I took a deep breath, my Beast calmed and hands steadier than before as they rapped on the solid wood. One, two-three.
"Come in?" Rhazien's voice called, the pitch sounding higher through the door as if strained.
The heat hit me like a train, escaping the room in waves, a haze of smoke following after it. Rhazien's brows rose, setting the pipe down gingerly on his desk, leaning forward as I pushed into the room. Rhazien's cheeks darkened when he realized I had come prepared with my own reading, settling in front of the fireplace that hissed in my presence. "You said I could join you."
"I-I did..."
I could feel his eyes, watching every movement as I shuffled the items around on the little side desk, prepping my station. The air was tight, and I wondered if this was a bad idea.
I made the mistake of looking up at him, deep blue crashing into me like a wave. I forced myself to swallow, to look away even after every part of me screamed to please him in any way possible.
Rhazien cleared his throat, my stomach flipping at the sound. The chair faced the fire, so he sat in my peripheral, pretending to pay attention to his work. Clicking his pen every time I turned the page. It was one of the books I had already gone through before on the etiquette procedures expected at court.
Essentially whose ass to kiss.
So, it seemed like the perfect cover to hide from him, at least temporarily. After eating, I had hoped that the urge to be near him would dampen, the fresh animal blood only heightening me to everything else.
There was a light tinkling as he opened the bottom drawer to his desk, and I watched every detail as he packed the tobacco pipe, drawing a match and taking a deep drag. He took two more before he settled back into his work, the scratches of his pen lifting in loops as he signed habitually. Naturally, I waited until he was halfway done before springing him with my first practiced question,
"So am I blood-bonded to you now?" I didn't turn my head, speaking the words to the pages instead, watching him sputter from the corner of my eye.
"It takes more than one altercation to blood bond someone." There was a flush growing on his cheeks, making his beard darker and fuller. Rhazien didn't look at me either as he spoke the words, his eyes glassy and round, pretending to read his own pages.
"It would be the second. First, when you turned me. And again..." I looked back at him as he hesitated, reaching for the ashtray perched on the corner of his desk, his lips disappearing behind his mustache.
"The other night," Rhazien finished. His head shook softly, not looking at me as he clicked the wood against the porcelain. "Either way, it takes more than two encounters." He brushed off the question, his brows narrowing as he packed the pipe. "Besides, your Embrace was too long ago to even be considered a reasonable issue regarding the Bond." Rhazien stopped suddenly, a crooked grin tugging the corner of his mouth ever so slightly. Blue caught me again, making my chest hurt and my inner thighs throb. "Do you believe you are experiencing the complications of a blood bond?"
I didn't like how his voice dipped with the word, his tongue slipping over the c's like whips. I ground my teeth, face hot and caught in that predatory gaze. The gaze that made me feel so small, young, and foolish compared to his immortality. The arrogance that seemed to come hand in hand with the God Complex that was The Curse. A game he was well versed in, one played many times over.
So, the question, of course, blurted before I could wrangle it back in, embarrassing me further. "How old are you exactly?"
Rhazien's nose scrunched, flashing the white teeth that gripped his smoking pipe. "That's kind of a rude question."
I sighed, "So you're old." Clicking as I leaned back into the chair, propping the book up on the armrest, curling away from him to feign my disinterest.
"Actually..." His words were soft, and denying the urge to turn was like plucking out my toenails. "It was my 250th Birthday about two weeks ago..." Thankfully, he cleared his throat, taking the pressure off me as heat crept up my neck, flushing me pink.
You woke up for him like a little gift.
He took a sip from the flask I didn't know he hid on his person, like some sort of emergency stash. The tone holding more amusement than I expected, "So yes... I guess I am old by your standards."
I chewed the inside of my cheek, deciding to set this book aside and pick up a less familiar text. I lost track by the storytelling, accounting for the Thousand Year War between the Slecatto and Deigojar, Rhazien's rustling drawing my focus.
He had a collection of papers in neat piles before him. The tall stack shrunk as he sorted through the thick manilla folder; his movements slowed as he found what he sought.
I watched him dump out the burnt tobacco, the ashes fluttering like snow. Hands methodically worked to clear out the remains, clean the barrel, and reload with more tobacco, a small stamp pressing the disk perfectly flat. He didn't even look as he did it, his focus solely trained on the papers before him. Done so many times now; it was like breathing. The match ignited the earthy aroma, the wood clinking between his teeth as he dragged.
"Vampires don't feel the effects of narcotics..."
Rhazien's brow raised, pen scraping against the parchment as he corrected something, taking another puff. Eyes still glued to the report.
"So why do you smoke?"
The pen made a soft clicking sound against the shining wood. Rhazien's dark lashes fluttered as he blinked. I could tell he wasn't reading anymore, the way his eyes glazed, tasting the question. The smoke billowed from the pipe when he didn't breathe it in. The chair groaning as he sat back, pulling the pipe from his lips, "I don't know... I've always done it."
I shrugged, turning back to my book while I let him stay in my peripheral, "Just because you've always done something doesn't mean you have to keep doing it..."
Rhazien blinked again, holding the smoking wood by his fingertips as gently as a broken bird. "I've ... always done it."
"I suppose what the humans think about Vampire's is true then." We weren't talking about smoking anymore. Rhazien's blue swallowed the tiny flickers of ash that escaped the rim, watching the plant burn.
That intense gaze flickered to me, lighting me up like he had stricken a match, his jaw tightening.
"About them never changing." I could feel his eyes burning into me, like a fire that ran so hot it turned blue. Using the spite I could gather to click my tongue harshly. "It's disappointing, really..."
Rhazien made a noise almost like a scoff, his chair groaning in protest.
The clock chimed 3 when I heard the bottom desk drawer open and close for the final time.
֍ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ֍
This became a routine of ours for the next few nights. Rhazien would wake me in his room, and we would have a silent breakfast before retreating to his study, with nothing but the soft scraping of wood being shaped and the hiss and crackles of the fire.
The clothes made sense, the house kept hotter than the tropics. I swore the place almost breathed in the heat, the peak of the evenings releasing the smells of dried wood throughout the home. It was becoming familial too quickly, and it wasn't until the seventh night, standing in the archway of my old room, a warmed cup of oxen blood between my palms as I watched Ezekiel stain the carved door, that I realized I hadn't seen Luther since we left for Antonio's.
I refilled my mug, ignoring Rhazien's "No Food Allowed" rule as I slipped into the study, tugging my borrowed robe behind me. A chill had crept through the house that I couldn't shake. My Sire stiffened in his chair, his mouth left hanging open as I interrupted him with a wave of my hand.
"Where's my cat?"
Rhazien huffed, a twinkle of mischief in his eye, "Your cat?"
I frowned, pulling my robe tighter around me; the weight was coming back, although painfully slowly, and the temper seemed permanent. "Luther...?" I spoke his name slowly, dragging the vowels, the mocking tone only seeming to draw a smirk from My Sire. The shrug he gave me stoked the sparks of annoyance further.
"He comes and goes; I'm surprised it's taken you this long to notice." He wore a suit today, the top buttons loose and sleeves cuffed around his elbows. He hadn't said he was meeting with anyone, yet the attire seemed so.
The skin above my right eye twitched, causing me to take another deep drink from my mug, silencing my Beast before she could hiss. Letting my gaze linger on his outfit in the same way that he looked at me when he thought I wasn't watching. Jerking my head as I resettled my seat before the fire, spinning it to face him expectantly.
God, I needed to get out of this house. I would do anything to get out of here for just a second. "Where are you going?"
I hated how that smirk turned into a grin, his hands folding across the knee now propped in his lap. Rhazien had combed and gelled his hair back, his rings glinting in the light, the casual airs of an immortal still making me flush. I couldn't deny he cleaned up well.
"What makes you think I'm going anywhere?" Rhazien's head tilted, his eyes squinting in the way that made me want to pluck them from his head. My irritation obviously showed as his grin grew, flashing his pearly whites like a burlesque. He was developing this infuriating habit of repeating my questions to me in some attempt to 'Encourage you–' Me '–to think outside the box. I can't always be there to answer every little question.'
He was the master of infuriating condescension and brooding silence. But alas, I played the game.
"Your clothes," I jerked my chin at him, "You don't dress up for me; you're meeting with someone. Someone that you clearly feel compelled to Peacock for."
His smirk crashed and burned, his leg dropping in a thud, "Peacock? What does a bird have to do with this?"
I snorted, blinking at him, "You've been alive this long but don't know what peacocking is?"
My Sire's frown deepened, a darkness spreading across his cheeks.
"Peacocking..." I shot back the last sip of my breakfast, "You know..." I fanned myself, lifting my chin and cocking a brow.
Rhazien blinked, the scowl cemented on his features.
"Like... Like dressing up extra fancy for someone you're trying to impress." I gestured to his outfit, from the rings to the hideous trademark shoes. "Like you are right now."
"Just say that, then." Rhazien retorted, pulling himself into the desk as if he could be the one to end this conversation. The words low as he fixed the fountain pen to his right side, "There's no reason to call someone a bird."
It took everything in me to hold back my grin, using my mug to hide most of my smile as I stared at my cranky Sire. His spirit so quickly dampened with my gentle jabs. "Oh my god..." The realization bubbled as he shifted uncomfortably, refusing to look at me. "Are you afraid of birds?"
The rising heat in his cheeks was my only response; my snort echoed by my empty cup in the small room, his eyes shooting to me.
I cocked my head in the same way he had done so many times now. "Is that why you received The Kiss? Decided that it would be easier if you could live through life only dealing with Owls?" I couldn't help the genuine amusement slip into my tone, this snippet feeling lighter than I had in weeks.
His voice was barely audible. "And nightjars..." Rhazien cleared his throat loudly as if trying to reset the vibe in the room. "That's enough biology." He grumbled, pulling the Manilla folder from the drawer and setting up the stacks of pages again.
Big mean, killing machine- scared of birds.
I snorted again, settling closer to the flames, draping my knees over the armrest as I fell back into the tome. Unlike the others, the language was more flavorful, dragging me into the depths of the war. It was also the only text that openly criticized the earlier versions of the Slecatto.
'The aftermath draped the streets in a chilling tableau of crimson—a testament to the relentless clash between the rebels and the formidable Nocturna Dominya. Once opulent pathways for the nocturnal elite, the thoroughfares now bore witness to the macabre aftermath, with corpses—both turned and human—forming grotesque clusters across the rolling hills.
Amidst the chaos, General Reeves, a stalwart leader, returned with footsteps that eclipsed hope. A harbinger of doom for the once-mighty Nocturna Dominya, he tipped the scales of the war with strategic brilliance and unwavering commitment. Against the blood-streaked sky, his silhouette signaled the turning of the tide, casting shadows that mirrored the looming uncertainty enveloping their foe.
As war drums resounded and rebel footsteps echoed through city streets, a symphony of determination and defiance unfolded. The ethically dubious choice to convert the fallen showcased the rebels' adaptability, as newly turned soldiers marched with a shared purpose, embodying the harsh reality of war's transformational toll.
Pressing forward, the rebels and their resurrected allies created a convergence of forces—living and undead united in pursuit of emancipation from the Nocturna Dominya's oppressive rule. The battleground became a canvas illustrating the ebb and flow of power, a narrative of war challenging the status quo.
In the shadows of General Reeves, the rebels stood on the brink of a paradigm shift—a momentous chapter in the annals of vampire history. The once-dominant Nocturna Dominya grappled with the consequences of its own hubris, facing an insurgency that transcended conventional boundaries. The city's destiny hung in the balance as the war raged on, leaving an indelible mark–'
I frowned; the next section was entirely different, starting on about how the treaty was a 'fair deal for all,' the text was suddenly written somewhat stilted. Something wasn't adding up here... My fingers absentmindedly reached for the corned of the page–
"Freeze!"
My fingers froze, my thumb curled around the dog ear I was about to mark, Rhazien's finger pointing at the book,
"Do not fold that corner." His nose flared, "It took me so long to repair the damage you did in the first place–"
"Then give me something to write with." I interrupted him, his scowl thunking against the rug.
The desk protested as he roughly opened the drawers, setting a small stack of paper and a plastic ballpoint pen on the desk, huffing.
I rolled my eyes, uncurling myself from the chair and noting the page as I stood to grab the items. Doing my best to hide the unadulterated glee that simmered beneath the surface. Daring to sneak a glance at the papers before him, the blood running from my face as I saw the name, Rhazien squinting suspiciously as he crossed his arms over the folder.
It was burned into my eyes.
Patient 00177: River Aurora Woolf
I stilled my hands as I collected the supplies, stripping a small corner off a blank page to tuck into my book; Rhazien already refocused on his work.
I put the text down, willing my hands to ignore the sinking feeling in my gut.
00177
How Many?
You saw how many.
One hundred and seventy-six.
One Hundred and Seventy-Six nameless faces.
I forced my trembling fingers, bitten with cold, to reach for the fire, to force the thoughts out of my head. At least for now. Until I was safe. I couldn't think about it till I was safe.
The draw of his pen across the page in a fast stroke threatened to unzip me completely. Perhaps it was the Beast that dared I ask the burning question. I couldn't pretend I didn't hear for much longer, but I forced as much surety into it as possible, not daring to let my voice quake. "Who are the Kina?"
Rhazien's head jerked upwards, his glower powerful as he studied my face. "Where did you hear that name?"
I shrugged nonchalantly, keeping calm, feeling my Beast comfort me around my gut, trying to console me. "It was in one of my books." I gestured to the small stack near the legs of the chair, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at the title names that most certainly did not have the clan's name written down. Cracking my knuckles to refocus his attention on me, not the books. Blinking expectantly, innocently.
His nostrils flared, and he tilted his head, "They are another clan. Associated for their curse; madness."
My stomach dropped, my Beast curling around it tighter in an attempt to remain stable, to prevent the corners of my vision from icing over. The cold hovered just outside the door.
"They see things that aren't truly there." Rhazien continued, "Some believe it gives them unique insight, a way to see the truth between worlds. But more often than not, the visions are just muttered nonsense. They have been a huge issue for the Traditions and maintaining the masquerade... And oftentimes, they are a clan that is difficult to.... Contain."
His words were so carefully removed, an uneasiness settling around me that only did when he was lying. My eyes dropped to my lap, finding the chair so the floor didn't drop out from beneath me, unable to look at Rhazien.
Mad.
Truly mad.
"Are they... bad people, these clan members?" I silently thanked my Beast for keeping my voice steady, building the wall before the next punch of words ended me for good.
Rhazien cleared his throat, the creaking confirmation of his uncomfortable shuffling. "Yes and no. Some would say that their gifts are not worth the risk of association. Others would say that their weakness is a misinterpretation that would only benefit our enemies, and others simply do not care for how... unconventional they tend to be."
"And what do you think about it."
The silence was too long before he spoke, dry and hollow, "I don't have an opinion."
"Aren't you supposed to?" I turned back to him, daring to poke the fresh wound that had nearly had us at each other's throats only a week ago. "As Seneschal? Isn't it your duty to be informed of Princely affairs? Which includes opinions on your subjects."
The fire popped, drawing us both to stare. The Feuerschreck. Fear of fire. The only sole weapon to NightStalkers... So many names for what they were: Walkers, Stalkers, Lurkers...
I dared to look back at Rhazien, his eyes glazing over, shoulders sagging forward. It was not a look that screamed ferocious creature.
"I think we test the balance of order by tipping the scales. That the Kina walk that thin line every night. And..." He looked away from the flames, and his eyes caught me gasping, "Sometimes, I suspect they are the only clan keeping the balance stable with their ample wandering."
A soft click at the door made me jump, Jane's pale face appearing in the crack, her eyes lowered to the rug. "My apologies, sir. You have a caller." She slid into the room, purposefully not acknowledging me as she brought a little white envelope to Rhazien.
My Sire was already unrolling his sleeves, securing the golden lapels, thanking Jane softly as he took it. The woman quickly exiting.
I tried to make it look like I wasn't watching too closely as he read the short note. Standing to his feet, pulling his coat on with a shrug as I tried to make myself small.
This is when he would wait for me to collect my things.
To lock the door behind him.
I held my breath as he put away the items on his desk. His glance sliding to me then, to the book I had grabbed– the one I had been devouring for days; his voice hard enough to make me shiver,
"Stay here, I'll be back soon."
I swallowed, stiller than a fawn, eyes twice as wide as Rhazien followed after Jane, the paper fluttering towards the coals as he tossed it into the hearth.
The door clicked as I surged for the embers, plucking the burning paper out of the flames, my Beast crying as I smothered the curling corners with my palms. Tears dusting the corners of my eyes as I retrieved the notecard:
'I found something.'
I looked at my scattered parchments, tucking the notecard with my texts. Counting his footsteps as they thundered down the hall before I turned, flying to his desk. My mind racing as I pulled on the drawer he had swept his papers into, hands trembling as I laid out the manilla folder. Searching for the banner:
00177
I froze, my hands crackling with cold:
Patient: 00177
Name: River Aurora Woolf
Sex: Female
DOB: September 23, 1995
Clan Expression: Rauvau/unknown
Incident:
The young kindred, River Aurora Woolf, has exhibited heightened sensitivity to a presence imperceptible to others. She displayed a nuanced understanding of the Beast and its implications; however, recurring episodes of frenzy have resulted in significant self-inflicted injuries. Noteworthy is her commendable self-control, with observed instances of the patient successfully subduing her Beast and resisting Feuerschreck.
Additionally, River has displayed unexplained fatigue despite minimal physical exertion, often experiencing prolonged coma-like states of slumber. There have been multiple instances where she has entered a condition resembling Torpor for extended periods, lasting– up to 24 hours.
Assessment:
River Woolf has consistently refused human vitae consumption, opting instead for the blood of hooved animals. This dietary choice has contributed to an anticipated delay in injury recovery, though her overall mood appears relatively stable. Notable, the patient has not manifested any discernible abilities or powers associated with the Rauvau lineage, even when such traits were demonstrated.
While weight gain has been gradual, the patient is progressing toward her final goal weight. Formal physical assessments will commence in the upcoming week once the patient achieves her weight milestone.
Additional Comments:
-Patient has exhibited a degree of uncooperativeness
- Managing the patient's cooperation has presented unique challenges.
My fingers cracked as I unclenched them, finding a dozen more similar reports, the lines scratched out and rewritten over and over again. This was what he'd been working on– This whole time.
I looked back into the drawer, a single slip of parchment, something that he had yet to burn in the fire that barked hungrily for it. I flipped it over, laying it gingerly on the pile. It held no digits or serial numbers, instead written in overarching looping script, unfamiliar to my Sires.
'Official Proclamation by the Authority of Prince Valentine,
Per order of Prince Valentine, it is hereby declared that the traitorous clan, identified as Kina, shall henceforth be prohibited from residing within the jurisdiction of New York City. Any kindred found sheltering these transgressors will face immediate termination. Members of the Court found aiding and abetting these malefactors will be subjected to a swift and thorough investigation, followed by prosecution.
Under no circumstances shall such actions be deemed permissible unless explicitly sanctioned by Prince Valentine. It is strongly urged that all kindred promptly report any observed suspicious behavior or affiliations to the Warden.
In the interest of safeguarding our kind,
With unwavering spines,
We trust.'
My skin froze to ice.
Two simple reports.
One that alluded to me as a Kina.
The other that made my existence a crime.
The black was curling around my vision, and I could not do anything but stare at the door. My knees felt weak, seeking solace in Rhazien's seat. My eyes were burning, the pieces coming together in the world's shittiest puzzle.
It's why I hadn't been let outside.
I read the notice from Valentine again and again until I could replicate the words on my own parchment.
And it wasn't until the room started to blur, the air in my lungs coming back shorter and shorter, that I remembered I was running on borrowed time.
Later.... Later, I would think. Process.
I swallowed back the threatening tears, forcing myself to stand as I recollected the items. My ears ringing as I shuffled them neatly back into Rhazien's drawer, nearly bumping into the painting behind the desk.
I blinked.
The Painting. The Safe.
I carefully plucked the picture off the wall, setting it aside as I stared at the safe, chewing my lip. I ignored the twinge of embarrassment as I impulsively rested my ear near the lock.
I turned the dial slowly, the clicks of numbers passing, loud to my superhuman hearing. The shame creeping further up as each peg passed.
Just keep turning to the right.
I frowned, disliking how comfortable my Beast had become these last few nights, sitting in the basket I made for her deep in my chest, lazily hissing orders at me.
I leaned back against the desk, the crackling in my hands itching to release the coiling that built into my forearms.
The clock in the hall chimed, sending a bead of sweat down my spine, my hands clasped around the handle and lock. The Beast unfurling some of her power, the fire warming my hand around the dial, sending a surge of adrenaline through my muscles. The metallic grind reverberating up my arm as I twisted, the snap loud as it fell apart in my hands.
I swallowed, the dread plummeting to my feet, the hole gaping and dark where the dial used to be. I shoved the dial pieces underneath the second chair before the fire, the hair on the back of my neck raising.
My blood tingled as I looked back to the embedded black box, humming with familiarity. The frequency resonated with the soft buzz of my mind as I reached into the safe, the room's dim light spilling into the man-made cave. The Rauvau journal, kept under lock and key; A doll, knit out of yarn, the hair thin and too lifelike compared to the small black button eyes.
But it was the small bundle, a cloth wrapping something that sang my name, harmonizing with my presence. It was a magnetic pull as I reached for the lump. Heavy in my palm as I unwrapped the thin leather.
A golden pendant, no bigger than a kiwi, with strange symbols decorating its rim. It was heavy, real gold, the movement reflexive as my fingers curled around it protectively.
This could be my way out...
There was a creak somewhere in the house, knocking my knees back straight.
The pendant sliding into my pocket as smoothly as the last puzzle piece locking into place. I hurriedly put back the painting, straightening it so Mr. Perfectionist would be none the wiser. On the nights we had shared in this room, he had never opened the safe.
And I was leaning on that observation to buy me time.
I collected my papers, taking my favorite reads, the handle heavy as I turned, the walk back to my room never before feeling longer.