Archive of Our Own ^beta

Her fangs were only a few inches away from his throat when the last vampire dissolved into black smoke around the stake thrust through her heart. Pyotr waited for several long seconds, but nothing else moved. The human captives had already taken the opportunity to escape from the cellar, leaving him to fight on his own, but he couldn't blame them. The vampires had been much stronger than he'd expected – they'd all been awake even though it was the middle of the afternoon – and their victims must have been terrified nearly out of their minds. At least he'd caught all three that had been described by locals at once, and he'd only suffered minor injuries. Fortunately it had been a quick fight.

He ignored the feeling of disappointment that there hadn't been a chance for a more drawn out and painful vengeance. The important thing was that they were gone.

The vampires had taken over a manor near the city, fitting their kind's predilection for ostentatiousness. If the owners – or rather, their heirs – were lucky, they'd even left the decorations and art alone; the reputation of vampires to rob and destroy houses had been exaggerated by vampire hunters who liked to put some shiny things into their own pockets. Pyotr had no desire to do that. Still, it might be nice to at least take a look at a place this fancy. If very little had been damaged, it would be another piece of good news to deliver to his clients.

He walked through the rooms slowly, admiring some of the wealth on display and making a face at those that were particularly over the top. Rich people. These here even had their own ballroom on the first floor.

A cough. Pyotr immediately had his stake ready and looked around carefully. Nothing moved, but over there, near the stone column…

He moved closer to the thick iron chains slowly. From his perspective he couldn't see the person's face, but he could hear that they were trying to speak despite a dried-out throat. Why had the vampires singled out one victim? Had they hated one in particular?

Pyotr moved around the column at a safe distance. The man weakly lifted his head. His eyes widened and he tried to speak again, but only a rasping sound emerged.

"Don't talk, Carlos," Pyotr said. Then he added, "don't be stupid," because it felt like he should. He put his stake away and went to the kitchen to get some water.

It didn't even occur to him that he hadn't explained that to Carlos until he saw the vampire's relief when Pyotr came back. He wanted to say something sharp, something about Carlos not trusting him, but then stopped. He didn't want to kneel, even though Carlos was tied down, so he bent over and held the glass to Carlos' mouth. Just a sip or two; vampires didn't digest substances other than blood well when they were weak, Carlos had told him.

Carlos took a few eager gulps and then turned his head away to signal that he'd had enough. Pyotr stepped back and turned, putting the glass on the window sill. Normally he'd never turn his back on a vampire, but it took him a moment to look back at what he hadn't wanted to see before.

Carlos' shirt had been cut off, his chest exposed. He'd been chained to a column opposite a window. Today was a cloudy day, but the deep burn marks on his face and body proved how much sunshine had reached him.

"Pyotr," Carlos rasped, "It has never been so good to see you."

Pyotr chanced a quick look at Carlos' face again. There wasn't an ounce of worry or fear that he could see. He'd wondered if that day would arrive, but now that it had it felt stale. He hadn't thought the first time Carlos trusted him would be because Carlos had no other choice.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he said finally.

He felt badly off balance, and both angry and ashamed because of it. This wasn't the first time he'd had a vampire at his mercy, and none of the others had ever survived. Bloodthirsty monsters, all of them, and Pyotr the last chance of those who'd called him in for help.

Carlos had always been different. Carlos was the vampire that Pyotr never had to hunt, because Carlos sought him out. They'd "met" when they'd destroyed a coven at the same time and been impressed by each others' skills; that had been before Pyotr had realized that the other vampire hunter had not been a hunter at all. He'd just wanted to eliminate the competition from his territory, Carlos had explained with an easy smile, and he was grateful to Pyotr for the help. Then he'd disappeared, faster than any other vampire Pyotr had ever seen. Only to suddenly show up several months later to give Pyotr a tip about another vampire trying to establish herself in a town nearby, and a few months after that to congratulate him on a hunt gone particularly well, and the next time, as far as Pyotr could tell, just to chat. What vampire wanted to chat with a hunter? Carlos was clearly always ready to flee at a moment's notice, but still he came.

The first few times, Pyotr had tried to kill him, though eventually it was mostly for appearance's sake. Carlos was either very talented in specific areas, or the most powerful vampire Pyotr – or the other vampire hunters he'd asked for advice – had encountered. Carlos himself refused to say. "Why, hunter, would I destroy my aura of mystery?" he teased, spreading his arms wide. "And deprive you of a fascinating riddle?"

Sooner than he liked to admit Pyotr had come to enjoy their meetings, and then to look forward to them. They weren't quite friends, and surely the flirting was just for entertainment, but there was a certain connection, and for a vampire hunter who rarely stayed in one place for long a friendly familiar face and good company was worth a lot.

Once or twice a year the realization that Carlos, the closest thing he had to a friend, was a murderous vampire hit Pyotr like a punch to the gut, and then he spent days or weeks ashamed of himself and his own weakness. He could never escape it for long, however.

It had been months since Carlos had visited him, far longer than usual these days. When reports of vampires had come from the region where Carlos had his main residence, Pyotr went immediately. He'd tried to ignore news from there, not wanting to be confronted with the evidence of Carlos' victims, but these new reports talked about uncommonly many and uncommonly violent attacks. Carlos never would have tolerated such an intrusion on his territory. The only logical conclusion was that he'd been defeated and destroyed.

(That wasn't quite true. It was also possible that Carlos had simply changed his style, or joined a more brutal group of vampires. Pyotr knew that it was a possibility, that he should prepare for it, and yet he hadn't. Weakness. Except that it'd been right.)

"I didn't expect to be here," Carlos said. His face moved like maybe he was trying to grin, but the burns made the twitch look grotesque. Pyotr looked away.

It wouldn't last long, he reminded himself. Carlos just needed to… He'd be fine, as soon as he wasn't starving anymore.

"I destroyed the coven," Pyotr said. "Can you get out?"

He expected Carlos to at least make a joke about it, so the flat "No." took him by surprise. "They closed the chains themselves. No human or their machine has the strength for that, and right now, neither do I."

It looked plausible. The chains were exceptionally thick.

"I'll close the curtains," Pyotr said.

Carlos laughed at that. "It's not a kindness, to leave me to die from starvation instead of burns."

Pyotr flinched.

Maybe a prisoner, he thought. Maybe someone already sentenced to death, so that it's not… Or maybe someone who's sick, who doesn't have long to live anyway…

Carlos' expression softened. Somehow, Pyotr hoped that Carlos would say something, come up with another way, something that didn't require Pyotr to give another human being to a vampire to be murdered; but of course there was nothing. Vampires drank human blood, and they always killed their victims. If he wanted to save his – yes, his friend, it was pointless to deny it now – if he wanted to save his friend, Pyotr needed to become a murderer.

"Is there nothing else," he begged. He felt a surge of anger that surprised him: had Carlos been so fearless because he'd already expected Pyotr to bring a victim to him? Was Carlos so sure that he had Pyotr eating out of his hand? How dare he – how dare the vampire assume…

"Well, there's that lovely stake you have," Carlos said, so brightly that at first Pyotr didn't realize what he'd said.

"What."

"It'd be quicker," Carlos said, still sounding not in the least concerned. "A little bit of assistance, and your job is done."

"That's not my job," Pyotr snapped.

"My dear, you're a vampire hunter. It's only natural."

"You weren't responsible for the crimes I was sent here for," Pyotr argued, stupidly, flushing.

"I can tell you of plenty of others, if you need some motivation…"

"Stop it!" It took almost all of Pyotr's concentration not to step back or turn away. "Do you think I don't know that? I've always known, and yet I still…" He took a deep breath. Then another. Surprisingly, Carlos stayed silent.

"Is there any other option," Pyotr asked again, but he was already resigned to the inevitable. He knew that his conscience should be screaming, but instead his mind was already filled with the practicalities. Nobody could ever find out, of course (but he'd know, he'd always know, and every time he killed a vampire and every time someone thanked him for saving them he'd be reminded of what he'd done, how self-centered his so-called morality was, how little he was worth…)

"One," Carlos said quietly, and Pyotr's head jerked up.

"What?"

"One other option. Maybe. It… hasn't happened very often. It may not work."

"Tell me."

"You know that vampires always kill their victims."

"Yes."

"It's not… it's possible to leave them alive, but," Carlos quickly continued in the face of Pyotr's shock, "there are side effects. Usually they die anyway, just a few days later. Killing them immediately just spares them the suffering."

"Usually. Not always."

"Not always." Carlos almost seemed embarrassed, but Pyotr didn't care. He made an impatient gesture for Carlos to get to the point.

"Feeding creates a connection between the vampire and the victim. If the victim survives, that connection drives them mad. There are stories, legends almost, of humans who were strong enough to withstand the madness and keep their sanity." Carlos hesitated for a moment and then looked away. "The stories say that the better the vampire and the human know each other, the better the chance for the human to make it."

"Oh."

It made sense, Pyotr told himself, through the numb feeling spreading through his body. Who gave him the right to sacrifice others? He should sacrifice himself first. He'd never heard of stories like that, and he found it hard to believe them – besides, what good would it do to hope? He'd let Carlos feed from him, and he'd probably go mad and die in agony, and it would be no less than he deserved for having called a vampire friend and being willing to bring him victims to kill. And Carlos would be free, and free to continue to feed and kill people, and it'd be Pyotr's fault.

"Okay," he said. He had to swallow to get the next words out. "Throat or wrist?" Different vampires had different preferences.

"Pyotr… that wasn't why I…"

"I know," Pyotr said calmly. Carlos looked shocked and unhappy, but Pyotr couldn't care about that any longer. He'd made a decision, and now he had to go through with it. Waiting any longer would just give him more time to realize how much Carlos had ruined him.

"I don't want to kill you," Carlos said fiercely.

Pyotr knelt down next to Carlos, rolled up one sleeve and held his bare wrist inches in front of Carlos' teeth. Carlos' eyes were gleaming bright red, but he jerked his head back as if he was trying to refuse. Pyotr sighed. "You're a vampire," he said, and to his distant shame it sounded almost affectionate. "It's only natural."

"Stupid hunter," Carlos hissed.

"You were the one who sought me out," Pyotr reminded him. He'd always wondered why. Carlos had never given him a satisfactory answer.

There was a brief, sharp pain in his wrist, and then darkness claimed him.

Pyotr felt too weak to move. He was shivering, his head was pounding, and there was something… someone…

'Petya,' he heard Carlos say warmly, in his head. 'You're awake. I've been waiting for you.'

Pyotr tried to make a questioning noise, but only managed an exhale.

'It's alright,' Carlos soothed him. 'You did so well. You'll be back at full health soon.'

When Pyotr concentrated and followed the voice, he could almost feel a presence in his mind. A presence that felt like Carlos.

'Ah, there you are.' The vampire sounded pleased. It made Pyotr simultaneously happy and wary, but he was too dazed to think about why.

'My dear hunter. We'll be magnificent together,' Carlos said with satisfaction, and Pyotr believed him.