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The sound of music leaking through the slit on the closed entrance had Trevor perplexed. So used was he to the sepulchral quietude of the castle that any sound seemed out of place, let alone music. Had Alucard taken to music to seek respite from the penetrating solitude? Trevor felt a pang of guilt for having left the dhampir behind to desiccate in this tomb, where remnants of his deceased parents were buried but never rested, to go on his merry way with Sypha almost a year ago. They should have dragged him along or stayed with him, at least for a while, because no-one should be alone while their wound was still raw and bleeding. What had seriously been going on in his head back then, aside from a budding romance with a certain Speaker? That had been selfish, even to his standard.
With a rare weight on his heart, Trevor pushed open the door and stepped in while announcing his arrival with a shout, tactful as always. “Alucard, it’s me. I’m back.”
The tune stopped abruptly and for several moments, the grand hall became a tomb again. Trevor’s hand immediately went to the Morning Star at his belt. The cool metal, however, did little to ease the strain in his muscles.
“Who the fuck are you?” demanded Trevor as his eyes narrowed at the figure sitting near the foot of the stairs. His booming voice echoed in the dimly lit hall, sending the horde of critters huddling around the figure into a small-scaled frenzy. They squeaked, croaked and hissed at Trevor, those little balls of noises that proved to be more amusement than threat to the Belmont. Were he not so alarmed by a stranger’s presence in his friend’s house, Trevor might find the scene incredibly funny.
The stranger removed a flute from his lips, put it in the fold of his tunic and gave Trevor a hard stare that mirrored his own. “I could ask the same about you,” the stranger replied, a deep frown manifesting between his silver eyebrows. “That shiny thing you have tells me you’re not here on friendly terms.”
Trevor was sure as hell he did not miss the sharp glint when Gray-Haired, who couldn’t be much older than Sypha and Alucard, opened his mouth to speak; those things were pretty much impossible to hide anyway. “Glad to know you recognize this babe, vampire,” he deadpanned and released the chain in his hand.
Gray-Haired leapt from his spot and evaded the strike by a hairbreadth. The glowing tip of the Morning Star punctured the marble floor, and the noise and impact sent the animals scurrying off in every direction. Trevor tsked, thinking about how Alucard was going to chew his ear for causing property damage, even though he was the one careless enough to have a stray vampire in the castle. God knew how much damage this bloodsucker was capable of.
“What was that for?” Gray-Haired snapped, landing on a step with a dull thud and immediately grabbing the handrail for support. The clumsiness he just demonstrated had Trevor roll his eyes. He always thought vampires were like cats — always able to land on their nimble feet no matter where they dropped; he’d witnessed Alucard do it more times than he could count.
“For those cute little fangs you have, ass,” Trevor replied, finding the dagger hidden under his fur cloak. Without warning he threw it at the vampire.
Gray-Haired’s mouth parted in a silent gasp as he dodged the dagger by taking a hasty step to the right, exactly where Trevor wanted him to be. It was the oldest trick in the book, exclusively reserved for idiots who were combat-virgins; Trevor was not even sure it would work until it did. Talk about sheer dumb luck. He almost winced at how painfully easy it was — how the hell this guy had survived the world till now — as the Morning Star was released from his hand. Like the vampire magnet it was known for, the chain winded tightly around Gray-Haired’s body, rendering him immobile. Trevor gave a forceful yank and let gravity do what it did best: pulling the body to the ground. Clad in leather boot made from the hide of a night creature, Trevor’s foot on the vampire’s shoulder pinned him down. He glared at the hunter and if look could burn, even his ashes would have already been cremated. Fang boy definitely fought better with his glittering eyes than his whole body, Trevor mused. His lips pulled back for a full show of his fangs while low hisses escaped his throat, and he would make quite a threatening spectacle but for the foot. In Trevor’s eyes he only looked pathetic, enough to nearly bring tears to the hunter’s eyes. The vampire race had been the apex predator and now... a small helpless animal struggling against its snare. It looked like things had gone downhill for these bloodsuckers after the deaths of Dracula and Carmilla.
“Now, vampire,” Trevor said, holding the tip of the Morning Star in his hand, “answer what I ask with honesty or I’ll jam this into your piehole and make fireworks out of you.”
“I’d rather you not, Belmont.”
Trevor scoffed at the voice. Took him long enough to get his pompous ass out here. What had he been doing? Enjoying his beauty sleep? His foot still an unmoving weight on the vampire, Trevor looked up to see Alucard at the top of the stairs. He was dressed in the same white shirt and black leather pants Trevor had last seen him in, although the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and secured by some sort of mini-belts — he failed to get Alucard’s fashion sometimes. However, his amusement quickly evaporated at the sight of Alucard’s sword: unsheathed and hovering by his right shoulder. Its tip gleamed in the golden light from the chandelier that had just flared to life with the dhampir’s presence. His face was a mask of neutrality, effectively hiding away any emotion he might have. Standing there, he easily blended in with the sculptures — preserved immaculately throughout the great battle, a true miracle — that lurked in every corner like phantom servants. The analogy made Trevor’s chest clench.
“Sure,” Trevor replied with a shrug as if to shake the weird feeling off, “but first I’m entitled to an explanation as to why there is a vampire in your home. Never took you for the type to pick up strays, Alucard.”
A red glow emitted from his form and in a blink, he was face to face with the hunter. The sword was above his shoulder, the tip now pointing at the Belmont crest on Trevor’s chest.
“Because he is mine and no-one touches what is mine in my home,” Alucard deadpanned. His uncanny yellow eyes fixed Trevor a cool stare that was not unlike his sword. The hunter would not be surprised if the next second he bared his teeth and started hissing. He had missed that awful sound. Almost.
Sometimes it was easy to ignore his vampiric lineage given how human he was; other times it was not.
“Now kindly remove your foot or—”
“Or what?” Trevor challenged. “You’ll make me?”
“If I have to.”
Trevor scoffed but relented and removed his foot from Gray-Haired, who shot him a wary look as though he was convinced the Belmont did it just so he could stomp on his chest and crush his lungs. Trevor arched an eyebrow in question but Gray-Haired’s gaze had moved from him to seek Alucard. With a moment of hesitation he unwound the Morning Star and reattached it to his belt. Unsure as he was about what might happen next, he should have had his trusted weapon in his hand, but Trevor decided to trust Alucard.
Gray-Haired took Alucard’s outstretched hand and let the dhampir pull him to his feet. “You’re not hurt, aren’t you?” Alucard asked.
“No, I’m alright,” Gray-Haired answered in soft voice, brushing his dark-blue tunic where it came in contact with Trevor’s sole.
Later Trevor would claim it was a momentary lapse in his concentration, that he was busy focusing on Alucard’s movement and his sword and anticipating where the dhampir’s strike could land if he decided to attack, and thus he did not see it coming when Gray-Haired’s fist made contact with his jaw. It was admittedly much weaker than he expected a vampire’s punch to be — in fact it could not even make him budge an inch from his spot. Either the guy was reigning in his strength or he was a wimp, Trevor concluded, touching his cheek in bafflement rather than pain. However he was a Belmont and it took a lot more than a feeble blow to the face to take down the Belmonts. He stretched his left arm and caught the vampire by his wrist, once again yanked him down while his right hand closed into a fist aiming for that pretty face. He betted it wouldn’t be so pretty with a broken nose.
“Enough!”
Trevor saw a flash of red and his fist connected with a pale one. The collision forced him to stagger a few steps back and he had to let go off Gray-Haired’s wrist. He was two seconds from unhooking the Morning Star when Alucard repeated with louder volume, “Enough, the both of you!”
“Tell that to the fanghead that punched me.”
“That was for the animals you’d sent scattering in terror!” face flushed with anger and eyes glowing, Gray-Haired shouted back. “They had come here looking for shelter and you chased them right back into the coming storm.”
The corner of Trevor’s mouth twitched. Was this guy even for real?
“Hector!”
Gray-Haired — Hector — froze at once. The unearthly glow dimmed until his eyes returned to normal, and colors drained from his tanned skin. He turned sharply from Trevor to Alucard, who placed a firm hand on the nape of his neck. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, head bowed. The guy wasn’t that shorter than Alucard, yet with that gesture, he looked so much smaller, like a reprimanded kid. Trevor certainly hoped he was wrong in his observation because the queasiness in his stomach was not at all pleasant.
“Trevor is my friend and right now he’s our guest, so you will not attack him.” Trevor snorted. “Nor he you. Am I understood?”
Hector nodded.
Alucard’s hand smoothed down his neck to give his shoulder a pat. “Why don’t you go upstairs and have a change of clothes? Trevor and I have a lot to catch up.”
“After that, do I go to the kitchen and prepare dinner... since we have a guest?”
Arms crossed in front of his chest, Trevor shot the pair an incredulous look, which they both ignored. What? Alucard had somehow acquired a housewifey vamp?
“There’s no need to cook more since you already overdid it yesterday. That pot of stew will last us half a week.”
“It may not. Your friend seems a big eater, given how ursine he looks... and smells.”
“Hey, I’m right here.”
Alucard chuckled. “It must be the fluffy cloak and his unshaven face. About the smell, he’s not exactly the pinnacle of personal hygiene.”
“Excuse me for having been on the road for several days because I wanted to pay my friend a visit.”
“Don’t worry... Trevor. I can draw you a bath if you like.”
With one last glance at the hunter, Hector started climbing the stairs and soon disappeared.
At the same time the smile tugging at Alucard’s lips vanished. He snapped his fingers and the sword flew back to the top of the stairs, where its scabbard laid in waiting. “I know you have a lot questions,” he began. “How about sitting down and we will talk?”
“Sure,” Trevor answered curtly.
Alucard gestured for him to follow and he did. He led Trevor into a long corridor, where their footsteps were muffled by the thick burgundy carpet and thus silence reigned.
“Where’s Sypha?” Alucard asked. “I was surprised to see she wasn’t with you. What, she ditched you because of the smell?”
Trevor huffed, decidedly not rising to his bait. “She is visiting her family right now. She’ll drop here in a day or two.”
“So I only have to endure your company for a day or two?” Alucard said with a smirk. “What a relief.”
“I’m sure a day or two won’t kill you, especially when you have that fang boy as alternate company.”
His back turned to Trevor, Alucard stopped in front of a door, twisted the knob and stepped in.
It appeared to be a small, nondescript study, with a bookshelf placed against one of the walls and a hearth burning low in the center. Being a greenish hue, the flame didn’t appear to be kindled by firewood. In front of the hearth were a low ornate table and a pair of twin armchairs. They looked plush and so Trevor didn’t wait for Alucard’s instruction and flopped down into one of them. He sighed in relief, resting his feet on the footstool. “I hope you have booze. Tell me you have booze,” Trevor groaned.
“Booze is everywhere,” Alucard said, placing a decanter and two elaborate glasses on the table.
Trevor rolled his eyes at the crimson liquid inside the crystal content. In the light from the hearth, it looked like liquefied ruby. “You have anything other than red wine?”
“There are whites and rosés.”
“I mean ale or beer. Not enough class for you?”
“Just so you know, I’m not the one who purchased the booze.” Alucard smiled and poured wine into the glasses, then pushed one to Trevor, who took it. They clinked their glasses before each took a sip. Trevor’s eyes enlarged as the first taste rolled on his tongue. This was some strong stuff, likely quite old, but then he shouldn’t be surprised; after all, this came from the first vampire’s collection. He supposed he ought to feel privileged.
“So,” Trevor began, putting the glass down on the table, “what’s the deal with all the animals and that vampire? Did you decide to turn the castle into a shelter for strays?”
“How have you been? I hear you ask,” Alucard said, reaching for the decanter to refill his glass and Trevor’s. “I’m fine, thank you. The animals, they’re inexplicably drawn to Hector. Since he lives here, it can’t be helped that they usually populate this place.”
“Even though he’s a vampire? I’m under the impression that animals are drawn to living things rather than the undead.”
“He’s not a vampire.”
“He has fangs.”
“So do I.”
Trevor’s fingers clenched around the stem of the glass. “Are you implying he’s a half-vampire?”
Alucard leaned back against the armchair, holding the glass in his hand and gently swirling the liquid. “I did say he is mine, didn’t I?” he said. “Apparently hybrids like myself can only sire hybrids.”
“What?” Trevor exclaimed, his fingers gripping the stem so he wouldn’t drop the fancy glassware; it was probably a pricey piece of antique. “I didn’t know you could sire fledglings.”
There were many a thing he also didn’t know about his dhampir friend but Trevor decided to leave them for now.
“Neither did I, so it was a gamble. Turned out Hector still had a bit of luck in him.”
“Why did you turn him? Don’t tell me it was driven by the need to replenish the number after the war.”
Alucard’s eyes narrowed into a glare. “You seem to disapprove of my turning Hector.”
“I don’t seem, I do. Sorry if I’m not over the moon with having another bloodsucker to roam the earth. The more of them, the more bloodless bodies we’re likely to see discarded by the side of the road.”
“Is that how you think of me?” Alucard’s tone had dropped several notches on the warmth scale as he asked, his expression hardening into a mask of stone. “Are you implying that I would go around killing humans for sport? That I am not unlike my father and the rest of his kind?”
“You don’t deny the urge.”
“I don’t,” Alucard admitted, taking a sip from his glass. For a moment, Trevor visioned Dracula in his place and the sloshing liquid as blood. He shook his head to disperse the thought. “Would you impale my heart with the tip of the Morning Star then?”
Trevor huffed and downed his glass in one gulp. He reached for the decanter and poured himself some more, not caring about the proper amount one was supposed to fill the glass. “Talking with you makes me need more booze,” he said after another gulp. “If I didn’t know better I could swear you’ve grown a barbed tongue in the past year. And no, I trust you will not go out murdering people; I just don’t have the same level of faith in the rest of your kind.”
Alucard’s eyes widened and his expression softened considerably. Trevor couldn’t help a sideway glance at the portrait hanging above the bookshelf. It was not difficult to imagine it as a living woman when there was her replica right here.
“If you trust me, you can trust Hector to stay in line.”
“Can I?”
“I assume you haven’t heard of the sirebond?”
Trevor scratched his head. “It’s mentioned somewhere in the Belmont’s archive... I guess.”
Alucard set the glass down and lifted his wrist to Trevor’s eye level. His skin resided firmly at the palest end of the complexion spectrum, which made a stark contrast with the blood-red shape on his wrist. A birthmark, a tattoo? But last time he checked — Trevor had checked, discreetly — Alucard hadn’t got any, at least not visible. Whatever that crescent mark was, it captured Trevor’s gaze and the hunter found himself unable to turn his eyes away. Some sort of magic, he suspected.
“This is the sirebond mark,” Alucard explained, breaking the spell. “Once carved onto flesh, it binds the sire to their fledgling.”
“Hector has a similar one, doesn’t he?”
Alucard nodded.
“How long does this bond you speak of last?”
“As long as this mark stands. To make it was hard, to break it harder still.”
“So, a kind of collar, eh?”
“It goes both ways — it ensures that I will not let any harm come to Hector and that he will not go against my will.”
Trevor ran a hand through his hair. It felt greasy, and maybe he did need a bath — good thing was it was easy to have a steaming bath in the castle. And maybe the wine was really getting to his head, because he was starting to feel less averse to the idea of Alucard’s addition to the fanged population. When sobriety hit, eventually, he was bound to be in a hell of a lot of conflict. “I haven’t heard why you turned the guy. Who was he before this?”
“If you saw someone dying and you had the means to save them, would you?”
“Of course.” Trevor’s reply was immediate. “Hector was dying?”
Alucard took a small sip from his glass. “I found him in a cage,” he said, sighing. “Carmilla—”
“Carmilla of Styria?” Trevor butted in.
“The one and only,” Alucard continued smoothly. “She liked to collect exotic animals, cats mostly, caracals, lynxes, servals and such. She kept them in cages in the subterranean floor. Hector was in one such cage, skinny and naked save a metal collar, unwashed, unresponsive... unsane.”
“What? Was he her prisoner?”
Trevor found it hard to connect his mental image of Hector as Carmilla’s prisoner with the healthy-looking young man from earlier. He hated to admit it but vampirism, or half of it, seemed to have done him good.
“Her pet,” Alucard corrected. “Her pet Forgemaster whom she had stolen from my father.”
Trevor sat up in his chair and the abrupt motion nearly knocked the glass over; fortunately his quick reflex saved it from a shattering fate at the last second. “The one who forged night creatures for his army?”
The one responsible for all the destruction and bloodshed they had witnessed. Trevor trusted Alucard to get the implication.
“Carmilla had wanted the same army when she dragged him to Styria. But she was careless, went too far in her methods to enforce his submission, and ended up breaking him. By the time I got to him, she had made up her mind about discarding him — the same treatment to any of her pets that couldn’t adapt.”
“Why did you save a murderer? If it hadn’t because of him, many wouldn’t have died.”
It was a pointless argument since not only had Alucard saved Hector, he had also turned him and made the castle his home; nevertheless, Trevor had to bring it up.
“Hector was one of my father’s two Forgemasters; the carnage would have happened with or without him. I am not defending him, but it’s clear he did not get off easy.”
Trevor slumped into his chair, eyeing his glass and finding it almost empty. He considered reaching for the decanter but decided against it since his eyelids were beginning to feel like lead. That was usually the sign to stop drinking, which he might or might not heed depending on his mood. And right now his mood had soured considerably with Hector’s matter. “I can’t imagine Carmilla gave up her property easily, even when she was that close from kicking him off the cliff herself,” Trevor said.
Alucard shrugged, slouching a bit in his chair. “I stole him from her, just like she’d stolen him from Dracula, only I didn’t require a collar and was met with virtually no resistance from Hector.”
“You sound like a cat that has just stolen some cream, you know.”
Alucard hummed in agreement.
“And Carmilla?”
“No more.”
“The mystery of Carmilla’s death, finally solved,” Trevor said, snapping his fingers. “I was almost convinced Heaven had heard the cries and sent an angel down to smite her, but no, just our mighty Floating Vampire Jesus here.”
Alucard did not bother to hide his smirk behind the rim of his glass. “Careful, Belmont, that sounds suspiciously like a compliment.”
Trevor grinned, shrugging. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m perfectly capable of giving credit where credit is due.”
“We should drink to that, then.”
“What if Hector starts making monsters again?” Trevor asked, his grin fading fast. “Sypha and I run into his creatures on many occasions while we travel. Those are resilient, like rats.”
“He will not forge another monster nor raise another corpse.” A suspended beat. “Hector the Forgemaster is dead; there’s only Hector the half-vampire now.”
Perplexed, Trevor studied Alucard’s face in the greenish-hued light. Half of his face was cast in shadow while the other half appeared to be made of marble. He tried and tried, but couldn’t wrench out any clue from his half-illuminated face to shed light on what he meant. With a grumble in his chest, Trevor gave up. “Whatever,” he sighed. “The whole thing with half-vampires and Forgemasters and sirebond is splitting my head open, which is probably because I’m already wasted. I hope you have a spare bedroom because right now I’d kill for a real mattress.”
Alucard smiled, downing the remaining content of his glass. “No need to kill anyone, there are plenty of bedrooms for you to choose.”
“Just give me a room where I won’t be within earshot of your nightly activities,” Trevor said, waving his hand. “After all this traveling, I’m truly in need of a good sleep.”
...
Trevor hadn’t had a good sleep. Even more frustrating was it’d had nothing to do with Alucard’s ‘nightly activities’, so he couldn’t blame it on the dhampir. If he couldn’t blame it on the dhampir, where else would he dump the blame?
He was walking down the stairs, yawning and rubbing his eyes in hope to rub some clarity into his sleep-addled mind, when Trevor saw a small pillar of light shoot up to the high ceiling. Okay, this worked far better than his fingers in clearing the clouds in his head as alertness flooded him, and Trevor’s hand went to the Morning Star, never departing from his hip, even in rest. The blue-tinted light rushed down like it was being sucked into something before it vanished, leaving a dumbfounded Trevor in the middle of the flight of stairs.
He found Hector once he reached the ground, and the former Forgemaster was sitting on his haunches, with his back turned to Trevor. He was having something in his hands. Curious, Trevor went on tiptoe and leaned forward to get a look of whatever Hector was lifting to his eye level, and immediately regretted what he saw. A rat, with its black fur matted and shaggy and failing to cover several bald spots and its pink tail lazily beating against his palm. Yikes. Trevor almost threw up in his mouth at the sight of such creature.
So disgusted was the Belmont that he entirely missed the rat’s glowing blue eyes like two will o' the wisps.
Alucard’s materialized form beside him startled Trevor. “What is it, Hector?” he asked.
Hector’s head whipped around. He regarded his sire with a bright smile and presented Alucard the wriggling rat with both hands, radiating such child-like glee that it was impossible to see him as a grown man. Trevor felt like giving himself a good whack on the head for thinking that was adorable; his grogginess was to blame. “Look at this fellow, Adrian,” Hector said, his tone cheerful. “I found him frozen outside the door. When I touched him, there was a buzz at the tips of my fingers. A blue light shot up and entered him and next, he came back to life.”
Trevor sucked in a sharp breath and turned to Alucard, whose expression betrayed no emotions. “Hector, what did I tell you about not touching dead animals?”
“I... ” Delight washed off his face as he lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
Alucard lifted his face with a finger under his chin. “Look at me, Hector,” the dhampir ordered, his tone unexpectedly lenient.
Hector did and his eyes immediately widened.
Then Trevor witnessed the strangest thing happen.
Red bled into the whites of Alucard’s eyes and in a few instances, his eye sockets were two miniature pools of blood. Being a Belmont meant he was no stranger to blood and gore, and yet Trevor couldn’t help a shiver at the bizarre sight. Perhaps he was so accustomed to the human side of Alucard that when hints of his inhuman side emerged, the creep factor hit double.
The strangeness did not stop there.
Hector was looking into Alucard’s eyes as if he was put in a trance. Soon his unblinking eyes became mirrors of Alucard’s. Red seemed to flow between them like their shared blood, which no known point of beginning or end.
Trevor observed them, feeling tension mounting inside him with each second.
They blinked at the same time, a synchronized act, and the red vaporized, leaving their eyes normal and... human. Trevor released a breath he was holding in his lungs.
Alucard stroked a lock of silver hair with one hand, touching Hector without really touching him, while his other hand was still lifting his face. “You cannot raise dead creatures. You don’t have that sort of power anymore.”
With half-lidded eyes, Hector leaned slightly into his touch, and echoed, “I don’t have that sort of power anymore.”
A smile graced Alucard’s lips. “Good. Now give me the rat.”
Hector obeyed without question. He did not so much as spare a look at the rodent despite how excited he had been earlier.
“Can I have a drink, Adrian? I’m kind of thirsty.”
“You can. Just don’t gorge on it and get sick later. I’m not thrilled about having to wipe blood off the carpet.”
“Promise.”
Once Hector’s form disappeared into an adjacent corridor, Trevor turned to Alucard with an incredulous look. “The heck just happened?”
“You asked me what if Hector started making monsters again, and I guaranteed he would not. What just happened was guarantee.”
Trevor wriggled a finger at his temple. “You messed with his head or something?”
“I did not mess,” Alucard corrected. “I fixed a lock on his mind. Memory is a tenacious thing; you can’t put it to rest once and for all.”
“Ha, I never knew mind control was in your long list of vampire powers.”
“It’s called mental influence, courtesy of the sirebond.”
Trevor scoffed. “Sounds pretty fucked up to me. What if his memory resurfaces again?”
“That wasn’t the first time,” Alucard said with a half-smile. “And unlikely the last.”
He closed his fist and there was a soft crunching noise.
End