Disclaimer: Characters belong to their respectful owners
Fandom: Netflix’s Castlevania
Rating: Teen and up
Pairing(s): Alucard/Adrian Fahrenheit Ţepeş x Hector, side Dracula x Lisa, side Trevor Belmont x Sypha Belnades
Genres: Fanfiction, slash, humor, modern AU (still have powers)
Characters: Alucard/Adrian Fahrenheit Ţepeş, Dracula/Vlad Ţepeş, Lisa Ţepeş, Kid Dracula, Isaac, Trevor Belmont, Sypha Belnades, Hector, Carmilla
Warnings: crack, OOC, some strong language, implied abuse
Summary: Modern AU where humans, vampires and some other night creatures lived together in peace. Vlad “Dracula” Ţepeş was still the vampire monarch and his presence was required at many vampire social gatherings. However, Vlad asked his son, Adrian, to come to one such gathering on his behalf. Dragging his best friends Trevor and Sypha with him, Adrian grudgingly attended the party and expected to while away the time until it was acceptable to leave. He didn’t expect to see an old face there, one that (still) caused little butterflies in his stomach despite all those months.
II. Hector
The absence of the cool weight on his clavicles was unfamiliar to him.
Hector’s fingers caressed his exposed throat, where the skin was chafed by constant friction. The collar itself was a paradox: on the one hand, it wasn’t finely made — the inside wasn’t lined with velvet or some soft, pricey material like many collars he’d seen and touched, and the edges weren’t filed, leaving them rough and jagged, eager to bite into his skin. On the other hand, it had likely cost Carmilla a handsome sum because no cheap, mass-produced collar could be inscribed with Elochian script to make it a true collaring device; it had to be commissioned and then handmade from scratch. Years of being an unwilling apprentice in his father’s workshop instead of playing basketball or video games like every other kid had taught him such. He suspected it had been Carmilla’s purpose all along: the metal band was not so much a physical embodiment of partnership as a humiliating device, just like Hector, as well as many other pets before him, was not so much a human companion as a toy at her disposal. He reflected on how stupid he had been in those first days of captivity for clutching some flimsy hope that his mistress would be kind or at least reasonable, and couldn’t resist the urge to dig his fingernails into his chafed wounds.
The expected sting was familiar to him. It felt real while everything else from the second his eyes caught sight of Adrian to the deafening clang of metal hitting the floor felt like a dream. Hector had given up on dreams some time ago, when his dreams started turning into nightmares that left him shaken and fidgety and prone to make the very mistakes the varied punishments for which had caused his nightmares in the first place. Mistakes like letting his defiance surface when he was to play a mute, docile pet, or failing to give a proper response when required. It was a vicious circle which robbed him off the only luxury he was allowed in this prison: sleep. Having to stay awake until dawn while being allotted only a couple hours to doze at noon had already messed up his biological clock; to make matters worse, lately he often found himself staring at a specific spider web on the ceiling for hours on end for no obvious purpose than wasting his precious time. As a result of prolonged sleep deprivation, he began to lose touch with reality. Left alone in the tight, mostly furniture-less cube serving as his ‘room’, sometimes he spaced out for an unknown period, only to come back bewildered and uncertain who and where he was, whether it was day or night, and whether he was awake or it was just another dream. Whether he was real. It was like taking drugs except he was clean — had managed to stay clean even in those days on the streets. It confused him, scared him, forced him to question his own sanity, and the answer that he might be losing it shook him to the core. That was when he turned to pain.
Pain.
Hector was no stranger to pain. His earliest memory was a slap from his mother, who had been furious because—because of what he couldn’t remember. He had probably dirtied the floor with his messy eating or grated her nerves with his incessant wails. Typical toddler antics to drive their parents crazy. And his parents… well, his parents weren’t exactly the conventional type. His father had indulged him in his own eccentric way, by not giving a damn about whatever Hector did as long as it did not get in the way of his business. And his mother, one thing Hector was sure about her was that she had never wanted him. It’d been a mistake, she had reminded him again and again, had pounded it into his head until he believed it. He had grown up learning every detail of her hands by heart, how white her knuckles turned when she clenched her fist, how long she’d like to keep her nails, whether she’d like them blunt or sharp, what color she loved to paint them. Deep red. Same as the blood seeping from the shallow cuts on his cheeks, hands and forearms. Same as Carmilla’s nails. Like his mother, she too fancied red. Red lips, red nails, red flowing gowns, red heels. Unlike his mother, she liked to use her hands for one thing and one thing only: giving him long, neat cuts that were as aesthetically pleasing as geometric tattoos. An art connoisseur she considered herself: everything she touched had to be tasteful, even inflicting pain. Little did she know that her favorite method to put him in line was also what Hector turned to when he needed something tangible to ground himself in reality. It wasn’t pain that he relished, quite the opposite actually; still, it didn’t stop him from picking at the scabs on his wounds because only then was he reminded that a person called Hector was alive, and that he was real. If his wounds took longer to heal than they should, it was a slight disadvantage he could bear.
More than pain, what Hector couldn’t bear was being passed around like a cheap toy. Carmilla liked to consider herself magnanimous and when she got her hands on something ‘exquisite’, be it wines, clothes, cosmetics, accessories, shoes or pets, the rest of her gang should enjoy it also. First, he had been sent to Striga and Morana, whom he had soon learned to be a couple. It turned out to be a blessing because that meant they were too occupied with each other to spare him any interest. At best, he became a punching bag for Striga, who had to greatly restrain herself so as not to break a lent pet, and so he counted himself lucky to only acquire about a dozen bruises after a night spent at her den. Nothing broken or unfixable. At worst, he was subjected to Morana’s inventions because hearing screams and groans soothed her nerves, as he had discovered by overhearing her conversation with Striga. Like her lover, she too took precautions to not totally wreck him, and if his throat felt bloody raw and he missed one or two fingernails after a session with her, Hector would choose her over Lenore any day.
Lenore. Lenore was… something. During his first days at Carmilla’s mansion, Lenore had been his angel. His salvation. His light in a pitch-black tunnel. A kind-hearted, beautiful woman who had sneaked food to him when he starved in the basement for vexing Carmilla; who had draped a woolen cloth over his naked shoulders and even tended to his cuts and bruises. Once or twice she had even stood up to him in front of Carmilla, even if it had always earned him more ire from his mistress. Drunk on her intoxicating kindness, Hector had thought he might have fallen in love with her. Nonetheless, that was before he learned that Lenore’s good-heartedness had been all a facade, meticulously made up to be stripped down the moment he was alone with her in her room.
Meticulous. That was the word to describe Lenore. She was meticulous in her approaches to gain his trust and then peel off his guard, layer by layer. A game of cat and mouse where the cat subverted the mouse’s instincts and played with its head. She was meticulous in her methods to train him, pushing him until he had one foot in the air and one nudge was all it needed to tip him over the edge and fall into the chasm. Only then did she pull him back in by his proverbial and literal leash, pouring sweet nothings into his ears while laying his head on her laps and stroking his hair with dainty fingers. The same fingers gifting him with scars that couldn’t be seen. All of the sisters were architects of his terrors, but none of the other three terrified him the way Lenore did. The more time he spent with her, the more fragmented he became until he feared he couldn’t be put back together and would eventually turn into a mindless meat doll he suspected to have been her purpose all along. She would then ask Carmilla to give him to her permanently and Carmilla, generous big sister that she was, wouldn’t think twice about an already broken toy. She had told him such while having him kneel at the foot of her bed, and the glee in her tone had injected poison into his veins.
The tips of his fingers were warm and wet when Hector removed his hand from the wounds on his throat. Warm and wet like Lenore’s tongue as she took his finger into her mouth, sucking lightly at the pad before nipping at his skin with her fangs in a silent, chilling reminder that she could bite it clean if she so wished. The ring finger on his left hand was her favorite, and it was shown by the scar in the shape of her teeth. Watching him clutch the bloodied finger to his chest, she had leaned in and whispered into his ear, “Looks like a ring, doesn’t it? Perhaps I should get us a pair — Carmilla’s reaction would be quite hilarious if she saw our matching rings, I bet. But for now that will have to do.”
Alone in the dark room populated by the vampires’ pets, he was hearing Lenore’s voice now. What are you thinking, Hector dear? she taunted, her girly giggles ringing like wind chimes, drowning all sounds from the pets. You honestly believe that pretty boy will save you from this hole? You the damsel in distress and he the Prince Charming coming to your rescue? He certainly looks the part, I give him that.
Shut up, Hector thought, fingers curling and spasming.
She did not. How naive and dumb can you be? I thought I’d trained you better than that. Do you really think he wants you?
Shut up. Memories surged in his mind, reminding him how close they had been sitting, their legs touching; how close their faces had been, close enough to feel the other’s breath, to touch the other’s lips with their own; and how close their hearts had been, pouring the truths out to each other despite all those months of separation.
You lie, Lenore, Hector thought, shaking his head. Nothing but lies.
Am I? Let’s not kid ourselves. Have you looked in the mirror lately, Hector? Do you think he would want you if he saw what’s on your body? What you did to yourself?
Shut up. Shut up.
He’s whole, he’s loved and he’s perfect in every sense while you’re broken, jagged around the edges. He’d be disgusted. Even Carmilla has begun to grow tired of you. Only I am willing to embrace you in spite of your splinters. I make you whole. I make you feel loved.
“Shut up!”
“Who are you talking to, Hector?”
Adrian’s voice cut through his muddled mind like a razor blade, silencing Lenore and shoving her to a deep corner. Hector blinked rapidly, and although he could see nothing in this pitch-blackness, he was able to feel Adrian’s presence like a warm spot in a cold, damp cave. He forced a small smile on his lips in spite of the thunders in his chest.
He came back for you. He didn’t abandon you, a voice said in his head. Hector refused to give it a name yet.
“No one in particular,” he lied. “I think I just dozed off so that must have been sleep-talking.”
“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” Adrian said, taking Hector’s hand in his. “Wait, are you injured somewhere because I smell blood?”
The concern note in Adrian’s voice made his heart skip a beat. Hector’s hand, sticky with congealed blood, instantly went to cover his throat. “Just chafes where the collar bit into my skin, nothing serious.”
Soon as he finished Hector felt his hand gently pried off and then soft and cool fabric dabbing at his inflamed wounds. Right, always trust a vampire’s sense to find the blood. A strong lemony cologne wafted in front of his nose.
“If we’re lucky and fast, those vampires out there won’t pick up the scent of your blood.”
“Sorry to dirty your handkerchief.”
“What are you talking about?” Adrian chided, not harshly, as he cleaned the blood on Hector’s finger. “I want to know why you even have blood on your hand but right now is not the time. Let’s get out of this place first.”
Hector heard the rustle of fabric before his hand was once again in Adrian’s. He heard the werewolf’s whimper somewhere in a dark corner and felt a tiny pang of guilt for having completely forgotten its existence.
“I didn’t ask how you got into this room.”
“I turned into a bat and squeezed myself in through cracks,” Adrian replied, his voice followed by a dry cracking sound and a clang. “Hah, there goes the lock.”
“Wouldn’t turning into mist be easier?”
“I hate that airy feel when doing that. By the way, you should shield your eyes against the light in the corridor,” he warned, pushing the door.
Hector did as he was told and after a few seconds, he lowered his arm and gingerly opened his eyes, blinking rapidly to adjust to the yellow light in the corridor.
He turned his head to his left and really saw Adrian for the first time.
Hair like the sun he’d so missed spun into fine threads, marmoreal skin and eyes of liquid gold indicating his vampiric heritage, the boy by his side was every bit breathtaking as his recollections. When Hector first saw him, a lifetime ago, the Adrian that was leaning against the rail and illuminated by the porch lights reminded him of the angels on stained glass. And now, like an angel, he was going to lift Hector out of this pit of vipers and fly him to the world of freedom. It was too good to be true. Was he in a dream? No, he had given up on dreams. It had to be another nightmare and any moment the floor would open like a monster’s jaws to swallow him whole and then he would be in his windowless cell again, lying restlessly on his flat mattress in waiting for Carmilla’s summon. Would it be Striga’s fist or Lenore’s poisoned honey? The thought of Lenore’s plump lips kissing his throat sucked all the air from his lungs. Adrian’s face blurred and blurred until his features dissolved like watercolor. His shoulders heaved and his knees buckled.
Strong hands caught Hector by his shoulders and shook him. “Hector, are you alright?” Adrian said in hurried tone. “You’re awfully still and I can’t hear you breathe and your heart is beating too fast.”
“I… it’s just anxiety. I’m not used to walking without a leash.”
Lie again. Hector’s palm was slick with sweat but Adrian just tightened his grip, to the point of pain. The young man found himself welcoming it. He desperately needed an anchor to keep himself from drifting away.
“Let’s go.”
The closer they got to the ballroom, the noisier it got. It seemed there was some sort of commotion going on because he picked up a few shouts emerging from the sea of indistinct chatters.
“What’s going on?”
“Distraction” came Adrian’s terse reply. They took a left turn and hurried down a larger, more adorned corridor. Hector’s eyes darted from left to right, anxiously awaiting a hand with painted claws to shoot out and snatch him.
“Sir.”
Hector’s heart jumped at the voice and a flash of gray uniform. Before he had a chance to properly panic, Hector was slammed into the wall. One hand cradled his skull to cushion the impact and the other was splayed across the small of his back, and any half-formed groan was swallowed by cool lips pressed against his own. He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling the lemony cologne, and tried not to squirm under Adrian’s body after the initial shock. Whatever he was doing, the young dhampir had to have his reason; Hector trusted he wasn’t the type to assault his friend out of the blue.
His body stiffened nonetheless.
“Sir… I’m afraid your companions are making quite a scene in the ballroom.”
This voice! Hector recognized this voice with a distinguished Southern accent. It belonged to the young vampire who had stopped Carmilla at the entrance when she came in with Hector.
Cool lips parted from his mouth and Hector sucked in a small breath through his teeth in an attempt to calm his racing heart. “Don’t you see I’m busy?” Adrian growled. He did not lift his head, letting his hair fall like a curtain and hide Hector’s face from the vampire’s sight.
“But sir—”
“Leave!” Adrian’s commanded, his timbre sliding towards the inhuman spectrum. Hector imagined he had fanged out and couldn’t help a shiver. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
The young vampire was immediately cowed. “Yes, sir!”
A weight was lifted off his heart as the same time the physical weight pinning him into the wall disappeared. Hector almost lamented the loss. Worrying his lips, he looked up to Adrian’s flushed face.
“I’m sorry,” Adrian breathed.
Unsure of how he should reply, Hector kept his mouth shut in fear of saying the wrong thing. Adrian had probably misinterpreted his silence as humiliation and anger, so he averted his gaze. “I’ll give you a proper apology later, but first we have to get out of here,” he said in low voice. “The distraction won’t distract them for too long.”
His remorseful tone and downcast eyes prodded at Hector’s heart. He frowned, liking neither this discomfort in his chest nor its cause. Surely the kiss had taken him by surprise but Hector was by no means offended; though sudden and quite unconventional, it had proven effective in chasing away the vampire who could have foiled his only chance of escape. He let out a huff, hating that they had no time for him to explain to Adrian, and laced his fingers with his. The young dhampir’s countenance brightened at the gesture. “This way,” he said, resuming their pace.
His thin, sweat-damp shirt provided little warmth against the chilling air outside and goosebumps raised on every inch of his skin, covered or exposed. Hector couldn’t bring himself to care either about the cold or the sting inside his nostrils as he breathed in the crisp air that smelled faintly of the grass under his soles. How heavenly it was to fill his lungs with something other than the stagnant perfumed air pervading every nook and canny of Carmilla’s mansion. Noises from the vampire affairs inside faded, replaced by the chirps of insects and the distant rumbles of vehicles. The sky overhead was cloudy, the moons and stars hidden from view but to Hector, it was the most alluring night sky he had seen in a long while because there was no collar on his neck and no cruel mistress to yank his leash and tell him to keep his head low and behave.
The two of them threaded their way through a maze of luxury cars until they reached a limousine. Adrian knocked on the window and the tinted window rolled down, revealing a gaunt, pale face in the driver’s seat. The thin eyebrows knitted as a pair of slanting eyes gave Hector a once-over. “Who is this, Young Master?” he asked in a monotone, showing a hint of fangs.
“This is my friend. I’m going inside to fetch the other two and in that time, do not let anyone open the door and take him, OK? Do not let any harm come to him.”
“Understood.”
Opening the car door, Adrian turned to Hector. “I’m going to get my friends. Don’t get out of the limo. I’ll be back shortly. Meanwhile Sebastian will keep you safe.”
Hector sneaked a peek at the driver and mutely nodded, suppressing a surge of doubt for those with fangs other than Adrian. He climbed into the limo and sat down in the middle, away from the windows on both sides. Adrian closed the door and the window rolled up.
Hector sat perfectly still, not daring to turn on the light. The inside was feebly lit by a nearby garden lamp post and was utterly quiet — no radio, no music, no rustle of fabric or any sounds indicating movement. It was as if Sebastian was a specter in the driver’s seat. Hector did not find it too bizarre; vampires only allowed you to hear them when they wanted to be heard. He closed his eyes and began to count, gradually slipping into a trance-like state where his mental voice was the only thing in his mind.
He couldn’t tell how much time had passed when there were a series of knocks on the window, breaking his peaceful trance and plunging him into minor panic. Hector looked around the confined space, searching in vain for a place to hide in case the knocking came from Carmilla. Relief flooded him when the door was opened and he saw a blond head. Adrian climbed into the seat next to him, followed by his two friends who took the opposite seats. He switched on the light and order Sebastian to start the engine. Hector scooted over to the far left, almost flattening himself against the window.
“Hector, these are my friends,” Adrian spoke once the vehicle began moving. He gestured to the young woman with strawberry blonde hair and electric blue eyes. “This is Sypha.”
Sypha beamed at him, unconsciously flashing her pearly fangs. “I’m Sypha. The situation could have been better but nice to meet you,” she said, offering her hand. “You’re Hector, aren’t you?”
Hector scanned his right hand for any trace of blood before shyly taking her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“And this Trevor,” Adrian introduced with a jerk of his thumb toward the young man beside Sypha, who was loosening his tie with one hand and rubbing his cheek with the other. “Yeah, nice to meet you, I guess.”
“Is something wrong with your cheek?” Hector asked.
“Her hand met my face is what happened.”
Hector’s gaze strayed to Sypha’s hands folding on her laps. She had pretty hands with manicured fingers, just like Lenore’s. Hector knew better than to judge their strength based on their delicate look.
“I’m sorry,” Sypha pled, clasping her hands together. “But you gotta admit it was the perfect climax to our little act.”
Adrian stifled a laugh and opened the minibar, tossing a soda can at Trevor, who caught it and rubbed it again his cheek.
“It was totally unscripted and I dare say you got carried away with it.” He opened the can and drank from it.
“I improvised, yes, but it seemed natural to get a little physical in the heat of a fight. Did you see their faces? Totally bought it.”
“Thanks to that now the three of us may be banned for the next century.”
Adrian laughed. “No, we may not, though I wouldn’t mind if we were. The Ţepeş name is too heavy for them to ban any of us from their future events. But really, Trevor, you don’t find this sort of affair distasteful?”
“At least the food was superb, like you said.”
Hector, who had remained a passive listener, turned to Adrian. “I’m sorry but what are you talking about? Why may you be banned?” A hesitant pause. “Did they find out about… me?”
“No, they didn’t,” Adrian replied, eyes soft. “Remember the distraction I told you? It was Sypha and Trevor’s act to attract the guests and staff’s attention so that we could get out of the building.”
“Lover’s quarrel, the classic,” Sypha cheerfully chimed in. “Everyone loves a little drama.”
“So when that vampire found us…” Hector trailed off, feeling heat flooding beneath the skin of his face. He resisted the urge to lick his chapped lips.
“Yeah, he was trying to find and get me into the ballroom to deal with Sypha and Trevor.”
“Ten bucks you sent the poor fellow running with your deep Dracula’s voice and game face,” Trevor said, smirking.
Adrian shrugged.
“Speaking of game face,” Sypha said, pointing a finger at her mouth, “it’s about time we put away these ‘cosmetics’.”
Stroking his smooth chin, Trevor studied his reflection in the window pane. “I kinda want to keep these cute little things for a while, you know, to see how Simon and Richter will freak out.”
“I don’t know much about Simon but I bet Richter will snatch the Morning Star and give you a good old whipping,” Adrian said.
“Simon will choke me with the Morning Star, after he jams all these vials of holy water down my throat like Conan the Barbarian. On second thought, that’s probably a terrible idea.”
Hector seemed to be the only one whose eyes widened at Trevor’s violent description while Sypha and Adrian did not so much as bat an eye.
“Trevor’s brothers,” Sypha explained. “They’re the Belmonts.”
“The famed vampire-killing clan?”
“You know them, Hector?” Adrian asked.
“Mis—Carmilla mentioned them a few times around the dinner table.”
While he was chained to a pillar and occasionally had her scraps thrown at him. This, he would not share with Adrian and the rest.
“Monster hunting is a thing of the past,” Trevor said, draining the soda can. “But Belmont boys and girls still practice the old way just in case.”
“Or for fun,” Sypha casually chimed in, raising her hand, which was enveloped in soft blue glow. At the snap of her fingers, blinding light engulfed the place for a second before vanishing. The changes were instantly visible: the long, pointed ears were replaced with human ones and their skin shed the deathlike pallor to regain the healthy, slightly tanned complexion.
“Incredible,” Hector exclaimed, somewhat breathless. “Are you a magician?”
“Thanks,” Sypha replied, checking herself in a compact mirror she took out from her purse. “Like the Belmonts, us Speakers also practice the old way just in case.”
“Or for shits and giggles.”
“And for convenience too,” Sypha continued, unoffended by Trevor’s words. “We couldn’t have attended the fancy vampire-exclusive party without the glamor spell.”
“Why did you and Trevor attend a vampire event?”
“I’ve always been curious about the vampire culture and this party provided a perfect glimpse into it.”
“I heard there would be food and booze.”
With that, Trevor earned a playful elbow from Sypha. He mock-groaned, making Adrian chuckle.
Must be nice to have friends who you could laugh with, Hector looked at the three of them and got an unexpected pang of envy. Instantly shame followed; how could he envy their friendship when they had risked their own safety to save him?
“I’m sorry you didn’t get to enjoy the party,” Hector said ruefully. He meant it.
Sypha’s brows pinched and it looked like she wanted to offer him her sympathy with a pat on his shoulder but in the end thought better of it, unsure if her touch would be welcomed.
Hector appreciated her thoughtfulness.
“Actually it was the most fun party I’ve been to,” Sypha said with a small, reassuring smile. “It’s not very often we get to enjoy exquisite food, make a ruckus, and get away with it. Right, Trevor?”
“Yeah, sure,” Trevor agreed, scratching his head and looking somewhat bashful. “We had fun and we got to smuggle someone out of an evil vampire’s claw. Sounds like a movie to me.”
“They make excellent partners in crime,” Adrian quipped and the three of them laughed.
Warmth tingled under Hector’s skin, raising goosebumps, but they were the good kind of goosebumps. “Thank you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.
They heard it just fine.
…
Isaac looked far too intimidating for the picture Adrian had painted but at the same time inextricably, perfectly matched Hector’s mental image of him: the badass nerd none in their right mind should mess with because he could kungfu-kick them to the ground faster than they could utter Jesus’s name and then insult them in perfect Latin.
Hector had learned beforehand that the fabled Castlevania was huge, but to witness it with his eyes was a different experience altogether. Carmilla’s mansion, which he’d initially thought to be a castle, simply couldn’t compare.
Isaac approached them while Hector was marveling at the intricate carvings on the huge pillars, his footsteps so light they were almost nonexistent. “Home so soon, brother?” he asked, eyes zeroing on a startled Hector by Adrian’s side. “It’s barely midnight.”
“We were kicked out before the party was over,” Adrian answered with a shrug. “Not that it bothered me; the party was a bore. Where’s Junior?”
“Tucked in and soundly asleep. I see you bought a guest home. How about going upstairs and updating me on tonight’s events?”
“Don’t you have to study for your exam?”
“Because Junior was an angel, I was able to finish everything before you returned.”
Hector witnessed Adrian’s expression sour and briefly wondered why.
“It’s so unfair when he’s an angel to you but a devil to me,” Adrian muttered.
It was Adrian’s room the three of them entered and it was huge! The space was larger than his parents’ apartment and fully furnished with a four-poster bed (Hector rolled his eyes), an ornate desk with chair in a corner, a fireplace with a few armchairs scattered in front and a fully stocked bookcase that reached the ceiling. The burgundy carpeted floor muffled their footsteps as Adrian guided him to the bed. They both sat down, Hector showing some hesitance, whereas Isaac leaned against the wall. Hector imagined it couldn’t be super comfortable standing like he was but Isaac’s stoic face gave nothing away.
He maintained that posture throughout Adrian’s summary of tonight’s event, which left out a few irrelevant details like the kiss-to-flee situation.
“You do realize what you did was pretty illegal, don’t you, brother?” Isaac asked at the end of the story. “Kidnapping a highborn vampire’s pet is not joking matter. If Carmilla finds out she can file a lawsuit.”
Hector’s chest throbbed and he looked sideways at Adrian, who appeared unfazed by the grim prospect. “I’m 17,” he said with nonchalance. “By either human or vampire law, she can’t press charge against me.”
“Playing the minor card will only get you a fine and a warning at best and a few lines in your records at worst but what about him?” His calm russet eyes bored into Hector’s as he spoke.
“If I says that I willingly went with him, Carmilla can’t sue him for kidnapping, can she?”
“Then you will be the one in trouble. You will be retrieved by your mistress, and by law she is allowed to mete out any form of discipline as she sees fit.”
Hector’s hands balled into fists on the satin duvet. He was right. It was too good to be true. It was time to burst his rose-tinted bubble.
“So what you were saying is I did something rash and stupid which is likely to bite us both in the ass?”
“From an average law student’s point of view, yes, but as your brother, I have to say it was the rightest thing you’ve done and I’m swelling with pride for you.”
Again, Isaac’s expression and even tone didn’t reveal whether he meant it or not.
“But you’re never an average student so Mr. Top-of-the-Honor-Roll, may I seek your wise counsel on this matter?”
Adrian’s overly formal phrasing put a small smile on Hector’s face despite his sunken mood.
“Would you care for a crash course in the pet owning matter, brother?”
“Please make it short. I have no intention to ever own a human pet or to become a law student.”
“Thought you’d say that. Basically there are two essential elements in solidifying ownership: one is a legalized and signed contract and the other is the claim mark plus the first drink. Hector, did you sign any contract at the beginning?”
“No, I—Yes, when I came for their ‘job interview’, they had me sign a work contract. It looked normal, for the most part, only the shifts were a bit unconventional. After I was sent to Carmilla’s place, I never saw it again, nor did I sign another contract.”
“Was there any witness, and I mean legitimate, impartial witness?”
“There were only those ‘agents’.”
“Shady as fuck,” Adrian remarked.
“Language, Adrian. You know Father isn’t very pleased when you use the four-letter word.”
“Too bad I’m not antique,” Adrian said, sticking his tongue out at Isaac, who ignored his petulance and continued, “I agree that sounded illegal. We could use that to our advantage in order to build a case.”
“We?”
“Our legal team consisting of hardworking, ingenious and esteemed lawyers you often reduce to just ‘Dad’s subordinates’.”
“Which they essentially are. I’m going to give Dad a call and claim my IOU. What time is it now in Rio?”
“You can Google it later. Now, for the second element: did Carmilla mark you and have a sip of your blood in front of legitimate witnesses?”
“No.”
Isaac and Adrian both looked at him. “She didn’t?” Adrian asked.
“Carmilla has never drunk from me.”
Come to think of it, none of her sisters had taken his blood, even Lenore, who was fond of marking him.
Isaac stood next to him and leaned in for a closer look at Hector’s neck. Though anxious, Hector endured his scrutiny.
“The claim mark should be on either of your carotid arteries but you have none, which is strange,” Isaac said. “You were wearing a collar, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” Hector replied, feeling the phantom weight and coldness of the metal band. “Carmilla put it on me just a few days after I arrived. She’d never taken it off since.”
“The marks on his skin suggest the collar covered most of his neck. Did it?”
Adrian wordlessly confirmed with a nod.
“I suspect it served another purpose than simply collaring, which is—”
“Preventing vampires from sinking their teeth into Hector’s neck,” Adrian finished the sentence. “It’s impossible to chomp through enchanted metal.”
Hector smiled although there was no mirth in his eyes. “I suppose I should have been grateful to Carmilla for her thoughtfulness.”
“She was certainly thorough in making sure no one could claim you — pardon the word — when she hadn’t herself,” Isaac said. “I wonder what had hindered her.”
“When I first arrived, I was cut so that Carmilla could sample my blood. I overheard her telling her sisters that my blood was pungent and indigestible. I believe the exact words were it ‘tasted like death, if death had a taste’.” Hector snorted. “It was rich coming from a vampire. No offense.”
“None taken,” Adrian replied.
Isaac’s defined brows furrowed. “Can I ask you something?”
Hector’s instinct was to be on defense. “Uhm… yes,” he hesitated, prepared to lie should Isaac’s query be something he wasn’t ready to share with anyone, not even Adrian.
“Have you ever resurrected a dead animal?” Isaac measured his words.
“I…” he trailed off, caught off guard. Memories of his mother’s hand and words flooded his mind. “I don’t quite understand your question.”
Isaac didn’t seem to buy it. “Do you? Have you ever touched a dead animal and felt something like a tingle of a buzz at your fingertips? An inexplicable urge to alter its state?”
“What are you trying to ask, Isaac?”
“I’m trying to find out if Hector is like me,” he replied. “Someone with innate necromantic properties, or a Forgemaster, a term Father coined.”
His blunt words prompted two different reactions from the other two: a gasp from Adrian and a look of utter confusion plastered all over Hector’s face.
“Are you sure?”
“Necromantic properties?”
They spoke at the same time.
“Abilities to raise the dead and such,” Isaac explained. “That was why I asked about dead animals. And no, I’m not sure, brother; I’m trying to find out.”
“Why do you think I’m… like you, a-a…”
“Forgemaster. Due to its unique particles, Forgemaster’s blood is indigestible and, to quote a certain someone, is ‘the worst offense on a vampire’s tastebud’.”
“That was me,” Adrian said. “We were younger and were fooling around. Never again.” He punctuated with a visible shudder.
Hector raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
“Can you give me your hand?” Isaac asked.
Hector looked to Adrian, who gave a small, assuring nod, before tentatively holding out his right hand. His sleeve slid down his wrist, laying Carmilla’s handiwork bare under the fluorescent light. Only when the silence became too awkward did Hector realize what had caused it. He pulled at his sleeve, shame and fear gnawing his guts.
“Did Car—”
Isaac raised his hand and Adrian immediately clammed up. He held Hector’s hand in a firm grip and it began to warm up where their skins came in contact while red flame outlined his dark skin like a glove. Hector inhaled sharply, not due to the burn but rather the lack of it. There was a sizzle, which grew louder as blue sparks danced on his skin, growing in frequency and intensity with each second until they culminated in a flare. Blue flame rose from his hand, mixing with Isaac’s red to produce a mesmerizing purple that illuminated their countenances.
The magic show came to an abrupt end when Isaac withdrew his hand. “That confirms it,” he said to a dazed-looking Hector. “Father’s going to be quite fascinated when he learns that you snatched a Forgemaster from Carmilla’s hand.” He smiled thinly. “That harpy’s going to be so pissed when she finds out what she lost.”
“Even if Hector had been a regular human, I wouldn’t have stood by and watched Carmilla hurt him.”
“Of course, Mom wouldn’t have, either,” Isaac said and his gaze softened when it landed on Hector. “I have a book about Forgemasters which you may find useful. Adrian can come and fetch it after he gets you a room.”
“I-I can stay here?”
“Do you have any other place you want to go?”
“No, I don’t.” His parents’ home was no longer his home and the only place that accepted him was Lisa’s shelter.
“That settles then,” Isaac concluded. “If you call Father now, he’ll probably send his lawyers by tomorrow’s evening.”
“Thank you,” Hector said. He meant it from the bottom of his heart.
…
Hector was drying his hair with a towel, having just come out of a shower, when he heard knockings on his door. Adrian stood in front of his room, having changed out of his tux and into a cotton T-shirt and sweatpants. He was carrying a thick, leather-bound book in one hand and a tray in the other.
“I’m sorry you have to wear my clothes,” Adrian apologized as soon as he set the tray down on the nightstand. “Tomorrow we will get you some new clothes.”
Hector briefly looked down at his similar gray cotton tee and black sweatpants. “They’re very comfortable, really. What I wouldn’t give to get out of those clothes Carmilla put on me.”
“I brought you a sandwich and some warm milk. You must be hungry.”
That he was used to hunger was at the tip of his tongue but Hector swallowed it in. “Thanks, Adrian,” he said instead, fingers carefully unwrapping the plastic film. “Did you make the sandwich?”
Adrian smiled. “Isaac did. Just another bullet point in his unending list of capabilities. He also asked me to give you this book and if you have any question about the content, feel free to ask him when he’s at home.”
Hector read the embossed letters on the cover. “Remind me to thank him tomorrow and to… apologize for having lied earlier.”
“You did?”
“I played dumb when he asked me about resurrecting dead animals. The truth is I started bringing back dead animals when I was about nine. It was a stray tabby cat killed by the cruel kids in my neighborhood. As I knelt by its corpse and cried, it just occurred to me that I could bring it back and, well, I did. The magic — I guess that’s what it’s called — came naturally.”
“Wow,” Adrian exclaimed. “You could do that when you were nine? That was so young! What happened to the cat though?”
Despite his grumbling stomach and the appetizing aroma of melted cheese and grilled ham, Hector had lost his appetite once the incident played out in his mind like a fast-forwarded montage. He put down the sandwich and took a mouthful from the glass, hoping the warm milk would wash off the bitter taste on his tongue.
“My mother threw it from the balcony and it didn’t land on its feet,” he said, nursing the glass. “I learned that I couldn’t bring an animal back twice.”
The smile vanished from Adrian’s face as a frown was etched between his delicate eyebrows. “That was horrible.”
“Yes, that was what she told me — horrible things people would have done to me if they had found out what I could do. Maybe she was right. I can’t even imagine what Carmilla would have done.”
“I’m not surprised if she would have had you create an army of demons for her to take over this country and make herself president or something.”
“I-I could make demons?”
“Theoretically, yes,” Adrian said, flipping the pages. “Here, on page 74. Although it’s unadvised because of the law and stuff. Page 183. My dad helped write it even before Isaac came to live with us, to prevent those like Carmilla from taking advantage of Forgemasters like yourself.”
“Your father,” Hector said, recalling the bits he’d learned about Lord Vlad Ţepeş aka Dracula, “would he get mad because I got his son into this mess?”
“You did.not get me into this mess,” Adrian said firmly, blazing golden eyes bringing to Hector’s mind the image of an alpha wolf. “I don’t know what made you think so but let me make it clear: I did it all on my own accord. If you think because I’m only 17 so I don’t know any better, you’re making a big mistake of underestimating me.”
“I’m not underestimating you,” Hector said, trying to determine whether the cold sweat running down his spine was from fear or thrill. “Why did you help me? It’s not that I’m not grateful but it’s just…”
Too risky. Not worth it.
“If the situation was reversed and I was the one captured and you could help me, would you?”
“Of course I would.”
Adrian did not reply but the look he gave him was worth a hundred words.
“I could have lied to you about being captured. I could have willingly signed myself off to be her pet and when I got unhappy with my situation, I bailed.”
“You could, but I got a glimpse of how she treated you,” Adrian said, taking both of Hector’s wrists. “And these, these are not lies. Carmilla did horrible things to you and once my parents return, they won’t let her get off easily, especially my mom. She adores you, you know.”
“It’s not just Carmilla,” Hector mumbled, eyes flickering to the teeth mark on his ring finger.
“Look, I won’t pretend to understand what you’ve been through but if you ever want to talk about it, I’m willing to listen.”
Tears pricked hotly at the rims of his eyes and it took all Hector’s will not to let them fall. “Thank you,” he said, voice heavy with unshed tears.
“I just spoke with my dad on the phone, told him everything and he said tomorrow the lawyers will come and they will ask you questions.” A brief pause. “Also, they will request a medical examination to assess the damage if we are to make sure Carmilla’s claim on you is annulled and she can never lay a hand on you again. Are you OK with that?”
“… Yes, I’m OK with that.”
“Do you… want me to be there with you?”
Hector considered his offer for several moments before shaking his head. “I think I can handle it.”
Too soon. There would be a day when he was ready to tell Adrian; that day, however, wasn’t tomorrow.
“Alright,” Adrian said, somewhat deflated. “Oh, one thing before we should both go to bed because it’s pretty late. I want to apologize for-for the earlier incident when we left the party. It was the only thing that came to my mind. No, it doesn’t mean that way. Sorry if that sounds weird.”
As he was saying, pink dusted his cheeks, the color made all the more prominent by his alabaster skin. Hector’s heart fluttered at the sight, pumping courage into his veins for something he wouldn’t normally dare. He seized Adrian’s face in both hands and planted a soft kiss on his pale lips.
“Now we’re even,” Hector breathed after breaking the short kiss, face still inches away from Adrian’s. The blood rushing to his head was making him dizzy.
“You’re… OK with this?… With us?”
Hector nodded and the next thing he knew was Adrian’s lips on his own. One of his hand cradled the back of Hector’s head in reminiscence of the earlier act, although this time it served to deepen the kiss rather than protecting his skull. Out of mutual understanding they kept it chaste, as there would be plenty of time and chance to explore other options, but Hector swore he could feel the ghost of Adrian’s tongue on his lips.
He didn’t mind it one bit.
When it ended, Adrian wasn’t the only one with flushed skin.
“I-I should go,” Adrian stammered, rising to his feet. “Good night.”
“Good night,” Hector replied, even though he wished for Adrian to stay a little longer. With his messed up biological clock, he was likely to have another sleepless night.
Standing by the door, Adrian turned to him. “You’re safe here,” he reassured him before disappearing from his sight.
Hector wanted nothing more than to believe it.
End
I intended to write a funny story and I think I accomplished it in the first chapter; it was much fun writing the dialogues between the characters. However, the angst slipped in and before I was aware, it took over most of the second chapter. I guess at this point it’s impossible for me to write a Hectorcard fanfic without at least a spoonful of angst.
Joel 7th's Toy Box 