House Draculesti

Chapter 2

Previously: Obsidian: Ash and Moonbeams – Chapter 1

Arthur had clapped his hands over his ears this time when he saw John about to fire, and crouched, ready to sprint over and heal him if he got injured. Seeing the metal mend itself, he exhales in frustration. “Of course it’s magic… There’s got to be something we can do!”

“You can do, you mean. Short of bringing a cannon down here, I’m out of tricks.” John says it with another kick of frustration against the door, then lifts an eyebrow as Quincy dashes off.

“…Do we have a cannon?” Arthur asks, because at this point, he’s willing to give it a try.

Shaking his head, John groans. “Not that I would have seen. Wrong kind of castle. The house probably won’t give us one, kind of self-destructive.”

“Well, they could just open the fucking door and tell us what’s going on!” Arthur restrains himself from shouting, and it’s audible in his voice. He clenches his fists- he was so on the lookout for danger from outside, and then Darcy probably walked into a door in their cellar and disappears just like that.

For a moment, John clenches his jaw. He wants to shout, too, wants to slam his fists against the door until it either gives or every bone is broken, but what the fuck would that be good for? So instead, he walks back to Arthur and puts a hand on his shoulder. “You know how the fae are. We’ll do whatever we can. Whatever it takes. I’m not letting the fuckers have my girl.”

Arthur isn’t used to John touching him like that yet- it’s only been a few days that he’s started it- but it does feel good. Like they’re in this together. So he sets his jaw, glares at the door. “And I want my friend back! I didn’t go through all that to keep a scary vampire from taking her just to let the fae do it!”

John looks away for a moment while he says: “Yeah, Darcy was more on board with Radu than with the fae, so fuck no, they don’t get to have the last laugh.”

Arthur looks to where Quincy disappeared to. “No, they don’t- we just have to figure it out. Do you… have any idea what he thought of?”

“Just about the only thing where Quincy and I think similarly is loving Darcy, so fuck no, no clue what that molly brain of his concocted.” Despite everything, John gives a snort that sounds amused. “But I trust him.”

Arthur hesitates, but… Well, he knew that Quincy spent nights with Darcy, that’s been perfectly obvious the last few days, too. Even he couldn’t miss that. But… he remembers the conversation with Quincy that day after the immediate vampire crisis, and what he said about his fears on not being able to be in love. “Um, yes, that… is that new…? Did I miss that before…?”

“That?” Taking his hand off Arthur’s shoulder to cross his arms instead, John tilts his head. “Oh, Molly having a bad case of raging river to the heart from my girl. Happened the day she threw herself between him and the hunters.” John leans himself against the wall and looks back to the door, the one Quincy ran through, not the nexus. “They started their bloodbond that night and I held their private wedding ceremony the night of his vision quest. Typical drac speed. I’ll get there but until then, our girl, his wife.”

“Oh.” Arthur blinks, bites his lip. “That’s what he meant… Uh. That’s very serious, isn’t it?”

“Didn’t realize the sparkles come out when he’s extra smitten with her, did you? He’s been basically glittering after her nonstop. Half his vision quests got solved by him trusting in her love… or our friendship.” Yeah, that part still makes John feel a bit awkward. No, not with Quincy being a clingy bro, but with how much he likes it. He has a bro. Molly or not, he (no, he won’t say love) but yes, he adores the man.

“I mean… he always kind of glitters. And… well, I thought it was weird, with the vision quests, but… Well, I guess then it’s not just guys he likes?”

Of course Arthur had to ask that one. If that wouldn’t be a total dick move, John would be tempted to make some very crude statements about the Molly absolutely pretending that Darcy only has male anatomy. But that would be too harsh… and hypocritical, because John knows full well that he basically pretends Darcy only has female anatomy. Leads to very easy decision making on threesome positions but how the fuck does he say this to their resident prude? So he goes for the absolutely vague and terrible and hopes for the best.”Well, Darcy is… you know…”

Arthur looks confused for a long moment while he clearly tries to work out what ‘you know’ is, then blushes. “Oh, you mean the… um… yes, that. But… but I thought she wanted to be a woman…?” He only looks marginally less confused. “Like… wasn’t that important to her…?

John’s crossed arms turn hand run down his face because he brought that on himself by being vague. He suspects the molly would have a better way of saying this… No wait, he wouldn’t. John can easily explain this without any further statements about Darcy’s body. He can explain it through the most important thing to her, being good for those she loves. Typical, now he’s smiling. Well, that’s an improvement from the shit mood he was in before. Power of his girl, obviously.

“It depends who she’s with. It’s important to her when she’s with me because it’s important to me. She wants to be good for us. When she’s with Quincy, they’re queens together. She’s our fallen angel and as the molly once said, angels are above that stuff. It makes her happy, so we’re happy.”

Arthur nods in strong agreement with the sentiment, gives the door a look, wraps his arms around himself for a moment. “I hope she’s okay. I… I feel like… We haven’t been friends, properly, for that long.” He shoots a shy look at John to see if he gets what he means. “I want to get to know her better still.”

“And you will get to know her better!”

Quincy didn’t just figure out that the swords in the armoury aren’t faebane the uncomfortable way for it not doing anything! He’s not into self-harm, thank you very much!

Instead, he hefts the sword he had to request from the house with both hands and marches up to the door.

Wait, there’s a crucial mistake here. He’s their dainty healer! Wrong person, not going to hurt himself by swinging this thing around. One broken claw per day is more than enough for him. Also, if John is half as shaken as he is, any little bit of support they can give each other is worth it. So, heavy on the male ego stroking it is! Turning the sword around the way he’s done with theatre probs before, he offers the grip to John.

“Your job, you big, strong, manly man, you. Make Cycy proud, that thing is pure iron!”

“Oh, good thinking!” Arthur says, perking up, and giving John a hopeful look. Uh huh, clearly not just Quincy who puts his trust in his darling when it comes to feats of strength. But making great suggestions is something they can clearly trust Arthur with. “Going for the hinges did a little something; think the sword might work on them?”

“It fucking better. Good job, Molly!” Punching Quincy on the arm with a grin, John weighs the sword in his hands. He has even less clue about swords than he really has about guns, but how hard can it be to hit a stationary target?

A few swings at the hinges later, he retracts that statement.

Hitting with the actual edge is hard and the vibrations traveling right into his hands are painful, but he won’t fucking stop and give the hinge time to knot itself back together from where he can see the effect of his strikes.

This is the first thing they tried that’s actually having an effect. He won’t stop until this door is open!

“…Maybe we want an axe instead?” Arthur wonders as he watches John work- the iron is doing something, but he’s not sure it’s fast enough. What if the hinges start repairing even if they’re fully broken? He gets to his feet. “I’ll go look for one! Or a crowbar. Or something!”

Hope blooming wildly Quincy jumps up, too. He has the urge to take control, normally of the people rather than the situation…

For a moment, he worries: Would he mind-control somebody right now if he knew it would solve their issues? But that’s idle speculation. Still, he grabs Arthur’s hand again, tries to balance himself with the touch. Darcy missing clearly is not good for him.

“Okay, let’s go!”

Arthur squeezes Quincy’s hand, and Quincy’s rather sure that’s at least as much to reassure himself as to reassure him. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate the gentle tug as they jog for the stairs. What he doesn’t appreciate is having to run for real. Which actually: huh?

“You’re faster than you have any right to be!” This is the most trivial nonsense, and is Quincy ever glad to be able to focus on something so inconsequential instead of the knot in his stomach about how out of touch he feels without Darcy. Their bloodbond hasn’t taken, why does he suddenly understand what she said about a drac feeling like it’s running without touching the floor?

Arthur gives him a surprised look. “I am? I mean, I know I’m pretty fast, but, uh, well, you’re a dhampir…” He… probably shouldn’t be as fast as a dhampir, now that he thinks about it? (Something that he prefers thinking about, rather than the sense of catastrophe and urgency that churns in his gut. No! They’ll fix it, it’ll work out!)

“A minstrel, as Godalming keeps throwing at my head, so really, you’re using mage fleetness or something!”

“I guess… Maybe I just have lots of practise running away…”

He does, at that. Mostly with… Gregory. He has a flash of memory, dashing down a dingy alley, scrambling through a broken fence, Gregory’s breathless laugh in his ears along with the shouting of the gang of street kids he pissed off, their coarse threats of beating the shit out of them, calling him a freak and a filthy witch. How his heart beat so hard it ached, his lungs burned, because he didn’t want to be beaten up.

Arthur shoves that memory away, because it also does no good. It’s long past.

“Maybe, but my legs are longer than yours, one should think I’d easily run along.” Looking down at Arthur’s legs, Quincy chuckles but swallows the quip about normally only looking at other men’s lower parts for very different reasons. He promised he’d behave.

“That’s true,” Arthur agrees. “Okay, so… where would we find an axe? The stable? The weapon room? Did you ask the house for the sword?”

“Yes, I had to ask. It turns out, iron is not what modern swords are made of.” With a huff, Quincy shakes his head. And let’s just not talk about how he had to check for that. Or rather, if somebody asks, he’ll have a long huffy rant about it, but right now he’s just glad he could figure it out at all, he’s not exactly a fae expert, after all. “That’s why I couldn’t just grab one from the weapon’s room like I tried. Think it’s different with axes?”

“…I have no idea,” Arthur admits. “I’m pretty sure the fireplace stuff is made from iron? Like, the pokers?”

“I’m not letting you test that theory by trying to clobber me with one!” Pulling a face, Quincy nevertheless gives the first room with a fireplace a considering look. Yes, he did have to try the sword on himself, and if it gets them Darcy back he would probably do worse things.

The thought of Llew getting his forest goddess makes something inside of him bristle with winter-cold fury and he does not like how much he can understand his grandfather’s attitude all of a sudden.

“I wasn’t going to!” Arthur protests. “Just… maybe it’ll be good for helping to pry hinges off or the door open.”

Right… the door. Somehow, Quincy’s mind was already on the part of what to do to Llew once they made it through the bloody door. That is just more of this cold entitlement. Yes, he definitely feels lost without Darcy. Was that her dark wings that sheltered him from his own tendencies? No, focus on the outside. Focus on what you can do!

Nodding, Quincy pulls on Arthur’s hand so they move towards a fireplace. “Good point.”

Arthur finds himself squeezing Quincy’s fingers as they run. He feels so jittery, it’s reassuring to have something to hold on to. Somehow, he can’t put himself into proper crisis mode. Maybe because the threat isn’t… it isn’t immediate? Physical? It’s just a bloody door.

“This…” His voice comes out in an embarrassing waver, but he continues anyway: “This feels so stupid. I thought it was Radu, and now it’s Llew and a stupid magical door, and Darcy’s still missing and I… I knew we should be careful about fae, but I kind of stopped worrying about it, because, you know, super-scary vampire…” And now, he feels tears sting his eyes, and blinks rapidly to dispel them. He was so busy looking for threats from outside, and now it came from inside the castle… It doesn’t seem fair!

Now that feels both more manageable and, ironically, makes Quincy snort. Still, he stops in front of the fireplace and rather than grab for the poker, he pulls Arthur by the hand to be able to hold him, puts a kiss on his hair, too. “With everything I’ve learned from Darcy… Give me Radu over Llew any day. The scariest thing about him is…” Should he go there? Maybe not, but he’s frazzled, and if he focuses on the furry parts, maybe he can push the ice-cold ones away: “…that I wonder if I don’t understand him.”

Arthur cuddles into the hug, but blinks up through those tears that keep stubbornly welling up at Quincy in confusion. “What, really? But Radu… How do you mean, understand him?”

He brought this on himself but then, they are both upset already, they might just as well add more to the pile while they’re at it. And really, he’s said it before, he wants to talk to Radu. Before he figures that out, Darcy will never heal and focus on him, and John. Selfish, but also, that would mean they have Darcy back and he needs that. So, with a sigh, he puts his chin on top of Arthur’s head and explains:

“Because there’s so much pain in him. I’ve learned so much about him from Darcy, from John, even, and… I think Darcy genuinely loved him, and if she loved him then there must be more to why he is how he is. And he’s my uncle and there has to be something my father really fucked up with him and…” A shudder runs through Quincy as he tightens his arms around Arthur. “And right now, I’m already catching myself at having thoughts that feel like they should come from my grandfather. If I can be like that from how hurt I feel without Darcy, then why not Radu? What if she keeps missing and I… I go insane just like Radu?”

“You wouldn’t!” Arthur says in protest, hugs Quincy back. “I mean… I feel like I agree, like there’s something Vlad knows and he doesn’t want to talk about, like… like he’s feeling guilty. But… but I don’t think people go insane that easy? From being hurt? Just like that…?” Surely that’d lead to a lot of insane people in the world.

And either way, it doesn’t make Radu any less scary.

…Does it? Apparently, it does to Quincy? Not to Arthur, though. Super-powerful and insane is just… inherently a scary combination. It means he can’t judge what Radu would and wouldn’t do with all that power.

“And I didn’t think you could switch out completely who my sister and mother are within an hour each, either, but if fae can do that, then maybe dracs can, too.” Holding Arthur close to himself, wishing he could believe that he’s comforting him rather than needing the support himself, Quincy adds in a whimper: “What am I supposed to do without Darcy? She is my queen of the night, my fallen angel folding me into her dark wings. Her love guided me through my vision trials. I can’t do this without her.”

“…Well, I guess dracs are all about emotion… And fae are all about not having emotions and buying them, so… they’re kind of… uh, two sides of the same coin?”

It’s an odd realisation, but not that important right now. “So… okay, so I guess maybe you’re right; maybe you should treat your drac a little carefully. I… I’m not a dhampir, I don’t know how to be one, but if you need anything, to talk about it or for me to research anything, I promise I’ll help until we get Darcy back?”

He gives Quincy a hopeful look.

“Thank you, Arthur.” It’s not Darcy, but still, it’s not care forced on him, it’s help offered, and he can accept that, so Quincy puts a kiss on Arthur’s forehead.

“You’re welcome.” Arthur gives him one of his uncertain smiles. “But I hope we’ll get Darcy back soon.”

“I want my wife back!” Voice turning resolute again, Quincy finally picks up the poker, then decides they have left John alone with his task for long enough and asks the house for an iron axe as well. If he has to cheat to be faster, he will.

Cheat and worse!

Ugh, right, what did he say about worrying what his mind is doing already at the thought of Darcy not being there? She always talks to her drac, maybe he should?

But that seems so awkward.

Must be a knight thing and that obviously won’t work for him. Maybe his darling can talk to his drac? He’s heard him talk at Cycy’s drac so often… Yes, yes, he’ll trust John, even if he doesn’t trust himself right now.

“And a crowbar,” Arthur adds for the house, “thank you very much.”

When they get back downstairs, Arthur can immediately tell that John isn’t hacking at the door any longer.

Instead, he’s shouting: “The fuck do I care about your politics?!”

Arthur glances at Quincy- does that mean he’s talking to the fae? He starts running, but does make sure not to lose Quincy- strength in numbers, after all.

Weighing the poker in his hand, Quincy keeps up with Arthur, shocked again that he even had the impulse to attack Llew, but he is the reason Darcy is missing, and yes, there’s the cold fury, the crackle of power he felt underneath his fingernails when he was shrieking at the door earlier.

He isn’t good with violence, he really isn’t, but… John’s done worse for him, hasn’t he? Darcy’s done worse for him? If he has to swing metal and magic at Llew, at the poison moth, something in him is cackling that he will.

For his queen, he will.

And so would his darling, of course, one of his hands is tight on Llew’s collar, the other holding the sword threateningly, still shouting right into his face while Llew is mumbling something about him not knowing where Darcy is but she must be fine, the house contract is still working, after all.

“What do you mean, you don’t know where she is?” Arthur demands. “She left with you!”

Okay, so that’s only what they think happened, but Llew doesn’t know that and Arthur’s willing to bluff with it and see what happens.

“Technically I only let her in…” Arthur’s not great at reading people, but Llew looks like he really doesn’t know what everybody is upset about, and it makes anger simmer in Arthur’s stomach. Then Quincy’s eyes flash yellow again, and after what he said earlier about feeling like he understood his grandfather, maybe that’s a little worrying?

But the real enemy here is Llew, who doesn’t look impressed when Quincy’s knuckles turn white around the handle of the poker and he starts berating Llew. Until Quincy slips into a language Arthur doesn’t understand, and a shared look tells him John doesn’t, either, but Llew cringes.

Arthur weighs the axe in his hands, too- he might not understand what Quincy is saying, but it seems to be working in getting a reaction, and he doesn’t mind at all joining the display of threatening iron weapons.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t last, and Llew soon recovers and snarks back: “You didn’t have a contract on her; don’t act as if she’s yours. She’s my sister’s. Come up with something that’s worth the barter and you can run all over the place for all I care if you want to find her.”

That does it! Nope! Not another guy making any claims to ownership of his girl! Llew’s only grace in John’s book was that maybe they need him to spill before John takes retribution for having been tricked into a kiss, and, much more so, for Darcy having been abused by that arse not much less than by Gregory.

He swings the sword, well, tries to stab, he’s way too close but he has Llew by the shirt… or had. Fuck! The metal scrapes against the wall surrounded by a rain of glitter where John is only grasping empty air.

He doesn’t have time to curse more, clearly his bro is better at that. Better as in that shriek of fury hits John’s body with actual force. Enough force to shove him several feet away and feel dizzy for a moment.

When he manages to look up again, yes, yellow eyes, yellow eyes and streaming tears. At least for a moment, before their Molly comes to his senses a little bit, looks appalled with himself and, of fucking course, runs over to fuss over him.

“Oh Divine! Are you alright?”

No, John is the fucking opposite of alright, but at least he can protect his bro from feeling even worse about it, so he just punches his arm and tries for a joke.

“Molly, use your random new powers on those fuckers, not us.”

“So that was you?” Arthur sounds impressed, then adds quickly: “I’m fine.”

“I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know?” Quincy drops the poker. He’s not good with violence, least of all when he suddenly feels so prone to it. He’s still angry, he feels like, yes, that furry thing inside him is growling, but that’s his drac, John could deal with it.

Just, just…

No, what if that’s not the only thing inside him? He pushed with fae powers.

Again.

He did it again! Without meaning to, without knowing he would!

He has to hold on to something, anything, so he grabs for Arthur’s hands. Arthur knows magic! He has to be able to help! Please let him be able to help! He can’t always only lean on his darling. His darling who is missing their girl just as much as he is! He trusts John, he’s his best friend, but John’s not… He can’t protect him against this.

Shit, what can Quincy do? There’s nothing and nobody to talk this out! And Llew… he’s right, no contract, no bloodbond, no leverage to even start talking.

He’s shaking, he knows he’s shaking, but it won’t stop.

Not again, not that, too.

But it feels the tiniest bit familiar, he clung to Arthur when he had the jitters after Cycy staked him. Yes, yes, just cling to Arthur’s hands.

Arthur squeezes his hands back. “Well, I guess we found a new power of yours, and we’re fine, so that’s great! Go you!”

“But what’s it good for when I couldn’t… I couldn’t…” Bursting into tears, Quincy drags Arthur into his arms. Feeling that and John’s hand on his shoulder helps a little bit, just a tiny bit, it helps with focusing on the howl going up in his mind. That’s his drac, just his drac, it will be fine. John can deal with that one.

Please, just his drac, not the other voice.

Next: Obsidian: Ash and Moonbeams – Chapter 3

Obsidian: Ash and Moonbeams – Chapter 8

Obsidian: Ash and Moonbeams – Chapter 7

Obsidian: Ash and Moonbeams – Chapter 6

Obsidian: Ash and Moonbeams – Chapter 5

Obsidian: Ash and Moonbeams – Chapter 4

Obsidian: Ash and Moonbeams – Chapter 3

Obsidian: Ash and Moonbeams – Chapter 2

Obsidian: Ash and Moonbeams – Chapter 1

08 Jan 1900

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