Chapter 91
Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 90
Quincy had a hard enough time to get out of bed as is, knightly dhampirs have a ridiculous amount of strength, apparently, even asleep, but he eventually did manage to replace himself with a small battalion of stuffed toys, after he finally had the idea of asking the house spirit for them because pillows didn’t do anything, and sneak out of bed. Only to be joined before he can even find the kitchen by that cat that apparently really is Cobb. It talks, and that is just ludicrous, no, he won’t have it.
So that’s the only thing he says, although yes, he obviously makes sure in a passing reflection that he looks the part of beautifully dishevelled. And that new eye colour is superb, too. Yes, he is perfectly pretty without any of this weird talk of shapeshifting and dracs.
“Oh, good morning, honey.” How did he kind of just wander into the right room? Maybe this drac thing of his has a people sense? That would be like him, yes, he likes it. In either case, he nods at Arthur and goes to see what he can fix himself for breakfast.
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Arthur echoes the good morning, finishes his own breakfast, and then rests a hand on Katharina’s back as she climbs out of his lap and up to his shoulder when Gregory follows Quincy into the kitchen. “Ow, claws,” he mutters to her, and stands up, his other arm under her back paws, to carry her to the kitchen door and let her out into the garden.
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Just about to huff at Arthur for letting in the cold air, Quincy pauses, looks at his legs, but no, he’s not somehow forgotten what he’s wearing. Why isn’t he freezing from the draft? “Are we having a sudden mild day?”
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At Quincy’s question, Arthur looks out at the grey and soggy morning, the first light of dawn filtering through the clouds. Some frost glitters out on the grass and bushes. It’s as cold and clammy as December gets, so he closes the door again, looks at Quincy in confusion. “No? Why?” Then he remembers: “Oh, right! Dhampir, you don’t feel the cold the same way.” Seeing how Quincy made his way over to the kitchen cupboard, he adds: “And, uh, you can just ask the house for anything you want. If you want to.”
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“Ri-ght.” Drawing the word out, Quincy starts chuckling, then shimmies his shoulders as he gets over to the table. “Okay, this alone is probably worth being a dhampir, no more cold feet in this nasty wet cold!” At least, he’s grinning until Cobb jumps up on his lap. Quincy unthinkingly shows fangs as he grabs the cat and dumps him off him.
“Ew, cat hair.” Then he decides that deserves even more of the silent treatment, and markedly ignores Cobb. If he wants more, he’ll have to learn to behave, nobody takes the control away from him like that. And he has the actual noble of this household in his pocket, the knight better not think he can do whatever he wants with him.
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Gregory looks decidedly grumpy at that treatment, and Arthur gives him a puzzled look- then Gregory meets his eyes and Arthur can see the glint of mischief in his cat expression. “Don’t even think about it,” he tells him sharply. “I’ll set you on fire.” Gregory does a cat pout, but Arthur doesn’t find out what he’d do next because he hears the phone ring down the hall.
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“Ooh, you have one of those modern things!” That sound makes Quincy perk up, he loves modern things, luxuries and a glimpse at the future.
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“Yes,” Arthur says, a lot less enthusiastic. “And it doesn’t usually ring at this time of day…” Neither Darcy nor John are up, and he can hardly ask a guest to answer it, so, reluctantly, he heads out of the kitchen to answer it.
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Putting both his hands around the tea cup, well, best he can with his long fingers and this far too proper tea cup… Oh, thanks to the house, Quincy supposes, tea mug now. So, tea mug in hand, (and glad that while he might not freeze anymore, he can still enjoy warmth,) Quincy does lean sideways to listen in better. Every little bit of information he can get is fair game, he’d say.
That turns out to be an understatement. The surprised “Oh? Hello, Mrs Harker,” makes him raise an eyebrow, surely that’s just a coincidence. The next moment, he is glad he didn’t take a sip from his tea or it just might have found its way out through his nose because what?! Really that Mrs Harker? Really his mother? How did she…? Oh, of course, the theatre people sold him out. Big surprise. He feels a curl of anger in his lower belly that only gets worse the more he hears.
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Arthur returns to the kitchen feeling a bit surreal and confused, blinks at Quincy. “…You’re related to our lawyer?”
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“Would you believe me that we both try to deny that?” It’s a hiss into his mug. “What the hell did he do now that my mother would call?” Internally he’s cursing, way to ruin his gig, thanks, Mother.
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“Um…” Arthur scoots into his seat again, watches Quincy- yes, he’s looking for any family resemblance to the serious, dark-dressed and dark-haired Harkers, and… he just can’t see it. If someone were to try and make an opposite of Mr Harker, Arthur thinks Quincy would qualify very well. And, of course, at the back of his mind niggles the question: Is that because he gets it from his vampire parent? Is it his father? Though he can’t see much resemblance to Mrs Harker, either…
“She said Mr Harker didn’t come home last night and he might be on his way here, so,” he looks at Gregory, “you’ll need to do your official patron thing because Mr Harker doesn’t approve of, uh… Quincy’s artistic ambitions, I think is how she put it.”
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Quincy snorts at hearing that. “To put it mildly.” Then he focuses on Cobb and his fangs are out again as he makes his voice stern. “And I can take care of myself, thank you very much! If he shows up I’ll talk to him. Don’t even think that I need somebody else for that.”
That would be just the thing missing to make him decide to run for the hills. His patron getting an excuse to hold a debt over him. No, just absolutely no. He isn’t beholden to anybody, he’d rather starve than be held hostage with obligations. He is in control here!
Hissing again, this time he slaps Cobb off him when he tries to jump up on him. This idiotic cute routine is not working on him and he doesn’t need anybody to soothe his poor widdle feelings and if Cobb says something like that again, he will personally go and rip that patron contract up! He can feel the anger strumming through him, why does his father always have to ruin everything?!
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Arthur isn’t sure whether he should say anything, but… but Quincy being Mr Harker’s son (or maybe not)… it bugs him. That can’t be a coincidence, can it?
But that makes him think of another thing. “Um… Is he going to notice your changed eye colour, though? I don’t know how much he knows about dhampirs, but… I don’t think it would be safe if he found out about you or Darcy.”
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For a moment, Quincy wrinkles his nose before his head sinks down on the table and he groans for a long moment, only to end up giggling, maybe a bit hysterically. “That’s an understatement! I grew up with his fear mongering about evil vampires. The idiot is still wearing a crucifix. Shit. I’m in even more trouble than I was before.”
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“Um…” Arthur makes again. Is this his business? But… well, it could be dangerous, so he asks: “So we’re really very sure he’s not a vampire himself, are we?”
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The giggling turns full-blown laughing fit and it takes Quincy a while to manage a wheezed: “Unless he’s an energy vampire who sustains himself by boring you to death!” His father, a vampire! Pff, sure! Not in a million years…
Uh, wait… a vampire and a human make a dhampir. Wait just a bloody second! His head shoots up from the table and he keeps blinking, before sinking back down with a groan. “Ew, great, now I realised I have to think about my mother’s… uh…” He shoots Arthur a side-glance, right, he can’t say things like that. “My mother’s relations…”
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Arthur blushes hotly, but also nods. “Yes, that’s… uh, well, I wouldn’t want to intrude on your… or your mother’s… personal life, but… but, well, vampires are dangerous, so, it’s kind of, um… relevant? Also…” He bites his lip, but… but this is Quincy’s family history, too, so he deserves to know, doesn’t he?
“Also, your mother knows Darcy’s mother- that’s her vampire parent, and… and she, Mrs Harker, I mean, she knows about that and I don’t think she told Mr Harker, so…” He trails off again, gives Quincy a helpless look. “It just all seems way too coincidental and like there’s definitely something going on? I mean, unless you’re adopted, maybe?”
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“I’d be so lucky!” With an eye roll, Quincy crosses his arms and rests his head on top as he tries to think it through, not that he believes he has much chance there. “My mother hasn’t ratted me out to my father… ha, to Harker, take that! So I’m not really surprised. Not that Harker cared whatsoever since mother had Lucy Jr. She’s much more the child he wanted, girl or not.”
“You have a sister?” Arthur asks in surprise.
“What’s so weird about that? She’s a decade younger than me.” Quincy swallows the quip he normally would make about that being very telling about Harker’s virility, but then… if Harker isn’t his father, that’s even weirder. Does his mother know?
“Er… I’m not sure, really,” Arthur says in a tone that makes it an admission. “I just… somehow didn’t consider that you might. …What’s her hair colour?”
“I mean, in all fairness, I wouldn’t believe Harker capable thereof, either… Now I wonder if my sister isn’t his, either. Her hair is deep brown, so no, she’s not a dhampir.” Not that Quincy really wants to think about Harker that closely, but would he really be surprised if the man’s completely impotent and his mother got very bored? No, no he really wouldn’t.
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“So… you wouldn’t put it past your mother to have, er, an affair?” Arthur asks. “Just ’cause she seemed so proper and all…” Well, except for when she was saying hello to Lucy, come to think of it. And there’s the ‘her not telling her husband about Lucy being there and being alive and being a vampire (er, okay, so more like being undead)’ part.
With a shrug Quincy chuckles. “I’m positively biased towards her, so obviously I’d think the best of her, meaning, of course she would be capable of having affairs.”
“Having affairs is thinking the best of her?” That seems like a confusing statement to Arthur. Like… if you give your word to someone, you should keep it, right?
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“Free-thinking, not letting oneself be pushed down by the grey world, confident in one’s own wishes and needs. Yes, definitely the best,” is Quincy’s opinion, underscored with his need to defend his mother from Arthur clearly doubting her, and he won’t have that!
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Well, if looked at it that way, Arthur supposes that doesn’t sound bad. And there’s still a mystery here, and too much coincidence, but they need to focus on the immediate problem. “So… chances of Mr Harker missing that your eye colour has changed? Is there anything we can do?”
Well, he has once held an illusion over Darcy’s dress… But eyes seem trickier, they move so much and the pupil changes and he doesn’t know whether he’d have to consciously account for all that, or whether he could just change the colour of the iris and the rest takes care of itself. He really regrets now that he didn’t get around to practising and learning more about illusion magic.
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“I want to say that there’s no way he’d care enough to look at me close enough, but then, if there’s one thing I can rely on with him, it’s that he’s the biggest possible pain in my… uh, neck.” With a huff, Quincy gets up to go back to his room. “Let me see if I can change the perception with some good makeup. They don’t glow, so as long as the lighting isn’t bright, maybe he’ll be too far up his own arse to see a thing while shouting at me.”
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“Well, it’s December, so bad lighting is easy to come by,” Arthur observes, and decides to wait for any make up results on Quincy before maybe offering other help… After all, though he likes Quincy, he’s still mostly a stranger and, well, it’s always good to have a few cards up your sleeve.
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Maybe Quincy shouldn’t giggle that Darcy decides that whatever he wanted back in the room isn’t as important as trying to side track him with kisses, but she also hasn’t had breakfast yet and she might not mind, but she tastes like something died in her mouth and really, with that old carnivore, what does he know if there might’ve? Ew, just no, so he shoos her to breakfast… which doesn’t work because apparently it’s too early for anything but kissing.
Fine. Fine by him, he can do his makeup, (apparently with her make up brought over from her room via that handy spirit,) while she curls back up on his bed. Once he’s put a proper face on, with just enough greys and blues hidden under his natural makeup to maybe distort the way the colour of his eyes seems, he gets to dressing as impressive as he can. When he asks Darcy if she wouldn’t gift him something fitting for having noble patrons, she just mumbles that clothes are overrated, but if he wants something, he should ask the house.
He’ll remember that tactic, sounds like he can get all kinds of gift demands out of her if he just asks early in the morning. For right now though, one rich vest will do. He doesn’t want to make his father, no, Harker, (and that still puts a grin on his face,) think him more of a whore than he is. By the time he’s ready with his clothes and hair, too, it seems that it’s late enough for Darcy to start stretching and coming slowly awake. He’ll take that as his chance to bring her downstairs.
Wait, come to think of it, when did Cobb stop being around? Not that he minds, an absent patron is an easy-to-deal-with one, after all.
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It’s only after Quincy leaves the kitchen and he looks around that Arthur realizes that he has no idea where Gregory went or when he left. But he’s now nowhere to be seen. Now what? Arthur wonders, but shuffling steps in the corridor announce John’s arrival. He looks like he didn’t sleep well, his skin kind of grey, but he only grunts and waves Arthur off when he asks him if he’s okay.
Well, it’s John, but even by his standards, his conversation is particularly grunt-based that morning when Arthur gives him the basics of Quincy being related to the Harkers, actually, and him finding that suspicious, but also that Mr Harker might be arriving soon from London because he disapproves of Quincy’s acting, Mrs Harker called. That gets John to heave himself back to his feet, drain his cup of tea, and announce he’s going to check the trains.
Arthur isn’t about to argue with John when he’s grumpier than usual, so he only thanks him and then decides to nip outside himself to check on Hannibal. He’ll hear if anyone approaches the castle from the stables, surely, and he doesn’t know what else to do with himself.
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When Darcy gets up fully, Quincy’s not there anymore and she wants to pout at that, but then again, he let her stay all night. So it’s okay, he was up earlier, she can’t expect him to wait forever. John’s not at breakfast anymore, either, though, and he often waits just long enough to kiss her good morning before he gets to his workout. And by the time she’s done with her own breakfast, no Gregory demanding wifely duties from her, either.
That one probably shouldn’t surprise her. If she’s lucky, he’s pestering Llew, if she’s unlucky, he’s pestering Quincy… Is that why Quincy was gone when she got up? In either case, she needs to check in on her animals, without Gregory-caused delay she’s only feeling more energetic and in a much better mood. Today she can focus on being there for them, rather than needing them herself to stop feeling all hollow and close to breaking into shards.
No, today is good, she decides. Walking outside, she waves at Arthur, too. He’s getting much better with Hannibal these days. She’s so glad that he still enjoys Hannibal. Him having that makes the disgust of her knowing what she sold to Llew for it easier to bear.
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It’s early for Darcy to be out, so Arthur rides over to wish her a good morning, and to ask her if she knows about the whole Harker situation already.
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Shaking her head, she tries to come up with any reason why there may be a Harker situation. She can’t imagine John having made any mistake with the paperwork that would get their lawyer involved. “Can you tell me while I take care of the animals?”
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“Sure,” Arthur agrees, takes just a few minutes to pop off Hannibal’s bridle and saddle and store them safely on a dry piece of railing while he sends him off to play, follows Darcy inside the hospital and gives her a hand while he repeats all the things he already filled John in on.
As she listens, Darcy wants to focus, but she has such an extreme urge to find Quincy, to protect him, to growl at Harker for him and also, to growl at Harker because clearly, he’s being a very, very bad papa to Quincy! Just, uh, Quincy doesn’t think Harker’s his papa and Mrs Harker knows her mother and… oh… oh dear… she turns beet-red and hides her face against one of the puppies’ fur.
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“Um…” Arthur says, because… well, it looks like Darcy just thought of something? Something embarrassing, going by how she’s hiding her face, but… it could be important? “Is something… the matter?”
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How can she possibly tell Arthur?! Oh no! And what if she’s wrong? Should she make him uncomfortable if it might not be anything? But it’s Arthur. He likes information. Throwing furtive glances at him, she finally mumbles: “Just… if Mrs Harker knows Mother and um well, there is a vampire they kind of both know and there is that… Do you remember from the dhampir book… Um, that mean thing hunters use to control us, um, this thing about… uh, well, family?”
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“I was thinking that it was way too much coincidence that there’s another dhampir and his mother knows your mother and all. So, er, who’s the vampire they both know? And…” Dhampirs and family? What was there about dhampirs and family? Wait, he remembers something, something about… dhampirs wanting to drain family members? …Like Darcy kind of, uncharacteristically, did with Quincy? He blinks. “Um… you think the you-accidentally-draining Quincy was because of the dhampir family thing…?”
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Oh, thank the night, yes, she can just leave it at that and not talk about the fact that he makes her flustered despite being the opposite of attractive, the opposite of John. She really had no idea why she would possibly ever want to kiss somebody so… floral, but she woke up, smelled him in the room, and he needed to shove her off him she wanted him so badly. Um, not what she meant to think about again! Oops, Quincy and his blasted fangs and not leaving her mind!
“My vampire grandsire, the one Papa, Daddy, and Harker… oh. Oh! -and a man named Quincey hunted down because he seemed to be after Mrs Harker after he had turned mother- What if… um, well, you know…” She hopes that’s vague enough for Arthur not to be uncomfortable.
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“He, uh, found Mrs Harker and, uh… didn’t turn or kill her?” Arthur blushes a bit, but, well, this is important. “Instead she had, uh, an affair with him and now there’s Quincy?”
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“Papa and Daddy really don’t like that vampire.” She bites her lip, pets the puppy still in her arms, then holds it out to Arthur because she can’t think of a nice way to say what she has to. “What if it wasn’t an affair? What if she’s ashamed because the vampire is a real meanie and well… um, didn’t ask her?” Men do that, she would know after all.
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Arthur takes the puppy happily and hugs it, because, no, he doesn’t like to think about it, but it’s entirely possible. “And they’re supposed to have all these powers… like making people forget things.” He slants a look at Darcy. “…You don’t think it’s the same one that’s maybe around?”
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Woah! Down, down, what just happened? She had to put her hands right in front of her mouth because her drac made her bark, it’s all fluffed up and protective and kind of miffed at Arthur for suggesting that. “Uh, I think my drac is saying that was very mean of you?”
Arthur gives her a surprised look, soothes down the puppy that jumped, too. “Er… Sorry?” he offers. “I… just don’t want to overlook possibilities or threats? It just feels like I’m looking at… at a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing and the rest all jumbled up, so I only get the sense that there is a picture there, but I can’t put it together. It’s very frustrating,” he admits sheepishly. “And also scary, because, well… vampires.”
“I’m sorry, too.” With a sigh, she pets her own shoulders, tries to soothe her drac like Arthur is soothing the puppy. It just… did she misunderstand it? Is it not Quincy’s drac after all that made her feel better? It just feels like… is it not feeling freer since she met Quincy? But she knows it was that day, she feels like she can pinpoint that much. Things just didn’t feel as bad anymore. But she can’t put her finger on it, either. “I get the frustration. My drac, uh, and I, also feel like we’re overlooking something, missing something. But I’m not scared and I promise to protect you. I always will, Arthur-dear.” Daring, she reaches over and gently rubs her hand over his arm with a smile.
“Thank you.” He smiles back at her, then grows serious again. “But, well… vampires supposedly really don’t like dhampirs, so… so we’ll need to protect you, too? I don’t want anything to happen to you…”
For just a moment, she can hear her given-up inner voice about her gothic fairy tale not being worth saving, then she shakes herself strongly, her drac barked again and Quincy kneeling in front of her flashed in front of her eyes. That burning feeling in her chest is back with a vengeance, making the mask crack a little from the inside, it just can’t hold against the strong emotion she can’t name. No, she will protect him, whatever else, living for him makes her life worth it! So she nods at Arthur. “Me, but more importantly mon sang du coeur!”
“…Who?” Arthur asks, because, right, he doesn’t speak French.
Putting her hand over her chest, over that heat she feels with every heartbeat, Darcy closes her eyes and sighs, lets her fangs descend. “Blood of my heart. Quincy. If you worry about me because I’m a dhampir, please, worry more for him.”
“Ah, okay,” he says. “And, well, I like Quincy, so far, but… but I know you a lot better, and, um, trust you a lot more, so I can’t help but kind of be more concerned for you. Not that I want anything to happen to him, either!” he adds quickly, because he’s sweet like that.
“I appreciate it. I really do, but I’m going to be so cross with my lawyer if he is being mean to Quincy anywhere I can smell it, and even more cross with any vampires who try being mean to him, too. And that’s that!” She stomps her foot and pouts before going back to seeing to her animal friends, because now she has to go check if John already caught Mr Harker. She’s so proud of him, of course he would immediately go and protect Quincy. He’s good like that, even if he’d never admit it.
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Arthur’s not sure whether Darcy ‘being cross’ would have any effect on any vampires other than getting her killed, but… Well, there doesn’t seem much point in saying so, because he knows how Darcy will charge headlong into danger. He’ll just have to keep his eyes open and watch their backs and do what he can, he decides, while he gives the puppy another cuddle and then puts it back with its siblings to help Darcy with the rest of the animals.
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Just about to hold down another puppy and remove a tick, she really needs to revaluate if selling herself to Llew again might be worth it to deal with this perpetual issue in the ever spring-like estate, Darcy squeaks, startled. Oh no, not Gregory in her head again, she doesn’t want to know what horrible thing he’s thinking about her now… Wait, no, he’s talking at her, not about her. He’s in London (because of course he is) but… oh blast! “Arthur! We have to find Quincy. We have to go to London. Fast. Somebody attacked his father!”