, but he does sit down so they can check his soles. “But between dhampir urges, John’s emotions, and Radu’s drac… I don’t think I have the capacity for anything negative right now.”
Arthur still makes sure to be as gentle as he can as he feels along the cuts to see if there’s any splinters in them.
“So you’re… too high to mind?”
Quincy just sighs happily, toes splaying apart like he… enjoys the touch? Despite everything? And he giggles some more. “Yeah, probably.”
Feeling something slick and hard against his fingertips, Arthur asks the house for a pair of tweezers- and some warm water and a cloth, too, because he can’t really see what he’s doing with the blood.
“I suppose that’s a good thing…,” he ventures. “Also that you don’t heal as fast as Darcy so we’re not in danger of it already being healed over…”
~
“I don’t enjoy pain the way my wife does, so I would rather you don’t have to cut them out… but selfishly speaking here, boyfriend attention to my feet is very appreciated.” Purring because his brain is everywhere but on the pain, he makes himself comfortable while Arthur is working.
~
Arthur gives him a raised eyebrow for that. He wouldn’t have thought that this qualified as boyfriend attention…
“Um, well… good, I suppose?”
Then he focuses on dabbing away the blood and pulling out the bits of glass. Thankfully, there aren’t too many, and a few minutes later, after he’s made double sure that he got everything and that Quincy can’t feel any foreign bodies in his skin anymore, he concentrates and heals him up.
~
Wiggling his toes, Quincy grins, then leans down to kiss Arthur thanks, a quick nip makes that the full feeling of his drac wagging its tail for Arthur before he sighs.
“Guess I have to put on shoes now. I’ll get everybody out of bed; you’d probably feel really awkward about that, right?”
Okay, this whole protectiveness thing feels strange, not an emotion he’s familiar with, but he supposes there is some overlap with the care he feels for Arthur, and knowing his darling, of course that’s the same thing to him.
~
Arthur blinks, and then blushes hotly, because that was… that was Quincy’s lips on his, just for a moment, a dry brush and then a prickle and a rush of emotion. Happy, bubbling emotion, pleased like a cat in a sunbeam, and a sense of closeness and gratitude, and elated confidence. And then it’s gone, and Arthur raises his fingers to his lips, but of course there’s no blood or pain or anything.
Quincy just kissed him. And not on the cheek. And it… didn’t feel that different from a kiss on the cheek?
“Uh- yes, I suppose I would, true,” he answers automatically, the thought that was still in his head before… Quincy kissed him.
~
“Boyfriend privileges, also, feeling John’s protectiveness, it’s weird.”
With a giggle, he jumps to his feet, regrets it at the low chitter of protest that reminds him so terribly of Darcy that he has his finger in his pocket before he thinks about it, flinches as Radu just as unthinkingly bites him in self-defense but then starts licking the wound apologetically.
Okay, drac, he’s carrying a drac, and he isn’t one for reacting to adorableness normally, but now he’s cooing and making soft noises at his little, scared passenger, cups his hand over the pocket.
“It’s alright, it was my fault. Sorry.”
“…Did you startle him?” Arthur asks. “Everything okay?”
“Scared drac does not appreciate sudden invasion in his little safe nest.” Giving his finger a look with a chuckle, Quincy realises something, starts to grin. “Yes, everything okay, I startle the voivode and he nips me instead of mind blasting me.”
“Um… Okay, when you put it that way, good,” Arthur agrees, like a good boyfriend. “So… what do I do while you wake everyone? …Pack blankets? We can probably use a bunch of blankets, it’s cold out.”
“Especially if Mariam has to negotiate with the Lemurian police. Yes, please, blankets, some basic cleaning things, something to eat, that covers the basics to make these poor women feel better while we work on getting them home quickly, hopefully. We’re not set up for hosting them here, and it’s going to be light out there soon, we don’t have much time.”
Realising that, he wonders, then asks the house for… how to best do this, could he have a polished stone please, a Romanian one? He doesn’t know if it will work, but maybe. This time, he mentally nudges Radu before he gently puts the stone, okay, okay, not between himself and Radu, but into his pocket.
“If you can, just sleep in there, Moonshine. I won’t leave you.”
“Okay, I’ll get supplies- how many women are we talking about? Ten? Twenty? More?” Arthur pulls out his notebook and starts scribbling down Quincy’s suggestions, diligent as always, although Quincy suspects that he wouldn’t really forget anything anyway.
“As said, Radu didn’t manage to actually get down to the younger ones. So let’s assume about as many as at the other village.” The mere mention makes him shudder again, he didn’t go down into that hole in the last village, his Cycy did, protecting him, but so did John. He knows he won’t have to do anything he can’t handle. John is going to protect him so that he can shelter Radu.
Arthur straightens his shoulders and nods. “Alright then- let’s get going.”
~
They do- Quincy heads off to wake everyone, and Arthur goes to gather supplies with the help of the house. (While decidedly putting this kiss business out of his mind. Other things to focus on, right now. And also… it’s not like he’s freaking out. Which is weird. But Quincy’s emotions were so happy and… casual is the wrong word, but also the right one, and, right, putting it out of his mind for now, crisis to deal with!)
Half an hour later, they all gather in the library- Mariam isn’t terribly keen on the whole affair, but understands the necessity, with her being the only woman. Art is clutching a coffee cup and clearly forcing himself to wake up fully, while John… appears remarkably calm and laid back. But Arthur postpones any questions, to himself or otherwise, about this whole contract business, too, and instead they get to planning.
When Arthur asks what they’ll find there (considering the state Radu was in when he came back…), and hears that the responsible people ‘mysteriously died in their sleep’- no big blood bath, then, the village hopefully still asleep and unaware. Of course, they’d like to keep it that way- sneak in, get the women out, sneak out.
Also of course: First, they have to get there. Radu isn’t in a state to communicate the name of the village, but Quincy can point out where it is on one of their maps- not that there is even a notation of it on it. It’s just another random fold of the coastline, maybe a dozen or so miles north of Whitby. Not very far away, even, but still- if they ride, even with the fae horses, it’ll take them an hour or two, maybe even more. Over land is a lot windier, with river mouths feeding into the sea they’d have to circle around.
Hannibal can go much faster- and so can Quincy. He’s still brimming with energy and confidence, and agrees to use his new leyline travel powers to get them there. He’ll have to run several times since he can only carry one person at a time, but it’s still the fastest way they can come up with: Arthur with the supplies on Hannibal, Quincy bringing the others one by one. So Arthur heads off to put on his riding trousers and boots, and saddle up Hannibal, while Quincy does a first run to the village alone, to make sure he can find it.
Hannibal enjoys the chance to really stretch his legs, mane and tail and hooves on fire- grumbles when Arthur reins him in far earlier than he would’ve liked to approach the village more quietly. He finds Art and Mariam already on the spot they picked as a meeting point- which turns out to be a fairly steep hill. Quincy arrives a few minutes later with John, and they quietly make their way down to the rough road and into the village. It lies quiet and dark. There are no lights on, and no guards, Arthur sees with relief. But then, why would there be? It’s a fishing village.
A dog barks as they make their way towards the largest structure among the small huts- they freeze, and after a few more barks, it settles down again, and nothing stirs in the houses. Their arrival at what must be a warehouse startles a woman who is looking over crates with a sort of futile desperation. Her dark hair and eyes identify her as one of the selkies, and Mariam walks over to introduce them. The woman’s eyes flick over their group- looking for Radu?- and settle on Quincy, give him a searching look. Maybe seeing the family resemblance, she eventually nods a greeting.
While Mariam goes to talk to her, Arthur hangs back a little behind her- but of course the woman can’t speak, also had her tongue cut out. And Arthur shoves aside a stirring of fury- they abuse them, and then they even maim them and take away their voices! He wishes he could heal well enough to regrow body parts, to give them back their ability to talk. But he can’t (yet, possibly- something to look into), so getting angry is a waste of his time and energy that he needs to spend actually helping.
The woman mimes pulling something around her, nods when Mariam asks if it’s their pelts she was searching for, and Arthur goes to see if he can sniff them out, can tell by their magic which crates they are in. Arthur’s clearly not the only one dealing with some emotions, because Quincy starts humming and murmuring, hand covering his vest pocket every now and then as he and John get to work handing the blankets and supplies to the other two older women who appear from the other side of the warehouse.
It’s only a little later, after Arthur’s found the pelts and him and Art managed to break open the crates with a minimum of noise, and John’s gone down into the pit, hands up girls for Arthur to heal of whatever he can, that he also sees Quincy’s eyes glow red every now and then- they didn’t dare to light any lamps up in the warehouse, working by the moonlight that falls in through gaps between the boards and the doors they left open alone, but someone- Radu, probably- must have brought or lit lamps in the back compartment. The girls are covered in filth and scared and the stench is turning Arthur’s stomach, as is the knowledge of what they must’ve been through. He’s grateful that John spared him from having to go down into that black hole in the floor himself, but… No, he can’t think about it, can’t let himself feel things about it. They’re here now and helping and that’s all that counts, and he ruthlessly shunts aside anything else.
There are less girls here than what the others reported from the other site- only eight, of varying ages, but just as abused, feral as street cats. They let the three older selkie women wrap them in blankets and clean them, just about, and it’s only due to the older women that Arthur gets to hover his hand over their shoulders and heal the abrasions from their chains and whatever injuries he can’t see.
And then they’re ready to go, or as ready as they’ll get, and the question is how to get them to the water. With John already overstraining his power earlier, he and Quincy cannot do what they did in the other village, so they have to find another way. The girls don’t know what to do with their pelts, but the women clutch theirs tightly. The village is still quiet, but the space between the warehouse and the waterfront is wide open- any early riser or late-returning fishing boat could easily see them. And there’s the fact that the girls are frightened and have no idea what’s going on, don’t understand their words or their plans.
It’s John who points out that: Quincy can carry them down to the waterfront with no one seeing. Which gets Arthur’s mind in gear- yes, if they take one of the women first, she can show the girls how to get into the water, they won’t be as visible if they’re in the water. They can take the women in between the girls so there’s always enough of them to handle the group size.
So that’s what they do- one of the women first, then four of the girls, then the second one of the women, then the rest of the girls, and the third woman last. Mariam also arranges for the women to pass on a message to their investigators to meet later so they can give them whatever information Radu has found- and then, ideally, be done with this entire affair.
About an hour after their arrival, the last dark, round seal head vanishes among the gentle waves of the rocky little harbour of the village, and they gather up the dirty blankets and used supplies, make sure they’ve left nothing behind that points to them, and get back to the castle the way they came. Arthur, for one, is glad to be getting another twenty minutes of fresh night air and running to wash the stink out of his nostrils and the images from his mind. Of course, it’s not that easy to get rid of the latter, but distance to them- distance is good.
He feels sick to his heart that people would do that to other people, just because they don’t consider them people. But how can they not? He doesn’t get it- it’s so obvious that they feel, that they know fear and pain and so probably happiness and love, too. He just doesn’t understand why people have to be horrible. But he knows they’ll continue to be, and he could do a little something to make it better tonight, and hopefully, with Radu’s information, they can put an end to this particular horror, and then… and then they can finally properly go look for Darcy.
He’s just riding through the gate and past the hedge, slowed down to a trot so they don’t blow past the castle altogether, when there’s a rustle next to him and a voice intrudes on his thoughts: “Apologies, Arthur, a word, please?”
He startles, which makes Hannibal jump and slew sideways to a stop- needs a moment to place the voice, looks down- to a big, black wolf head sticking out between the hedge and the stone wall that supports the fence. Arthur reins in Hannibal properly, takes a deep breath to settle himself, thinks back: “Oh, Vlad! Yes, of course!”
Right- he probably should have expected Vlad to show up at some point, but he kind of forgot all about that with everything else.
~
Giving the castle a look, Vlad dares speak up mentally again, he does not know how far away his brother is, if he might give himself away even now.
“Is it safe to talk here?”
“Um… safe?” Arthur asks back mentally. “You mean from Radu overhearing?”
Vlad’s snout bops up and down, a nod despite the strangeness of the gesture on a non-human body. He is well aware, just as much as he knows that his tail position looks far more fitting on a wolf, a very nervous wolf. Hiding his emotions in this form is much more difficult than in his human form, but he will have to hope that Arthur is less able to read him.
“I don’t know,” Arthur admits. “I don’t know what his range is? He’s in the castle, anyway?”
At the castle, in this very moment? Vlad’s ears go flat, the tension in his shoulders enough to make him hunch.
“Quincy…”
One paw is lifted already; everything in him screaming to save his son, but… running in there would mean Radu would get exactly what he likely wants. He wants to believe his brother wouldn’t hurt the boy, but a drac is capable of so many things when it follows its emotions. Seeing him might be what it takes for Radu’s scheming to turn to bloodshed, he can’t do anything, so Vlad swivels his head back to Arthur, hopes he has some plan.
~
Arthur can’t help a snort. After the last few hours… “Quincy has him well in hand- or is that paw?”
~
Moving behind one of the wall’s pillars, knowing full well that it is a useless measure, Vlad turns human again, although he fears that his normal stoic front is visibly wavering with deep worry for his child. This was what he wanted to avoid. Keep the dhampirs as far from Radu and the Court’s gaze as he could. He wants to cling to Arthur’s apparent nonchalance, but the words make precious little sense.
“Please, I do not understand.”
~
Arthur swings down from Hannibal’s back so Vlad doesn’t have to crane his neck to look up at him. He’s tired after the last few hours, but on the other hand, he did get more sleep than he might have, what with his very early nap, and he can see how worried Vlad is. Can’t even really blame him, either, of course. So he tilts his head towards the outside of the gate in question on whether Vlad wants to go for a walk a little further away from the castle.
“I don’t, fully, either. As he explains it, his drac and Radu’s drac took a good sniff at each other, found out how much they both missed Darcy, and ever since, they’re best friends.”
Or something- Arthur’s still not sure about this blood bond business and what it means, so decides not to say (or think at Vlad) anything about that for the moment.
~
Definitely wanting to walk further away from the castle, because he is never sure how far his brother can sense him, how much of his mind always is set to spy him being anywhere close by, Vlad still gives Arthur an incredulous look.
“But… they are minstrels. Furthermore, my brother’s drac is,” he searches for words, finally settles on, “disturbed.”
~
“Well, they didn’t actually shapeshift to do it,” Arthur says as he starts walking, slings Hannibal’s reins over his neck so he can prance ahead and around them without stepping on them. “It was some kind of mental thing? And how is Radu’s drac disturbed? Is that to do with that insanity of his? Which I wanted to ask- what does that actually mean? How exactly is he insane? ‘Cause he was a lot less volatile than I expected…”
~
Clasping his hands behind his back, definitely not to stop himself from fidgeting, Vlad sighs, for once doesn’t dare to look Arthur in the eye.
“It can be volatile… as any cornered animal; as any man driven past his capacity. Although in a human it would take a different form, humans lack a drac to speak over their distinguishing features. Watch any man in a dire situation regress to his lower-most instincts, you will see the core of all of us, but in a vampire, it shows you the animal in a far more direct way.”
~
“…But how’s that insanity?” Arthur asks, confused. “To me… uh, okay, I don’t actually know any medical definitions, but to me, insanity implies acting out of… I suppose impulses to things that aren’t real? Hearing voices or seeing things that aren’t there or stuff like that? Basically… not being rational at all? Unpredictable? Acting like a cornered animal in a dire situation sounds perfectly rational to me.”
He thinks back to the feral girls just now- clearly frightened, frozen in fear beaten into them, not even daring to kick or lash out or bite anymore. But certainly not insane- acting in perfectly understandable ways to the abuse they endured. Had any of them punched or kicked or bit him, he certainly wouldn’t hold it against them.
Hesitating for a moment Vlad, still towards the floor, answers: “He cannot always distinguish memory from intent. A man hurt him. Ever since, his drac is mistrusting every touch to do the same, and when a vampire’s drac takes over there is nothing but emotion left. My brother loses himself to his drac without fully going into a bloodrage as, I believe, you have seen Darcy do. The reaction to the offence, which might never have been one, can be… let us say, dire.”
“Well… that’s a problem, and dangerous, but I still wouldn’t call that insane…” Arthur says- yes, that would be like if the girls had lashed out at him. How could they know he wanted to heal them, when no one before ever had? What reason would they have to trust him? He slides Vlad a narrow-eyed look. “So about this ‘a man hurt him’- what didn’t you tell us? Are we talking about this sultan way back when? Was that a ‘can’t say no’ situation?”
~
“Mehmed hurt him, yes.”
Suddenly growing tight-lipped, Vlad clenches his hands tighter, tries to regain his normal composure completely, because he does not feel ready to talk about this, maybe not ever. It had been hard enough talking about this to Cansu, who knew both of them so well, who was his friend, but to a virtual stranger, even one he respects, no. Most certainly not.
~
Arthur notices the signs, but… he’s quite done being in the dark on this. And, hey, he’s risked antagonizing one voivode in the past twenty-four hours, why not add another one.
“And?” he prods, therefore.
~
Vlad’s temper flares. How dare that little scholar disrespect him thus?
But it’s one short inhale, one quick tightening of the jaw, then Vlad brushes his emotions back down, he’s done it so many times, and now his wife is at least partially restored, he has it easier, still, it takes him effort to merely ask: “What do you expect to hear?”
~
Next: