Chapter 105
Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 104
Having led them down the corridor after closing the door very softly behind them, Quincy crosses his arms and tries not to show that he really doesn’t want to be here in front of his father. Although, upon another glare, is his father nervous? It’s small, the signs of his emotions are well guarded but, well, Quincy did spend a bloody month fawning over Basarab and trying to learn all his little tells.
And now, next to his mother, yes, the hand Basarab has on her arm is a bit tight, the tilt of his head is meant to hide his lips under the moustache, the way his shoulders are pulled back is a bit too tense to just be prideful standing upright. Basarab doesn’t know how to talk to him either… and part of Quincy wants to just start laughing hysterically about it.
Fine! Fine, maybe it’s vindictive but if he doesn’t hold on to that bit of power, he’ll dissolve right back into tears about his lost hope, so he plays up his own haughtiness. “What do you need?”
“Um, we need to know whether Darcy agreed to the enthrallment or not,” Arthur tells him. “I thought maybe John could find out in the dreamscape?”
“That could be difficult.” Pondering what John is pulling on Darcy in there, Quincy considers if he could ask in a way that would make sense for ‘dream Radu’, but he’s neither sure that John could ask something so specific nor that Darcy can answer based on anything more than emotions. “He’s had to start fudging pretty badly with his dream powers. I don’t think she can give a fully coherent answer. And giving him that task might be hard on him, too. He’s straining.”
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Hearing that, Mina elbows Vlad and, despite one quick look at her that has her try hard not to snort with how much she can read the ‘but what if I get it wrong?’ in his eyes, he speaks up.
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“You seem to be in control of the situation, however.” He wants to add a “Son” to it, he wants to acknowledge that so badly, but he remembers how that went yesterday, so he refrains from it. Lets himself be glared at again, lets Quincy accept that compliment before he goes on. “There is another option, but it would require some of Darcy’s blood. Do you have consent from her to it?”
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Is Basarab kidding him? Is he flustered? Then again, well, this whole biting thing seemed pretty sexual to him, so, okay, now he snorted. And, wait, if Basarab flusters easily then screw him, revenge time. “What, need me to get some and pass it on to you? Now I’m getting somewhere with the flirting, after a month of rebuttal? I thought I was the one with the family thing.”
Oh yes, that landed, that landed nicely! Good, let him fry, he deserves it! But Darcy needs the help, so after basking in the discomfort and in his father throwing a helpless look at his mother, Quincy adds on: “She was fine with me biting her, so yes, I can help. Help her.”
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Quincy is being very snarky, Arthur thinks… But, well, it’s not his business to take sides in a family dispute, so instead he asks Mr Basarab: “How long is the testing going to take? Just because John’s been at this for twenty-four hours or so now, I don’t think he can keep this up much longer… He’ll need a break and a nap, at least…”
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Glad for the important question he can flee to, away from the deserved vitriol he is getting from his son, Vlad can at least truthfully promise that he moves fast. “I could also take over for a while on keeping the young lady unconscious.”
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“That’s not what John is doing. Unless you can make it seamless, you might destroy all of Blondie’s hard work to make her believe you never took her away from Radu.” Quincy’s arms are still crossed and much as he wants to keep huffing at Basarab, this is also about taking care of Blondie and Cycy. John definitely could use the break, but he’s seen how worried he got even with the short breaks. Something about her drac being harder to keep under than her human mind if it gets suspicious.
After a moment of obvious surprise, Basarab sighs. “I cannot make that promise, I am afraid. Mind craft is my brother’s domain, not mine.”
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“That’s what he’s building her?” Arthur asks, impressed. “On the fly? But… Well, I guess we better figure it out and decide what we’re going to do about the whole situation quickly, then?” He looks between the other three.
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“We better. That idiot will kill himself for her before he admits to not being able to keep it up. So let me get that blood and then you do with it what you can. Make a decision on that enthrallment.” Just about to ask the house for, well, something to put the blood in, (and yes, not being squeamish whatsoever around blood anymore feels still funny to him,) Quincy pauses and chuckles. “Is spit going to be a problem?”
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At least that question Vlad can answer easily enough: it would be. “I can be back from the court within an hour or two. In the absence of Mr Silver’s ability to answer any questions, should not her husband make a decision as to which method we try?”
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Okay, that has Quincy snort again. “I can try to see where my boyfriend ran off to now, but just saying, maybe rely more on consensus. I’m off to apparently cutting my queen then.” And since that is just about as good an excuse as Quincy is going to get to run out of this discussion, he takes it.
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Arthur finds himself looking around, because… yes, where is Gregory again? “Um, Gregory’s not very… scientifically-minded, so he’ll be happy for us to figure out the best solution,” he offers. Right? Gregory would just ask him to figure it out, anyway.
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The best solution is likely what she should be focusing on, but Mina can’t help herself, ‘boyfriend’ and ‘queen’? This sounds like her son is digging his heels in on the household, and well, that’s Lucy’s little girl, so she is not complaining one bit, especially because she can imagine Lucy’s delighted giggle at that scandalous constellation.
For right now, though, she has to elbow Vlad, who is likely stuck on the same words for other reasons. “Then we’ll make the decision based on data. Once our son has delivered the blood, my husband can bring us some additional information. While he is doing that, Arthur, help me with dinner.”
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Help with dinner? Well, he supposes he can do that while they wait, Arthur thinks, and nods his agreement. “…As long as you don’t need me to cook anything. Because I don’t know anything about cooking,” he adds- remembers that time he and Darcy were hunting through the kitchen to try things out and the house wouldn’t even let them light the stove. He’s pretty sure that was the house not letting them light the stove. In everyone’s best interest, probably.
Mrs Harker doesn’t need him for any actual cooking, just for cutting up vegetables. And while Arthur can’t remember ever having done that before, either, it’s not terribly difficult. And he’s glad to have something to do, because… because what if this Radu convinced Darcy to let him do the enthrallment?
And Mr Basarab is certainly wary of his brother, which… If the scary vampire that freaked out Dr Seward and Art back then is worried about this one, Arthur is very worried indeed. He’ll need to ask more questions about what exactly that Radu’s powers are, what all he can do. But Darcy first.
So Arthur eats dinner with Mrs Harker and her children, and that’s a strange experience. It’s so… family-like? Though Quincy doesn’t stay long, he heads off with a plate for John after eating his dhampir-sized portion.
Lucy Jr doesn’t seem too concerned with what’s going on with the rest of them, but then maybe she’s a bit too little to really follow it. Arthur is kind of glad that she and Mrs Harker take up each other’s attention, mostly, so he can just finish his own meal, and then he’s recruited for the clean-up, after, too, and that’s just about finished when Mr Basarab is back.
And not looking comfortable whatsoever. After a short hushed conversation with Mrs Harker, it is her who scoffs and pulls Arthur back in. “As you are her friend, not somebody with a romantic stake in the situation, I do believe my husband is overly worried about the emotional impact of the information. Especially as it seems we cannot communicate with John anyway. As it turns out, yes, Darcy seems to have gone willingly into the enthrallment.”
Arthur groans a little. “That’ll make it a lot harder to break the enthrallment, right? Like… a lot?”
Both Mr Basarab and Mrs Harker nod, but she is the one who takes charge, asking for a black board and some chalk. It’s the house that obliges, to a scoff from Mrs Harker, who seems to only reluctantly accept the offer but then goes on to bullet point down their options for breaking the enthrallment:
– Counter enthralling, either with stronger vitae or for her to trick Radu into it (dubious if possible)
– Enthrallment or blood bond involving true love
After a moment of contemplation Mr Basarab adds another point:
– Isolation from blood exchange (may take months)
“…Do we know any powerful, trustworthy vampires for counter enthralling…?” Arthur asks, slides a side-ways look at Mr Basarab.
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Vlad sees the look but shakes his head vehemently, hands clasped tight behind his back to control his revulsion at the thought. “I am sorry, but I refuse. It would be the emotional equivalent of forcing her to marry me, and I would not do that to any woman, let alone my own grandchild.”
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That, Arthur has to admit, is a disturbing thought. “…And, am I understanding that right, it would leave her enthralled to you- or the other vampire – instead, rather than both the enthrallments… cancelling each other out? So we’d still need to then let that enthrallment wear off or something?”
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“Indeed it would.” Looking at the list and running through his long memory, Vlad begins to wonder. “There might be other options, although they likely are very risky. Blood bonds break upon death.” He reaches for the chalk and adds:
– Turning her into a vampire
“But…” the young scholar says, bites his lip in a gesture that highlights just how young he is. “But that’d be killing her?”
“Precisely why it would work. I am not comfortable with the idea, either, but it is an option. We should have all possible options at least under consideration.”
Handing the chalk to his wife as she reaches for it, Vlad is curious what she is thinking. “This is all blood magic. From what I understand, turning somebody involves draining them of blood. What if that is the factor?”
– Draining her blood to cleanse her of Radu’s but keeping her alive (?)
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“…Or we figure out a way to kill Radu,” Arthur says. If they’re considering all options… “I know it won’t break the enthrallment as such, but then he can’t use her to spy on us, or take her away, and the enthrallment will wear off eventually.”
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Vlad’s hands grow even tighter as he schools his tone into neutrality. He will not permit anybody to harm his brother. His brother does not deserve death. His insanity is not his fault. “My own reluctance aside, the young lady entered the enthrallment willingly. Do you want to be the one explaining to her that you murdered a man she believes she loves?”
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Arthur, much to his own surprise, finds himself meeting the eyes of the man – vampire – directly, feels a cold, hard ball in his middle like steel, like resolution. “And how willing is willing? He can read thoughts, can’t he? He’s four hundred years old. You’re telling me he couldn’t say and do just the right things to get her to agree?”
He’s shared this worry with Darcy, he remembers, and she said it was fine. But was it? How can she really know, under the influence of magic like that? How can any of them? “He’s running around gruesomely murdering people to frame you. He’s emotionally raping my friend. So, yeah, I’m not feeling particularly charitable towards him right now. And I will do whatever it takes to free my friend.”
And he will, he realizes. Not recklessly, not blindly. But anything he can and needs to do, he will.
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Memories of his little brother through the centuries flash through Vlad’s mind, and he takes his hands from behind his back to place them on the table as he sits. No, he will not back down. “He is insane and these actions are extreme, even for him. I want to protect my grandchild just as much as you do, and I have been ruthless in my own life, too, but I will not kill him.”
Another memory is at the edge of Vlad’s memory: Cansu. Sweet Cansu, who never would condone this kind of behaviour in Radu, and he refuses to let worry make him believe that his brother could become fully unhinged. No, there has to be more to his behaviour, and he will not let Mr Lancaster’s tactical calculations influence him. He knows that cold calculation.
He’s done it, too, and it has wrought so much harm. No. Not again.
~~~~
Mr Basarab… seems to care for his brother? Arthur isn’t getting the impression that he hates him, quite the contrary, despite him saying they have a feud.
Mr Basarab’s words are echoing in his head: Will he tell his friend that he killed someone she thinks she loves? That’s what he’s afraid of, isn’t it? That’s why he doesn’t like killing? In case he gets it wrong, in case he kills someone else’s important person, takes them away, in case he does something so devastating and irreversible when there could’ve been other solutions.
But, for Darcy… he would still do it. If he got it wrong, if she really cared for this Radu, and she hated him for taking him away- he’d hate himself. He doesn’t know if he could ever forgive himself.
And yet- he’d risk it. Because he’d rather hate himself, and have her free to hate him, of her own, true, free will, than have her enslaved to someone, to have her emotions manipulated and violated.
It’s not a pleasant realization. It feels cold and kind of bitter, but also strong.
However, if Mr Basarab won’t help with killing Radu, it might also be academic. He tilts his head at the man. “You don’t sound very mad at your brother,” he observes. “So, if you don’t want to kill him- could you end the feud? Give in, concede defeat, apologize, whatever it is that Radu wants? In exchange for him leaving Darcy alone?”
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“I’ve tried,” Vlad whispers. He has to press his hands tight on top of the table, he is not willing to discuss this with a stranger, not how the feud started and less how it flared into its current worst state nineteen years ago. It is none of Mr Lancaster’s business; this is a private family matter and a painful one at that.
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Arthur raises an eyebrow and is about to suggest: “Try harder,” but before he can, they’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps.
“Honeys, look, I’m being extra efficient!” Quincy declares as he gets into the library, small blood vial in one hand and Cobb’s hand in the other.
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Giving the tight situation between her husband and Arthur another look to make sure she can turn away before those male egos clash, Mina focuses on her son and makes sure to reaffirm his ego (really, all men are the same in some ways).
She gets a grin back for obviously being the most sensible one in the room, then sees Quincy notice the blackboard and wrinkle his nose at the listed options.
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Arthur falters at Gregory’s arrival, feels that steel ball of conviction in his middle crumble- what must this be like for Gregory? Surely, he must feel far more awful about it than Arthur does, Darcy might be his friend and kind of his sister-in-law, but she’s Gregory’s wife. Arthur thinks he would be devastated if something like that happened to someone he was that close to.
And he doesn’t know what to do to make it better- that’s social stuff, relationship stuff, he’s no good at that. Good that Quincy is here, he’ll know what to do on that front, surely.
Still, Arthur feels cowardly for not wanting to be the one to tell Gregory that one way or another, Darcy agreed to the enthrallment.
Not that he blames her for that- but still, that’s got to feel like a sort of betrayal to Gregory? Right?
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Glad for the interruption, because Vlad was neither in the mood nor do they have time for a confrontation, he stands to do his duty to his granddaughter’s husband. He should have the news of his wife consenting to the enthrallment in private so that only one person sees his reaction. Just like at the theatre, his hearing informs him at first that Mr Cobb’s body does not sound quite right, but he puts that down to him being an aberration and rather focuses on the task.
Mr Cobb follows willingly enough, he must be greatly distressed with the situation to be so numb. Having taken a seat in a neighbouring salon, Vlad preludes his revelation with talking about Radu’s excellent social skills and ability to persuade most anybody, this is certainly not a statement about the weakness of his wife’s emotions but he has to tell him that her enthrallment was entered willingly.
Mr Cobb remains silent, looks at him with what Vlad would nearly call indifference, the shock must sit deep.
“I don’t care.”
Did Vlad hear that right? Oh, oh, certainly Mr Cobb must mean that willingly or not, he does not hold the enthrallment against his wife. That is a relief, and he encourages him that there are several ways they may break the enthrallment, his input would surely be in his wife’s best interest.
Again it takes a while, the poor man must be in more severe shock than Vlad thought, his heart rate is too low, the lack of change therein a clear sign that he’s blocking everything out, then Mr Cobb just stands up with a: “Artie is smart, he’ll figure it out.”
Despite that, because that can’t possibly be anything but the shock speaking, Vlad ushers Mr Cobb back to the library and formulates gently, says that Mr Cobb would prefer a well-informed decision rather than one simply based on his personal feelings.
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Mina grabs it from there, feelings is a good spring board for her, because one option here seems more benign than the others. “If we don’t have access to enough vitae to break it, maybe there are other ways?” She gives the love-based counter a meaningful look before turning to her son.
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Excuse him? What? Quincy groans and wishes he could slap at his mother, but instead just puts his hand over his eyes and gesticulates with the other. “Another round of you hoping to over-interpret one of my female acquaintances? Mother, really, for the last time, not how I work. And you can’t possibly stake…” bad word, BAD word, nope, changing formulation, “put so much stock in Darcy obviously just taking this whole family attraction disaster too far.”
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“So we’re only left with waiting it out somehow?” Arthur ventures, with a look at the board. How the hell will they pull that off? How do they keep Radu from calling Darcy to him again, how do they stop her if he does, how do they keep him from spying on them through her senses?
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Llew believes that’s his cue! Sure, sure, he didn’t notice he should be listening in before Eluned’s assistant on visual surveillance poked him about that weird black board, but he’s here now, isn’t he? Just perfect for presenting himself as the solution to all their problems. Just as Darcy really should have learned long ago! He’s been very helpful indeed with her little hunting problem, hasn’t he? Been a right little darling for… uh, he has no idea how long it has been in their sense of time, but several times since the first one. In any case, dramatic timing is a go and poof, yes, good landing on the table, bow, and grin. “I can help with the wait!”
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Who the hell is that guy and why does Quincy have a deep urge to hiss and slap him on first sight?
Arthur startles, too, but then eyes the guy warily, clearly recognizes him. “…Help how exactly?” There’s a brain in there, Arthur doesn’t trust him, nobody should trust that… that, whatever he is, easily! Ugh, Quincy doesn’t even know which insult to settle on!
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Holding up a finger to Arthur, Llew turns with a placating grin to where that obvious bloodsucker has pushed himself in front of the woman, but he’s glaring at him just as much as the kid. (Oops, that one’s tall, better add a few centimeters to the human illusion just for good measure). “Calm down, I’m the friendly house fairy of the place. Just here to help. Ask Gregory. He can sing my praises!”
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Gregory does start to grin and opens his mouth, so Quincy hisses: “I can see your type, save it. And you glitter bomb, turn back to Arthur and answer the question.”
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“No appreciation for me just wanting to, of course!, be there for Darcy.” Llew sighs heavily but does indeed answer Arthur. “I could take her to the nexus, time flows differently there. You wouldn’t have to wait long for her up here and she’d be safely away from all that.” Flicking a hand towards the enthrallment notes, he chuckles. “Just think of it like a second honey moon for her. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
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When Llew puts it like that… it sounds far too nice to be true. “And what’s the catch?” Arthur asks, suspicious.
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“He’s fey. The catch will be in the payment,” Vlad speaks up, still with his shoulder and lifted arm between Mina and the intruder.
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Defending himself with a scowl against that pesky bloodsucker, Llew insists that he wouldn’t even take a contract, Darcy’s dear to him, he’d just want to look after her.
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“Her emotions, you mean,” Mina comments as she pushes Vlad’s arm down, but then can’t help the snort as, upon hearing that, Quincy steps up on the table, right chest to chest with that floozie up there, and hisses at him, finger tapping hard against that chest, nobody steals Cycy’s emotions, that’s not an equal deal!
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Hold up, what is with that one… Oh, ew! Brushing the hand off, Llew steps away from the abomination. “You’re not even a real Leanen Si, gross. Why would she ever give them to you? I, at least, am a proper fey prince, she hunted through Faerie with me, she trusts me. Ask yourself who can really help her here. Oh, and you over there, hush.”
That last is aimed at Gregory, who, of course, had to show off that yes, she’s his main hook and he wants her emotions, well, two of them, as well. He is not being growled at by that excuse for his kind, please, that one hardly has a proper emotional field around him. He got tired from a few little hours they went last time, pathetic.
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What the hell is happening? Gregory is actually growling at Llew, and Arthur can’t remember him ever doing that, he thought Gregory liked Llew?
And what’s a… ‘lanon she’? What?
But probably something fey-related, seeing as Mr Basarab said Mrs Harker was a reincarnated fey, and probably that means they know more about fey and the assorted pitfalls than Arthur does.
For the moment, he’s happy to go with their assessment, which kind of agrees with his own and is unanimous, besides. “So, that’s a ‘no’ to you taking her to the nexus,” he sums up.
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“Oh come on! You’re just being combative for no reason now. You don’t have any good alternative.” Looking from one to the other, Llew doesn’t see where all their issues are. He’s being perfectly nice here!
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“Then we will find one or make a hard decision. Thank you for your offer, now please leave.” Vlad makes his voice even, smiles, he had a talent with fey once, and with his wife at his side he feels perfectly confident that his own emotions are shielded and safe.
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Still up on the table, Quincy huffs and crosses his arms. He does not like that one, not one bloody bit.
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Arthur nods to Mr Basarab’s words. That, he can agree with.
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After one more round of trying to find at least one ally in the room, Llew shakes his head. “You are not thinking of what’s best for Darcy. I’ll be so nice and help find another solution then. I’ll be back.” Just before Llew vanishes, he snubs his nose at the woman with a mouthed “Zombie”.
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Unthinkingly, Mina scoffs back: “Poison Moth!,” then blinks in confusion, before noticing the huge wave of hope from her husband, so it must be one of those missing memories of hers.