Chapter 114
Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 113
Arthur sighs. “As I understand it… an enthrallment creates a feeling of love, doesn’t it?” He looks at Mr Basarab for confirmation. “That seems to be its emotional core. So I think love is the emotion to target.”
That comment makes Quincy visibly queasy. “Wait just a moment! Cycy has more love than the one from the enthrallment and you said that the ritual doesn’t give it back, the person doesn’t get their emotion back, it just breaks the contract.”
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John gives Quincy a bit of side-eye for that one, is the molly worried for his spot in the household if Cycy doesn’t have that fucking crush on him any longer? Then he realises how petty that thought was, because Quincy spoke up when John should have. His girl loves him, even if not in the way he tries not to be jealous of Quincy for. That’s just fucking low of him to not even consider, so he sits up straighter and nods in agreement with Quincy.
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Arthur looks at Quincy in confusion, then realises: “Oh, I guess I didn’t explain that well. Like, the ritual is designed to only take that one, specific… emotion strand,” is how the book puts it, “which is tied up with the contract, not the whole spectrum of that emotion.” Since, presumably, any fey involved in a ritual like this wants some of that spectrum for themselves, he thinks but doesn’t say.
“That’s where the anchors come in.” He points at the diagram of the ritual he put in the middle of the table. “See, there’s seven people whose emotion towards the person in the middle tells the ritual what emotion is being targeted, and during the ritual, they need to identify and take hold of their strands of that emotion, um, the book didn’t really specify how, but that will anchor the rest of the emotions and keep them out of the way while the Wild Hunt takes the contract strand that’s left over.”
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“Depends on the sacrifice,” Llew pipes up again, leaning over the banister to look at the schemata, because, nope, still not getting closer to the bloodsuckers. He has his own personal one caged up downstairs anyway. She’s ever so delicious, all that emotion, so very upset. Ugh, she’s just turning his head, as she always does, and well, what she won’t remember won’t hurt her, so it’s not as if he isn’t perfectly benevolent.
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“Is this the point where I bet on story tropes?” Quincy quickly interjects before that glittery arse up there gets anything more in. He can’t stand him. He can’t really catch any thoughts off him, but he creeps Quincy out. Then he realises something and does a quick count around the table. “We have a problem. We don’t have seven people who love her, do we?”
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Jack had noted the same thing already. Rose petal’s parents, of course, makes three. A husband, even if Jack doesn’t see how that can be called love, four. An affair on whom Jack very much can see how that is love, five. Her best friend Arthur, if he isn’t being absolutely illogical and not returning all that love Darcy showers him with, six. But that’s it.
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“Uh,” Arthur says, looks around the table. Surely there have to be seven people who love Darcy? It’s Darcy! He looks at Quincy, but well, he hasn’t known her that long… and he doesn’t suppose family attraction counts.
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“I caught that thought and I agree. We can’t just stake everything on the family attraction, this is too important!” As much as Quincy likes Cycy, he can’t pretend that it isn’t likely about as real as his crush on his own father. He doesn’t trust his emotions, and he… he’s pretty sure now that he must be aromantic. If all that ever happened was a dhampir peculiarity-fuelled crush on Basarab then he has to assume he’d be useless for this ritual.
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Lucy finds herself with her fingers worrying her nails, she’s nervous. She knows she’s a terrible mother. She even told Darcy as much, but… she was willing to fight for her, and when they spoke she liked her, she tried teaching her to hunt, right? And no, she still doesn’t feel any of this supposed parental glow she is meant to have, but no, that’s Jack’s daughter she’s talking about. And maybe it’s side glow, but her two men always are such happy fathers that it’s hard for her not to smile when she thinks of Darcy.
So no, it will be okay, her love probably counts, even if it’s maybe more sisterly, kind of the same as she envisions she could have for Quincy. That adorable scandal prodigy and she… yes, she likes that he’s Mina’s son. So maybe she is a miserable mother, but apparently she kind of really likes when the people she loves have kids?
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Vlad sighs and reaches inside of himself, sits himself down in front of his drac and asks it what it thinks of his granddaughter. If there is love, he trusts his drac to be much better at finding it than he would be. Pride, that he isn’t surprised by. Fondness, well, he heard good things and she is family. And that she is family has a deep impact on his drac, he can tell that.
But love? He would feel like an imposter if he dared to claim as much.
Looking back up he has to shake his head. “Much as I am eager to make the acquaintance of my granddaughter and learn to love her, I am afraid my hands are bound in regards to being of assistance as one of the seven. I’m sorry.”
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Arthur wonders whether Quincy considering the ritual that important doesn’t indicate that he likes Darcy a lot more than family attraction accounts for, but… but he kind of concurs that they want to be safe on this one. “Surely, there’s got to be one more person we can find somewhere?” He looks to Dr Seward.
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“I want to tell myself that surely her Uncle Jekyll may be an option, but the man suffers from extreme social phobia and agoraphobia. I can neither be sure he qualifies nor that he could be part of this ritual, as I assume it to be under the open sky.”
With a groan, Jack leans back, this is yet another case of his decision to keep her hidden haunting him. She was such a sweet child, had he just let her make more friends, there likely would have been a flock of admirers around her, just like there was around her mother. This wouldn’t be a problem at all and it is his fault.
Then there’s suddenly a hand on top of his, on top of the one he hadn’t noticed he had clenched so hard that the metal clip on his pen was about to break his skin. His thoughts must have been obvious through the blood connection. Lucy gives him a slight head shake and tells him in his mind that he is being unreasonable; He did the logical thing to keep her safe. There was no way he could have predicted this.
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John wants to growl that he loves her enough for two people, but that’s not how magic works, even he knows that.
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Above, Llew bursts into giggling at this bunch of strange emotional people.
Oh, this is precious. Utterly precious, and he’ll never stop telling Darcy. It will be the biggest chain around her neck yet, especially because he knows that the bloodsuckers and humans down there are miscalculating anyway. Gregory, pff, as if his kind was able to love! No, please, even a fey is better at that.
So Llew waves and keeps giggling. “You’ve forgotten her biggest admirer. I’m right here. You have your number seven. Arthur, you’ve even seen her with the white hair she gets from me.” Winking, he jumps up on the bannister to dangle his legs. “So there, that’s not a problem! Can we get started now? Lots to prepare and not a lot of time!”
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Arthur frowns up at Llew. “…You’re fey,” he points out. “The book with the ritual doesn’t say that fey can be anchors themselves?” Surely, if they didn’t need humans for it, that would make things easier? Though he supposes they’re filling some spots with vampires, so those aren’t humans, either, and he did say it shouldn’t make a difference to the emotions…
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“Yes, doesn’t that show only more how special I am, that I can jump in? Fey emotion is extra precious.” Waving the comment away, Llew smirks down, oh he loves to see that little gross fake Leanen Si boil. He’s hissing at him and isn’t that just the cutest? A little bit like Darcy, maybe he should get himself a second pet-dhampir? But then, nah, that one is half fey, not as much to get there as with Darcy, but he’ll pretend.
Darcy loves that one. She’s been yelling and threatening Llew for a day now if he hurt her precious little Sang du Coeur, more than she threatened about hurting her precious John and Daddy or Arthur-dear even, about as much as her Papa, though. So she’ll be all sexy growl at him if he keeps setting off that imposter.
Speaking of imposter (and the one funnily absent from her protective growling), of course Gregory is nowhere to be seen, that bunch down there is way too determined and not angry enough to feed off of. Well good, more other emotions for him to enjoy.
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Vlad finds himself uncomfortably agreeing with the fey, whimsical annoyance that he is, fey don’t make their own emotions, after all. So that he is willing and able to participate does speak to his granddaughter’s impact on the man. So he nods and explains to Arthur that yes, Llew can probably contribute, bought as those feelings likely are.
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“Well, alright then…” Arthur concedes, and opens his mouth to start planning where everyone is going to stand, and when they’ll have to have what ready and all, when he realizes: “Wait, where’s Gregory? Shouldn’t he be here? So I don’t have to explain everything twice?”
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Quincy rolls his eyes, can see Jack suppressing doing the same, (another one on the Cobb fan list, uh huh, and that with how much Cycy adores the man, yeah, definitely family issues for him to fix later,) and gets up. “I’ll find him.”
“He’s not in the castle,” Llew offers, probably thinks he’s actually being helpful, the bloody poison moth. “If the big bloodsucker with the good ears goes looking, I’m coming down and we can work on the symbols and positions.”
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Vlad’s been called far worse and he has to confess that his pride likes that he is the one the fey is most worried about. Rightfully so, of course, and he is nobody’s errand boy, but he does suppose he will be more effective at finding the missing husband than at adding any useful input on the magic. However, he won’t give that victory to the poison moth, so instead, he addresses Mr Silver.
“As my granddaughter’s lover, would you permit me to find the other man who clearly protects her less steadfastly?”
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Uh, what the fuck just happened? John is tempted to look over his shoulder if Basarab really means him, but no, of course he means him. He’s the one Basarab mistook for Darcy’s husband at first! Ergo, he puffs himself up slightly and nods. “I’ll keep the fey at bay while you are out.”
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Much better. Vlad inclines his head to Mr Silver, throws a glance at Quincy, who he can hear just about suppressing a squeal and giggle, and strides out. It would appear his son has taken rather the liking to Mr Silver, and given what he knows of the man, he approves, so why wouldn’t he play to his self-esteem?
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Did Mr Basarab just insult Gregory? Arthur thinks he did. And as Gregory’s friend, he should be arguing with that, but… well. Factually, John has been there and Gregory hasn’t. So, Arthur really can’t. And Gregory has been kind of weirdly absent lately. Especially since they established that, no, he’s not spending that time with Darcy, he’s spending it in pubs and stuff. And, okay, Arthur knows that Gregory likes pubs and stuff…
Maybe he’s also realized that they don’t have to worry about starving anymore, and so he’s running a bit wild? Maybe, once this whole vampire crisis is over, Arthur’ll try and talk with him about it? He hasn’t really talked with Gregory in more than a few words in… weeks. Months?
Well, for now, he has positions and symbols to work out for everyone. Some of which are easier than others- like “lover” for John, or “friend” and “brother” for himself.
Some are a bit more difficult- he ends up differentiating Dr Seward and Art with “parent + father” and “father + uncle”, what with Dr Seward raising her alone and Art being Lucy’s lover, and there not being a symbol for “mother’s lover”. As for Lucy, he goes for “mother + friend”, since he thinks that captures their relationship better.
And then, of course, there’s Llew- how even does he put him in symbols? When he asks as much, Llew giggles, (he giggles way too much,) and quips: “Dirty little secret!” Which, Arthur’s not sure how secret it is when he’s basically bragging all over about it… And that gives him an idea. So he takes “secret” and “friend”- and inverts them. Because it’s not that secret, and Llew isn’t quite a friend. And someone who is someone’s “dirty little secret” is also not quite a friend. But also that makes it “obvious enemy”, and Arthur rather thinks that’s just as good a description of Llew, given how much Darcy used to not like him. Not that he explains any of that to Llew.
And, well, Gregory is easy, too: “Husband”. For a moment, he’s tempted to throw a “cat” in there, too, but, no, that’s silly. (Inverted cat, for the demon form? No, no cats.)
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Not able to read any of these symbols, Jack instead inquires how much blood they are estimating the ritual will require. The answer he gets from Llew leaves him anything but comfortable. Nobody, especially not somebody who declares himself Darcy’s dirty little secret, should be so gleeful at telling him that they’ll have to flood the altar with her blood.
He can’t do more than glare, though, and make himself a mental note to check in on what Darcy thinks about Llew’s declaration so that he can decide if he needs to start carrying iron knives. For the moment though, he discusses the matter with Lucy to get a more reliable estimate on how much healing will be necessary and how much blood that will likely cost their daughter.
Of course, Art is volunteering already to provide blood, but hearing that it’ll take about one and half litres, (if Jack translates Lucy’s estimate of about two bottles correctly,) makes even him less enthusiastic. Also, Lucy reminds him, he doesn’t want an obsessed dhampir, does he?
John groans at the mention of that, but immediately follows it up with: “Then we’ll all donate!”
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“Is she going to be in any condition to actually drink that?” Not that Quincy wants to think about it, but really, this entire setup is utterly gruesome.
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“I can heal her,” Arthur offers- he doesn’t think the ritual should take too much out of him, magically, seeing as it’s all focused on emotions, and any load is going to be shared between seven people. “But with how good her own healing is, it’s possible she’ll kind of… get there before me, at the cost of a lot of blood? And I can’t heal that kind of blood loss, because it’s more, uh, metaphysical than bodily? So… do we need to be concerned about her losing control from hunger?”
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While Lucy explains that it’s likely, she’s knight-leaning herself and so is Darcy, Jack is still on the exact calculations, then looks at Quincy and it’s only logical. “Quincy isn’t part of the ritual, he is available right when it concludes, no matter if there is strain to the people involved. He also has healing and the constitution for a prolonged bite. I can bottle the required amount and he’ll feed rose petal.”
Lifting an eyebrow, Mina chuckles. “You are using my son for your scheming; I nearly could think you approve of his existence.”
Firing back unthinkingly, because he’s still concentrating on the logistics, Jack doesn’t realise he snarked until he hears himself say it.
“Only in as far as my daughter apparently thinks he is fun to drain anyway.”
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“Oi!” John grunts at Jack and Art, (by extension because he can see that grin,) but then Quincy bursts out laughing. “Aw, jealous her family attraction to me outstrips yours?”
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Looking up with a blink, Jack really doesn’t have the time to figure out what he feels about that. Although, he believes he can figure out the gist, so he answers truthfully: “Not really. Now, are you helping or not?”
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And there Quincy had hoped to keep the snark game up. There is some fun to be had with the man when he doesn’t notice. Oh well, a project for another day.
“Of course I am helping Cycy!”
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“So, uh, wait,” Arthur says, points at Quincy. “She bites you, you drink it? …Why doesn’t she drink it directly? Because of the potential loss of control?” Also… well, that was rather a sharp comment from Dr Seward, but apparently Quincy doesn’t mind, so… it’s all good, Arthur supposes?
“Because there’s few things grosser than old blood,” Lucy explains with a shudder. “If Darcy is out of it from hunger, she’ll never take the bottled blood, and Quincy has the best chances of not minding the bite since he won’t have been part of the ritual.”
Waving his wrist, John adds with a chuckle and punch to Quincy’s side: “You remember a certain somebody not wanting to let go?”
“Uh… I’m sorry, then,” Arthur says to Quincy in advance, if bottled blood is so gross.
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“Eh, I’m sure I’ve swallowed worse.” It’s out before Quincy fully realises that he promised not to make jokes like that in front of Arthur, and worse, his mother is right there. Right there, eyebrow raising, and there’s that bloody dimple of hers when she’s genuinely smiling or smirking. No no no no!
He can’t take that one back, ever, and he doesn’t want to know why she isn’t rebuking him and Divine, now his brain went there, and he really doesn’t want it to go there… So he’s is so very glad when Blondie starts groaning and punching his ribs.
“Molly, gross!”
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…And if John hadn’t said anything, Arthur’s mind wouldn’t now be wondering what he could be meaning other than the kinds of foods you’re willing to eat when your other alternative is starving, and… He doesn’t want to know. He so does NOT want to know. Nope.
What can he think about rather than that? Sequence of people hurting Darcy, yes, he can, that makes him feel awful but different-awful. Not that there has to be any particular sequence, though, if he remembers right. He checks the book, just for more distraction purposes.
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Also rather not wanting to think any further on that one, Art leans in and asks the other thing on his mind: “What are we telling sugar doll? I can’t just… walk up to her and not say a word and hurt her.”
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That, John has to wholeheartedly agree with… Although he supposes he has an unfair advantage here, it won’t be the first time he hurts her. She would pout at him if he didn’t, his girl is more than a tiny bit masochistic after all, so he has an idea what he could say, as long as he can whisper it so nobody else hears it.
“Um,” Arthur says, and sighs. “She has to believe we’re really sacrificing her. It’s the betrayal that… unlocks the emotions? Pulls them out?”
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“What?!” It’s three people at once: Quincy, Art, and John.
But Quincy knows he isn’t off as bad as the other two. He doesn’t have to be part of the ritual, and he better, because there’s no way, no way at all, he could get himself to do that violence! Or… could he? Would he be as cold about it as he was with his father’s… Harker’s death?
His hands begin to tremble and the only thing he can do to stop it is to put them on John’s shoulders, because yes, he can tell he needs it. He didn’t really mean to and it’s only shattered bits and pieces, but he can gather that John is pretty much descending into a freak out about ‘hurting his girl’ and ‘not being his father’. Now there’s family trauma, this household is a gold mine on need, but… this is Blondie, so Quincy shoves that tingle away and instead starts whispering to him. Takes care because, hey, that’s Cycy’s perfect catch, he can’t have the man be a wreck. He needs to be in shape for holding his girl after that terrible ritual, right?
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A few seats over it’s Jack and Lucy trying to build Art back up because he’s crying that he can’t do that. She’s his little sugar doll, she’s a child! He can’t hurt a child, he hardly even could do that as a hunter, this one… he can’t!
Not that Lucy feels comfortable one bit with this but, fuck, this is the solution they have and if they don’t do it, then what? Darcy is stuck with the fey for how long? Or they’ll lose her to the insane voivode? She knows that her Art has such a soft spot for children and that, really, if not for the circumstances of her death, he’d never have joined an organization so hell-bent on murder as the hunters.
He’s sworn off violence after his time down in Africa with Jack. She knows Art was so tired of it. He was always sweet, and yes, she knows he can be ruthless on another person’s orders, but deep down, he is the sweetest man she knows and it hurts. But he has to be a part of this, so she puts on her general voice and tells him as much.
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Arthur blinks, because… because, well, yes, it sucks, it’s awful, but somehow… somehow, he hadn’t expected such a strong reaction from the others.
Which makes him feel confused. Because… should he feel like that? Or… does he feel like that? He hates it, but it’s necessary, so he’s going to do it, and he’s already decided that and… and is that okay?
He doesn’t know? Obviously, he wouldn’t do something like this if there were a better option. And he’s going to apologise to Darcy afterwards, and explain it, and hope she can forgive him. But… whether or not she does, he’s doing this.
Just like if he has to, he’ll kill Radu. In a horrible way. Because if the alternative is letting himself be killed or enslaved, or letting his friends and family be killed or enslaved, then that… isn’t an alternative he’s willing to tolerate.
Does that make him a bad person? He doesn’t know. He’s trying so hard to be a good person, to not be like his father, to not be selfish and, just a… net loss of an influence to everyone around himself.
Would his father do a ritual like this? For his own gain, yes, in a heartbeat and without a second thought, Arthur decides. But not for someone else. Not if there wasn’t anything in it for him. So… so that’s the difference.
And it’s an important difference. Yes, he really thinks it is. So he’ll do what he needs to, and he’ll be upset about it later.