Story - Embrace ch. 18

[maderr]

Pink Verbena

(chapter eighteen)

"I don't understand what we're doing," Aubrey said, shivering in the cold.

Ruthven smiled in the moonlight, looking around the barren street where they lurked as though they stood in a warm, well-lit parlor room. "Waiting," he said.

"For what?" Aubrey said.

"Patience, master," Ruthven said, smile fading away as he frowned. "This is delicate work."

Aubrey looked at him, exasperated. "What is delicate work? Standing? Freezing?"

Ruthven laughed briefly, and held out one gloved hand. "Come here, master. I could use a taste, and you may take all of my warmth you like."

Grumbling half-hearted protests about confounding Pets, Aubrey took the hand and let Ruthven drag him close.

They had been wandering the town nearly all day, going back and forth across various streets and thoroughfares and alleyways. Six times Ruthven had stopped to feed – once on him, five times on others, and Aubrey had nearly suffered apoplexy the first time he did, and not been much calmer the subsequent four times.

Being told Ruthven could feed where he chose was one thing. Seeing it was quite another.

"Why are you feeding so much?" he demanded, even as he obligingly titled his head to bare his neck. When had he grown so complacent about this? When had he stopped minding the pain?

Ruthven hummed against his throat, arms tight around him, and Aubrey could do nothing but relax in his embrace.

"I am feeding excessively because I am using a great deal of my power to hunt out William," Ruthven said when he'd finished feeding.

"Powers?" Aubrey echoed, the loss of blood and Ruthven's warmth conspiring to make him rather sleepy. "What powers?"

Ruthven laughed softly and kissed his temple. "Nothing, master."

"Don't 'nothing, master' me," Aubrey snapped, shaking off his sleepiness to look up and glare. "What are you – no, don't say my Pet. Better question – what were you before you became my Pet?"

"Nothing that matters now, master," Ruthven said, brushing his lips with a soft kiss. "I am yours, is that not good enough?"

Aubrey shook his head. "No, it's not. It makes no sense. There's nothing special about me. It's obvious you're powerful, whatever you really are, so why me?"

Ruthven sighed softly, and cupped Aubrey's face in his hands. They were little more than shadow in the moonlight, but he could still see enough of Ruthven's face to be entranced. He looked good in the moonlight, and despite the impossibility of it, Aubrey swore he could see his eyes as clear as day.

They were, as Ruthven had said, both all colors, and none.

"The first time I saw you, master, I woke up."

Aubrey frowned. "What?"

"I'd felt asleep for so very long, with no real reason to bestir myself. I saw you, and began to wake."

"Right," Aubrey said disbelievingly. "You saw me angry and displeased to be saddled with a Pet, unkempt from hard travel, and woke up from a very long sleep. Do I look like an idiot to you?"

Ruthven laughed. "That was not the first time I saw you, master. Indeed, I saw you many times before that night."

"What!" Aubrey glared. "You—"

"Quiet," Ruthven said abruptly, letting him go and stepping away. "I have found him."

Aubrey quelled an urge to stamp his foot, settling instead for silently cursing Ruthven. He started to speak, but Ruthven held up a hand, emphasizing he be silent.

It was so very like Ruthven to say something mysterious, then abruptly switch subjects.

"What are you doing?" he asked, when he could no longer endure the silence.

Ruthven frowned. "Calling him."

Aubrey opened his mouth to ask what the hell that meant, then changed his mind and simply gave up.

"A resister," Ruthven said quietly. "I have not encountered one of those in a long time." He grimaced and pressed his fingers to his temples, bowing his head as his eyes slid shut.

Frowning in concern, wanting to speak but remembering the repeated admonitions to silence, Aubrey settled for sitting down on a nearby bench. Crossing his arms, he scowled at Ruthven and waited for answers.

If anyone else had seen him thus, they would have said he looked exactly like his father.

He was stirred from his scowling by the sound of footsteps. He stood, wondering what other manner of maniac would be traipsing about the town at such an unholy hour of the night.

When he realized who it was walking toward them, he barely kept back a startled oath of surprise.

William. William was walking toward them – though there was something strange about his movements.

"Now I have you," Ruthven murmured, so low Aubrey almost didn't hear him.

He shot Ruthven an odd look, but Ruthven still had his eyes closed.

So he settled for watching William, who made him think of a sleep walker.

At last he reached them, stopping abruptly in front of Ruthven, who finally opened his eyes.

"Good little prey," Ruthven murmured.

Then he suddenly stepped forward, grabbed Williams hard, yanked his head to the side – and sank his fangs into William's throat.

"Hey!" Aubrey said, confused and hurt and – goddamn it all – jealous. It had been bad enough to watch Ruthven take his sustenance from others all day, but to see him feed upon the bastard who had caused his family so much harm.

Ruthven pulled away, laughing as he licked blood from his lips. "You taste sweeter by far, master," he said, eyes glittering in the dark as he looked Aubrey. "This is a necessity, not a pleasure."

"Shut up," Aubrey said, crossing his arms across his chest. "What are you doing?"

"Ensuring his obedience. It's much easier to control someone upon whom I've fed. Whatever natural resistance he had, it's no longer enough. He is mine to do with as I please." He grasped William's chin, smirking when there was no resistance.

William, Aubrey thought, might as well be a doll. "What did you do?" he asked, feeling the slightest shiver of fear.

"He would have killed all of you, I think, if he'd been given a chance. The weakest are always the cruelest, in the end." A shadow passed over Ruthven's face, a deep sadness even the dark could not hide.

Aubrey reached out before he even realized what he was doing, resting a hand lightly on Ruthven's arm. "Ruthven."

"Come, master," Ruthven said, pulling gently away. "It is time to teach your sister how to feed properly."

Heaving a sigh, Aubrey went obediently along as Ruthven led them along the streets. He stayed well away from William, who trailed them like some sort of odd stray dog. Shuddering, he unconsciously moved closer to Ruthven.

"It's entirely too late to be travelling home," he said. "If you try to put me on a horse, I will fall off it." He yawned widely, exhaustion hitting him now that the strange matter of hunting down William seemed to be over.

"Well, William cannot ride either, the state he's in," Ruthven said. "We are taking a carriage back, and you can sleep on the way."

Aubrey drew to an abrupt halt in the street. "No," he said flatly. "I do not ride in carriages, and not even you can make me."

"You can ride, master," Ruthven said patiently.

"No."

Ruthven took his hand, and dragged him close, lowering his head to give Aubrey a kiss – and then nipped down hard on his lip, drawing blood, sucking and lapping and kissing until Aubrey moaned. "Come, master," he said finally.

Aubrey went, but only because protesting suddenly seemed to difficult.

Still he felt cold and anxious as they reached the carriage house, and Ruthven nudged a sleeping guard awake.

Hastily Aubrey stepped forward, requesting the carriage and horses before anyone realized there was a Pet going around giving orders.

"I'll ride on top," he said when it was at last ready.

Ruthven merely gave him a look, and helped William into the carriage before turning to Aubrey. "Master."

Aubrey shivered at the tone, the expression, the way not a trace of Ruthven's false subservience remained. Whatever Ruthven was, he had finally dropped the pretense of Pet entirely – except for that persistent 'master'. "I'm not doing it, Ruthven."

"Yes, master," Ruthven said, but Aubrey knew it wasn't an agreement.

Instead he was grabbed, lifted, and neatly shoved inside.

The panic set in immediately, but just as he was about to start battling his way out, a wave of lethargy struck him. He fell back into the carriage seat, opposite William, and slumped back in the corner.

He yawned, suddenly finding it too difficult to keep his eyes open.

"There, master," Ruthven's calm voice washed over him. "You're just fine."

"You…" Aubrey managed to open one eye, and looked at Ruthven, a suspicion growing in his head. "You're not…doing to me what you've done to him, are you?"

Ruthven's voice was soothing as he replied, "Of course not, master."

"Liar," Aubrey replied, and fell asleep to the sound of Ruthven's warm laughter.

When he woke, he immediately panicked, and threw himself out of the open carriage door – and right onto the steps of his home.

He jumped as a hand landed on his shoulder, whipping around to see it was only Ruthven.

"Master?"

"I'm fine," Aubrey said irritably. "You and I are doing to have a discussion about me conveniently asleep, later."

Ruthven grinned. "Yes, master."

"Bloody impertinent Pets," Aubrey said, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "What time is it?"

The question was answered by the butler, who answered the door in his night robe. "Just past one in the morning, my lord."

Aubrey drew to a halt in the main hall as he saw that the door to the library was open, and a great deal of light spilled from it – and he could hear conversation and laughing. "Why in the world is everyone awake at this hour?" He raked a hand through his hair. "Why am I awake at this hour?"

"Come, master," Ruthven said, taking his hand and gently tugging him toward the open door.

"Stop calling me that," Aubrey groused. "It's completely ridiculous."

Ruthven's laughing reply was lost in the rush of startled greetings from his father, Stregoni – and Carmilla, who came running toward them and threw herself into Aubrey's arms.

Aubrey held her tight, too stunned to do anything else. His sister had run. Her arms were tight around his neck – almost too tight.

She pulled away after a moment and kissed his cheek.

"Milla…" Aubrey looked at her in wonder. "You look…you look healthy."

Carmilla laughed and hugged him again, then stepped away and turned to Ruthven, grabbing his hand and lifting it, kissing his knuckles. "Thank you, Ruthven."

"The pleasure was mine, my lady," Ruthven said, and withdrew his hand. "I am glad to see you looking well."

"I've never felt like this," Carmilla replied, spinning excitedly, then surged forward to give Aubrey another hug, before she crossed the room to kiss her father's cheek, before once more taking her seat again.

Everyone was gathered there – his father, and Elisabeth beside him on a stool her head on his thigh. Gille and Stregoni had taken over the long sofa, and Carmilla sat in the armchair closest to the fire.

It looked, he thought, rather homey. He smiled, wishing briefly for a moment that his mother and Mina were here as well, but content in the end with the family he did have.

Carmilla resumed speaking, breaking into his odd bought of sentiment. "It's strange, being a vampire, or half, I suppose, but…" She fluttered one hand. "It's strange, but not in a bad way. Well, yet. I…father said…"

Ruthven smiled, and pulled William into the room.

Gille, who until then had been sitting quietly with an amused Stregoni, stood up. "Him! I should—"

"Sit," Ruthven said.

Aubrey looked at him when Gille obediently sat, looking abruptly dazed and a little sleepy. "We are discussing this later," he hissed. "I don't know how the hell you do that, but stop it."

"Yes, master," Ruthven murmured, obviously ignoring the order.

Aubrey rolled his eyes, and gave up. Shucking his cloak, coat, gloves, and hat, he all but threw them at the butler then stomped over to the bar, helping himself to the brandy. "How has everything been while we were gone?"

The room fell suddenly silent, and he paused with the snifter halfway to his mouth. "Bad question?"

"Not well," Stregoni said, and quietly explained all that had transpired.

"I'm sorry, father, Gille," Aubrey said when he had finished. "Very sorry, indeed."

Both men nodded, but said nothing.

"That saves me the trouble of hunting him down, I suppose," Ruthven said mildly, then turned to Carmilla. "My lady, new vampires are always excessively hungry when they first begin to feed. Normally this is not a problem, for they are mere babes at this stage, and babes do not eat as much as a full grown adult. They also learn young the right ways to feed, and when to stop, and many other things besides. You have not had the benefit of this education, though I am certain you have unwittingly learned a few things simply being around Pets your entire life."

Carmilla shrugged, looking nervous. "Are you certain this is a good idea? I…"

"You fed from me just fine," Ruthven said gently, reassuringly. "If you could not do it, you would have refused then."

She looked at William, who still stood unmoving, unaware, nearby, and wrinkled her nose. "Must I touch him? He killed Francois, and nearly killed Gille, and probably wanted to hurt you and Aubrey and papa and Elisabeth too."

Ruthven bared his teeth. "Which makes him ideal for practice. If you do something wrong, only he is hurt, rather than a family or friend."

Carmilla winced.

"My lady, you are a blood drinker," Ruthven said, voice still gentle and kind, but firm. "It is your nature to drink – I promise you will grow used to it." He yanked hard on William, who dropped obediently to his knees. "The most common practice is to feed from the wrist. This causes little pain, and is easy enough to fix should something go wrong. The throat is the best place to bite, but takes experience, control, for it leaves both sides vulnerable."

His eyes flashed briefly, hotly, to Aubrey, and then were back on Carmilla, cool as anything. "Now, then," he said, and picked up William's arm. "You should know instinctively the right place to bite. Let us see you do it."

Anxiety and a little bit of fear upon her face, Carmilla swallowed and at first did not move. But with a last look at Aubrey, who smiled, and another at her father, who gave a deep nod, she took William's wrist and bit down.

Her eyes widened, something clearly surprising her, then fell half-shut as she fed.

It was a look Aubrey had seen before on the faces of Pets – on the face of his own. Whatever William's personality and temperament, clearly his blood tasted good.

Carmilla broke away with a soft gasp a few minutes later.

"Close the wound," Ruthven murmured.

"Oh," Carmilla said, startled, cheeks flushing as she hesitated a moment, then closed her mouth around the wound again.

When she pulled away, the wound was healed.

"Good," Ruthven said. "You will make an excellent vampire."

Carmilla laughed shakily. "I hope so, because it seems to be what I am." She turned to look at her father again. "Papa, is this truly all right?"

"Of course it is, angel," Sangre said softly. "I loved your mother, how could I not love you? It's what you are, and though I fear for you, at least now you are healthy."

She nodded, wiped away a few nervous tears, then sat back in her seat, hands folded neatly in her lap.

Aubrey dropped down into another chair and took a sip of brandy. "So what is my healthy sister going to do with herself now, I wonder? Run wild through the city? Stalk the countryside for pretty farm boys to feast upon?"

"Brey!" Sangre said sharply, shooting him a quelling look. "That is quite enough."

Rolling his eyes, Aubrey hid a snicker behind another sip of brandy.

"Travelling sounds like fun," Carmilla said with a sigh. "I've never been anywhere but here, since I was so weak."

"If that is what you want," Sangre said gruffly, "I suppose it could be arranged. Lord knows I have learned the folly of trying to keep your damned brother in one place. If the two of you must go gallivanting then I will not stop you."

Aubrey could see what it cost him to say it, the pain brought by the thought of both his children going away.

He realized suddenly he did not want to go anywhere.

Lord knew he had enough driving him crazy with a non-Pet following him about and calling him 'master'.

"I think I've had more than enough wandering," he said, carefully not looking at his father, though he could feel the startled glance directed his way. " We could arrange a suitable escort for Milla, I'm certain. She certainly deserves a chance to see the world that was always closed to her before. It would have to be someone we could trust with her secret, though, and offhand I know of no one."

Ruthven spoke up, "I might be able to help with that, if you are willing to trust me."

Aubrey groaned. "I should have known. You have an answer for everything."

"I live to serve, master," Ruthven said, dipping his head and looking up through his lashes, in a way he had not done for quite a while now.

"You are still not fooling anyone," Aubrey replied tartly, refusing to be affected by the playful, taunting gesture. "How can you help us, this time?"

"Let me dispose of this one," Ruthven murmured, standing up and taking William's arm, all but dragging him out of the room.

Aubrey started to stand up. "What are you going to do with him?"

"Stay, master," Ruthven said. "He is no longer useful, so I am going to get rid of him. I think it best if I did it alone."

Chilled by the look in the dark, dark eyes, Aubrey obediently sat.

Silence fell as Ruthven departed.

"What in the hell is he?" Gille demanded. "He is no Pet. I've never seen a Pet, even the boldest, act like him."

Elisabeth stirred from where she had been half-dozing with her head on Sangre's thigh. Sitting up, she braced her arms on his thigh instead, and looked around the room. "He is the Consort, of course."

"The what?" Aubrey asked, startled.

"Darling," Sangre said gently, "that's just myth and folklore."

Elisabeth looked up at him, frowning. "He is," she insisted. "He is too much like the story not to be."

"Who, or what, is the consort?" Aubrey demanded.

"It's an old vampire tale," Sangre said, stroking Elisabeth's hair as she lay back down, slowly moving to gently rub the back of her neck with his fingers. "The oldest stories of the vampires say that they were ruled by a court of six – the Prince and his five Regents, one each for the five sections of the small territory given over to the vampires back when they were free, and growing in number. Back then, the stories go, the ruling vampires had…powers, for lack of a better word."

"What powers?" Aubrey asked sharply.

Sangre shrugged. "No book I've ever found states explicitly what they are, only that vampires possessed powers – magic, and for that were a terrifying source. Those that believe the myths say that's one of the reasons people came to fear vampires, and decided to destroy or enslave them."

"And the Prince agreed," Elisabeth said softly, her voice taking on the tone of someone who is reciting something heard and said a thousand times, "because he loathed his own existence, and hated his own nature. Many of his people agreed with him…but many did not. It's said that many refused to accept such a fate, and rose up in protest."

"Yes," Sangre said. "The reality is probably only that he was assassinated, though there is no telling by whom, and of course the survivors chose slavery over death. The legend states, however, that a great crush of people rose up, refusing to die, and slew the Prince in his castle."

"They say the Regents defended him to the death, but they all died with him – save one, who was also the Prince's beloved, his Consort. They say he somehow survived, and escaped, and travels the world alone and ashamed."

Aubrey started to give his opinion on the utterly ridiculous tale when soft laughter from the doorway made him jump.

"No fair telling my story when I'm not in the room," Ruthven said, slowly stalking toward them, dark eyes sparkling. "Especially since you've got it all wrong." He stopped just behind Aubrey's chair, resting his hand lightly on the back of it. "I keep telling you I'm not what I used to be, and that's it's best left in the past, but humans never could leave well enough alone."

"Not when you keep being all strange and mysterious, no," Aubrey snapped. "So are you really this stupid legend I've just heard about? Why do vampires cling to it?"

"Any piece of the past is clung to, when it is all you have," Elisabeth said softly, and Aubrey immediately felt contrite. "The Prince wanted to kill us, as did his Regents. The Consort remains alive, and some say he has learned his lesson, for siding with the Prince…others say he merely waits to fulfill the wishes of his Prince." She looked at Ruthven. "Either way, he is not a vampire to anger."

Aubrey was suddenly reminded of the night he'd caught Ruthven in the hall with Elisabeth, the way she'd kissed his hand – out of fear? Respect? Why?

Ruthven laughed. "Side with the Prince! As if! Everyone says I defended the fool, when I'm the one who killed him, and in his own damned bed."