Luther locked Rhazien's door, a knob I realized was similar to my old one. My gaze kept skimming to the lankier man as he reached for the string attached to the ceiling.
I began to wonder how many of Rhazien's actions were solely his decision and how many were just mere requests.
My head had begun to ache.
I forced stiff legs to move from my Sire's door, eager to bundle up. The chill had been biting ever since I'd left Rhazien's bedroom.
I collected my journal and a writing utensil, settling into the drawing room.
The green chair was a pillar in the room, and Rhazien's vacancy was ever so much more missing.
I was grateful for the silence– but it was equally terrifying.
I feared that if he met Final Death, I would too. Eight years, hooked up to a machine of his blood. Luther was collecting a snack in the kitchen as I curled up in the emerald cushions, my body still buzzing from my intrusion.
Luther returned, an empty mug hanging from a long finger, a decanter tucked against his body, and a blender bottle in the other, the metal ball bouncing in the red liquid. He set the decanter down next to me, flipping me the glass.
He'd changed into a thin vintage Metallica tee and flannel red pajama bottoms, collapsing onto the loveseat in relief.
I raised a brow at the workout bottle, his grin entirely too smitten as it turned to me. "I'm clumsy; it's best if I have a lid... Trust me."
Luther had cleaned up, but the hair was still slow to grow in on the long stretch against his head. My lips tugged downwards. "Are you okay?"
They didn't even flicker as he shrugged, the motion telling me more than any words could. "I'm fine."
I gnawed on my tongue, Luther leaning to prop himself on an elbow.
"I'm sorry for snapping at you back there– I just didn't... I didn't think considering your guys' history– It didn't seem like a good idea to mix the two. And I know you've got your own problems–"
I poured myself a glass, a hand running through his hair as he fell back.
"I really, really didn't want to drag you into this. It's so fucking typical of him to act like this... I'm so sorry; this is all just so fucked... And I just– This was not the impression–"
"Luther–"
"But fuck... I don't know what I would have done without your help. I haven't seen Rhaz like that in fucking years, babe; it scared the shit out of me."
I chewed the inside of my gums to bite back my smirk, letting him sit in the silence as I took a sip.
Luther's cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson as he realized his slip. "I-I'm sorry, it's just a–"
I raised the other brow. "A pet name?" A smile tucked into my cheek as the flush climbed further down his throat. I waved a hand at him. "Don't mention it... Owing me a life boon and all, I'm gonna have to get used to keeping you around, I guess..." I rolled my eyes, smiling into my cup as I took another drink. The vitae was helping with the constant ache in my head, but the buzzing was increasingly more difficult to stave off due to being up well past my bedtime.
Luther sat up a little taller, his foot–sure enough– bumping the bottle he had set onto the floor. The lid was secured before he ruined a rug that was probably older than my entire family line. A wide hand scooped up the container like it was a non-issue, popping the lid as he drank, the flush creeping back under his skin.
Past both our bedtimes.
"Where do I start?" "I'm not sure what happened."
Luther huffed, "Sorry, I keep doing that– Interrupting you... I've kind of lost the feel for natural conversation." He took another swig, pulling at his collar.
I couldn't help but wonder for just a moment if wearing clothes for him was weird.
"How did– what did you do?"
"It was the smoking." Luther made a face as I continued, "Rhaz had given me a bunch of manuals on just–Jesus, fucking everything. Honestly, it was a lot, but one of the books had offhandedly mentioned how substance use works–how it doesn't affect us..." My thoughts trailed off on the coattails of a white rabbit.
Luther caught it by the ears. He was just as attentive as before, observing in the way artists did– constantly zoomed out and in the abstract.
"Who's his supplier?"
The grass in his eyes shriveled and died. "Cash." The sound skittered up my arms, wrapping around my throat.
I could feel how Luther held his Beast to his body, constantly at the surface. How it didn't slip was beyond me. "For how long?"
Luther hummed, his body settling; his eyes were finally back to normal, hidden behind thinking lids. "Let's see... Somewhere between the eighties and nineties- Of this last century." Luther clarified, a pinched finger moving to his brow bone. "Sorry, the memory isn't so good right now– call it bad brain fog."
"You're probably exhausted."
It was like peering into the woods, streams of light cascading through the canopy when he looked at me. "I could say the same."
"I didn't reconfigure my entire body into a new species."
"Right– and I wasn't almost a victim in a car bombing." His playful tone dropped like a stone, his mouth too serious for the dusting of pink on his cheeks.
Oh yeah. That.
"Are you okay?" He leaned forward as if, by lengthening his body, I would look at him instead of the glass in my palm.
I shrugged. "Not really..." I swallowed, looking up at him. Luther's focus was earnest, which was still the same as before, the curiousness. It was a look that drew a smile from somewhere long buried. "But I think I will be... And you're going to help me do that.
Luther held up his right hand with the palm facing out, the index, middle, and ring fingers straight up, and the thumb holding down the little finger. "Scouts honor."
It was like a sour smell, the reality of our situation, and my thoughts returned to the sleeping tiger upstairs. "What did you mean when you said you'd never seen him that bad?"
Luther sighed, bouncing his cup on his knee. "It's not his fault. At first, I thought he was acting like a lunatic, too– but it made sense. He has to have a vice, some sort of–" Luther rolled his eyes. "For a lack of a better word, a Sin. Just like how I can Frenzy easily and you–" His hand he was gesturing with fell between his thighs. "You... Do whatever it is you do..."
"It's his check."
Luther raised a brow.
"Like in a check and balance system. The Clans seem to be a check and balance for each other, and vampirism– whether it's some sort of disease or, fuck, magic– has its own checks. The Sun's rays to avoid overconsumption, the weakness to succumb to the strengths. Rhazien's addiction is his check to keep him balanced... So why didn't it this time?" I blinked, collecting my thoughts to focus on Luther again. The edges around my vision blurred as they did when I fell too far back into my mind.
"I'm so fucking happy I can talk to you now. "I flushed at the face Luther made, his eyes shining, his back straightened.
I couldn't help the sheepish smile. "I've been doing nothing but reading for weeks. It feels good to stretch the big ole brain muscle for once."
A few moments of silence stolen between us. A comfort that settled like a familiar downy duvet. Luther was so familiar despite how everything about him was new. I found myself absentmindedly observing Luther the same way Rhazien had done to me so many times before.
"I think his vice has switched..." Luther hummed the words as if it were a thought he was testing out in the air before facing acceptance head-on.
"To what, though? I saw him at Deviant literally just a few nights before I got you. He must have been stocking up."
Luther sucked his cheek, his brow furrowed. "I have a theory, but I don't like it..."
I curled back into my chair, stuffing the journal next to me. "Shoot."
"The vice isn't limited to substances... My brother has become... attached to others before, too... I worry that since what he's using has been blood..."
"That it might be another kindred." I gasped, sitting up in my chair, Luther's head hanging in a sad nod. "Luther, what happens when you've been blood-bonded to someone for 50 years?"
There was no more youth to his skin, the bags under his eyes cavernous as he looked at me. "I... don't know..."
"What was the longest stretch before this?"
"Antonio... About twenty years before he broke things off... It hit Rhazien... hard." Luther flinched, a hand brushing the side of his head as if in remembrance. "It's what caused him to think outside the box. At first, he said it would be simpler this way, something that he could tangibly hold as opposed to like a concept—or desire... It wasn't until a couple of years later that I realized who he was getting it from."
"Why the distrust?" I tilted my head, observing every flinch and dart he made. "You're an independent; as far as I can tell, Cash is too."
"Someone like Philly or Antonio, I understand. They always give you a receipt before you leave. Cash feels like someone with hidden fees, just waiting for you to fuck up so he can slink in and fill your place."
"I want you to give me a crash course on all the Clans. I have a basic understanding, but I feel like everything I've learned has been heavily biased."
"I'm not without my own bias."
I sighed, "Yeah– I know. No one is, but goddamn, I at least know you're not in Valentine's pocket." I could hear the steady beat of his heart, or at least–anymore.
"Anything you need– I mean it."
And he really did.
I finished my glass, set it down on the table, and took the leather journal from beside me. "I'm not a Kina."
"I figured."
"When?" There was a buzzing under my skin, a whirling in my ears building with the expression that passed over his features.
"When I saw you nearly break yourself into pieces as you destroyed your room."
"It's your room." I corrected, the teasing tone doing little to cover the unease stacking up warily inside me.
"Hasn't been for a long time." Luther shook his head; he hadn't blinked, watching me. "The confirmation was when you almost punched a hole through Rhaz's gut."
Wordlessly, I handed him the journal. It looked so tiny in his broad palms as he undid the drawstrap. "I found this... I believe this is the closest thing to figuring out what I am that we have."
Luther flipped through the pages, the frown deepening. I really didn't like the look on him. "Where?"
"In the library– downstairs." I chewed a lip, my laced fingers twitching in my lap. "I think it was a gift."
"That would be the only thing that makes sense." Another page. His focus trained on the foldout in the center, the paper sewn in and soft with age. Luther's green systematically jumped and dipped as he traced the symbols on it.
"Why?"
"My Brother has single-handedly drawn up every volume in that library..." Luther lifted the small book to his face, his pupils pulsing as he sniffed; a flush ran to his cheeks, and I swear I saw him shiver. The lanky man set the journal on the table between us, jumping up to grab a random text from the nearby shelf. The book creaked as he opened it, setting it on the table next to the journal, spinning both to face me. "Not only is this not his handwriting, it's not a subject he would know anything about... And even if still there was a chance it could be him. It's not. He isn't this sloppy."
I scanned the two texts, stumbling upon a vast oversight.
Even if Rhazien could mimic someone else's script perfectly, he would never allow a page to be creased– or partially burned like some of these were.
"He's also not an idiot."
I looked up at Luther, relieved to witness a much more relaxed grin hanging off his lips.
"He's ornery– yes... But, if my brother knew there was even a possibility of an answer, he would have found it. That is a guarantee. He's not one to let things go once he's gotten a hold of them..."
Estelle's words felt so light compared to the circumstances of now: "Keep him running, girl... Our Seneschal hasn't had something to chase for quite some time... He could do with the practice..."
I was his puzzle he couldn't quite solve.
I chewed on the thought, not daring to utter it aloud, in case that would wish it into existence. I needed a moment to breathe, and Luther seemed like the perfect companion for that. The pounding continued to build behind my eyes.
"I understand you and my brother have not been on the best of terms... But River– I just want you to know–" There was a rustle, his hand gentle as he coaxed one from my safety net. Luther was on a knee, clasping my hand between his. "You can blame me for all of this."
It was a stunning realization.
Out of everyone here, in a way... I had known Luther the longest.
He squeezed my hand once, placing it back into my lap. "I'm sorry I couldn't explain everything to you sooner or be here for your transition... This wasn't how I wanted any of this to go down– if at all... I just–" He looked away, and I nearly cracked in two. "I didn't know what to do. I panicked... River–" His eyes shone, the sunspots on his cheeks darkening with his flush. "I couldn't just sit there and let you– Rhazien helped me that day. He acted on my orders– my urgency. I'm sorry–" A giant hand wiped his face, a sour laugh escaping his lips. "This isn't about me... I just wanted you to know that everything Rhazien did– it was for a good reason... Or at least I think so." Luther's gaze fell to the rug, a hand rubbing the back of his neck, resting on his heels.
Despite the drink, my mouth had begun to feel too dry. "What now?"
"Short term? Probably sleep... Long term?" He was looking at me again, waiting. I wondered if I asked him if he would wait 100 years more. "I think that's really up to you... Your debt with Rhazien is cleared, and while I cannot speak upon Valentine's intentions besides my own experiences, I imagine you have some flexibility still. If you'd like, you never have to see Rhazien and me ever again– I promise I can still fulfill my duties of honoring my life boon."
"You don't have to owe me a life boon–"
"That's not really your decision to make." Luther smiled, the expression curling up only half his face. He moved to fill my glass, still half kneeling on the floor. I took the gesture, finding it harder and harder to sort through my fog as the Sun shined outdoors.
The aches and pains had been rising despite the mouthful I swallowed. "I–" I huffed. I was quickly running out of words.
"You don't have to give me an answer now... I honestly vote rest first over anything." Luther finally leaned back, using the decanter to fill his bottle and top off my glass.
I sat in the silence as I heard him turn on the kitchen faucet.
The more I let myself think about it, the more the gap in my memory unnerved me.
Like someone had reached into my mind, sawed off a chunk, and pocketed it for themselves.
I watched Luther push through the swinging doors, a light dusting of crimson decorating his cheeks when he realized I was studying him–– again. "Luther... What does a frenzy feel like?"
His expression was perplexed, and he clicked the roof of his mouth as he thought: "It's a little different from everyone... but for me, it's like I'm filled with so much steam that the only option is to either give in or be boiled alive."
"That sounds... Unpleasant."
Luther huffed, "It sure is, which is why I try to avoid it whenever I can. It's helped that for the last couple decades, I couldn't lose control... If anything, it gave me a lot of time to process..."
I started to collect my things, each blink harder to open than the next. "That's a positive spin on a shitty situation, I suppose."
Luther shrugged as if to say, Whatcha gonna do? "Being awake for 9,156 days tends to put things in perspective."
I froze, my journal clutched to my chest, my grip clinging to my evening nightcap. "You were awake the whole time?"
Luther shrugged again. "You could say I'm a little tired."
"I would simply cease to exist."
Luther snorted. "Well, it's a good thing I'm tucking you in now then, isn't it?"
With my elbow, I gave him a playful shove, my toes hesitating in my bedroom doorway. He was about to turn up the stairs as I stared into the vastness that was my room.
I had never realized how large it was.
How empty.
"Hey, Luther...?" My voice was small; I was worried he wouldn't hear me and I wouldn't have the guts to speak any louder.
The lanky man looked back at me. "Yeah?"
"You can say no–" My face was getting too hot for how soft his smile was, his body spinning to face me fully. "I– Would you... Will you wait for a moment before I fall asleep? It's just–"
"Weird?"
I looked at him thankfully, Luther rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. I knew we were both thinking the same thing; whenever we were together, we shared a bed.
It was odd to lose a pet and gain a person.
And it was going to take some adjustment time for us both– apparently. I put stuffed the journal back under my mattress, bidding Luther goodnight as I curled up in bed. One too that had become familiar.
"Luther?"
His voice called from the hall. He'd left the door open, and I knew he was leaning near the stairwell. "Yeah?"
"I think... I'm going to stay– at least for a little while."
Luther's voice was slow as if he was being extra careful to restrict his joy. "Alright." A thumbs-up appeared in my doorway, tweaking a smirk from my lips. It was an attempt to give me both space and privacy.
I curled up, watching the doorway, the pillowy mattress sucking me down deep into a dreamless slumber.
֍ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ⸸ ֍
The sudden raps at the door sent my whole body into a panic, my feet finding the floor before I could part my eyes. Quick steps rang down the stairs as I rubbed the crust from my lids, my mind swathed in a sea of red.
I snapped awake at the unknown voice at the front door.
"It will be an absolute delight; neither of you would care to miss it."
Luther's frame blocked the front door crack he was currently trying to shut, a large white envelope crumpled in his hand. "I'll be sure to let him–"
A thump as the tip of an ivory cane caught the door's crack before Luther could slam it shut, a white glove smacking it open. "Nonsense..."
My bare feet inched closer into the hall as the honey-haired man stepped into the foray.
The drawl was marmite, slow as it choked my throat. "I can tell him myself." He was my height, pressed stiffly into a white-on-white suit, gloves to match. His longer blonde hair was brushed back and out of his face, a pair of blue eyes that drooped almost sad-like near the ends. The line in his chin crinkled with his grin as his focus settled on me. "And who is this hidden treasure?" The man tucked the thick cane into the crook of his arm, a gloved hand presented before him, extended for me to clasp.
I glared at his hand, making sure to take too long before looking back at him, as glaringly a denial as anyone in the room would admit.
Luther scowled but said nothing. He glanced over his shoulder at me before he returned to the man. His brow was twitching, and I could feel the static that was his Beast. "Mr. Landau is currently indisposed with business."
The man snickered, cocking his head. "Is that what he's referring to as business these days?" It was a sneer, slimy on my skin.
"Who are you?" The venom was thick on my tongue as it lashed out, Luther's irritation colliding with mine.
The man laughed at my rage. "Oh– she's fresh out of the oven, is she?" A gloved finger roughly pointed in my direction.
He had a long, round face, the type I wanted to curb-stomp into the pavement.
The man crooned at me– no, over me, at Luther.
With my performance, a silent claim had been made, and I hadn't even meant to.
The younger brother's irritation was so quick it had combined with my own, my Beast so used to his unconscious influence now.
A muffled snap jerked my focus back in front of me, the smile not meeting the mustard man's eyes. "Hurry up now," A twirl of his hand that hung limp and lazy near his shoulder.
Luther had composed himself better and quicker than I had, his scratchy baritone stroking my Beast calm. "River, this is Mr. Jasper Jackson, Keeper of Elysium as appointed by Prince Valentine of the Greater New York City, New York."
Jasper's pearly white teeth glistened like licked bones as Luther droned on his lengthy title. The Keeper acknowledged the Ronchessac with the slightest tip of his head– as if that, too, was simply too much of an effort to do. "How excellent it is to have you back, Monsieur Navarro." Jasper's Rs lagged poorly on the droned French, a vaguely Southern accent disliking the shape of the sound. "You were quite missed for your introductions, so well rehearsed– so well trained."
That's it.
My Beast leaped into my throat.
"Explain your reason for trespass, or respectfully extricate yourself from the premises before I'm wiping you off the walls." The vowels were hot, rolling coals tumbling from my lips. "My Master has already asked, and he can assure you I do not like to repeat myself... I don't think it would be any good for the wood." My Beast hissed, slithering in satisfaction down my spine. Luther's amusement was a beam of light against my back, his form a towering, charming shadow as I felt him fold his arms over his chest.
The smirk on Jasper's lip faded only slightly before spreading into a plastered grin. It was a good mask, the twitching corner of his right eye the only thing that gave it away. Jasper's lips parted to speak, my back turning to him to look at Luther instead. His eyes were round and sleepy as we both ignored The Keeper.
"Did he give you something? Is his task over? Oh– May I remove him from the premise?" I let the excitement my Beast tangoed with reflect on my tone.
I liked how that sparked something in Luther's eyes. The Ronchessac's lips pursed slightly as if it was a really, really hard choice to make. Luther smirked at Jasper, "As interesting as that sounds... I think Valentine will miss his favorite Boy."
The gloves groaned as he tightened a fist on his cane, thumping it twice on the ground to catch it midair. "You know me—the golden child; can do no wrong." Jasper swaggered to the door. "I'll stop pulling your tail—congratulations on not keeping it... A shame—I owe rather a large sum to Aras now."
Luther was hot on his heels, eager to rush him out the door. "I will be sure to forward your... concerns for my brother to him directly."
It was a small pat. Two– on Luther's left cheek. "Good boy."
My hands were too hot, and I suddenly understood what Luther meant– about releasing steam. A hiss escaping clenched teeth as I shadowed the younger brother.
Jasper's gaze skipped to me before settling back on the Ronchessac. "Pity– I thought you'd learned your lesson about rabid hounds."
The words were through a steel cage. "Safe travels Jasper."
Jasper winked, spinning on a heel as he skipped into the night.
The doorframe nearly cracked in two from the force Luther shut it with.
I was still a steaming kettle when a tired huff escaped his throat in what I realized was his signature for a laugh. "I wasn't aware I had received such a promotion, as Master and all."
The black had already started to drift in from the corner of my vision. "He doesn't know."
"Hm?" Luther prodded into the kitchen, his steps an invisible path my feet traced.
"I pretended to be your Childer, and he had no idea. He wasn't there the first night I was presented, or–" I swallowed, my throat suddenly choking on a truth pit that was too large. My toes skimmed the cool rough of the stone. "All the court members were there, except him– which likely means he's the lowest on the power ladder here..." It was a thought, so close I could taste it.
Luther moved to collect his cup and a glass for me, topping them up with the evening's victim donation of choice. I stared at red liquid– a color that seemed to chase me everywhere I ran, no matter what.
It was a color that reminded me of Rhazien.
"He wasn't telling me the whole truth, was he, Luther?"
Luther's nose twitched in a slight grimace before he took a deep chug like it would pull him from this perpetual drowsy state.
"Why would my Siring be a secret?"
Luther huffed, "Do you want the short version or the long one?"