Chapter 98
Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 97
Darcy insists they also get John, for protection. Arthur’s not sure about that, but then, how good are any of them against a vampire? So if they’re being reckless, they might as well all be reckless together, he supposes, and tries not to listen to the voice in the back of his head that points out that wouldn’t it be better for some of them to survive if not all of them do?
So they all meet at the London door in the library some fifteen minutes later, Quincy still fidgeting with his cuffs to make sure they’re sitting right. And they’re just about to head through (should they knock, now that Mrs Harker is using the house on the other side, Arthur wonders) when… Gregory appears. He looks up at them all, startled, from his spot down on the floor as a cat, announces: “He wasn’t there!” and… disappears again.
Arthur slumps against the wall with his shoulder in relief. Yes, he thinks that’s relief, that Gregory is okay, that they don’t need to go. Also confusion, because… because how was he not there? Why was he not there? Why didn’t Gregory stay around to answer some more questions about the details? And worry, because… because scary as a vampire is, it’s even more scary if there’s a vampire and you don’t know where he is. Or what he’s up to. Did he find out they knew? Is his plan in motion now that Harker is dead?
Grunting about Gregory being real useful, John groans. “Now what?”
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Quincy hisses at the empty spot that held a cat a moment earlier. He has all this nervous energy coiled around himself, and the worry, and the hypothetical scenarios running away with him only worse and worse, driving a hysterical shaking into his hands.
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Darcy can’t watch him do that, there is that hot emotion in her chest again, a flame so bright that she wonders if others can see it glow, but maybe she can let Quincy warm his hands on it. She takes both of his and asks if he wants to go up to the roof. That’s where he normally goes, right?
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Does he want to? Part of him remembers Cobb shoving him yesterday… and that settles that. He isn’t letting Cobb have that much power over him! That bastard only just, again!, tried to rip control from him. He’s glad Basarab isn’t at the theatre. It means Cobb couldn’t ruin it! And if he can’t march to that then… then he needs to find something else to do with all this worry, all this energy, and of course his Cycy offered. His queen of the night. And he talked about her dark wings, didn’t he? No, no more control handed away.
He swoops her up into his arms and she doesn’t complain, she lets him, she understands that he takes care of himself and is just letting her in.
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Quincy’s standing at the edge of the roof again, staring down, willingly this time, and sets Darcy down next to him. He’s seen her turn into a bat, strange as that was, but now he’s asking how strong she is. She’s his queen of the night, they are queens together, he said he’ll let her teach him how to be together in the night and that means taking his own agency back.
Taking back his security from that idiotic fear. This is his roof, his spot to scream at the Divine, to dance with fate and win. He refuses, he refuses to follow! He refuses to give up his one little hope of love. And he refuses to feel like he let himself be coerced yesterday into going further than he wanted to, just to be able to influence the situation even if he couldn’t fully control it.
His Cycy tells him that she is strong, also that she can fly…
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She’s about to tilt her head and ask what he is after when he takes her hand to kiss it and grins at her with so much determination in his eyes that she blushes. Blushes harder when he tells her “You will catch me!”, only to jump out into the empty air.
Before her eyes have even finished widening in shock, her drac dives after him. She can’t change right on the roof there, she’s in the sun, but there are spots of shade on the side of the building. All she has to do is be in one of those, but four stories go by far too quickly. She can manage to get into her big bat form, she can catch him, but by the time she has him, she knows she’ll never manage to beat her wings.
Instead, she holds Quincy tight and slams her wings into the brick wall.
The speckled patterns of light and shade on the wall make some parts of her stick and some slide on. The thin skin on her wings rips in several places, but she doesn’t care, she doesn’t mind the pain. All she cares about is that she did what he asked of her. She did catch him!
She was good. She was good for him.
And she knows she was when she can hear his rapid breathing change into laughter. To her heart there’s an unmistakable drac sound underneath, she can hear his drac laugh and bounce. Bounce right along with her own as the heart-pounding excitement catches up with her, as she gets slammed hard with all her hunger for feeling alive, with all the elation she knows only pain and living hard can give her.
He understands it! Quincy can feel it, too! She’s not alone! Her drac is not alone.
They’re both still laughing when she climbs back up onto the roof and lets him out of her feet’s grip. Quincy slaps at her and demands she takes a sensible form.
She thought she was in a sensible form! But the moment she changes back to being human, he grabs her and drags her against himself, his lips hot on hers and now she understands what he meant. She’s not thinking for a second, not hesitating for a second before her fangs are in his lips, and with them that exuberant feeling her drac is showering her with. There’s an echo, his drac alongside hers, and she forgets the world outside of them.
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Quincy can’t decide if he wants to claw hard into her back with both hands or if he wants to have a hand free to flip off the Divine! Yes! It was just whatever this bloody feeling is that made him do Cobb yesterday. Yes, his own feeling, that same bloody rush that he feels from his Cycy.
She caught him! As he told her to. Now that’s how he wants his relationships to be.
He’s in control here and if he can be in control of his queen of the night then he has to have a chance of being in control of Basarab, too! He has to still have a chance!
Maybe it’s something to do with dracs? With not having been properly in possession of his powers? Dracs seem to be emotional things, (he loves that!,) so maybe that’s why he never managed to fall in love before. Maybe he still has a future… and that thought brings his mood crashing down.
A future for as long as he manages to keep out of the police’s grasp, and with Harker’s death, they’ll just come calling again. And without Harker… Who’s going to get him out of the brink the next time?
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Feeling the sudden shift in Quincy, both from being so close against him and through her fangs, Darcy leans back to look at him. More importantly, to sniff at him. Is that a bit of fear? She immediately growls and declares that she’ll protect him.
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Can she? She’s a baroness, isn’t she? Not that that has always helped other common-born deviants. Sometimes all attempts are for nothing and the noble title only shields the person holding it. Still, she’d try, she’d really try for him, he feels that with a certainty he has no clue where it comes from. And he just proved that he’s in control, so it’s okay, it’s not weakness showing, it’s him using what he has.
So he starts telling her about his fears. About his criminal record and his conviction that he won’t make it long enough to ever manage to fall in love. If he doesn’t die in prison or exile, he’ll catch some kind of disease and nobody cares about commoners like him. The tears start streaming and he notices how Darcy is staring at him, spellbound, eyes shining, fingers reverently tracing after his tears.
“You said… you said I’m your queen of the night. A queen would never let that happen, would she? I’ll protect you. I’m a baroness! I can do lots of things… and… and I’m a dhampir, I can do things that… I can protect you in other ways, and I’m willing to.”
Did she just offer violence? He’s not sure if he should go white or green. He doesn’t do so well with violence, but somehow, he knows she means it in the most caring way. She’s so open, so easy to read, and he thinks he caught some thoughts there, too. They’re cramming so closely into each other that he can’t really determine what she’s whispering and what she’s just whispering in her mind.
Somehow that feels even better.
He knows she’s sincere. She’s telling him nothing but the truth and he has her completely wrapped around his little finger. He’s in control of her and she just might have some control over his possible future and… and, for once, he’s okay with that. He’ll make it equal. Give her as much as he’s getting from her. And he realised during breakfast that means he’ll have to play the affair for her idiot husband so that she can enjoy her own affair in peace.
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Not about to just stand there like a dolt and watch the fucking molly carry his girl off, John grunts, sticks his hands in his pockets and gets to the study. Looks like he won’t get a proper workout in today either. Fine, fucking fine. He can get some work done, at least . Arthur even comes help. Probably to give himself something to do. He always looks like he’s one worry away from having a heart-attack. Poor guy. Can’t be easy when Gregory’s the main disaster one grew up around. No wonder he’s always paranoid.
Paranoid would be preferable only a few hours later. Not that John’s not glad to see Darcy smile. Beam, really. But does it have to be at the fucking molly? Who obviously was crying earlier. He supposes the girls had a heart-to-heart, and he wants to think that’s great for his girl, just… just that he would have to be wilfully blind not to see that Darcy is making eyes at the fucking molly.
His girl… his girl looks so smitten at another man. He wants to hate him. Wants to feel justified in his jealousy (when he pretends it is jealousy and not pure fear of losing her.) But the molly is doing the correspondence for them! The part they all hate doing, and he even offered. Why does he always have to be so fucking agreeable? John can’t take it anymore. He just can’t. If he doesn’t get out of the room, he’ll either start crying or punching, and he’s honestly not sure which one would be worse.
So he tells them he’ll keep an eye on the situation over with the Harkers. That helps, Lucy Jr is an easy kid to look after. He’s dealt with way worse back in his old community, and no, he’s not thinking about that, either. No, he’s just focusing on the easiest thing in the world. Looking after a kid. He wishes sometimes everybody was that easy to deal with. Kids have simple needs and simple problems, not like the cluster fuck his own life is.
And just focusing on that helps calm him down, especially because she latches on right to his side when he tries to help her with one of her English lessons by changing the sentences so they make for a book-keeping example and include more maths. She’s like clockwork, too, demands her tea on time, doesn’t bother him at all, at least until she asks what’s for dinner.
Right. It’s kind of getting there in time and he can’t hear Mrs Harker in the kitchen. He’s been down in the living room with Lucy Jr, he would have noticed if she left on an errand. Did he not hear her go into the garden? No, that’s a fast check and she’s not there, either. Did he hear her go upstairs a while ago? He thinks he did. Telling Lucy Jr there’s something in the pantry (and making sure the house got that hint) and she can see to dinner herself at the right time if no adult tells her otherwise, he goes over into the library. No Mrs Harker there, either, but obviously an Arthur. “Did Mrs Harker say where she’d go? Lucy Jr is asking about dinner and I realised last I noticed her mother was when she went upstairs.”
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Arthur looks up at where John is leaning over the mezzanine railing, surprised. “Mrs Harker? I haven’t seen her? I thought she was over at my house…” ‘His’ house still sounds kind of strange. The London house? Yeah, maybe that’s better.
Anyway… Mrs Harker is missing? He hasn’t been in the library that long, maybe she came through before he was here… maybe she went to see Quincy? That sounds reasonable, and he suggests as much to John.
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He’d be so lucky. Getting Darcy and Quincy separated would mean John has a chance of a nice evening after all. Here’s to hoping. So he goes search, ends up at Darcy’s room, but he can already hear both of them giggling. Unless Mrs Harker is also sitting in there… Are they having a girl’s night or something? Nope, just the two dhampirs, both on Darcy’s bed but thank fuck both fully dressed. Problem is, that means that Mrs Harker is kind of missing and that could be a real issue. Quincy and Darcy agree with him there and rush back to the library to let Arthur know.
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Arthur groans a little, because here he was already trying to distract himself and not worry too much about wherever Gregory disappeared to and whatever he’s up to- Darcy can sense his direction, surely she’d notice and say something if something happened to him? But anyway, now Mrs Harker is missing? “She’s, um… she’s a very sensible person, though, isn’t she? Where would she go? And why wouldn’t she tell anyone?” It’s almost like she snuck out, but… but that doesn’t really seem like her at all. “…And how do we find her?” He tilts his head, looks at Darcy. “Could you follow her scent?”
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Changing to her wolf form directly, Darcy nods, but Quincy puts a hand on her head. “My mother is a grown woman; can we please not treat her like a lost child? If she did sneak out, then I’m sure there’s a good reason for it.” Not that he can come up with any… unless, Basarab is missing, too. Are they… um, it’s not exactly eloping, but still. His mother wouldn’t just dump his little sister on him, no, he refuses to believe that she’d do that to him… Also, stealing the one man he ever had a crush on! She better not dare!
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That… Okay, that’s true. Mrs Harker is an adult, Arthur acknowledges, adds a hesitant: “But still…”
Turning human again, Darcy looks between all of them, unsure what to do now, she wants to be good for both Arthur and Quincy, after all.
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Is he seeing things? John slightly narrows his eyes at Darcy, but no, with how the angle is changing from her looking around, he’s sure that it’s not just a trick of the light. That can’t be anything good. And he better not let her know. Fuck, he doesn’t want to be suspicious of his own girl. “Arthur, you know your house best. Can you come over with me and check again?”
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Arthur gives John a confused look because… his house really isn’t that big? John could easily search it? But if John’s asking, he has a reason, so he nods his agreement. “Sure.”
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Making sure to close the door, and walk downstairs because he knows how good his girl’s ears are, John balls a fist, but stops himself from slamming it against the wall. Maybe he’s overreacting. “Her eyes are red.”
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Her…? “Red? Darcy’s eyes?” John’s tension immediately has Arthur feel like his own is coiling tighter in him. “That… what does that mean? Why would her eye colour change? Red eyes are a vampire thing, aren’t they?”
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“Definitely a vampire thing. I’ve seen Lucy’s eyes go red when she uses her powers. Sometimes Darcy’s do, too, but it’s a glow and gone, now they are just solid red, no glow.” His fist is so tight that John feels the strain of his skin over his knuckles, but fuck, they were worried about the vampire who visited her. “What if… you know that thing where Gregory is in her mind and Seward thinks it’s likely a drac thing, what if a vampire can do that?”
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Arthur feels his eyes widen. “Like… read her mind at a distance? The hunter books talk about blood links, and how you could make a dhampir know which direction a vampire was in if you could get enough blood from that vampire to give to the dhampir… Which, yes, Darcy can do with Gregory. So a vampire might be able to do with her, and, you’re right, maybe other things, too, I mean, it’s probably a powerful vampire with lots of practise… What do we do?”
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With a groan, John leans against the wall behind him, fist to his forehead. “Not say anything where she can hear us. Fuck. And not spend too long on searching this tiny house. If that guy is listening in, we can’t let him know that we know.”
Arthur nods rapidly, yes, yes, that’s true. “Right, so- we’re assuming she’s currently compromised. Think Mrs Harker not showing back up in time for dinner is related? If yes, we should look for her, but not in a way Darcy knows about. But then I don’t know how we’d find out where to look for her.”
“I think I might.” Quincy steps lightly down the stairs, wrings his hands for a moment. “Sorry for sneaking up on you, but… Cycy scared me there for a moment. You know I have that thing where I hear thoughts. I don’t think one of hers really was her. It makes no sense for her to think that ‘apparently they are not involved at the abbey, fascinating’.”
Arthur feels a shiver down his spine, wraps his arms around him, looks between the others. “You think he’s… talking to her? Or… or mind-controlling her?”
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“She insisted the whole time that everything is fine. That her vampire is the nice one. I even wondered if she made out with him.” John growls, then remembers that Lucy Jr is still in the house and, oh fuck. “The abbey. That’s where Mrs Harker might be. If there are two vampires, if one of them is your father… she might be working with him.”
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Going pale, Quincy nods. That would be very much like his mother. “She’s trying to keep me safe. But that means she’s out there, alone, between vampires potentially fighting. Can… can we somehow check up on her. Please?”
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“Well, some vampire here isn’t nice,” Arthur says, thinking of Mr Harker’s death. Wait, Mrs Harker said that she wouldn’t call Quincy’s vampire father ‘nice’, but apparently now that’s not stopping her from maybe working with him? So maybe it was him who killed Mr Harker? This is all way too confusing, and he needs more damn information!
So he takes a deep breath. “If Darcy’s being controlled, she can’t go out there. And, um, no offense, but you aren’t exactly the… in-the-field type and also really new to your powers,” he says to Quincy, then looks at John. “I’ll go. I can take Hannibal, that means I can get out of there fast if I have to, and without Darcy and Gregory, I’ve got the best chances at defending myself if it comes to that.”
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“I’ll stay with Darcy, if that arse tries to make her do anything, I’ll take her over into my dreamscape,” John agrees with Arthur’s plan, then groans. “Molly can stay with me, too, somebody has to look out for the girls.”
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Despite everything, that has Quincy snort. “Thanks, you big, strong idiot. Now if you can find your brain underneath that machismo, we can agree on me preferring to stay in. I’m no good around violence and I doubt you can grunt circles around the vampire listening in as well as I can talk.”
“…Do we tell her Mrs Harker is here, after all? That she came back, everything’s fine? Or do we say I, uh… went to check the grounds for her, just in case? What’s the story?” Arthur asks.
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“It’s Darcy’s grounds, she’ll be out there and getting all her night friends to look.” Even if his girl is mind-controlled, it took him this long to notice, whoever that arse is, he’s good at making her act normal. No, they have to lie to her, even though everything on his inside is twisting around that necessity as if it was an exploding bullet.
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Quincy can see the pain and okay, maybe Blondie is a homophobic idiot, but he clearly cares for Cycy and that ought to be worth something. “Hey, manly man, you’ll make it up to her later. She thinks the world of you, just so you know. I can’t get her to stop gushing about you. We’ll figure this out and then you can twirl her through the air or whatever big guys like you do.”
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Ugh, the fucking molly’s at it again, being agreeable, fuck this. Let’s get this over with, or started, or whatever, just so long as they do something! Marching back upstairs and into the library, John plays up looking sheepish. He didn’t check the basement, false alert, how about dinner?
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Arthur, following John back to the library, decides he can work with this, nods, then smacks his forehead. Dinner! Yes, but, he better check on Hannibal, he promised him he’d see him before dinner and he forgot! Start without him, he’ll be back soon!
He doesn’t give Darcy time to argue with that, or… who knows what the vampire in her mind might be up to, and instead hurries out the library, asking the house for his coat (and a set of binoculars once he’s well out of hearing range. Not that he’s sure how well those’ll work in the dark, but…)
He rushes down to the stables as fast as he can, gets Hannibal out, explains the basics to him while he tacks up as fast as he can: Heading out into a dangerous situation, if necessary, he needs to run them back behind the wards as fast as he can- if he thinks Arthur’s hurt or acting strangely, or they’re being attacked, don’t wait, Arthur’s counting on him to carry him back.
Hannibal snorts his agreement, curls his lips to show the whole, long row of his teeth, and nudges Arthur’s shoulder while Arthur throws a strap around his neck to hold on to. Because he’s not good enough to stay on at full speed without a little help. Hannibal’s reassurance makes a warm feeling swell in Arthur’s chest, and he takes a single moment to throw his arms around Hannibal and hug him tight.
Then he turns around, ready to jog them out of the stables, and… nearly jumps out of his skin at the pair of gleaming eyes behind him, near the floor.