Chapter 69
Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 68
Darcy hugged Arthur tight the moment she noticed that he stopped in his tracks and didn’t seem to be there at all. Her words didn’t get through to him but she still kept talking softly, reassuring him that she’s there for him, that she got him, that it’s just a mean vision.
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Given how wobbly he is, Arthur is glad to find himself with her strong grip wrapped around himself, and lets himself lean against her for a few moments while he waits for his body and mind to calm down. “So, uh… I guess it’s not targeted only at John, at least…” he offers.
“How is that any better?” She pouts in answer, but dares to let go with one arm to pet Arthur’s back reassuringly. “Would your meanie father include you in a curse?”
“It’s information,” Arthur points out- and the rubbing really does help him relax, huh, that’s kind of nice. “And I think that makes it less likely that it’s something he did. Because I lived in that house for two years while he was in prison, if it was a curse triggered by someone living there when he’s gone, it would have hit me sooner. And the only other explanation would be that it only attacks if other people come into the house, but then I wouldn’t be caught in it now. At least I don’t think so? We should still check, I mean, maybe he’d want to punish me for bringing other people in…? But… but maybe it’s something else. And also, wouldn’t you be the first, then, ’cause it would have triggered when I brought you?”
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“Maybe it’s the fey door? Let’s check the mean books and if that doesn’t help…” She wrinkles her nose; she does not want to talk to Llew. Not after what he said yesterday. But she knows she can’t hide from him, she has a duty to Gregory, wherever he is right now. “Well, then I can ask Llew.”
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Arthur nods, takes a deep breath and gets his feet back under himself properly. “Yes, sounds like a good plan, let’s do that.” He shudders a little. “Those visions are really very… uncomfortable. And confusing.”
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Shifting to take his hand, Darcy asks: “Do you want to talk about it? You don’t have to.” She learned that from John. He doesn’t always want to talk about bad things, she doesn’t get that. Not true, she doesn’t like the talking either, silly words, but she likes being open with those she cares about.
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“Um…” Arthur says, because… he’s not sure if he wants to. On the one hand, he’d prefer to forget all about it, but on the other, what if there’s a clue in the vision itself? And also… also maybe he does want to share it a little… But not more than once. “When we’ve got the books, so I don’t have to tell it more than once?”
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Realising that Arthur wants John to be there, too, gives Darcy a warm feeling deep in her stomach and she nods at him. “Let’s get back really quick, then. I can carry lots of books for you!”
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Arthur nods his agreement, though feels the need to point out: “…I can carry heavy things too, though…”
With a confused look, Darcy starts walking again. “Yes, and?”
“Um,” says Arthur, suddenly not sure why he felt the need to protest. “I guess it’s just that Gregory sometimes teases me about being small and everything. And of course I’m not as tough as you, but… well, I’m not weak, either.”
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That doesn’t really surprise Darcy, teasing is what Gregory does. He’s always out to get a rise out of them. Some men are like that, the stories say that as well, something for a gentle female hand to improve on. Not that she thinks she can, that’s not what she’s good for with her husband, so instead, she squeezes her fingers tight on Arthur’s and smiles. She can be a good sister-in-law for him; the mask is there with him.
He’s not John, he doesn’t see right to her drac. Arthur doesn’t have a dreamscape where he can explode at her upon seeing the mask and ripping it off, her splattering blood and insecurity be damned. No, for Arthur she has to be protective but not a monster. So instead, she chirps: “You burn with a look and heal with a touch. That’s really strong! I just can carry more, but there’s lots you can do better than me.”
That makes Arthur blush. “…I can do that sort of thing now, can’t I?” He smiles back at her. “But you can do lots of things that I can’t do, too. So, um, I guess what I mean is… we can do even more things together?”
Nodding, she smiles, hesitates with a giggle, then dares to joke. Jokes are good when somebody feels tense, right? “Like dancing up to the mezzanine if we could manage to avoid stepping on any books.”
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Arthur hadn’t thought of that, but he finds himself laughing, too- it’s good to laugh, especially after that vision. “Yes, like that!”
It doesn’t take them long to gather all the books, though bringing them back down to the main floor of the library involves some awkward peeking around their stacks while they go down the stairs. Arthur dumps his pile on the table with a huff of relief, takes a seat and starts looking through the titles for which ones are the most likely to have something about curses- if this is a curse.
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After a short moment of tiptoeing around, Darcy apologizes and turns wolf, she wants to get John over faster- only to run into him as she dashes out the door.
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Despite still feeling really fucked up about the vision, John snorts at having a Darcy encounter of the inelegant type. He has no trouble guessing why he is going to have a massive bruise from where he got a wolf forehead to the thigh (well, better his thigh than a few centimeters over to the side). Ruffling her ears, he limps over to the table and sits down with a grunt at the books. “Any sense in me checking?”
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Arthur bites back a laugh at the collision at the door- that looks like it did hurt a bit, even if it looked funny, with how Darcy’s paws went every which way on the floor.
“These are in English,” he answers John, points to four of the books. “Maybe you could look at their table of contents, if they have any, to see if there’s anything curse related in them? Though, um… I had a vision, too, so we’re thinking it’s actually not so likely that it’s something my father did…”
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“Yay, progress. One fucker less to check. That leaves us with how many people who might want a piece of us?” Despite how much the situation sucks, John finds that quip helped. He can deal with them being under attack. He doesn’t like the thought of a nightmare curse, but anything beats this actually being about his future. Pulling a book close to him, he ruffles Darcy’s fur, oh, hair now, again and hands her a book, too.
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She drops it as her fingers go numb.
Everything is numb. She can’t feel her drac. Without her drac she’s nothing.
“Now behave.” The man outside the circle says. He looks strangely familiar, she tries to sniff to get a better idea, but without her drac, everything is numb, even her nose. The world is grey. But she remembers that she has to behave, that was important. Not that it feels important. Reaching for the circle, her fingers tingle. That’s better than numb, but the man tells her that if she doesn’t behave he’ll hurt Arthur. Right, he said that before. She remembers her drac jumping against the circle, remembers it got pushed back, remembers him stepping close. Now she remembers, he smelt of Arthur, and she knew that Arthur, all those years ago, ran away from his father. This must be him.
Yes, behave or Arthur will be hurt. Wait, wasn’t Arthur only just across from her, from her and John? John wouldn’t let anybody hurt Arthur! Not her John! That emotion doesn’t feel as numb. Huh, but… oh, oh! This must be one of those visions! Blasted things! That poor drac over there in the other circle isn’t hers! Still, she can tell that it should be hers, she feels all wrong, not like she does every other moment of her life as a night creature.
Now she knows how it would be to lose her drac… that’s why John and Arthur were so shaken by their visions. This is her worst nightmare come true! Not her drac! And she can’t fight or Arthur will get hurt! No, she has to protect him. She has to be good for him!
She pushes her still numb fingers against the barrier and the man, Arthur’s meanie father, lifts something. Right, the blood curse thing. She needs to get it away from him. Her attempted snarl comes out thin to her own ears. She has no drac. No powers. What does she do? What can she do?
Backing away from the barrier, she fixes her eyes on the meanie. It feels so wrong to think and know that there are emotions missing. That her drac isn’t talking to her. Wait. Emotions being difficult… Papa! She can do this like Papa! Okay, if she tells herself which emotions are probably the right ones for this, she can do it. And Papa is really smart, he could think his way out of this. Now, she’s only a woman… wait! The meanie killed his daughter and his wife. He doesn’t like women much. Maybe… okay, she can do this.
And she remembers… although that is all wrong, but she remembers that she lives with Arthur and they are friends and… there’s no Gregory. She’s not married!
The beginnings of a plan form in her mind and she thinks the appropriate response would be scandal, but she’s not feeling it. Her drac is over there and she needs to get it back, too. But for now, she hunkers down and puts her best demure behaviour on, like any little, weak woman in the stories. Yes, he’s sneering at her, good. Keep being the cliché villain, she can outsmart that. She’s read enough stories and she might not have her drac, but she has Papa’s smirk play on her lips, hidden behind her hands so she can sniffle and beg and promise that she will behave. She’ll be a good, obedient woman.
Darcy still is smirking when she blinks out of the vision, finds her head on John’s lap and as he sees her expression, he starts to laugh. “Check that out, Arthur. My girl isn’t fucking scared of anything!”
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Arthur just about managed to snatch the book before it fell as it slipped from Darcy’s hands, then watched her in concern… but John is right, when she blinks and stops looking dazed, her expression is pleased, if anything. “…Was it not a scary vision?” he asks her.
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“The very worst!” She sits up, pulls herself on John’s lap then crosses her arms with a pout. “Your meanie father stole my drac! And he’s threatening to hurt you if I don’t behave. I’ll show him! Nobody hurts my Arthur-dear!”
“Uh…” Arthur says. His father? Stealing her drac? “You don’t seem… very scared? And, um, thank you for protecting… vision-me?”
“I hate it! I can’t think of anything worse than not having my drac, but I have to protect that Arthur!” The pout turns snarl and Darcy rejoices at feeling her drac in that snarl, hugs herself for it, too. “Of course I’m protecting him! He’s dear to her like you are dear to me. And it’s just your meanie father. I’ve said that I’ll chew on him; I just need to get out of that silly magical circle and convince him to give my drac back. I have a plan.” Now that she has her drac closer again, she feels the full scandal at the idea but she must be good for Arthur, so she will do it!
“Um… my father was in my vision, too,” Arthur admits. “…Were you older in yours?” he asks both of them, then to John: “Did your vision also have something to do with my father?”
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Shaking his head, John realizes he has to explain what he means. “Your father wasn’t in mine. At least, I fucking hope not. Probably was older though.” The implications turn his stomach and he hugs Darcy tight into himself while she also answers.
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“I don’t know if I was older. I didn’t check.” Her focus is on John more than the question. She doesn’t know what to do. He’s not normally so upset. And he doesn’t like being hugged and he’s her strong man. Of course, he’s actually alright, isn’t he?
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Arthur nods hesitantly. He can tell, by John’s tone and, more reliably, the way Darcy looks up at him in concern, that he doesn’t want to talk about it. But they do kind of have to figure out what these visions are about, where they come from and how to stop them, whether they’re dangerous. And he did tell Darcy he was going to talk about his…
“Well, in mine… I was as tall as he was. And my hands looked… grown-up?” He doesn’t know if that makes sense, but it’s the best way he can think of to describe it. “And… and Gregory was standing behind him, in his demon form, and he, I mean, my father…” He ducks his head, and shivers. “He thanked me for… for the demon. And then he said I did well… And when I stepped back, he asked if I was alright…” It’s disturbing, is what it is.
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“Well, that’s just silly. Your father is a meanie. I don’t believe for a moment he has the manners to say thank you. And you wouldn’t give him Gregory, right?” Darcy hopes this is the right thing to say. At least that’s the weird thing about what happened in Arthur’s vision, right?
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Arthur nods vigorously, then realises that maybe that looks like he’s saying he would give his father Gregory, and shakes his head. “No! I wouldn’t! Not ever!” He shudders again. “…The things he would make Gregory do…”
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Good, she got that much right, but where to go from here? Oh, right. Maybe telling them what she saw. “In my vision there’s no Gregory. It’s Arthur and me living together and the meanie kidnapped Arthur and stole my drac and if I’m not behaving, he said he’ll hurt Arthur.” Her pout gets worse and she crosses her arms right over where John is holding her, then startles when he whispers. “In mine, I never met any of you.”
Arthur looks at the two of them. “…How do you know all of that? Like… were yours longer? Mine was just… I don’t know, a few minutes, it felt like?”
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“Mine wasn’t even that.” John shakes his head again, then hesitates. “It can’t be my future.” That realisation has him perk up and he blinks as one huge worry suddenly evaporates. He can’t pinpoint how he knows, but now that he allows himself to think even just a little bit about what he experienced, no, he would remember his girl, wouldn’t he?
Scoffing, Darcy pushes herself into him. “Definitely not the future! No, it felt all wrong.”
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Arthur blinks, then huffs out a breath of relief, as well. “It can’t be, can it? You already met us, so, no, it’s really some kind of nightmare vision or something. Maybe it’s pulling from our own minds? Things we’re afraid of?”
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That makes Darcy nod hard. “Losing my drac is the worst possible thing that could happen to me!” Realising something, she kisses John’s cheek and tells him softly. “As would you not being in my life. So right there, my two worst fears!”
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His girl needs him; she’s scared of not having him. She can just tell him that, in front of somebody. John wants to tell her how scared he is, he really does, but Arthur’s right there and he can’t show something so weak, so intimate, in front of anybody, so he just leans his face against hers and closes his eyes for a moment while intertwining his fingers with hers. He hopes she knows. To not pull too much attention to even that admittance, he answers Arthur. “Worst nightmares for sure.”
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Arthur still thinks Darcy seems more annoyed than afraid, but maybe that’s how she deals with fear? In either case, he takes a deep breath, and reaches back for the books. “Okay, let’s figure out what’s going on so we can deal with it.”
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“Yeah, let’s fucking do something about this,” John agrees, eager to not just sit around. He hates just waiting. They don’t even know what could happen next or what’s the end goal of this curse. “Breakfast meanwhile?”
Given that it’s so early he wouldn’t normally be even up yet, Arthur nods in agreement. “I could use a cup of tea.”
Of course, the house obliges and manifests a big breakfast in the middle of the table- with a pointed placement of napkins, too, to remind them to keep any greasy fingers off the books. Arthur thanks it, and he and John dig in, while Darcy, of course, only nibbles on a slice of toast and half a rasher of bacon. When she sets her tea cup down, Arthur looks over at the clink, assuming she’s just finished already, but then he sees her eyes go distant and glassy.
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Good, she’s out of the circle. Must have been for a while, huh, did time skip? Must have, she’s in the kitchen, yes, the kitchen Arthur showed her in his house. Just this one isn’t such a mess. There clearly was a female hand at work here. Likely hers. What is she doing? Apparently making dinner. Okay, it seems her plan is progressing well.
Now back in the vision, she feels her emotions being distant again. That’s helpful. She suspects she’d be teeming with fury at Lancaster otherwise. But then, doesn’t she normally only get that angry with Gregory? Right now it seems very illogical to her to get that angry about anything. And those emotions wouldn’t be helpful anyway. No, this is much more conducive to following through on doing whatever she must for this Arthur. She will get rid of Lancaster and find him. Save him. Protect him. Yes, that still feels right, it fits with the memories of this Darcy.
She thinks there should be a smile on her face. This Darcy is so sure of Arthur belonging to her. She’s happy, well, she would be, for this Darcy. So yes, she has to be good for them. And that means she’ll convince Arthur’s meanie father that he can trust her. Trust the good little wifey. Doesn’t she have experience being the obedient wife no matter her emotions, anyway? And here she doesn’t even have those.
So she brings him dinner, she cleans the house, she runs the little errands, she makes his life easier, she smiles and ducks and flatters. It’s just words. Words don’t mean anything to her. And it becomes so clear so fast that he is arrogant and not half as smart as he thinks he is. This Darcy learned well from her papa on how to analyse people. It helps; she can tell that he mistakes her for Arthur’s wife. She can play Arthur up; he’s a better son than Lancaster believes. Yes, stronger, too. But… not as strong as him. Not as driven. She bats her eyelashes. Sits just a little bit closer every day, sighs and smiles a little bit more every day.
He’s too easy. He has such a chip on his shoulder. Such a need to prove he’s as grand as he believes he is. So easy to make believe that, obviously, she’s forgetting all about Arthur with a man like him around now, giving her a purpose. What more could a little wifey like her want? Of course she’ll do anything for him.
And then he tests it and Darcy feels herself laughing internally. Isn’t she used to this, too? He doesn’t throw her over his shoulder (he couldn’t if he tried with that beanpole frame of his), he doesn’t tease, but he also doesn’t talk and make her feel so powerless to change anything. This… this is less difficult than with Gregory! It’s at best mechanical, just one more errand.
And maybe… maybe that’s how she should see it with Gregory. She called it wifely duties with him. Duty is what it is, because for a while now, she hasn’t actually felt like a part of it. And really, it’s just her body, not her. That is so easy to see when her emotions aren’t all over the place. She’s a dhampir, all the books tell her that she’s like an animal in heat, well, she’s not feeling that heat right now and she can still do this. As easily as she can do any other task with her body. This doesn’t have to affect her any more than spending untold hours on a piece of embroidery. It’s her body, not her. And that way lays freedom. Both in this vision and probably also in her own life.
Her fingers are still around the handle of the tea cup as she blinks back to herself. Herself? Yes, she can feel her drac and there are the familiar emotions and she’s looking at Arthur’s concerned face. With a tilt of her head, she studies him. Yes, she can see the family resemblance, she can remember a not completely dissimilar face above her and what does she feel about that? Do her emotions agree with her logic now that she can study them? She’s not entirely sure… but she probably does agree, because she can’t stop herself from bursting into laughter. Too much.
Too much. She can feel the tears stream down her face even while she is laughing. Her drac is making circles around her and she’s hugging it. It’s the only thing that matters, and Gregory can touch it even less than Lancaster could! It’s just a body, just flesh and blood. Just a vessel to have bullets rip into in duels she can fight for her family. Just a vessel she can use to make John happy and Gregory placated. Just a vessel so her drac can smell the world around them. Free! That’s what she is. Free because her body doesn’t matter, and she couldn’t see that before because this blasted world made her think it mattered. Made her think that it was her. No! She missed the safety of the bars on her old windows. Silly her, her body is the save room her drac lives in!
That makes her want to dance, and why not? So she dances on four paws, up the walls and around the chandelier while laughing for that at Arthur, before she lets herself fall from the ceiling directly into John’s lap and holds on to him the moment she’s back in her human disguise, still laughing.