The cold wind swept over the undulating hills, throttled through the carved-out valleys and wailed its way over the bushy moors of Uberwald. The trees groaned and bowed, snow trembled on the mountain tops.
The werewolves schemed.
"Zhey have been at a ball in Bugs zhis evenink. Zhey are not ten miles off, takink zher scenic route home." reported a young boy, covered in blond hair, with a strong jaw and hard, glinting eyes.
"You have done vell." A man, dwarfing him in comparison with his wide shoulders and huge stature, clapped him on the shoulder, "Now go home - your parents vill be furious if I get you killed."
The boy's face dropped, "But - but Kurt, I vant to help! I am fast enough, I am stronk enough-"
"Volfgang!" the man barked, "No. You must go home. You are cunnink and your fazher is a pushover; your time vill come. But not today. Now go."
The disappointed boy transformed into a small, sandy-haired wolf, which reluctantly padded out of the shelter and into the night. The man turned to the others - forty, maybe fifty werewolves - who were all splayed out, piled on top of each other around the fire.
"Ve stop zhem vhen zher road meets zher moor, and drive zhem into zher valley," he laughed nastily, "It vill be like herdink sheep."
-x-x-x-
A black carriage - completely black, with black horses pulling it, black plumes, smoked windows, and no driver - rattled along the thin Uberwald road at a pace which suggested speed was preferable, but the night had been a good one and the occupants weren't too fussed about getting home quickly.
Margolotta pulled back and rested her head on Havelock's shoulder, kicking off her shoes and curling her legs up on the padded seat as he slipped an arm around her, hand coming to rest snugly on her hip.
"A good night, I zhink." she murmured against his neck.
"Apart from meeting Aunt Roberta…"
She winced, "Yes, zhat vas…interestink. Somehow, I get zher feelink zhat our friendship is now razher strained."
He laughed, "Did she genuinely forbid you from seducing me?"
"Somezhink along zhose lines, yes."
"So why did you-"
A lot of things suddenly happened at once, all accumulating to the coach coming to a rather hasty stop; a tree, burdened too heavily by the force of the wind, gave up and collapsed into the road; the coach wheel hit a pothole on the uneven surface of the narrow Uberwaldean road; and the horses, previously speeding along quite nicely, reared up and screamed. The cause of all three of the events related, in some way or another, back to the very large pack of werewolves now surrounding the carriage. The consequence of all three of the events was that the carriage stopped and rocked to one side quite violently.
Havelock jumped to his feet, but Margolotta was quicker, calculatedly distributing her weight and using her strength to make sure the coach didn't topple over. After a few moments of a heart-stopping, and what felt like a never-ending, lurch, the coach returned to its upright position. There was a snap as the horses broke free, then all was quiet.
Lady Margolotta marched across to the door of the carriage and kicked it open.
What met her unimpressed gaze was a sea of yellow eyes and pointed teeth, occasionally interspersed with very hairy and muscular naked men. She held up a hand as a signal for Havelock to stay back, then climbed out onto the step. There was no questioning who was to blame for their little misfortune.
"How dare you-"
She was cut off by a sharp backhand, courtesy of the leering young man at the front. She staggered a little, and as she righted and readied herself for retaliation, a volley of daggers hurtled out of the small doorway. They hit the man in a neat line, from the middle of his forehead to his groin, and he toppled over with a howl of agony. Amid the resulting roars of outrage, Havelock stepped from the darkness of the carriage onto the perch, beside Ladyship. Furious clawed hands reached for him but he held them off with a simple show of the daggers loaded, ready, in his blade launchers. The pack closed in, several wolves jumping and snapping at them both, each one receiving a slice across the belly or an enthusiastic booted kick to the face from Margolotta.
The growling circle grew a little wider as a man pushed through; he was tall and covered nearly head to foot in coarse brown hair and bulging muscles. He had a square face and large nose with a flat end, giving the impression that he had run rather too fast into a wall.
"Call off your pet, Margolotta!" he barked as he approached.
"You attacked us, Baron Schneider." She folded her arms and tilted her head up regally, "Now, I am a busy voman, so if you stand down zher doggies, ve vill go on our vay, and forget zhis ever happened. Yes?"
The Baron laughed. It was rough and throaty and unpleasant. "Come, come, Margolotta, you know vhy ve are here."
"Unlike you, Kurt, I do not have all day to vaste on ridiculous games. Vhat is it zhat you vant?"
"Surely you remember our little deal? …No? Vell, let me refresh your memory, zhen," He continued in a playful tone of voice, "Zher younk people from zher cities travel across zher country, all in zheir special carriages, in little bite-size packages zhen - oh no! Zhey hit a pot-hole, zher carriage breaks down, and you get to do your zhing, svoopink in and savink everyvun. Zhen you have your fun, play around viz zher pretty vuns for a vhile, until you get bored. Zhen you let zhem go, and zhen it is our turn to play. Sound familiar?"
Havelock's grip tightened on the side of the carriage door, eyes fixed in a steely glare on the werewolves. Margolotta pressed her lips together, face impassive, "Zhere vas never a deal, Baron."
"It may not have been put down in ink, Margolotta, but ve have been playink our little game for centuries now. Don't be selfish, let everyvun have zheir turn; you've kept zhis vun to yourself for veeks, it is about time ve got a chance to play viz it too!" The Baron bounced from foot to foot as he spoke, his wide grin showing the points of his yellowed teeth.
Havelock's glance flickered towards her Ladyship, the first waves of uncertainty rippling through his stomach but never showing on his face. She leant forwards, so she was mere centimetres away from the Baron. "Read my lips, Kurt: you vill not have him."
As the vampire stepped back, the werewolf stood on tiptoe, increasing the vast area that his stature covered, and peered up at Havelock, head tilted in curiosity, "You have never tried to stop me takink zhem before…vhat is so special about zhis vun, hmm?" he turned back to the rabble, "It seems zhis youzh has set the lady's cold heart aflame!" A cacophony of snarling laughter rose up and he smirked in triumph. "Vhat is your name, boy?"
"If you are qvite finished, Baron, ve vill be leavink." Margolotta jumped daintily down from the carriage, glowering at any who came too close, "Havelock, let's go."
"Havelock? Havelock vhat?" Kurt van Schneider bounced forward as the young man hopped down from the carriage after Ladyship. Havelock paused to straighten his jacket and waistcoat, before skewering the Baron with an arch-eyebrowed gaze.
"Vetinari."
The older man flinched instinctively before he could stop himself.
"Lord Havelock Vetinari. You'll do well to remember it. Good day, Baron."
His long strides quickly caught him up with Margolotta, whose face was pinched with-
Well, he wasn't entirely sure with what - disgust, irritation, embarrassment, perhaps? - but that could be dealt with later, because all of their energies were currently going towards walking away as quickly as possible, without looking over their shoulders or breaking into the life-preserving run that all their senses were screaming at them to start.
"We're not far enough away," Havelock murmured, "They'll catch up with us in a matter of seconds."
"Any head start is better zhan none."
"Can't you fly us away?"
"No, zhat reqvires a lot of concentration, so ve'd have to stop valkink - and even if I did manage it, I'd never get us high enough before zhey reached us. Our only chance is to get as far avay as possible and hide for long enough for me to get us into zher air."
"That scenario seems somewhat idealistic, and unlikely." he slipped a dagger from his sleeve and held it up, using it as a mirror to see the werewolves' action. "We're going to have to fight them."
"Fight zhem?" Margolotta's bright eyes glinted and she gave him a grin that could only be described as bloodthirsty, "My dear, ve are goink to have to kill zhem."
The werewolf watched, trembling in fury, as the human upstart pet and his harpy-of-a-vampire mistress marched off into the darkness. He curled one of his meaty hands into a fist and raised it into the air. A deafening howl sounded in response, the pack of nearly a hundredfold pouring across the landscape towards the two figures, who had now broken into a run.
Havelock's feet pounded against the rock, as he ran and jumped and vaulted his way through the undergrowth. Nothing but miles and miles of open moorland, and ahead of them, the funnel entrance to a sloping valley that, as he remembered from the journey out this morning, ended with a sheer cliff-face; he cursed the Uberwaldean landscape - where were their famous endless forests when you really needed them? They had no choice but to run, then make a stand when they, at least, had their backs covered by the rocks. Even he, at his physical peak, and Margolotta, with her vampire speed, could not outrun a whole pack of werewolves.
His legs were already violently protesting, feet stinging from repeated impact with the hard ground, but he pushed himself to carry on. For the first time in his life, he thanked everything under the sun for early-morning Physical Education lessons in the pouring rain, because if they had given him anything, it was almost superhuman stamina in the threat of certain agony.
Ahead, he could see the points of Margolotta's heeled boots and her dark cloak, billowing out behind her as she powered onwards. It must have been a terrible dragging force, and even as he had the thought, she was reaching up to her neck to untie and discard it. She'd had the foresight to rip off the trailing ends of her skirts before they had started running, so the speed she had reached was quite impressive.
She glanced over her shoulder, concern immediately writ over her features as she saw the furious determination on his face that only came with acute exhaustion. She slowed, allowing him to catch up, before grabbing his wrist, murmuring a quick apology, then speeding up again.
He had been confused as to why she was apologising, at first, but after the initial shock, he noticed how he had lost all circulation to his hand and that his arm felt as if it was about to pop out of the socket. It was all he could do to stay on his feet, although, even though he almost got whiplash as he tried to look around, there were no longer wolves snapping at his heels. They were gaining, though. He turned his head back and made out the fast-approaching wall of stone at the end of the valley - if the pack stayed this close, he and Margolotta would just get crushed against it in the swarm. It was imperative that they kept their distance.
With some difficulty, he raised his free arm, aimed as best he could and fired off four daggers into the pack. One missed, but the other three hit home, causing a literal dog pile. The effect was instantaneous; the wolves dropped back several feet. The rock face reared up above them as they staggered to a halt.
It was sheer, almost vertical. They would not be able to climb it fast enough for it to be a legitimate means of escape. He swore, and turned back in time to see a grey blur speeding towards him. He spread his feet, bent back his wrist, splayed his hand, thrust it forwards -
And then everything went black.
Margolotta heard the crack as Havelock's head hit the rock and her blood ran colder. She hauled the limp wolf off him and threw it back into the crowd of its friends, who, until that point had been readying themselves to leap. They changed their minds and stood their ground instead, lips curled back and growling.
Havelock, she thought. In her peripheral vision, she could see him slumped on the floor, back against the wall of stone. She stepped in front of him protectively, taking out her own daggers and thrusting them in the direction of any wolf that made a sudden move.
Trapped. Just fantastic.
"Have-lock," she hummed under her breath, prodding him in the side with the toe of her boot, whilst never taking her gaze off the wolves, "Now is not a good time for sleep-ink, please vake up now…"
"Lady Margolotta," her name rolled off the Baron's tongue as he made his way to the front of the pack and folded his arms over his immense, double-barrel chest.
"Vake up, Havelock, I cannot fight zhem and protect you…" her foot sought the sensitive spot on his left side, between two of his ribs, that never failed to make him squirm. He did not move.
"My dear lady, all you have to do is surrender zher vhelp, and zhen you can go back to your little castle in peace. Ve only vant vhat is our due, vhat is fair."
Stall. She needed to stall for time, just until Havelock woke up, or was able to stand and defend himself. She knew that humans could sometimes stay unconscious for hours from head injuries, but the bump he had taken was not that bad, and she hoped that it wouldn't take him more than a few minutes to come around. She continued to toe him surreptitiously; he would have a bruise there later, but if it was the wake up call that saved his life then he could not really complain.
She felt behind her with the fingertips of one hand, felt the stone, the ivy at her back. Her eyes darted around, exploring the area as far as possible without moving her head. To her left, the rock curved around and made the wall of the valley, but to her right -
She stomped on the idea as soon as it arrived, in case the relief should show in her eyes and alert the Baron. She had a plan; her racing mind stopped spinning in chaotic circles and honed in to her usual arrow-point sharpness.
"Fair to whom, exactly?" She prodded Havelock another few times, for good measure. She'd relied on and cared for no one but herself for hundreds of years and, in the one moment that she needed the aid of another, he was unconscious on the floor. Smashink.
"To all zhose that really matter, of course." He glanced down, then tutted, "Dear me, your younk man seems to be bleedink. So fragile, zhese mortals."
Margolotta steeled herself against the flood of hedonistic desires that swept through her body; the mental images of Havelock crumpled on the floor, a crimson trail down those gorgeous cheekbones, long neck stretched out, so inviting- no! She balled her hands into fists to stop them from trembling. She would not. She forced herself not to look, instead fixing each werewolf in sight with her iciest, most imperialistic stare. Her foot found Havelock's side again, nudging and poking.
Vake up Havelock, bloody hell, vake up or I shall end up bitink you just to make sure you survive zher fight, and zhen you vill hate me forever. Oh gods, vhy are you takink so long to vake up?
"And you, Margolotta, so endeared to zhis vun! Or perhaps, he is endeared to you? You alvays said zhat zhey vere your favourites, zher vuns zhat vant to save you, to vhisk you avay from your life of sin. Vhat has he promised you - a big vhite veddink? No, I don't zhink so, zhat is not your style, is it? Vhat on earzh has he done zhat has made you take leave of your senses like zhis?" Schneider stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his bare body and smell his reeking breath, rolling over her like waves. As his hand came up to play with her hair, she longed to go for his jugular, her mouth salivating in anticipation…
No. She could not risk leaving Havelock unprotected, for even a moment. The werewolves were stupid, but they were fast and they would take any chance she gave them. She contented herself with, instead, catching his wrist in a vice-like grip and squeezing until he growled in pain and wrenched his hand away. Outnumbered she may be, but helpless she certainly was not.
He massaged his wrist and tried to recover himself, giving her a bark of laughter, leering, "He must be exceptional in zher bedroom, zhen."
"I have no complaints." she responded, shrugging. The Baron rolled his eyes.
"I am bored of zhis game, Margolotta!" he barked, "I have been polite, I have played by your rules, now hand over zher boy and ve can be done viz zhis. I have no desire to go to var over it, but if you von't hold up your side of zher bargain, zhere vill be conseqvences."
The growling circle closed in, the Baron standing amidst the wolves, arms folded. Margolotta ignored her natural instinct, which was to back herself into a corner, and instead stood her ground, feeling her sharpened incisors growing, and readying herself for the fight. She could take out six, maybe seven wolves before she would be forced to step away from Havelock and leave him vulnerable. But if she left him, the Baron would win…
"Fly avay, little bat! Fly avay and leave him and you vill not be hurt!" Kurt called from behind several lines of growling teeth. They were getting closer.
Vake up, Havelock! She pulled back her foot for a motion that was, if she was honest, no longer a 'prod' but very definitely somewhere between a jab and a kick.
"Too long!" snarled a grizzled older man with a scar running right across his face, "I say ve take zher boy and zher vampire! Dinner for all!"
A split second later, he had a matching gash running across his cheek in the other direction like a big 'X' marked over his face. He also had a slice through his belly and was lying on his back, clutching it and howling.
"I disagree." said Havelock simply, from his crouch on the floor.
And then all hell broke loose.
"You and your bloody 'infallible dramatic timink'!" Margolotta yelled, hoisting one wolf up by the scruff of his neck and using him simultaneously as a shield and to batter his friends. "How long vere you avake for?"
"Long enough." Havelock called back, calmly dispatching two wolves with a thrust in the neck from each hidden blade, "How long was I out for?"
"Long enough."
He looked momentarily apologetic, "Ah, I see your point-"
"I could not fight zher volves and protect you at zher same time! I vas completely trapped and I could not just leave you, it vas-"
"The element of surprise was the best thing we had - the only thing we had!" he dodged and weaved and sliced his way over to her, so that they were back to back. "Look, I've got a plan-"
"So have I!"
"Oh good - heads up!" Havelock ducked and used the momentum of the werewolf's jump to propel it over him to Margolotta, who tossed it at the stone wall. It did not get up again. "What's your plan?"
"A cliff. Vhat's yours?"
"This."
She glanced over her shoulder to see him remove something small and round from a hidden pocket. "Vhat is it?"
"Smoke bomb. When I say run, run."
He threw the tiny capsule into the middle of the main throng of wolves. "Run!"
They both sprinted in the other direction. She caught his hand and dragged him to the right, then there was an almighty boom and suddenly they were wading through yellow, foul-smelling clouds, hacking and coughing as it filled their lungs. He pulled her down low with him, so they were staggering, bent double, where the air was clearer. He fixed his gaze on his feet, watching branch and gorse bush and moss and rock as they navigated their way.
It took all of his considerable self-control to stop himself crying out as, together, without faltering, they hurled themselves over the cliff edge and out into the dark abyss.
For a moment, time seemed to slow right down. His eyes sought Margolotta, whose own were closed, face composed in intense concentration. Her hand was clamped around his wrist. And then it sped up again, he felt his stomach lurch up into his throat, the air whipping by him as they dropped in freefall, and for just a second he thought - oh gods we're not going to make it, are we?
And then he was completely weightless. The wind stopped howling in his ears and pulling at his hair and clothes, his stomach dropped back, he was just…no, he wasn't hanging from Margolotta, he was just suspended in mid air. The sensation was so bizarre that he would have laughed out loud, had he not just noticed an intense pain in his ankle.
He looked down in time to see a huge dark wolf transform into the Baron, who scrabbled for grip with his bloody, meaty hands. It was not the weight of him on his ankle that hurt - thankfully, the large man seemed to have also gained the ability to float by being, even directly, in contact with the vampire - it was the fact that he had been previously using his claws to hold on.
"Shake him off!" came Margolotta's voice from somewhere a little above him.
He shook his foot as much as he could, but without the help of gravity, it didn't do much; Schneider just gave a vicious grin and dug his long fingernails further into the ripped up skin. Havelock grimaced and grit his teeth against the pain, forcing himself to keep his eyes open so he could aim with his free foot. The booted kick wiped away the smirk at once, a second and third made him grunt in pain, and a fourth broke his nose with a spurt of blood.
Instinctively, the man's hands went straight to his face - and gravity reasserted its control. With a howl, Baron Kurt van Schneider tumbled down into the dark void.
Havelock felt strangely hollow. The adrenaline was still racing his heart, but now he felt the cold of the night air, the flaring pain in his lower leg and a blinder of a headache roaring through his skull. Dimly, he registered Margolotta's small hands reaching down and pulling him up, so they were level. He wrapped his arms around her middle and rested his chin on the top of her head.
She stiffened against him. He opened his eyes, "What?"
"Havelock…" her voice sounded odd, strained, lower and throatier, "You're…you're…"
"I'm what?" he leant backwards to see her face; her eyes were wide and blazing red, almost glowing, her pearly skin was incandescent, and her fangs were now protruding quite noticeably. He noticed that she was trembling.
"You're covered in buh…bluh…" She swallowed heavily and bit down briefly on her plump bottom lip in a gesture that seemed far too seductive for the situation they were in. "…B-vord."
He ran a hand through his hair and his fingers returned warm and sticky. The same tackiness he could feel on his cheeks, down his neck and spattered across his palms. "Most of it isn't mine."
Margolotta was now shaking quite violently, trying desperately to suppress the powerful urges taking over her body, and despite the animalistic glint in her bright eyes, there was something impossibly attractive about the voluptuous grin she shot his way when he met her gaze. It was somehow both thrilling and repulsive.
"Come here, Havelock, darlink," her voice was a purr now, those deft little hands reaching around to squeeze him in places that really weren't appropriate when you were floating two hundred feet over a sleepy little village, "Aren't you cold? Zher Uberwald vinters are so…cruel."
Although certain parts of his body were screaming at him to just lie back and think of Ankh-Morpork, he wrenched her hands away and held them in his own, between them. She pouted prettily, then leant forwards, tongue lapping over her teeth as she tried to kiss him. He pulled back, squeezing her hands hard. "No! Margolotta - Margolotta, this is not you."
"Not me? But Havelock, zhis is zher very essence of me. Zhis is zher unrestrained, zher natural, zher real Margolotta. Don't you like her?" she giggled coquettishly, "She certainly likes you."
"You need to control yourself."
"Control? But vhy vould I vant to do zhat?" The bright, radiant smile returned will full force. He found himself inexplicably drawn to it, to her, and yet at the same time it was so animalistic and raw that he couldn't help wanting to pull away. He felt fear bubble in the pit of his stomach - not a thrilling kind of fear, not the rush of panic that came with danger - it was a calm, deep-rooted, instinctive fear that told him there was something very, very wrong about that pointy smile.
He either needed to escape and leave Margolotta to get a hold of herself, or he needed to find some way of distracting her. He glanced down, taking his eyes off the giggling vampiress for as long as he dared; they were floating over a little town that he did not recognise, and moving too slowly for them to make enough progress towards the small area of Uberwald that he did know before she turned uncontrollably volatile. He could not simply jump, as not only were they about fifty feet off the ground, but Margolotta also had her arms wrapped round him tight enough that squirming out of them without her noticing would be difficult. No, he would have to distract her and pray that his theory he had been cultivating over the last few days held water.
"Close your eyes." he commanded. She did as she was told.
"I do love it vhen you take control, darlink. You are zher only man I have ever let…dominate me. In zhree hundred years! Did you know zhat? Most men are used to veak vomen, zhey find zher dominatrix zhing so attractive, but you - you fight back. Vhen ve are togezher, ve are eqvals. Zhat's vhy you're so damn sexy."
Havelock made a mental note to quiz Margolotta on this subject later when she had recovered. She couldn't see the blood any longer which should have helped dramatically, but he could see her nostrils quivering as she breathed the scent of it in hungrily. He pressed her hands together, so he held them both in one of his own, and fumbled in his pocket. He drew forth the cigar that Lord Alphonse had offered him that evening, now glad that he had accepted it but declined the invitation to smoke it; he had seen Margolotta use cigarettes as a distraction before, when her vampiric nature had threatened to overwhelm her, and he hoped this would work well enough. He brushed her lips with his fingers and she parted them obligingly, taking the cigar with a small sound of surprise. Habit led her to light it without even thinking, and within moments they were surrounded by a small could of think, pungent smoke.
"I do not like zhis cigar, it smells terrible, I-"
He caught the cigar as she took it from her mouth and pushed it back between her teeth, "Bite on it. Keep your eyes closed."
She scowled but complied; he saw, through the smoke, that the rouge of her lips was fading, her skin was becoming less pearly, the lustre of her hair had decreased a little and was dropping from the perfect messy ringlets that she had curled it into earlier that day. All good signs.
"Margolotta," he leaned in to watch her face, "Where are we? Do you know where we are?"
"…Zhree miles outside Bonk." her voice was a little quavery and she was trembling again, but this meant that animalistic side was now up against resistance.
"Good. Are there any rivers nearby - somewhere we could wash?"
"Hot sprinks." Eyes still tight closed, her arm shot out to point directly at a group of large rocks shielding the source of a lot of rolling steam.
"Ever better. Keep your eyes shut, and lower us down."
As their feet touched ground, Havelock slipped an arm around Margolotta's shoulders, quickly - as quickly as he could, hobbling with the bad ankle he had almost forgotten in the drama - leading her through the snow to the natural baths. He sat her down on a small rock by the water and squeezed her hands. "Alright; stay still and keep breathing in that cigar smoke."
He took off his jacket, waistcoat and trousers, which were covered in the worst of the blood, then got to work removing Margolotta's blood-soiled gloves, coat and the outer skirt of her dress. Then he buried them all under several layers of snow, bathed and dressed his ankle, made sure that no bright crimson was visible, and returned to the shaking vampire.
"Open your eyes."
She did, and he saw that they were back to her normal deep burgundy. She could no longer be described as wanton or voluptuous, she was just a beautiful and very battle-weary woman.
"How are you feeling?" he asked gently.
"A bit veak. Tired. And very silly," she grimaced in embarrassment, "I'm sorry, Havelock, I shouldn't have-"
"You held out for as long as you could, that's nothing to be ashamed of. It's a problem we can talk through another time. Here," he held out his hand to help her up, offering her one of his rare smiles. She took both and returned the smile with her own. Together, they stripped off completely and climbed into the hot water.
Margolotta sighed and sunk down, resting her head back on the ledge and spreading her arms with a contented grin. Havelock scrubbed the remaining spatters from his face and hands. He felt around at the back of his head, satisfying himself that all he had sustained was a small cut and what would be a very large bruise. He submerged himself completely and raked his fingers through his hair to clean it.
He waded over and sat beside Margolotta, watching as she systematically combed through her own dark tresses.
"You've come to some revelatory conclusion."
Havelock arched an eyebrow, "How did you-?"
"You have a face." she smiled at him from behind a curtain of wavy damp hair, "Spit it out, then."
"I was just thinking about that cigar; it completely distracted you from the, ah, b-word. I've seen you use cigarettes to replace your craving, too. I think it just might be possible to-"
"I know vhere zhis is goink, Havelock, and it doesn't vork."
"And where do you think this is going?"
"You zhink it might be possible for me to smoke cigarettes instead of…feedink." She gave him a grim smile, "It does not vork."
"You have tried it?"
"…Admittedly, no. But it is merely a case of biology; human…b-vord is vhat feeds zher vampiric ability. Vizout it, ve lose our strengzh, our fast healink, our low-grade hypnotism…everyzhink zhat makes us vampires. Zhat is, if ve don't go completely insane first. I knew a vampire who vunce svore off b-vord for a debt, and he vent so mad from cravinks, he spend zher rest of his un-life chasink lightnink storms around zher country in a carriage, eatink nozhink but rabbits. Zher peasants decided it vas best to mercy-stake him."
"That may be true, but I think there is a psychological aspect to it too - I once met an smoker who managed to go…well, cold-turkey, I suppose, by replacing his addiction to cigarettes with lollipops. He now doesn't have any teeth, but the theory is sound. If it were under controlled conditions, with an Igor on hand, I really think that-"
"Please, Havelock," she shifted closer to him, "Could ve leave zher talk of cold-bat for anozher day?"
Havelock opened his mouth to protest, then he saw the weariness in her big bright eyes; she looked just as exhausted as he felt. Perhaps it was a discussion for another day.
"Of course."
"Zhank you. I really appreciate it." She smiled, and an unfamiliar feeling that he'd noticed recently, which seemed to keep residence in his stomach, went a little squiffy. He pushed it away and tried not to think about it too much, leaning back and slowly submerging himself under the water.
"I need a haircut." he muttered as he emerged and pushed the dark locks from his face, slicking them back. He ran hand along his jaw absently, to check for any damage he hadn't noticed, then frowned, "Hmm, and a shave."
She watched him, eyes grown a little sleepy, "I don't know, I razher like it."
"Really?"
"Zher combination of zher hair put back like zhat and zher stubble - it makes you look older. More mature."
"Interesting." He examined his reflection in the water critically. "So that's why you ignored my aunt's warning."
She looked up from her split-ends search, "Hmm?"
"What was it that you said? Something like…'so damn sexy'?" His smirk grew wider as her face momentarily creased in embarrassment.
"I said zhat? Oh gods, I did - my vampire side clearly forgot about your monster of an ego." She sighed, turning so that she looked at him from over her shoulder, watching him from under her eyelashes, the tiredness instantly absent from her face, a grin replacing it, "Vhat, darlink, you didn't honestly zhink zhat I vas viz you for your mind, did you?"
He clapped a hand to his chest, "I'm hurt, truly, Margolotta."
"Dear, sveet, naïve boy." she chucked him under the chin and he pulled her in for a kiss.
As she pulled away, she saw the first tendrils of magenta working their way across the slowly turning-blue-from-black sky. She climbed to her feet and stretched, "Ve should be gettink back, Havelock."
"Hmm? Oh, yes." He shook off the momentary distraction and stood himself. Margolotta was towelling herself down with a length of white, shimmery material that he hadn't previously noticed. He arched an eyebrow and caught her eye. "I wouldn't have guessed that conjuring towels was one of your abilities…"
"Conjurink towels, no." she held it up by one corner and he saw that it had sequins and a bodice, "Conjurink undervired nightdresses, yes."
He laughed, "Very inventive,"
Margolotta clicked her fingers and the pile of her unsoiled skirts and corset instantly reappeared on her body. She smoothed out the creases with her hands and then watched with some amusement as Havelock struggled into his own clothes. She held out her hand when he had finished.
"A good night, I zhink."
He took it, and then wrapped his arms around her waist as they lifted into the air. "Apart from the werewolves destroying your carriage, the battle, me getting knocked out and you nearly going into a b-word frenzy…yes, I would say so."
"And zher vorst part."
"Which was?"
She gave him a bright, catlike smile, "Meetink your Aunt Roberta at zher party, of course."